Love in the Stillness

Love in the Stillness

I am longing for the stillness

Stillness,

Like the darkened sky against a September moon

Yet here I am at the tides of noon

With all of hell and water beating down my door

This heart within me does so long for more

yet my head is banging against the bricks

Raised up long ago with clubs and sticks

and a thousand useless apparitions

and thousands more useless superstitions

Have overtaken my nights

So now it seems my only plight

Is how many videos it takes to entertain

How many cells can I kill before my entire brain

Finally comes to the point where I can actually be human again

Finally comes to the place where my heart can pulse

Not to mention where there my soul, repulsed,

comes into the pleasures of the meeting

Time is continual, time is fleeting

But to the birds I make my motions

Greetings high with mixed emotions

I stand on a rusting moonshine still

I hear the sound of a whippoorwill

Yet in the midst I know no distinctions

The old, the ladies, the dark, the tinctures

Have all faded into dust

I must, I say, I must, I must

Travel into the realms of timelessness

To hear my heartbeat revel in the winds

“Dear God, would you please stop this meandering.”

I hear the raucous noises daily, the philandering

It is the only music the dirt can hear

Yet I dance to sounds in the atmosphere

Which is why my soul is in stillness

In places dark and unseen

No shiny, metallic, shimmering sheen

But just an overwhelming magnanimity 

Sewn with deliberate humanity

Brings on a dance that shakes the universe

This I will never, ever reverse

Forever forward will I go

Will your heart and soul and being know

Me in this land of fierce contention?

I believe that I must have forgotten to mention

You were with me all of this time

You were the cadence, the voice, the rhyme

That slathered all of my being

In dusts and dances and darknesses bleeding

yet healing all the same

Was found in one vastly simplistic name

Called love

I have found the stillness

I so long for it....

K, Duane Carter 10/30/13

Voice

Voice (Day of Atonement)

I dream of days, I dream of ways

Where I do not have to enter into this incessant wandering

This amassing of graves between worlds of reality and fact

And the realms of reality and truth

These things I have wrestled with since my youth

Seeing the dragons get all the stronger

I still face them though I wander

between the place of courage and of fear

I sit amidst the lovely violets here

Just watching from a distance

I seek a grand but notorious gaze

a Voice that lives amongst blue-green eyes ablaze

These stories wrap around my mind

I cannot grasp such things sublime

Yet grasp them is exactly what I do, I must

Reach deep within to find the vessels of trust

That lead me to my pleasures

These things are so much more than treasures

They are rather more than things

Rather more on angels’ wings

They fly beneath my feet to greet me

All the while I look above while seeking

Those things that cannot be known or seen

I hear the whispers of gentle giants

I feel the tethering of a meek compliance

Knowing I cannot meet these ways

These ways that just lead all astray

Yet promise a sure deliverance

I also cannot yield to happenstance

Nor can anyone else for that difficult matter

For space is nothing but mindless chatter

if it truly had no beginning

I see the red roofs on those distant shores

The winding, writhing tales and lore

which break into my musings

All hair, all skin, all dark accusing

Just bristle in the sunlight

To speak of love so forthright

Is the answer to all these breathings

I cannot come into the forms and worries

Yet I cannot leave them ever since

I yield to the mysteries of unfathomable furies

With not a skip of heartbeats hence

I yield to the mysteries of unfathomable furies

With not a skip of heartbeats hence

So where does this all lead?  So where does this all go?

I think it goes where no one knows

But it does go into the knowing

The place where our listless souls are growing

In the green room of our past neglect

The pictures of our contorted wrecks

are turned into sound and life and beauty 

This happens right before our eyes

We listen and are mesmerized

by things we cannot hear nor see

In the listening I am free

It is in the listening I am free

I hear the Voice

K, Duane Carter 9/14/13