Wilt

"Drive safe," he mumbles to her,
And watching her depart he already knows
That even as he acts like a stone
Inside he is melting.
And even as he pulls at her stem
He cannot bear to uproot her.

Will I ever realize
I am the one who now wrangles with
Love the way love once
Tortured me?

Me?

And so as a comet revolving 'round a star,
He sits down and mumbles softly to his guitar,
While his mind turns ever after upon her soft figure
Driving away in her car.

Ode to a Sea of Garbage

How beautifully ironic,
That the bottle thoughtlessly cast
Out into the sea
Is gently carried by the currents
Away towards the center,
Where all the plastics meet:
A sea of garbage,
Astounding all who see,
Becoming what no lone bottle
Could ever be.

The Heaving Earth - Conclusion

An earthquake is the result of a sudden surge of energy within the Earth’s crust that triggers seismic waves. Earthquakes are literally the direct result of an upset Earth. The cry from a hungry baby, the growl of a threatened dog, the strike of a cornered rattlesnake, or the quaking of the Earth; the cause throughout is distress. Like ants pouring out from an injured anthill, the earth sends its fury through fissures on its surface.

Natural earthquakes occur from faults, faults from the tensions and stress between two tectonic plates. Only recently have we discovered that the earth is moving in slow motion. The Earth’s tectonic plates travel an average of 8.25 inches per year. What the philosophers and religious figures of Lisbon did not realize was that the Earth moves, just like we do. “When you allow peace to flow around the world / then your hate will go and love will flow.” This is what Ravi Sathasivam tells us, and yet, despite what we may feel, does the earth not respond as it always has, calm in some moments, but furious after tensions have been held too long? We are but inhabitants on an Earth that heaves with us. Earthquake, power, respect it. It’s not the fast life we live, simply living beyond the existing, of equilibrium.

The Changing of the Seasons

Hiroishi Kurou slowly crept towards the prow of the ship and there forced his old body to bend into a sitting position, where he remained although the ship was not due to depart for some hours. The dark waves splashed playfully at the boat's sides, and the vessel bobbed softly, silhouetted against the bright moon. The chill of winter had finally arrived and was slowly creeping into Korou's skin, making him shiver. The last of the maple trees' leaves were falling into the water.

First Natsumi, then Tamito Fumio, then finally Haru:
All had vanished into darkness.
One by one, Korou had watched his companions fall away.
First, they took their happiness.
Next, they took their security.
Finally, they took his hope...
And nothing  Korou had done could prevent it.

How fate turns your life about you,
Throwing your world as waves upon rocks,
As stones falling away into darkness.
Like the changing of the seasons
Korou's friends had come and gone,
Leaving behind only
The pale husk
Of winter.

Vibrating Atoms

Vibrating atoms beneath my skin
Form the cities that I live in
Serve to the sermons I hear everyday
And scatter the birds who then fly away

These street sermons do not move me
My spirit dwells within canopy trees
Lush with dark green leaves
That echo my virtues of Pleasure and Passion
What's done is done; it's what we become that matters
The Sun reveals Life's tatters

Deep Space holds no secrets for me
My mind is locked; I cannot see anyway to overcome
Myself
Or who I am or what I've become
What's done is done
But who the hell would want a kingdom where we
Never see, never hear, never speak?
Let us grasp what we can, my friends! Be free
The Sunlight sears into me

Atoms vibrate deep within my skin
In my heart behind the Sin a desire for Peace is hidden
Vibrating atoms form a tree,
Whose roots give way to a trunk and then leaves
That echo my virtues of Pleasure and Passion
What's done is done
It's what we become that matters
It's what we become that matters

Vibrating atoms beneath my skin
Form the cities that I live in
Along with the forests free of them
Where seeds scatter away into the wind.

A Rose Pedal Drifts

A rose pedal drifts in the wind,
And if the trees could talk,
They would lament the loss of this beautiful gem.

But the trees don't speak,
And in the stillness only the small pedal moves,
Moonlight glinting off of its grooves.

I scour the ground where that perfect pedal shown,
And in the silence I alone
Scream my defiance.