| Thursday, March 9, 2006 |  |
| Genesis of My Writing | 3 comments |
| 9 Mar 2006 @ 08:49 I began writing poetry when I was 12 years old, the same year I was taught to meditate. I would go into a sort of trance, a oneness, and the experience of automatic writing would happen. as I grew in age and evolution I became more conscious as I dipped into dimensions and simultaneously wrote down the gifts I received. My life has been a process of integrating, embodying the mystic veil that was opened to me as a young man. The world, our culture has been a challenge for me at times and I am grateful for the wisdom of earth peoples who have an understanding of our multi-dimensional nature. Here are some of my more recent writings. Though not in relationship, some like “I Remember” were inspired by profound connections during Soul (or eye gazing) with another. Love IS a tidal wave that, if we are willing to surrender, shakes us to the very core. Sanctity Dwells What is pure must become unpure. Daily, light changes into dark, Is purity a fact or an opinion? Does truth reveal itself to thieves as well as kings? There was a martyr once who’s blood flowed onto the belly of Gaia, it rained, and wedding bells were heard. I’ve seen men dance with flames twirling from their wrists, Do their hearts burn with that longing? I remember, so vividly sometimes, running down the middle of the street, fearless, somehow, there came a time, when I believed it was safer to walk on the side, always checking behind my back. I found that the middle is where sanctity dwells. I Remember How can I not be overjoyed? Blue stars from the ethers that only I can see, They look so much like your eyes, The face of Love, The moon behind the clouds, A shadow puppet, Two lovers embrace, They dance in the firmament, I dance in the cool canyon breeze, The fire in my heart is fed by thoughts of you, I am drunk, but not drunk, I am wide awake, Lucid as the fig whose roots drink from the stream, Or the double winged dragonfly that lights on my hand, There is more that I do not know than what I know, The more pomegranate seeds I eat the more are revealed, The juice stains my lips, Runs down my chin, The sweetest nectar reminding me of you. There is no either or… Unbind me, Take these shackles from my wrists, let my swollen ankles free, This body, at once a prison and the holiest of holies, Eden and Babylon both in my belly, My breath keeps missing my heart, I want this ember to flame, To burn and glow from behind my eyes, Illuminating the path before me, A lighthouse on the shores of the ocean of Love and Mercy. This illusion of separateness, It keeps me tethered in a dream, Where a camel tries to walk on water, And fish run thirsty on the desert floor. Hidden, there inside my inner smile, A host of angels, Oneness with wings, I must not forget to look behind me, A tidal wave of Love, Drown or surf? There is no either or… The Wren How can I quench this thirst? I could drown myself and only steam would rise, You could see me glowing in the river, The sun and I would have a contest, Who could make the seeds grow faster And sleep with the moon, The wren springs to life in my hand And sings in my ear, This I understand, But these longings, they are a mystery to me, More > |
| Thursday, March 18, 2004 | |
| Night Tears - Oriah Mountain Dreamer | 3 comments |
| 18 Mar 2004 @ 11:32 Night Tears There is a crying that happens at night that does not come while the light is with us. There are things that cannot be evaded once the sun goes down. Small nocturnal creatures with sharp white teeth silently gnaw at the edges of belly and heart when the darkness descends and the void inside grows larger. It can split you open. And the bone in the centre of your chest aches like the cracked wishing bone from the turkey breast. And if we are strong enough to be weak enough we are given a wound that never heals. It is the gift that keeps the heart open. Oriah Mountain Dreamer © 1995 More > |
| Monday, March 8, 2004 | |
| Digging | 0 comments |
| 8 Mar 2004 @ 11:29 DIGGING Healing, from culture, from family, from broken hearts, unfulfilled dreams, Can joy be more than a memory, Tangible, present, real, Soul remembers, Yes, Soul remembers, "Yes", I say, yes to love, and then.... the mystery?, How to stay soft, open when "its'" too hard. The It, illusive, murky, Undefined, Possibly a shard left from a broken mirror, Reflections, Sometimes clear, some distorted, I wipe the sleep from my eyes to see, ... unlimitedness, blossoming, mud soaked welcome mats, and warm showers of delight, On my hands and knees digging in the soil of my heart, Damp and fertile. |
| Thursday, October 2, 2003 | |
| One Word | 5 comments |
| 2 Oct 2003 @ 19:13 If I could have just one word, One word to swallow and take into myself, One word that could nourish my sorrow and Soul, I would satiate myself with: PEACE. And you? More > |
| Monday, June 23, 2003 | |
| After Concert Inspirations | 0 comments |
 23 Jun 2003 @ 13:12Last Friday I played a really fun show at a Local Cafe called Stir Crazy. I got sang for three hours with a wonderful guitarist, Rory Stalwick and keyboardist, David Gorospe, local here to Ojai, CA. We had a fun set of 60's-80's music; Allman Brothers, David Bowie, Bob Dylan, James Taylor, Stevie Wonder, bealtles, Donovan, CSNY etc. A women friend of mine was there and when I arrived home late into the eveing this beautiful series of Haikus was waiting for me in my email box. For Raymond - a series of Haiku Raymond sings oldies Stir Crazy full of gray hairs Voices rise on cue Trips down memory lane Singing choruses out of tune Faces lit with smiles Bitter sweet recall Melody of memory Slippery nights, so raw A trio sings oldies My heart stirred to remember All I've left behind Love Maha Leena |
| Monday, April 28, 2003 | |
| Song Lyric | 0 comments |
| 28 Apr 2003 @ 22:45 This is from my album Archer and the Muse Sometimes Sometimes you are the golden thread, sometimes you are the road, Sometimes you are an open door, sometimes your all closed up. Sometimes you are a little boy, sometimes you are a man, Sometimes your in a fairy tale, sometimes you lay the plans. But most of the time you are here with me, With your feelings of uncertainty, Thinking about the one you had, And what you have that's left. Sometimes you are the flowers bloom, sometimes you are the seed, Sometimes you are the song inside, a silence to be freed. Sometimes you are a guitar man, Or mock philosopher , Sometimes you think that its you job to carry all the world. It's not what you think, it's what you think about, Aim for the middle, even though your so far-out. You feet are on the earth, but your head is in the clouds, Your standing in one place, yet you spread yourself around. Your so brave and yet your a coward, You look so calm, but your eyes look so wild. Sometimes you are the golden thread, sometimes you are the road, Sometimes you are an open door, sometimes your all closed up. Sometimes you are a guitar man, Or mock philosopher , Sometimes you think that it's your job to carry all the world. But most of the time you are here with me, With your feelings of uncertainty, Thinking about the one you had, And what you have that's left. |
| Saturday, April 26, 2003 | |
| This Morning's Muse | 2 comments |
 26 Apr 2003 @ 06:40This is everything, All there is, A sapling on the mountain side,nursing from the soil, Ancient Mother's arms. Crisp steps I take in chilling mornings dawn, Life, it courses as sun rays split the sky. Not only in the air, There is magic in my bones, A faint glimmer of mysteries I have known before. The Art and Music of Raymond Powers More > |
| Saturday, April 12, 2003 | |
| A Lyric: Sister Mary | 0 comments |
| 12 Apr 2003 @ 11:39 Sister Mary Sister Mary with your torn and tattered gown, Could it be that all you've done has slowed you down. With your broken heart, you've given everything you've got, and it's worn you. Come let's sit and rest beneath the lilac trees, And we'll pretend that for a moment we are free. Free from all the pain, the hunger and from those who live to gain. Something's stirring off the coast of turtle island, Quietly warned us this would happen all along, I don't have time to waste on idle conversation, Sister Mary, can you tell where we went wrong? Sister Mary it is time to live as one. God's blessed you my love, You have silenced all your fears and fed the dove, And those eyes of yours have soothed our souls, Sister Mary. Sister Mary, have your children left their home ? And does it seem that all your seeds have all been sown ? It doesn't matter much, there are others who receive your touch. They love you. Something's stirring off the coast of turtle island, Quietly warned us it would happen all along. I don't have time to waste on idle conversation, Sister Mary, can you tell where we went wrong. Sister Mary, it is time to live as one. God's blessed you my love, You have silenced all your fears and fed the dove. And those eyes of yours have soothed our souls, Sister Mary, Sister Mary now your gone. © 1991 |
| Sunday, March 30, 2003 | |
| Touch Me | 0 comments |
 30 Mar 2003 @ 11:12This is a lyric I wrote for a project called Sirius Bliss. Sirius Bliss is a story of unity...transcendent of duality and dichotomy. A story told through the flow of love; harnessed with rhythm and rhyme. The nature of Sirius Bliss reflects inherent, yet forgotten expressions of our sacred marriage. Ancient and Future. The marriage of gender, earth and sky, sun and moon, thought and emotion,logic and creativity. Touch Me Listen to the music Sometimes you go too far, and there's no turning back now, walking the razors edge. Giving more than you take, taking just what you need, and needing to be close to you. Touch me, Come on and touch me, taste my breath inside your breath, raise my hands up to heaven, raise my hands to your heart, raise my hands to your heart. I feel so much love for you, I feel so much love for you. Like the the water to the cliff, River to the sea, Flowers to the fragrance, Fruit to the trees. I feel so much love for you. Too much conversation, so much self control. too much excitation, burning in your soul, too much confrontation, pounding in your head, shaking with sensation, drop the skin, drop the skin you shed. Sometimes you go too far, and there's no turning back now, walking the razors edge. Giving more than you take, taking just what you need, and needing to be close to you. I feel so much love for you, I feel so much love for you, taste my breath inside your breath, raise my hands up to heaven, raise my hands to your heart, I feel so much love for you. More > |
| Thursday, February 27, 2003 | |
| Trusting Admist Uncertain Moments | 0 comments |
 27 Feb 2003 @ 14:27I have been writing poetry since I was 12 years old. Originally this occurred in somewhat of a trance-like state, strange suspensions in temporality in which I would not remember pen to paper until it was over. Later, as I began writing songs and discovering my singing voice, I was able to access the same creative zone, through more of a conscious process. Here are two of my favorites: TODAY... Today I excite the senses, To bestow upon me their everlasting grace, Like notes adorn the symphony of conscious Being. A hive with nectar and queens who guide an army of delight and devotion, Wings of an Angel fluttering in my ear, Whispering, urging, Gyrations of their lilac scent and rose adorned countess lips. Today I step with newly chiseled high steps, Mirroring the future through the looking of explorers eyes. I course the labyrinth where the sun breaks seeds through soil, Where men caress the edge of time, Where no prediction gifts me with its’ sight. I jump sparkling like an opal dove, Into Uncertainty. ------------------------------------------------- IN QUIET MOMENTS In quiet moments, When stillness becomes my world, I stand inside myself, I stand beside myself. Present and lost in love’s magnificence, Bequethed with the freedom that wisdom brings. Sanctity caresses every breath, Every gesture, Every word. In quiet moments. I revel and shake, The mystery that lives in my bones Since before the earth was formed, Before the first whisper of the moon’s sacred marriage to the sun. Sometimes these secrets explode within me, This vessel turns from steel to gold, And I lose myself, I lose myself In this familiar wine. Yet deep inside I know, I must pass this drink, I drink so that all may be drunkards when Spirit shines, When spirit shines, In quiet moments. These two poems were from a small booklet that I self published several years ago. There are more online at my website. Also, there are lyrics to read from some of the songs I've written. More > |