Fron Venwoude

love

here now

the horror, all

joy

Beauty in Hell

Flourishing

returning to

Her Throne

form

And sensation,

Heaven, ineffable

Compassion, has no need of a tongue

Bereft of arms to succor anyone

It is that beyond her eyes that

Speaks to my soul

In silence

desire falls away,

Stills the body

this divine presence

endures.

Trembling appropriates

These body's

Presence embraced

So gently, naked

At last the door

Is open.

Now

Come

to this

delicious

Commotion.

Beauty

Embodied in

The dance of forms of

Consciousness moving

How Love and Hunger

For truth finds

Form in everyone.

Amidst musing

There is peace

Knowing love

In any moment

Is surely a blessing.

Some pull remains,

No matter regret

A thousand wrongs

Can only dissolve in love

Where would I ever

Find that?

Except here, now

To give everyone, for you

Distance is painful

after such sweet intamcy

longing appears, offering

to carry messages of

reconciliation.

Another Vision of Love

As one begins to Inquire

What it means to say

I love you, I fall into wonder

And questioning, and perhaps

Some truth of my habits of confusion.

For It has mostly been

An “I” loving a very specific “You”

Leaving little room for honesty,

Spontaneity or change.

What Love’s in me is not small

Or limited to One or Many

It is a expression of Oneness

That is flowing into a moment of time.

The smallness of personal love

So often denies the divine an entrance

And while waiting patiently,

“We” often despair in her absence.

So I speak to that within all

Who long to love greater than pain

And loosen the bonds of love

To embrace the grace of what is.

What love arises know no bounds

And so have become loves

And in that found the loss

Of wanting anything more.

Holland

The grey spring tease’s me with blue skies

Brilliant sun from another time

I move hesitantly toward

Another home with more friends

Than my heart will allow

So it breaks and opens anew

This longed for homecoming

Into my own heart of hearts

Pain was the only lover I trusted

Now I find that it was only

An invitation into silence.

This quietness that has stolen over my body

Slows my reactions, and speeds my heart,

Like a soft caress from the divine

I am swept away into this love of sensation

While this body has indeed become a temple of god/dess

Energy releasing beyond even stories of healing

Doors opening where there were only walls

Wanting dissolving into accepting each moment of life

Again, clumsily, with what grace I know,

I point towards silence.

Dad’s Home

It’s funny, but until I write this, it’s not true.
Kabir said something about this, in a different way.
Welcoming the father into the sun’s house
Good fortune, family continues.

What is this stone, once a mountain,
Now a mere enigma on my doorstep
Moving closer, around the shrines
I invoke my father’s return to home,

Here. Now, Forever more,
Until all words and languages
Are forgotten and obliterated
In the silver light of silence

He will then speak again
Like the risisng sun
Today across another world
Where things are just a little better

In that small town in Iowa
Laying in the corn
Little Billy, Does
Get his Daddy back

And everything
Everything,
Is
O.K.

William Appleman Williams's Ancestralization

I started to appreciate that night, during the vigil

Meeting the people he inspired, getting inspired.

Beyond the measure of either grace or rhetoric.

Simply what dad would call a gift, a joy !

I see a bit more clearly, my history and the course

Life in America is shaped, rather than forced.

Ends are beyond our means, we are part of the flow

That we sail in and we are blessed when we recognize our crew.

Can’t say that there is a Captain, among this Anarchist lot

We sail through the storm together, and share the bounty too.

We have Historians and bards, and ancestors among us too

We are in good company all,

In all and in part because of you.

Shamed of me & the USA

I grew up ashamed, it didn’t help that I was smart

I said mean things about our country &

I knew people hated me, and they knew why

Truth is Evil if used without love,

I wanted to have friends,

What I was: Alone

Sometime we don’t know, that our focus is outside,

That what we hate is merely an aspect of what’s inside

And so an opportunity for grace Is waiting on its knees

I’ll be no harsher when I’m judging my country

We tend to take everything so seriously,

Criticizing my Country, the good old USA

Is my most Patriotic act, in grace it is received,

Born with these eyes, no wonder I lost one.

Still burning bright, I love what appears to bring me joy.

Still what hurts causes scars in both

And we carry them too this day

I wonder why reflection is so difficult

Or is it the change that is denied?

No matter that the money flows

Our new cars on the way

Cruising straight to hell

For sure we know the way.

Is it radical or conservative to say

Our consuming is eating the earth alive.

America has led us here.

As my actions every day.

The Tribe of Grief

A mask for the beloved to wear.

I know that while it cries,
for a period it stops: and so, stills my breath,
Alert, fresh,
this is,
what i don't see.
Collapsing, again: who am i crying for?

Emotion's flow as globally as the economy
as what we love one day we may later hate in private.
The public imposed upon the "personal",
any non-collective public grief lies unexpressed, Insane, Feared
Shunned & marginalized. Still more inappropriate if confused
or mixed, mired and fermented in joy.

People, children, babies, chickens and pigs, Millions every day
making room for ever more, let's not even talk about cows,
gmo corn and spongeiform human brains, we may all be dead
long before the prions get our non veg kids.

Amidst this perfect moment,
pain, and pleasure
both dearly held sleep
adrift in Nyx's arms
You are the lovers of desire.


Only in desperation salvation
ever surrendered.
the angels appearance.
pagan in the sun.