Stucipher

Salutation to the Dawn by Kalidasa

2010-05-15T01:48:00.000-07:00

Salutation to the Dawn

Look to this day!
For it is life, the very life of life,
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence
The bliss of growth
The glory of action
The splendor of beauty.

For yesterday is but a dream
And tomorrow is only a vision,
But today well lived makes every yesterday
A dream of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.

Look well, therefore, to this day!
Such is the salutation of the dawn.

2010-05-15T01:43:00.000-07:00

The activation of will through action seems to trigger the mind upon itself in accordance with a succession of self-beneficiary tendencies. In thought and body, healing, maintenance and exercise ensues.

2010-05-15T01:41:00.000-07:00

I do feel an encouragement at times, applied from life, outside of myself seemingly, yet sustained through a self-willed acceptance.

As a writer I should write. Share my thoughts and ideas through this medium that I continue in attempting to master.

2010-05-15T01:39:00.000-07:00

The tall jagged mountain is an
elbow of Earth
Reaching into the sky, to catch what is
there, that which flows through the land; fallen
down, layer by layer

2010-04-06T16:35:00.000-07:00

every so often
when a devouring silence
placates the substance of my preoccupation
there ensues a recollection of wonder
amidst impossible worries that are
displaced by the attraction of intrigue
or the fear of incompetence

whatsoever moves my attention
has journeyed to do so, through my conceptual desires
for me to fit it within my reasoning

2010-04-06T16:34:00.000-07:00

come play ye misty shadows
move in through the night
disparage mine own countenance
flavourless in fright

inflame and fashion
with deliberate passion
what failures I must surmount

The Plums Tasted by Mirabai

2010-04-05T01:17:00.000-07:00

The plums tasted
sweet to the unlettered desert-tribe girl-
but what manners! To chew into each!

She was ungainly, low-caste, ill mannered and dirty,
but the god took the fruit she'd been sucking.

Why? She knew how to love.
She might not distinquish
splendor from filth
but she'd tasted the nectar of passion.

Might not know any Veda,
but a chariot swept her away-
now she frolics in heaven, esctatically bound
to her god.

The Lord of Fallen Fools, says Mira,
will save anyone who can practice rapture like that-
I myself in a previous birth
was a cowherding girl
at Gokul.

- Mirabai

2010-03-29T23:25:00.000-07:00

it's a time of aimless action
amidst the dawns of persuasion

each thing carying carryings
caring to clarify countless encounterings

measurably adhering to
sporadic flitterings and
ceaseless enterings

feigning what frets

2010-03-29T23:18:00.000-07:00

nod, hatch
nudge this disposition
catching it after the fact of
embellished past tracks
out of the distract of despair
figuring faults that collapse
in the face of each unpeeled feeling
wavering within a flaunted place
of misplaced healing and forgotten being

my head was twisted
to a kiss
of swelling identity out of a fracturing
pressure bones, ready to crack
displacing the refrain, I can only react

2010-02-03T15:25:00.001-08:00

a buzzing temple above each ear
ceaseless breathing of flowing air
words wisp about unheard...
but there; twitching hair
pertaining to explain what is not about
this fabricated chair
what do I care, but to oppose to suppose
and deny what is fair
or to elaborate and confiscate
extinguishing folds of the unaware

2009-12-10T23:49:00.000-08:00

came to me albeit fondly

creature stakes

co-operate

unanimously

wishing to draw to see

the specks of spark that

sting through vision some instantly

laying within streams that shift

what it means

to be at ease with things

and the cases of faces

that each day brings

click and breathe, sniffing the seams

squinting between what remembrance leaves

2009-12-10T23:45:00.000-08:00

I wrote this poem one winter, after being outside in the snow and noticing how much quieter everything seemed, especially when you could only hear the wind.

Act XCIV

one foot of snow

insulates the city today.

one leg of arms disputes

what to wear.

public entrances

won't be dry now until spring

ever never not wetted met by

salt stains and mud

do you notice how everything

seems closed and clothed

closer together than remembered...

the towers, the kneeling sky, long

streets now reached towards you,

and the people on the river sidewalks.

2009-11-11T01:38:00.000-08:00

cantoning cantoning
how a high one grew
up across the inner side of
the hyper-cubed mind
whole systems of ideas stream
not much unlike a fountaining lens
spewing from inside, up and down,
focusing into an interested eye

2009-10-09T00:07:00.000-07:00

nevar forget that when you are high
you are the agent of like minds

poetry propaganda
amoung my own thoughts
giving the way
for who knows what

am i as clandestine as i ought to be
or can it be
that i can see
right through to me

twelve balloons
nine grey
three purple
laying in my music room

the meaning it brings to me
seems odd inconsistently

2009-09-30T01:01:00.001-07:00

i think of a thing
then stop to clean
then i think of a thing
and forget what i'm doing
oh yeah
i'm thinking
and doing
whenever i please

2009-09-30T00:07:00.001-07:00

sing to the stars
and the voices they
breathe onto
this growing sphere

from the night sky
I receive the cold
arms of eternal comfort

that which endures
finds new hope, and
bravery

2009-09-30T00:02:00.000-07:00

i believe in a
magical synergy
that is the air
around me
connecting those
who see
through the eyes of
perceptual mystery

2009-09-29T23:59:00.000-07:00

it seems uneventful, this
life i hide away. the
wondering desires to
plant my feet on the
side of the sea... wandering
alone in a darkness that
cherishes me... up steep
hills and down ravines

what is keeping me
from being me
in the spheres of
controlled calamity that I
think we think we see...

what is there but fantastical reality

remembered through history
probed scientifically
perceived through philosophy
built and shared by you and me

is it still yet
distracted by the celebrity of religious idolatry?
caged by the fear of paranoid insecurity?

without
letting me be the eyes and ears
of the humanity that
I know inside me
perceived by the assumptions
of my own bigotry

the meaning of life is to be free
this life is me

should I go to work
make some money
raise a family

or just sit here and be
finding others like me
to make each path, ideally,
one that means

to live free and die free
into infinity

2009-09-29T23:52:00.000-07:00

summer sex with the sun
and stars
seething across the blades of
the iced field trilogy

count and camp the truest
fortitudes of wealth and glory

descent and arise
through the ashed lense
of eye and mind

fly for the spirit of humanity

generations of family kings
and queens in the household of
friends

nature's pride in humanity
comes first and goes forth
forming and feeling across
the bleeding edge of its wound

2009-09-29T22:52:00.001-07:00

what magic is this
the nicotine and saliva
movement and sound, lifting me

charity has been pulverized
as an act of depravity

what is my hidden anxiety
keeping me from being happy
what have I failed to see
in my memory that teaches me
from the things I hear and see

2009-09-22T22:53:00.000-07:00

emotion and intellect
the desire between the two
seeks to dispel me from
the commonality of held views

i think in circles, my moods harassing me
keeping me from interacting
between the perspectives of me and you

what are these words...
tangents of progressive awareness?
the culmination of my own ideological evolution?
slowly growing dimensionally,
from what is handed down through my
own known history?

it is obviously annoying to read
seemingly easy to understand to me
yet i hesitate to present it
because i am constantly doubting its accuracy

what form are these segmented sentences?
so frayed from the entertainment of common media
yet oddly commercialized as ridiculously senile
or childish, at best

my mind is aging infinitely
while my body is stuck in reality
the spirits of my affinity have possessed me

2009-09-14T01:04:00.000-07:00

is there no place in this world for me
when all I want to do is be happy,
and not care about the imposed duty
forced upon me by my view of society

to let friends and family just be
while I create my own harmony
with the existence that I see

slow moving…
in and out
back and forth
between the tragedy of comedy
and the comedy of tragedy

using my body to affect history
by following the complacent will
of necessity

2009-09-11T01:06:00.000-07:00

this is sometimes inside me
an overwhelming urge to conquer society
as I come to understand my being completely
letting it sway me between destinies

patience	disciplines me
anger	motivates me
happiness	pleases me
apathy	consoles me
sadness	teaches me

with my senses to feed my
guiding Reason
away from all anxiety

2009-09-10T23:46:00.000-07:00

Been thinking about meanings, and what it means to be friendly,
and why people don't talk about certain things,
and how euphemisms can be confusing when you try to think literally,
especially when offending someone is probably what they need.

I am free to be me, but I still have no energy,
or interest in things that I find uninteresting.
what I find interesting are rocks and trees, and sublime fantasies;
or why some people don't talk to me...
or why I find it hard to talk to some people...

And I wonder what they assume without actually asking me.

2009-08-27T23:45:00.000-07:00

life is beautiful
life is sweet
giving and taking what is necessary
or not
until the lot of the righteous
find happiness in what they do
some keep to themselves for reason unknown
others may plot schemes to justify
the hurt others have caused them
for every action there is a reaction:
of an infinite choice of possibilities
among friends who care, we do what we dare

2009-01-05T01:44:00.000-08:00

I've discovered that to live in a dream world is preferential to reality.
There is no injustice to others.
There is freedom from stress, an expansion of creativity.
It is the way of the wise.
The words of dreamers must be interpreted, from one simple form into another simple form, in a way that sounds new, riding down the cold morning on a early highway.