pursings (111111.1)
share with me the sweet murmuring pursings of your lips
the honest, every so slight, smile of your joys
the glowing, pulsating, immensity of your light
and the way you soooooooooo enjoy chocolate pie
knowing you as i do, i never wonder at your beauty
i never imagine life without the blessings you bring to me
i never feel as if there is something better for me
or if the birds in our yard do not love you every day
but sometimes i contemplate a fantasy in which we run away
to another place, riches over flowing, and honey dipped nights
where we can dig a luxurious garden and grow prize flowers
and lay about in the sun, snuggling and warm in the breeze
because i want to be with you where you are most yourself
where your creations persist, unless you discard them,
where the game is to create the best of everything,
rather than stop others from destroying it utterly.
oh that i keep just one simple memory of you when i go
something to warm me on even the most arctic of stations
a keepsake of the life which was worth it, worth it, worth it
and gives me the one seed i need to start again anew and live again.
Copyright Scott Weible
All Rights Reserved
November 11, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
fleeting sounds
fleeting sounds (10 November 2011.1)
fleeting sounds of night and rain
of cars driving to their shelter
of men wondering what is for dinner
of women worrying if the cat ate the fish
of children, crankily loving the ride home
all after a trying day being apart
being lost in the maze of other lives
others needs for answers and rigid order
after thinking they were required to do as they were told
after the desperate thrust to understand what they cannot
as i listen to the sounds of the night
to the choruses authored by the wind
to the hopes and worries of my fellows
it comes to mind that all of this will settle down
and then, just as quickly, boil over into a happy coincidence
of sounds, of joys, of coming together again.
Copyright 2011, Scott Weible
All Right Reserved.
fleeting sounds of night and rain
of cars driving to their shelter
of men wondering what is for dinner
of women worrying if the cat ate the fish
of children, crankily loving the ride home
all after a trying day being apart
being lost in the maze of other lives
others needs for answers and rigid order
after thinking they were required to do as they were told
after the desperate thrust to understand what they cannot
as i listen to the sounds of the night
to the choruses authored by the wind
to the hopes and worries of my fellows
it comes to mind that all of this will settle down
and then, just as quickly, boil over into a happy coincidence
of sounds, of joys, of coming together again.
Copyright 2011, Scott Weible
All Right Reserved.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Sunny Sunday
16 October 2011.1
Sunny Saturday, Sunny Sunday
Sunny skies opening for all to see
The big bright clear happy fall.
Sunny Saturday, Sunny Sunday
Sunny skies opening for all to see
The big bright clear happy fall.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
night night (24 February 2006.1)
night, night, i'll rejoice when i hold you tight
when i have you for my own, when i'm in you
when you receive me deep down and far inside
all that you are, all that you know, all that i give
beside you, below you, beneath your freshness
i, enmeshed in the wondrous succulence of you
wandering about in the aqueos light of your form
i want you beyond all wanting
i need you beyond all needing
i urge myself to go and have you for my own
as you lay beside me, welcoming me into your place
giving me leave to take you into my arms
and love all that you are, every night, all my life.
Copyright 2006.
when i have you for my own, when i'm in you
when you receive me deep down and far inside
all that you are, all that you know, all that i give
beside you, below you, beneath your freshness
i, enmeshed in the wondrous succulence of you
wandering about in the aqueos light of your form
i want you beyond all wanting
i need you beyond all needing
i urge myself to go and have you for my own
as you lay beside me, welcoming me into your place
giving me leave to take you into my arms
and love all that you are, every night, all my life.
Copyright 2006.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
6 August 1997.1a
he was on the phone
in the sun
trying to reach her
through the electric lines
through the rubber
through the copper
the tin
silver platinum
the microwaves
resistors
amperage
standing at the phone booth
along the busy Boulevard
people passing thinking
'he's probably a drug dealer'
calling his target, his supplier
what scum
on the phone,
at a phone booth
on Foothill Boulevard
right across the street from Memorial Park.
Ah, yes.
Memorial Park.
What a coincidence.
The first phone he came to
the first phone he thought he could use to connect
the first phone that worked
the first, no the second phone, that didn't
make the connection
she's gone
in the air
in the plane
on donner, on blitzen on dancer
on to New York
to Aussie land
to greatness
to what she is
to ... where ... exactly
to him
half a world away
cold
beautiful
....
disconnected by a crutch
an electronic crutch
in the days of letters
and no air‑mail
were loves disconnected though
miles a part ...
one hundred miles
might as well have been 20,000 miles
connections are not simply about
tactile touch
visual cues
but about understand
awareness
reception
a clean window
the view cannot be blocked by mountains
if the window is open
yes, Love
the window is open
i cannot shutter it
cannot
cannot
my hands are able to shutter it
my arms can hang blackness between us
but i cannot
you have me because you want me
keys to a door?
no need
nor even possible
to enter
to re‑arrange the furniture
to re‑decorate
there is, my friend
no door.
never has been
never will be
not within me
not within you
not within anyone
i feel
the power of the Sun setting
is that you can see it
the power of the Sun setting
lies not in breaking into the core
only to be instantly vaporized from
the nuclear reaction
only to be consumed and used up
the power of the Sun setting
or rising
a clear line of sight
you have that
and a clear line of sight
requires that one look
we do that
we look
my friend
there are no mirrors in the soul
there are no t.v. monitors
no video tapes of what we are now
but there is feeling
there is sensation
there is reception of what we see in each other's windows
and when the windows are in sync
straight on
without angular reflection
what we see is the honest reflection of us, our impact our self
we are warmed by the warmth we convey
it takes a very great person to sense their own warmth and
carry on even when that warmth isn't radiated back
your greatness is apparent,
warm and sweet
when no one will allow you to see them,
when they are so out of sync the reflected radiation is so distorted
it cannot be you
close the shutters.
allow the warmth to reflect back upon yourself
warm yourself
you are the Sun
you are the Moon
you are a Star of such brilliance
and magnetism
that my universe is now realigned
and moving closer
hoping that, when you feel the heat on the outside of the shutters
you will know that i am there
and that what you will see
when you open them again
is the warmth we create, share and thrive upon
"It is the heart with one sees rightly. What is essential is invisible
to the eye."
in the sun
trying to reach her
through the electric lines
through the rubber
through the copper
the tin
silver platinum
the microwaves
resistors
amperage
standing at the phone booth
along the busy Boulevard
people passing thinking
'he's probably a drug dealer'
calling his target, his supplier
what scum
on the phone,
at a phone booth
on Foothill Boulevard
right across the street from Memorial Park.
Ah, yes.
Memorial Park.
What a coincidence.
The first phone he came to
the first phone he thought he could use to connect
the first phone that worked
the first, no the second phone, that didn't
make the connection
she's gone
in the air
in the plane
on donner, on blitzen on dancer
on to New York
to Aussie land
to greatness
to what she is
to ... where ... exactly
to him
half a world away
cold
beautiful
....
disconnected by a crutch
an electronic crutch
in the days of letters
and no air‑mail
were loves disconnected though
miles a part ...
one hundred miles
might as well have been 20,000 miles
connections are not simply about
tactile touch
visual cues
but about understand
awareness
reception
a clean window
the view cannot be blocked by mountains
if the window is open
yes, Love
the window is open
i cannot shutter it
cannot
cannot
my hands are able to shutter it
my arms can hang blackness between us
but i cannot
you have me because you want me
keys to a door?
no need
nor even possible
to enter
to re‑arrange the furniture
to re‑decorate
there is, my friend
no door.
never has been
never will be
not within me
not within you
not within anyone
i feel
the power of the Sun setting
is that you can see it
the power of the Sun setting
lies not in breaking into the core
only to be instantly vaporized from
the nuclear reaction
only to be consumed and used up
the power of the Sun setting
or rising
a clear line of sight
you have that
and a clear line of sight
requires that one look
we do that
we look
my friend
there are no mirrors in the soul
there are no t.v. monitors
no video tapes of what we are now
but there is feeling
there is sensation
there is reception of what we see in each other's windows
and when the windows are in sync
straight on
without angular reflection
what we see is the honest reflection of us, our impact our self
we are warmed by the warmth we convey
it takes a very great person to sense their own warmth and
carry on even when that warmth isn't radiated back
your greatness is apparent,
warm and sweet
when no one will allow you to see them,
when they are so out of sync the reflected radiation is so distorted
it cannot be you
close the shutters.
allow the warmth to reflect back upon yourself
warm yourself
you are the Sun
you are the Moon
you are a Star of such brilliance
and magnetism
that my universe is now realigned
and moving closer
hoping that, when you feel the heat on the outside of the shutters
you will know that i am there
and that what you will see
when you open them again
is the warmth we create, share and thrive upon
"It is the heart with one sees rightly. What is essential is invisible
to the eye."
1 August 1997.1a
fundamentally we live within
what we are
surrounded by those who cannot see
but what they are
and when we find, stumble upon
trip over
are knocked down by
one who vibrates at a complimentary
frequency,
so that their soul
does not disturb the concentric
ripples of our own life
but drops seamlessly into the center
a bulls eye
causing not identical but complimentary
ripples across the watery flexibility
of the surface of our soul
then,
from the bottom
of the clear blue lake
we can still see the sun
and the stars
through our own eyes,
but with the amplification and power
also
of their own,
and they too feel us
being with us
in between us
in between them
and the ripples never stop
always resonating and reverberating
until, at long last
the water is clear
smooth and flat
and the energy from the sun
and the moon and their stars
warms us,
feeds us
and shows us the light within
our selves
that the waves had always known would
erupt when they were gone
what we are
surrounded by those who cannot see
but what they are
and when we find, stumble upon
trip over
are knocked down by
one who vibrates at a complimentary
frequency,
so that their soul
does not disturb the concentric
ripples of our own life
but drops seamlessly into the center
a bulls eye
causing not identical but complimentary
ripples across the watery flexibility
of the surface of our soul
then,
from the bottom
of the clear blue lake
we can still see the sun
and the stars
through our own eyes,
but with the amplification and power
also
of their own,
and they too feel us
being with us
in between us
in between them
and the ripples never stop
always resonating and reverberating
until, at long last
the water is clear
smooth and flat
and the energy from the sun
and the moon and their stars
warms us,
feeds us
and shows us the light within
our selves
that the waves had always known would
erupt when they were gone
23 August 2011.1
I am the Walrus, I am the Sun
I am the Breeze that Fans the Flames of Love
I am the Light, I am the Dark Dead of Night
I am What You Need and What You Want and
I am Laughter and Joy and Mirth Among Children.
I am your Conscience, I am your Free Will
I am the Song of the Bird Chortling in Victory
I am What I want and What Is Good and New.
If You Want Us to Be, If You Know Us as We Are, There Will Be Beauty
There Will Be Song, There Will Be Melodic and Mesmerizing Verse
And, the Celebrations Will Not Die, the Gatherings Will Not Disperse
The Creations Will Not Cease to Amaze, Entrance and Reward
And, We Will Have a World of Rewards and Lives Happy Together.
I am the Breeze that Fans the Flames of Love
I am the Light, I am the Dark Dead of Night
I am What You Need and What You Want and
I am Laughter and Joy and Mirth Among Children.
I am your Conscience, I am your Free Will
I am the Song of the Bird Chortling in Victory
I am What I want and What Is Good and New.
If You Want Us to Be, If You Know Us as We Are, There Will Be Beauty
There Will Be Song, There Will Be Melodic and Mesmerizing Verse
And, the Celebrations Will Not Die, the Gatherings Will Not Disperse
The Creations Will Not Cease to Amaze, Entrance and Reward
And, We Will Have a World of Rewards and Lives Happy Together.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
17 August 2011.1
Oh, you of little faith,
You of doubting persona
You who wonder how God
Made all these horrific mistakes.
Oh, you who love the wind and the sun
You who know the good of even the vile
You who understand rain and cold
And, you, who need not tolerate adversity.
Give me a hand, Give me a shout.
Please help me to bring a change
Bring a fervor to life that has been missing
And, find a friend in all of this dislocation.
Help us all, together, in concert
To keep the flow going
To keep our families celebrating
To leave something behind we can enjoy when we return.
Oh, you of little faith,
You of doubting persona
You who wonder how God
Made all these horrific mistakes.
Oh, you who love the wind and the sun
You who know the good of even the vile
You who understand rain and cold
And, you, who need not tolerate adversity.
Give me a hand, Give me a shout.
Please help me to bring a change
Bring a fervor to life that has been missing
And, find a friend in all of this dislocation.
Help us all, together, in concert
To keep the flow going
To keep our families celebrating
To leave something behind we can enjoy when we return.
Saturday, August 06, 2011
31 Dec 97.2
there exists in the freshly
cut rose
a sure sweetness
a surety that sweetness
will emerge through you
as surely as the bees converge
in their dance before
the mating begins
before the honey flows
before the energy of life
burst magically upon
that delicious scene of
greeness, yellow daffodils
and the brightly painted
faces of little children at
the merry-go-round
and their laughter
filling the air and the hearts
and the spirit of millions
of those who before
them made these routines
for happiness
for joy
for the pure exuberance of
being
these things were not made
for you or me or for those
men, and yes, women
in the offices to put upon their
billboards, in the super markets
or to use as adornment for their
very important desks
this joy,
those thorns that prick
and the blood that trickles
from them onto the newly
laundered white play dress
are but the perfect
and plainly good examples
of the essence of life
the magic of breath
and the expectation of elation
there exists in the freshly
cut rose
a sure sweetness
a surety that sweetness
will emerge through you
as surely as the bees converge
in their dance before
the mating begins
before the honey flows
before the energy of life
burst magically upon
that delicious scene of
greeness, yellow daffodils
and the brightly painted
faces of little children at
the merry-go-round
and their laughter
filling the air and the hearts
and the spirit of millions
of those who before
them made these routines
for happiness
for joy
for the pure exuberance of
being
these things were not made
for you or me or for those
men, and yes, women
in the offices to put upon their
billboards, in the super markets
or to use as adornment for their
very important desks
this joy,
those thorns that prick
and the blood that trickles
from them onto the newly
laundered white play dress
are but the perfect
and plainly good examples
of the essence of life
the magic of breath
and the expectation of elation
Friday, March 04, 2011
Oh, it's Spring and your essence brings me to song,
Brings me to celebration and boisterous rejoicing,
Leads me to jump, to shout, to run all about,
And, leaves me so breathless I fear the end is nearly near.
Oh, the Daffodils are braving their merry heads,
Heading towards the sky, loving you all the while,
Knowing that when you glance their way,
Every One who passes by will sing their praises, Oh My!
And even the Winds do put on a lusty show,
Blowing your love here and there, and virtually everywhere,
Hoping that some of it will rub off on the sky
And, in the end all of us will be happier, for having loved you
Bye and Bye.
3 March 2011
Brings me to celebration and boisterous rejoicing,
Leads me to jump, to shout, to run all about,
And, leaves me so breathless I fear the end is nearly near.
Oh, the Daffodils are braving their merry heads,
Heading towards the sky, loving you all the while,
Knowing that when you glance their way,
Every One who passes by will sing their praises, Oh My!
And even the Winds do put on a lusty show,
Blowing your love here and there, and virtually everywhere,
Hoping that some of it will rub off on the sky
And, in the end all of us will be happier, for having loved you
Bye and Bye.
3 March 2011
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