Victory of the Walkabout Tribe

A time to gaze

To let the mind graze

Walk to an anthem

Heard only by you

To watch dreams being dreamed

And to dream your own too

With future rejoicings

Overheard from within

The Walkabout Tribe

Will make you their kin

Through flush summer heat

Or steel-winter cold

These starry-eyed dreamers

Shall never grow old

Proud Prayer of the Infidels

faithful

in dismissing these myths

embracing the appeal

of the sting of rough earth,

the carnal, the real

proud to be

that blast of cold air

to bring chaos

to the god sellers

and give chase

with that cold mind,

the blue chill

of cold white reason

so feared

and so great

A Warrior’s Walk

spilled out

in small groups

by smaller people

cuck-men chuckle

like pecked hens

dabble in the drunken sweet-talk

of teen girls

the lone warrior

puts on his hat,

walks

the chill Hell’s Kitchen streets

in the sober quest

for home 

Distant Lightning

a shock-white message

flashes soundless

in the distance

beauty electric

powered abundant

sears through softness

without burning

and brands

in our mind’s eye

the promise

of enormity and legend

pigment

for soul survival,

divine jump-start for art

fused from

primal power

that binds

even the most modern

to the ways

of the caves

sit in the dark

and watch the coming storm

let it draw strength

and blaze endlessly

delight in seeing it

char off

the soft false shell

to let truth in beauty be reborn