Ominous Storms and Strange

 

Beware ye Isle most glorious

of queens and kings both

Lions and Lambs.

Something wicked and strange

this way comes.

An Ophelien wind portends,

bending its vortexed eye

toward Dover.

The Ides of October

to history amend.

 

October’s Ominous Occurances

Falling into fictitious fantasy…

Sometimes hitting raked leaves…

Or knocking all breathable air away…

Finding hallucination funny

Or ghastly as mind bends

Along with body, bloody, terror.

Fearing to name the horror

Or look into its face

After all it’s

                   🔱   October ⚰️                  
 

Blinding Grace

Line by line

 

Time,

passes, encompassing the soul

in exuberant joy.

Changing  life in fits and starts.

 

Turning, sweeping, leveling

like Autum wind,

Melding  new and old

into One.

 

Creating a blinding image,

more beautiful and rare

than eyes like mine deserve.

 

God,

in His infinite glory and faithfulness,

Pours out Grace upon Grace

Leaving me face down

in Wonder and Praise.

 

“Beware the Hands of The Wizard”: In Response to: Buji-nin – Photo Seeking Caption

Hands hold the vessel ancient, black

Set upon with dragons, bowl to stack.

Its wizard pours out wishes, non shall lack.

Beware his brew, you’ll not come back.

Buji-nin: Photo Seeking Title

Here we go…..”Buji-nin” the man himself has begun a game with us. 

He seeks a title for the submitted photo in his unfailing love of playing the challenge, his haughty wit and rooting out the depth of the minds of others.  

Yesterday in my post I mentioned that I wish you could know this guy. The evidence points to the fact that he is in favor of it.

I am taking the challenge. What is the depth of your mind on this one?

                                                                               **********

-“open your door to new ideas, let them flow in, open the back door, let them flow out, do not serve them tea???” – (his words on the photo)

 

 

Proof of Life: Buji-nin

 

A young man, tall and strong-jawed born of a line of military genius, sarcastic and exuberantly witty, played in the Age of Aquarius. He haltingly tested his professors with his grasping mind and profane insubordination. As was meet and right in the eyes of all he questioned and disrespected he found himself in the uniform of a soldier.

He no longer played at board games with tiny men as his intellect now turned to the horrors of an unjust war. Profanity became his definition of life, death and insubordination a daily examination in existence. Humility swallowed up all traces of surface haughtiness with the degrading, unceasing cries and pain of children, mothers and comrades.

The strong-jawed man returned home diseased, wounded, angry, confused and carrying his own scars. In his consuming genius he grew to love, respect and master his enemy’s languages, customs, religions and gods. Buji-nin is a tag name he has gave himself, (-DT Suzuki would sometimes sign himself meaning “no special person”).

He is, after all a child of Aquarius-questioning, rebellious, prone to wander as were we all. No generation is like another. He is one shining star, proven hero and prophet of ours.

Still as fiercely humble, haughty and questioning, the strong-jawed, witty Buji-nin enriches my soul with his tales of a life lived fully, on the edge, out of the box sharing constant challenges of genius and profane sensibility. I wish you could know him.

A wounded warrior of the ages I am proud and honored to call friend-Buji-nin.

Canticle II

My soul thirsts for the living God. The deer seeks out water brooks.

My most inner self longs for you, thirsts for the living God.

His mountains of stone like Him stand. His rapids and floods cover me.

My poured out soul cannot contain such high thought as these.

Deep calls to deep in holy noise. I fall to my face in worship.

a psalm of David…transposed…

Canticle

My pen is bent to glory. I address my verses to the King.

He anointed me with grace. My pen bends to a noble theme.

Your dwelling places are lovely. Your throne is beyond our comprehension.

Truly it is God who saves me. He is my rock and my salvation.

a psalm of David…transposed…

 

Severed Hope

 

 

Compliantly, urgently listening

with blind hope, ears wide open

as the sheep for the shepherd.  

 

Waiting, searching, seaking

without forethought or line

as a prophet for the Spirit.

 

Wandering, thirsting, hungering

finding dry bones and spoilt manna

such the Gomorrhan I must be.

 

Gazing, seeing, hearing

enlightenment explodes into being

drools from darkness and shadow.

 

Hark the composition of my Muse!

 

No shepherd but serpent.

If spirit, evil.

Carefully tendering my terrible pen.