Black Ice...

Black Ice...

In the frozen chill that is the world right now,
In the dark of silent Winter night,
Smooth riding down the highway of life,
Suddenly you’re fish-tailing wildly,
Heart beating frantic,
Trying to simply recover without getting ditched.

The temperature has dropped precipitously,
The world buried in glistening white,
Tiny flakes swirl about the air like flying diamonds,
A fairy-tale view to a seeming static world,
Hush-muffled and quiet and waiting,
It looks like damp pavement,
The only clue you’ll get.

Watch the road carefully,
Watch and be ready at an instant’s notice,
Black ice changes everything,
Faster than an eye-blink.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/15/2009

Winter is calling my name...

...and AquarianM will answer.

Back in January of 2002, I started a fantasy novel entitled "AquarianM and the Heart of Winter." I had only barely begun when a Forgotten realms title which was nearly identical came out. Harry Potter was also quite fresh at the time.

I then decided to shelve the project until the other book with the very similar title had run its course.

The Harry Potter series is now also a wonderful, comfortable old shoe in literature. A classic to be treasured. However, it's been on the scene long enough that I can come back to my story, which has some similar elements and would target a similar audience/demographic.

If I can break ground with this, I have another very special concept waiting to follow.

The best fun is, I have a possible co-writer for the rest of AquarianM and The Heart of Winter. I love doing collaborative works online, especially with a talented female writer. It lends an authentic feminine perspective on the story that makes it more detailed and believable.

Keep this note in the back of your minds, because I'm hoping to drive this one home in the next year or so.

Dan

Palmer 3 Ovals Pizzelle Maker

http://www.fantes.com/pizzelle.html

 

 

Palmer 3 Ovals Pizzelle Maker

 

 

 

$49.99
#3362
Temporarily unavailable; being re-tooled

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

Makes three oval pizzelles,
4-5/8" x 2-3/4",
C. 3/16" thick with 1/8" wide grooves,
10" x 5" oval plates,
UL Listed 120v, 60hz, 800 watts,
10 year limited warranty
(Palmer stipulates that you contact them directly for warranty repairs.)
USA

Model 3600

My new sax blog...

... is called "66 Sax" after my 1966 Selmer Bundy tenor sax, "Bello." (Serial number 411559 - and the name is a play on the English word for making a loud noise or yell, and the the Italian word for "handsome.")

You can check it out here: http://66sax.blogspot.com/ - including my healing Earth song, "Pacha Mama Prayer."

Regards and have fun,

Dan

Learning "The Empty Hand."

Just a quick note, I've started a journal about learning the art of Karate called "The Empty Hand." (Karate literally translates to "Empty Hand" in Japanese.) You can find a bit of humor and also insiders' notes on what it's like to be learning a martial art. Stop on by The Empty Hand at http://karateemptyhand.blogspot.com/ any time.

Regards,

Dan

Totality...

Totality...

I reached for my cherry staff and walked,
In the whispering subconscious of pre-dawn,
Intent on seeing the Blood Moon,
Totality - the Earth's shadow eating Luna.

Sadly the fractal clouds hid her demise,
She would be reborn on the other side of Earth,
Child of our mother-world that she is.

I had to satisfy myself with another rare view,
Earth's brother Mercury tucked between two rosy dawn clouds,
I whispered to the Messenger,
Playing notes softly at the Crossroads,
Just a few whispers of harmonica.

The un-finished cherry staff stands as tall as me,
Filled with the un-seen energies of the Blood Moon,
And the visible energies of the Messenger,
Still wearing its rough bark and un-capped,
A sphere of Brazilian Amethyst awaits to crown it,
Once I find the runes true,
I will focus the sun-glass on the bare wood,
And burn its true name in Rongrongo.

Then and only then will I finish it,
Give it its foot,
And walk with its totality.

AquarianM

By Daniel A. Stafford
© 08/28/2007

Grymwyre of Atlantean Spells gets its own blog

For podcasting purposes, I have had to move the Grymwyre of Atlantean Spells to its own blog, which can be found here: http://grymwyre2.blogspot.com/

MP3 version of The Blood Rose of Atlantis, Part One.

Dan

Grymwyre Of Atlantean Spells - Blood Rose of Atlantis

Grymwyre Of Atlantean Spells

Mejik is a fascinating thing. It feeds on belief. Anyone's belief. If something inside a person can twist in just the right way, reach a certain angle of viewpoint, and see the universe in a certain way, the universe can find it easier to follow the viewpoint than all the viewpoints in the past.

When it comes to conflicting beliefs, that's when things can get interesting. Sometimes, they get academically interesting, like a text book question. At other times, they're more like the ancient Chinese curse - "may you live in interesting times." Something like the times the Earth is passing through now, but I digress.

There are earlier times in human history, forgotten times. Times with scattered clues all about us, yet so distant as to be like fragments caught in the amber of a hillside that only seems natural, or where a customary gesture comes from. We don't know why we have certain little rituals about us, they've just always been. Or so it would seem.

Wouldn't it be interesting indeed if we could look back into those distant ages and vanished cultures, possibly even civilizations? If we had a mejik mirror that saw the distant past and let it fill our vision now, today. What secrets might we learn?

Perhaps, we might just look inside, and the mirror is right there, when our eyes are closed, piecing the clues we have into sections of a subconscious puzzle - illuminating areas no one else has seen.

Soon, it will be time to begin those explorations, and I will bring them to the pages of this grymwyre like candles from the darkest corners of the night.

First, though, I must walk the land of djriems. Only in that place might I find the matches to light such candles to glowing.

I shall soon return.

AquarianM

The Blood Rose Of Atlantis

Many people today believe that vampires originated in a land called Transylvania. Certainly vampires today welcome that belief. In fact, like many spells and curses, the curse of vampirism originates in ancient Atlantis. Modern vampires prefer this to remain unknown because such ignorance allows them to use their raw power without the vulnerability of conscience or feeling.

Modern vampirism is a bastardization of a powerful spell used in lost Atlantis to create its most feared and respected soldiers to enforce the rule of the Atlantean Council and the Grym Whizzyrd, leader of the Council. Vampirism is a bastardization by omission, caused by its Transylvanian originator only finding half the spell. It is a result of ignorance, and because of that ignorance, it serves the purposes of the archetypal Satanic Entity rather than its intended higher purpose of creating Keepers of Order.

The Blood Rose of Atlantis is the second half of the transformation process necessary to create a true Vampiric Court, or Court Crimson, as this order's name would translate in modern languages.

Here, I will reveal the Blood Rose of Atlantis, and give an historical example of its use, as devised and employed by the first Grym Whizzyrd of Atlantis.

The Blood Rose of Atlantis is employed once a vampire is created. Its effect is to cause vampires to regain their human emotion and feeling, and conscience. It returns to a vampire its connection to its soul, and therefore its connection to all souls and the laws of spirituality, such as Karma, Dharma, and suchlike. A vampire to whom this spell is gifted also regains its ability to sustain life through eating and drinking ordinary foods and renders a spiritual alternative to the energies of human blood available through the Universal Source. This means that the vampire no longer requires human blood to survive, nor is it vulnerable to sunlight any longer.

Vampires under the laws of the Blood Rose of Atlantis are still subject to death by a wooden stake through the heart, decapitation, or fire. No longer, however, need said vampire fear the sun nor holy water, nor the burning touch of the universal symbol of the Christ archetypal entity. (The cross and the Universal Spirit that it represents are as old as time and more.) They are rendered in service of the Light rather than the Dark by this spell.

For this reason, I must return this spell to current knowledge rather than leave it lost in the mists of forgotten history. It is my duty as a Whizzyrd of Light.

Required Materials:

1. A single flawless ruby of one carat or larger. (Used to focus Universal Light and shine it eternally into the heart of the undead.)

2. Five one carat or larger rose quartz crystals. (Used to gather Universal Light and feed it into the ruby focus.)

3. One pint of the Blood of the Christ Spirit. (Used to replace the blood a rose-less vampire requires to live. I believe it may be possible to use wine converted to Eucharist in Christian worship ceremonies, but were I wrong, the results could be deadly for whomever attempts to place the Blood Rose of Atlantis upon the vampire.)

4. Pure silver of sufficient quantity to set the Blood Rose of Atlantis and allow its permanent placement upon the body of the vampire to be treated.

5. Five drops of cord-blood from a virgin birth. (This gives residual merikal energy to the spell.)

6. Seven drops of the juices of desire from seven virgins, collected while they were in the unfulfilled throes of desire for their heart's true love. (To replace the passion the vampire lost in becoming undead.)

Procedure:

On a night when the Seven Sisters are surrounding Jupiter, then the flower may be grown. By starlight and moonlight the ruby and quartz already cut are laid in silver in the shape of a flower.

Behind the ruby in the setting, place the love throes of seven virgins mixed with the blood of innocent birth. These must be sealed within the center of the flower, its nectar, the tone of the energies it shall play upon the undead.

The flower is then inscribed upon its setting with the symbol of life and the symbol of the Peacemaker, and also the symbol of the Mother of All. This is done with concentrated moon and starlight, heating the silver just enough to lay in these runes.

The ruby, the heart of the Blood Rose of Atlantis, is the last piece set. As it is laid in place, the Whizzyrd recites the Oath of Service over the budded flower, ending with the intonation of Anahkh.

Seven silver bells and five golden are pealed at once by twelve disciples of the Whizzyrd, exactly and perfectly at the moment Anahkh is uttered.

The budded flower is then allowed to bask in only moonlight and starlight each night for twelve years. Upon the exact night the twelve years are fulfilled, the flower-maker shall open its blossom to the red rays of the sun's birth at the exact moment of morning in the East. At this moment will be heard the echo of the twelve peals in one.

Immediately enclose the Blood Rose of Atlantis in darkened silk in a cedar box. Store it such until its placement upon the vampire.

At the moment of next dawn, open the cairn of the vampire to the first rays of morning, and immediately lay the Blood Rose of Atlantis over the burning vampire's heart. Leave the cairn open to the sunlight until nothing remains but the undead ash and the Blood Rose of Atlantis. Close the cairn immediately.

Take the cairn to the steps of the closest temple of the Peacemaker, arranging it to face the sun. There, all the priests of the Peacemaker must perform the rites of birth over the cairn, ending at dawn precisely. As the last note of the rite perishes in the first ray of dawnlight, open the cairn.

The reborn vampire will step forth into the morning sun, no longer pale nor pallid, but flush with the rosy hue of life. He or she will now break bread and share water and wine with the Sons of Man as a brother. By moonlight and by sunlight they shall live. They shall bathe in the Mother's waters and breathe the Father's air exactly as does Man, Whale, or Dolphin. They shall father or bear children, and love them as does any parent. They shall know every passion, pain, and hope of human life. They shall be known as vampires of the Court Crimson, and live among men as friends and allies.

Being vampires already, the Court Crimson are immune to the bite and other powers of undead vampires.

The vampires' trick of not appearing in mirrors does not fool them. They know to look just beyond the mirrors' field of view where the vampire's reflection has been shifted by mejik. They are themselves able to work such spells themselves, simply through an act of will.

Should an undead vampire turn to mist and try to flee in shadowed breezes, the Court Crimson can smell the faint scent of the undead and follow it in its own draft.

Were an undead vampire to become a bat and attempt to fly away, the Court Crimson can become a nighthawk and seize the undead in its powerful talons.

If the undead vampire attempts the guise of a wolf, the warrior of the Court Crimson becomes a lion and rends the undead wolf completely.

However, should one of the Court Crimson bite an undead vampire in the fashion vampires are wont to do, the undead vampire will immediately burst into eldritch blue flames, and turn to ash upon the spot. The next morning, the ashes will spring back to life, subject to the spell of the Blood Rose of Atlantis, and subservient to the Court Crimson agent that caused its painful rebirth.

Perhaps now you understand why modern vampires choose to let the world remain in ignorance of the Blood Rose of Atlantis, and the Court Crimson. You must also realize that I make no friends of the undead in revealing these ancient mysteries.

An Historical Example of the Use of the Blood Rose of Atlantis:

To be revealed soon...

Whisper Simple Secrets...

If you stare into the flickering brilliance of the candle flame,
Watch it until you can see the vanishingly small,
Somewhere in the back of your mind,
You might just understand.

A picture of the world rests behind your eyes,
That thought gleams as a fraction of the energy,
The same field that is everything's essence,
The web of white light it takes imaginary eyes to see.

Hold the world like a Christmas ornament,
Floating in a golden glow tinged with soft green,
There in the cupped palm of your hands,
Gift unto it a sweet gift.

Call the white light down from Heaven,
Do it with all your heart,
Let it flow through you,
Wash over this tiny blue globe of life - healing.

God gifts us each a spark of his everything,
Else we couldn't be here at all,
His children yet to mature,
Still in school.

If every thought you had was of something joyful,
Never would a hurtful day enter your life,
You have the keys to the Universe,
But Mother and Father say you must be a passenger first.

Think of pain and painful things come to you,
Drawn like flies to a rotting stench,
Think of joy and joyful things will come to you,
Drawn like light into the empty dark.

Call the white light down from Heaven,
Do it with all your heart,
Let it flow through you,
Wash over this tiny blue globe of life - healing.

Let's do it together.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/09/2006

Author's Comments

http://www.thesecret.tv

Reading Martì...

I was at first somewhat astonished,
Time stepped out of the picture and faded into the distance,
A bit player whose part was done in an epic timeless,
Where bare truths about the soul of a land are laid,
Flayed of all pomp and circumstance and artifices of finery.

The honest opinions of one in a land new and unknown,
Waiting in dusty tomes a century and more on the page,
Speaking of first impressions and speaking truth without mercy nor spite,
With the clarity of seeing everything hidden beneath,
Rivaled only by modern miracles like MRI's or x-rays,
Hits your preconceptions of culture between the eyes.

"We worship wealth here,
For we came without it and without its respect,
The downtrodden cast-offs of old lands all,
In waves and droves and sea-sick jubilation of landfall,
Only to emulate the visible qualities of our oppressors,
Seeking what we perceived as their strengths without true knowledge."

In a land where the clocks must be punched,
Where work rules every aspect of our worth and ability to exist,
How do we have a moment for the grace of souls malnourished,
Do we ever feed the worth of our souls when our mouths are our rulers,
Still slaves to our bellies which can translate only gold into food and shelter?

It is of small wonder that the sword that threatens our necks comes from "on high" -
A curved scimitar swinging with the weight of yellow metal,
Hiding at its core a hollow vacuum - a void where a graceful spirit should be,
If it were filled with what belongs there it would melt into a ploughshare,
Or perhaps into the bricks that could hide our heads from hurricanes and tornadoes,
Or the hearth that used to warm our bread.

The least among us are our true mirror,
The clearest glass we shall ever gaze into,
And if the bones of them are prodding their flesh,
Their frost bite of lack of shelter and bellies full of nothing but air,
Their pitiful rags wrapped 'round the vision of skulls that is the source of our fear,
It will pull that sword of gold upon us all to cleave our necks as surely as the clocks tick.

How many among us would give even the illusion of a five dollar bill to their pantry,
If it had to be given without the craven illusion of a tax deduction?

This world is not and never has been divided by arbitrary lines on a plastic globe,
Not one of marble nor glass nor clay nor wood nor paper,
No matter how well-drawn or sculpted its representation of Earth,
For what we put into the sky or the water or the land travels freely,
Not one law can arrest its progress or its consequence.

Our souls and our fates are as intertwined as is the atmosphere or the waterways,
Filled with underground rivers that carry every deed and action throughout the whole,
A permeated brew stirring by convection and gravity unseen yet ever-present.

What we do with the "least" among us we will drink and eat,
Regardless of whether we know it or acknowledge it or remain ignorant of it,
It will fuel poisonous growth or it will be clean and gentle with us,
As we reap we will sow is the pertinent verse.

Fires do not burn without fuel,
Fuel made of greedy intent or even plain ignorance,
And if violence and harm do not treat us as harshly as flames in the end,
It will be simply because we gave them no cause to burn.

In the end it all congeals into that basic truth -
Which crosses all those artificial and arbitrary lines on globes and maps.

We made a play for "freedom" here,
A crop which only thrives when shared and tended well.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 08/30/2006

Author's Notes:
This was inspired by reading the early newspaper articles written by Jose Martì when he first came to live in New York in the 1870's. He wrote for New York and multiple Latin American newspapers his observations on the emerging culture in the United States - which to this day values work and wealth but forgets the values of spiritual nourishment, charity, and the human need for self-worth not always gained through financial acumen. It shows in the way we drive ourselves nearly beyond our physical limits for work and career, the way we look down on vacations long enough to truly rest the soul and body, and the way we are driven to work at the expense of family and community. When one steps back and takes a fresh look, we are tragically out of balance. The fact that people in this country or any other go without food and shelter is a clear reflection of how such scales are tilted. What happens when things are unbalanced for too long and stretched too far away from the balance point?

By Rainbow Light...

Teased with visions of a fragile world healed,
I sense a hunger of titanic proportions,
Hiding in the mists of the collective undermind,
Waiting to climb the ladders of belief and faith,
Pushing on the heavy lid of fear that covers the exit,
The one from fantasy into reality.

I hear it spoken of with a nervous laugh,
Like it might shine in reflections from a tinfoil hat,
Something cooked up by a lunatic fringe in a crazed moment,
This utterly surreal idea that peace and kindness could somehow win,
When what seems like preservation is to kill more of "them,"
Still it's a haunting vision that lives in a joke,
A world where everyone has a roof and clean water.

I suppose it's all fine if the rich chase children in other countries,
Bullets bombs or underwear,
That sort of thing doesn't "belong" around here,
But can you tell me where it does so I never go there?

There are those of us like mirrors,
We shine mirror light on all the dark places,
You know - where a soul tries to hide when it's afraid,
Places like Denial and Ignorance and the like,
Because we see that world shining in the tinfoil hats,
Where everyone has the basics of life,
It's a vision of a possible truth,
All it takes is a lot of love and a little rainbow light.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 08/19/2006

Reggae Heart...

Wash me down to de Carribean, she’s de bluest sea,
We could all ‘ave cried her, from tears o’ joy.

A night song o’ sail cloth flapping under dese brilliant stars,
Bring de morning sun down upon de beach.

Palm trees, dey sway up over our smiling heads,
When de reggae plays de limes fall into de drink.

Wash me down to de Carribean, she’s de bluest sea,
We could all ‘ave cried her, from tears o’ joy.

Rum runners dancing south dere, down by de sweet blue sea,
Coconuts floating out past de Keys where we sing.

Oh Lord, take me away down dere in de sunshine,
Where she swims by de light be dawn now.

Wash me down to de Carribean, she’s de bluest sea,
We could all ‘ave cried her, from tears o’ joy.

We free now, Darlin’ mine you be de sunshine,
Fishin’ for your love gentle an’ slow now.

Put de peppers on de chicken an limes wit’ sweet plantains,
Love me slowly now, my miracle on de wing

Wash me down to de Carribean, she’s de bluest sea,
We could all ‘ave cried her, from tears o’ joy.

I wan’ be seeing de parrots so colored pretty,
De albatross, he fly slowly over you an’ me.

Fly wit’ me reggae heart an de Wailers play,
I’m gone up on Heaven while Bob Marley sings.

Wash me down to de Carribean, she’s de bluest sea,
We could all ‘ave cried her, from tears o’ joy.

Fly wit’ me reggae heart an de Wailers play,
I’m gone up on Heaven while Bob Marley sings.

Wash me down to de Carribean, she’s de bluest sea,
We could all ‘ave cried her, from tears o’ joy.

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/01/2006

**NOTE** My web host did a network-wide server upgrade, and this resulted in the shut-down of all my blogs hosted on my own site, including *Spell Book*, for one month. Tonight is the first time I've been able to post here since early June.

*Spell Book* will resume publishing in the next couple of days. Thank you all so much for your patience!

Dan

Dreams Of Sand...

He awoke to heat and thirst and pain,
Not sure where he was in the silence,
Lying torn on burning sands,
Seeing the cloudless blue sky waver and shimmer.

Rolling over with a groan,
He shakily got his feet under him,
Unsteady and drenched in sweat that steamed away instantly.

He raised a hand to shield his eyes,
All the world was sand unbearably bright,
A scorpion crawled by nearly at his feet,
He licked his cracked and bleeding lips and remembered what it was,
Just in time jumping away.

Dizzy with confusion he turned around and followed his own footprints,
They led to a smoldering building in ruins,
An arm lay outstretched from under a shattered block of stone,
A child's arm by the look of it.

He remembered being a child once,
Playing with toy cars as his sister cradled her Barbie doll,
"I'm going home in a week" he thought,
Suddenly terrified at something he couldn't remember,
Maybe couldn't bear to remember.

It might happen again back home,
He suddenly knew this even though "what" was only a burning haze,
He knew he couldn't let "it" happen back home,
The tears burst into his eyes along with white hot rage,
Out-burning the sun as he saw a smoldering teddy bear near the arm.

He reached for the gun at his hip,
Pointed it at his face as he thought "I can't let this go back home,"
Flipping off the safety he started to squeeze,
Just like they'd squeeze the truth out of him in horrible ways,
If he let "it" get back home.

Just as he heard the final click before his angels were due,
He woke up in sweat drenched sheets,
Screaming incoherently as his wife looked at him with THAT look in her eyes,
The sickening animal fear that he knew was on his childrens' faces in their room,
The look that made a lie out of their words of hope for "recovery."

There was only one way he would ever recover from something,
But God help him - he couldn't figure out what "it" was,
And as he reached for the pills in the drawer by the bed,
The thought burned his soul all the way to his core.

The teddy bear was familiar...

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 06/02/2006

Mapleflight...

For announcements SPECIFIC TO PLAINFIELD LIVE POETRY READINGS, Please join the Plainfield Live Poetry Group at:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Plainfield_live_poetry/

All,

We have found a wonderful new place for poetry readings. The location is convenient to poets in Plainfield, Naperville, Aurora, Montgomery, and Oswego.

Poetry readings will be held the first Tuesday of the month from 7pm to 9pm at:

Green Leaf Coffee House
(located in Sun Plaza)
2400 S. Eola Road, Suite G
Aurora, IL 60504
630-851-8410
greenleafcoffee@sbcglobal.net

Attendance is free of charge and all poets are welcome to read.

Contact Dan Stafford at aqmstaffo@mailbag.com or 815-483-8878 or Jillmarie at Green Leaf Coffee House (greenleafcoffee@sbcglobal.net)

Sun Plaza is located on the far Southwestern portion of Eola Road about two miles before it intersects US Hwy 30.

Our first reading will be Tuesday, April 4th starting at 7pm. Please forward this message to anyone you feel would be interested in reading or attending!

Please join Dan Stafford at Green Leaf Coffee House for the kickoff of the new Western suburbs poetry readings, and let's get this off to a wonderful start!

As always, please bring material suitable for a family environment, and let's all show our new hosts how wonderful the spoken word can be!

I'm looking forward to seeing and hearing many talented poets at Green Leaf starting in April!

Sincerely,

Dan Stafford - Emcee

Bye Bye Black Cloud...



Enough grey skies and rain,
Lightning strikes and pain,
Bring on the wind today,
Blow this low down black cloud away.

Bye bye black cloud flown away,
Love and fortune are mine from this day,
Sunshine and happiness warm my neighborhood,
In perfect ways my life is blessed for good.

Let it dissipate into a blue sky now,
Sweet sunshine come on down,
Softly warm my up-turned face,
A breezy smile I wear in new-found grace.

Bye bye black cloud flown away,
Love and fortune are mine from this day,
Sunshine and happiness warm my neighborhood,
In perfect ways my life is blessed for good.

Like a hawk on the breeze I'm soaring far,
Flying up to touch my lucky star,
A happy song springing from my lips,
Double rainbows at my fingertips.

Bye bye black cloud flown away,
Love and fortune are mine from this day,
Sunshine and happiness warm my neighborhood,
In perfect ways my life is blessed for good.

Love and peace all within my view,
I walk in grace and glory complete and true,
Fortune is my companion at every step,
Harmony wraps my every relationship.

Bye bye black cloud flown away,
Love and fortune are mine from this day,
Sunshine and happiness warm my neighborhood,
In perfect ways my life is blessed for good.

Bye bye black cloud flown away,
Love and fortune are mine from this day,
Sunshine and happiness warm my neighborhood,
In perfect ways my life is blessed for good.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 12/07/2005

Author's Comments:
A daily prayer. Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.

The Last Of Monowi...

The prairie grass returns,
Covering over fallen homes,
Places only ghosts now roam,
Empty houses and broken streets,
The hopes of generations fallen to ruin,
All at the stroke of the globalization pen,
Farms and factories silent and deserted,
Gone back to what it was before we came,
A white-haired stubborn old lady,
The lone inhabitant of a place that's gone,
No future apocalypse,
Nothing you have to wait until 2100 for,
They say we've never abandoned an American city,
That lie is apparent all over the countryside,
The last lady of Monowi can show it to you today.


http://www.whizzyrds.com/Ghostville.html

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/21/2005

What Exactly IS In A Word?

A word is a discussion all by itself,
It holds an image of what it tells,
It's a picture agreed upon by you and me,
It's a contract unspoken we speak every day,
Origins that trace back to the first "what is it,"
"Let's call it this - what do you say?"

In order to understand the nature of this treasure,
We must realize that the universe is built of foundational blocks,
Within or without words shape it because they are the basis,
Given to us by divinity and no other creature we do not teach,
We speak to our God with them whatever name we use,
We often fail to understand that we do not have to address God,
Every word is heard and may result in action from Divinity,
As poets we choose words with care,
Missing the proper understanding perhaps,
Although not necessarily entirely.

Forgive me if it seems presumptuous,
For I know of no other creature,
That speaks to and in front of God,
With every breath or stroke of pen,
As such we poets are more than we know,
We stand closest to this particular gate.

Step through the gate into the parlor,
Read the writing on the walls,
Come back out with an understanding whereof you speak,
Turn - the gate is here:

www.concentric.net/~conure/shinn.shtml

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/20/2005

An Angel In China...

Wing beats dust bamboo,
Halo shines on rice paper,
Bearing love's soft dreams.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/19/2005

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.