Winged words warble down dewy corridors.

Ancient pines and Nazca lines lay with Lindbergh's lies.

Secrets sweet and sickly squeeze through sanctuaries in space...as Jupiter courts his many moons and surpasses Hefner's pace.

Minions here and there and near and far from humanplace...where knowledge abandons the wicked and wise, with widowed residue.

Roaming, roving, raging still, they set fire to the land, Elysium burns under their wrath, as they rise up from the sands.

She sails along the Ivory Coast,

Hears jesters sing and sailors boast,

Another life for the maiden fair,

Royal blue and lazuli love affair,

Kissing the deep ocean, Calpyso's ghost,

#aqueouslove #seastruck #Calypso

Love, peace, serenity…the guitar radiates all of that and more. The guitar is the singer of the heart’s secrets. It is the olive branch offered through Apollo, given to all those who practice the sacred art of music. A sensuous, sinuous body designed to sing the most beautiful melodies and chords, the guitar is a consummate seducer…none can resist its unfathomable allure. Most guitars are shorter than the average human, maybe about 3.5-4.5 feet in length, and sit comfortably on top of your right thigh (or your left if you’re a southpaw). It is armed with six strings of steel or nylon, and when plucked, vibrates like the oscillating flight of sine and cosine waves. This brings me back to my high school math and physics classes…we used to learn about how sound travels through the air. It makes me wonder if music is math, and if math is music. Because if music is math, and math is music, then indeed, there is more to both music and math than just the formula, there is something deeper, that animates it, that brings it to life. Dense emotion, that is what the guitar pulls out of the singer, who then pulls it out of his audience. Like the Buddha, who has felt the sweet caress of Nirvana, the guitar player returns from lands of unseen depth to enlighten all who hear his song. He guides them, holding their hands with music, and lead them on an journey of self-discovery and understanding. Thich Nhat Hanh once said that “Understanding is love.” Therefore, the guitar player takes the audience on a journey of love. The guitar is the child of human emotion and masterful woodwork. Praise upon the man who first invented this marvelous instrument. Shower him in wreaths of gold, and laurels of musical notes. Crown him with the righteous rewards that he ought to receive - yet will certainly reject - in his creation of this hand-held muse. Amen.

It’s only when the city sleeps that I begin my day,

When daylight shuts her weary eyes and shadows come out to play,

When vampires, ghouls, and werewolves chew...upon the stuff of dreams,

That is when...I emerge...to unzip life’s hidden seams,

Assasins hide in corners high, and lovers in alleys low,

I bide my time, with the moon’s sweet lies, her echoing silver glow,

Waiting for the moment, dear, when you tiptoe away,

Escaping from the burdens of the sunlit Apollo day...

Chariots of Hades, run these streets at night,

Drivers with chains of stolen wheat, with empty socket sight,

I am their director, their River Stygian guide,

I am all there is to know and love, when you surf this broken tide...

Another place, another crime, another perfect rhyme,

To quench the thirst of ones so lost, as they swim the sands of time,

They hunt with dewy eyes that cry, tears of golden glass,

You’d better make the moment count, before this moment’s passed.

Thanks for the challenge!

@chainedinshadow

At the end of light...was familiar dark,

The jungles of new mother's heart,

Her spine, a brace, for my rebirth,

In this cold, hard, but hopeful Earth...

Love is blind,

For fickle fools,

Whose love is fire, whose love is cruel...

BURNING TARGETS, without thought,

Heedless of the pain they've wrought...

Ought to change, ought we not?

Costa Rica...a tropical wonderland. A seascapes of trees dance with smiling winds. Tempestuous dancers of Latin descent, emissaries from the golden Ragnorak of the Costa Rican sun. Gold dust on their skin, as they trail their feathers along the adobe Earth, tickling her through half-sunken reveries. Barbacoa sizzles on adamantine grills...crystalline waters in wells of plenty...there's plenty well off in Costa Rica.

No stars and stripes, no red and yellow, no nuclear, handheld...or otherwise dangerous contraption...just love...and the slowburn passion of awakened wilderness. It belongs to everyone, it belongs to the songstress and lionshout within each man and woman. Yey, we are both Ying and Yang. The darkness and light, in perfect meditation...closing my eyes, I feel the waves slowly coursing through the sandy veins of the shore...she walks in front of me, 9 steps ahead, 8 steps too many, 7 reasons away, 6 hesitations, 5 contemplations, 4 dedications, 3 elevations, 2 you, my 1.

The open ocean. A vast horizon of opal blue. The glint of the sun causes the ocean to blink where the water meets the sky. That line of concentration, furrowing without creases. From my eyes, the ocean seems to have no end…no stop sign saying…"ok, maybe it’s time to turn back.” Instead, it both invites and challenges at the same time. A woman, tempestuous, wild…alive. Bursting with vitality, the open ocean dances through her moods like a lover of extremes. There is no middle ground…there is only the vast, infinite horizon, and the depths below. As I inhale, the taste of salt and kelp limps into my nose…the scent of freedom, the scent of power. Not my own…mind you, but the power of the ocean…Poseidon, I’ve always felt that he was more powerful than even Zeus in some ways. In fact, I believe it is Poseidon, not Zeus that affects humans the most deeply (aside from Aphrodite, Gods bless and curse that woman). The water is more relevant…a closer friend, a loving tormentor…or the terror that rules us all…or the life from which we are all created and sustained. The ocean talks to me, the deepest bass you can imagine…inaudible by the human ear, but soul-audible, if you know how to listen. It tells me to calm down, to breathe, to wonder, to humble myself, a sacrifice to the ocean. I am but a single droplet in an ocean of eternal and infinite dances. My dance…my ripples spread as the drop that comprises me brushes the water’s skin. They spread with urgency, in an attempt to fall as deeply and widely as possible. The ripples reach out with grasping breath in order to maximize their magnitude and weight. That is all the human life is. The kiss of a single drop, upon an ocean of eternity. But kiss on, kiss on I say…for the ocean is made of those kisses. And without my kiss, and your kiss…there would be no ocean…and that would not be a world worth living in.

#theopenocean #returninghome