Ozarks

There my loves lay,
Those breasts swelling,
Challenging their limits,
I dream of them, I inhale their scent,
This loamy contact with them,
I love this moment, this communion,
They are surrounded with mystery,
An archaic moaning of ages,
Loved, challenged, dismissed,
They survive, triumphant, waiting,
These Arkansas Ozarks,
Mother Earth’s children.

©2018, Donald Harbour

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Worn Shoes

I dreamed of a night with stars above,
millions of other dreamers stood about me,
each shod with life’s tired worn shoes,
toeing the edge of a decaying precipice,
the shore to crossing the river Styx,
light, darkness – salvation, damnation,
is destiny mapped or do we have a choice,
when will we leave this path, to face
the calamity of our ultimate fate,
how are we ascribed in the book of life,
some say it is not for us to know,
is the scything dark angel  the only choice,
a life snuffed by the world’s insanity,
religious fervor screaming “God is great,”
there, now you have the arbiter,
it is emblazoned on every particle,
“Bless me Father for I have sinned,”
the wafer is stale, the wine is vinegar,
the priest has dirty finger nails,
rivers of blood ooze from the Bible,
from the Quran, from every word,
from every holy book ever written,
from the lifeless lips of children,
from the souls of mothers, fathers,
from the heart of self-righteous nations,
from the bowels of despots and bigots,
every opus a tome of contradiction
from which there is no salvation,
the beast of dogma opens its greedy maw,
all will be consumed by their beliefs,
the only contribution to their shrill voices,
a mountain of unlaced tired worn shoes.

©2017, Donald Harbour

With all

One day, not distant, not far,
Awoke I to an orange ball of light,
a marble of fire in the heavens,
Laid I my booth upon its neck,
striding into the distant stars,
Never I a glance over my shoulder,
eyes turned to the mysterious universe,
There I became lost within the void,
finding that for which I had searched,
Lifting I fingers of contradiction,
truth pulsed beneath my callous skin,
Knowing I am one with creation,
that creation is one with all,
this day, this moment, this now.

©2017, Donald Harbour

Furl

Do you see when life begins to furl,
evolving, encompassing,
creating its own canard,
then floating back into vision,
a wind snapped flag, billowing,
to settle moist upon time’s petals,
time, I wonder about you,
there, I see you as you are,
as you have been, but I cannot
see you as you will become,
that is not to know, tomorrow
is written in the dawn of scudded
skies, purple and mauve as love,
tinted with promise, a soft kiss
lifting the heart a beat, I
wonder, when I close my eyes
as the dark of day descends,
will you be waiting for me tomorrow,
or will you unfurl that great cloak,
sail of your eternal arcane ship,
a boundless passage into the unknown.

©2015, Donald Harbour

Words to live by

However many holy words you read,
however many you speak,
what good will they do you
if you do not act on upon them?
Whatever words we utter
should be chosen with care
for people will hear them and
be influenced by them for good or ill.
Better than a thousand hollow words,
is one word that brings peace.
In the sky, there is no distinction of east and west;
people create distinctions out of their own minds
and then believe them to be true.
The way is not in the sky,
the way is in the heart.
A jug fills drop by drop.
Every human being is the author
of his own health or disease.
To understand everything
is to forgive everything.
In a controversy the instant we feel anger
we have already ceased striving for the truth,
and have begun striving for ourselves.
No one saves us but ourselves,
no one can and no one may,
we ourselves must walk the path.

This poem is written with the words of a man named Siddhārtha Gautama, the Buddha. I am not a Buddhist however if one were to internalize his words, they would change that persons life forever. It is that simple. May they bring you reflection and peace.

©2015, Donald Harbour

I believe in change, nothing more

Change, we all change, life
is change. From the day of birth
change begins, we are a journey
of change. As a caterpillar becomes
a chrysalis to emerge a butterfly,
we exist in this cocoon of life to
emerge, changed. Our reality is death,
change from the material to the ethereal,
not an ending, a beginning, a wondrous,
marvelous participation in spiritual
evolution, our eternal existence,
the movement of energy through time
and space. The joining of the eternal
common thread. It has always been,
what has always been, and, it will
always be eternal. In change we
will once again join the spirituality
of creation’s cusp, to be born again.

©2015, Donald Harbour

Wine of life

The pharmacology of life
is the ancient fermented grape,
tritest  of the holy Omar Khayyam,
a diner at Charlemagne’s plate,

Bacchus to Caesar’s copulate sins,
blood of the Christian Christ,
the sacrament damned by its purity,
barbarian and cannibalistic.

Hypocrisy of Protestant dominion,
the sangria of death in the bull ring,
Trousseau Noir of bastard Kings,
parlance of the French Paradox.

Thou nectar of the drunkard’s vine,
sweet covenant of life stupor,
deceitful beggar of  a wise man’s reason,
damn you for our own weakness.

You are a  coward of the living
sacramental remembrance of the divine,
dispenser of the opiate for the masses,
your prophet guards the gate, but

hell is the companion of his deceit.
Religion is not a substitute for truth,
Wine endures, long after the Kiddush
thus the vine will forever survive.

©2015, Donald Harbour