Salubrious Salutations
to you all
Come and place your mark
Upon the wall
Listen to the inner call
We will catch you
when you fall
   Silver Rainbow

You move like the wind
through the night air
touching no one
touching all
But you never let them
touch you
ever
I guess that way
you'll never fall
   Moon Child

Great grey towers attend the sky
Stark walls beckon the seeker's touch
Footsteps threaten with measured tread
One counts the danger half as much
Out upon the starry heavens
There boldly walk, here silent stand
The searchers & the singers all
With brows intent & quaking hand
Now sets the moon, now pinks the dawn
Away to earthly themes depart
The troubadors of troubled times,
The chroniclers of broken hearts
Still scale the heights & dare the keep
Rewards but slight & peril nigh
But the art of the scribe is more the joy
To paint & pen & sing the sky.
   Gilrael 2/6/80

for the wall
------------------
Do you get lonely?
Do you care?
Can you see me?
Are you there?
Silently screaming
Sound for all
I heard you call
the quiet wall
   Moon Child

Your words haunt me,
reaching to the quiet places
where silver white clarity
shines with muted visual echoes.
When journeying on the
astral plane,
	let us meet.
   Badger 10/29/81

My hand quivers
as I stand
frightened and gulping,
not daring to reach out and
touch you,
and yet
not daring to touch.

Shuddering,
  Paralyzed
  then compelled to move,
wrenched by the polarities of
  my fear,
caught between the looming
  emptiness,
and the terror of giving my
  trust

My hand reaches out;
  can you hear my heart
  pounding?
Badger 11/12/81

Walking, talking, we play
the part perfectly.
Why do we hide the
selves inside, thus
hiding from each other
Where are we going that
we feel we must
guard the opinions that
others have of us.
Oh for a world where
the wall-writing was
speech and the wall-writers
did not rule (for they
act instead) and rulers
ruled not either.
   Tenar 3/29/82

Another wall, another plea for brotherhood of the mind
We find each other as we find ourselves
Our destinies we unwind
A moment's repose, a sudden thought
Are all carefully jotted down here
And then we wonder if we really ought
For everything is after all so temporary, and feared
   Tenar 4/2/82

But
Having been faced with a moment
of doubt
we realize that verse is merely
coagulated thought and lasts
infinitely longer than its spark
of origin
and we walk away smiling...
   Palantir 4/6/82

I need help to end the confusion
But I fear your ending
For I only think I understand
The beginnings of attraction
Make it very hard to live
And not act instead
Watching myself leaves no room
For being myself
I wish I knew how to act
Like myself, the immediate answer
I am only the product of
My interactions with the world
You are the world,
And I am afraid of the interaction.
   Tenar 5/2/82

Always lookin' round that corner,
Lookin' for the strangers.
Leavin' behind your spires of gold.
No horns or tail;
What will they think?
You reach for the stars.
"The trip is worth the risk."
"Yeah, but is the risk worth the risk?"
I hear a smile.
   Sam 5/2/82

We must all go around that corner
So we may as well go willingly
Because if we go kicking and screaming
We may not hear the directions
And if we're being dragged along with
Our eyes closed, we may not see
the signs.
If that happens we'll probably end
up back where we started and
have to begin all over again.
   Tenar 5/2/82

How can I tell you what I feel?
When I ponder it, it slides away
Elusively just out of my desperate grasp
When I finally reach the edge
It yawns there empty yearning
Vacant, all that is not there
Is loss.

Try to fill it with substitutes
They fill a corner briefly
Before dissolving away sometimes
Enlarging the loss.

I need what you feel is
Impossible to give.
Perhaps in years you will
Understand and turn back
To fill with a different care
Though now not then
It cries out loudly and thus
The painful substitution continues.
   Tenar 5/2/82

Wherever we go whatever we do
The past shapes the future
And I'm shaped by you
Everyone is really all things combined
Thus when we look deep
inside we find
we are not so different
from stars and trees
within us waiting for their release.
Bad is inherently linked to the good
Use care in unfolding,
We certainly should
What could be rainbows could also
Be dust
Also involved is a measure of trust
Believing in fairies and
Rainbows and dawn
All makes me think things
Are not completely wrong.
   Tenar 5/4/82

I called your name through the halls
	 your name through the halls
I called
			through the halls
I called your name
through the halls you came to me
only as an echo.
   Tenar 1/17/85

i sit
pen in hand
waiting for
a break in the traffic
of poetry
a continuous stream
of emotion
what gets recorded?
what is merely
examined in passing
and left to continue
on its beautiful way?
   Tenar 3/12/85

a girl walks by
face turned away
from the boy
on the end of
the hand she's holding

empty eyes
set in a face so
lacking in emotion
that it shakes
loosely with each
young and tired
step she takes

she drags me
inside her pain
through those eyes
stomp on him
and let me go
   Tenar 3/12/85

we asked you once
was it worth the fight
you replied you'd
have to think about it
we asked you to think
about it you
replied that it would
be a battle for you
to think about
we grasped your neck
and shook you saying
tell us about the
inhuman brutality
you stupid bastard
or we'll kill you
you looked at us
with long dead eyes
that began to cry
we killed you
   Tenar 3/30/85

Beauty in a deep blue fog
slow mist rising
from the ocean surface
my heart pulses
through from shore
but still enveloped
warm in wet.
   Tenar 3/30/85

grabbing for time
it knocks over here
it spills onto yesterday
leaving a stain on tomorrow
   Tenar 3/30/85

Torment calls
the demon forth
naked and furious
calm signals
the blue peace
wrapped in a
heavy time.
   Tenar 3/30/85

She glances at the clock,
Yet she does not see,

As being too absorbed in
Self pity,
Eyes turned inward on a
Soul full of hate,
The clock ticks onward,
It's a quarter past eight.

The dagger is poised,
Set and ready to kill,
All in the room in quiet
and still,

The dagger falls,
The girl is dead,
Yet why do the thoughts
Still whirl in her head?
   Rebecca 2/5/87

O.K.
This is what I am.
I'm a gypsy who sings her life to be a scene
Trades everything she's got for a different look at things
Likes to laugh, at fools such as her
Is free as the wind when she remembers what's really real
Her play and smile may seem light and simple
But inside lies the deepest thoughts and feelings
Sometimes they're too much to hold inside.
And she feels all alone
She's a victim to life
But she's always somehow saved from the rocks of deep pain.
By a little voice that calls out
This is a game!
Right now my hand has taken over my mind
I have no control
I just keep writing those lines
Uh, I just should stop I don't know what I'm saying
But it feels so good I hope it's OK.
   Butterfly 1/87

There's no place for me to hide
The thoughts of all the times I've cried
And felt the pain I have known
Because I just needed that special something...
And then one day
You just appeared
You said, "Hello, let's make love along the way"
Your name is music to my heart
I'll always really love you...
Feels so good when I'm with you
I can't believe you love me too
With you it feels like it should feel
Feels so good, let's make a deal...
Now I believe that dreams come true
With you my smile shines all the time
With you the sun shines all the time...
   Owl 6/21/82

Behold the towers
  and the memories they echo,
Sounds of laughter half muffled
  in cotton.
Behold the Family
  only half at home here.
The river a trickle.
  What have we forgotten?

We consign our words to long ago
Fearing present obscurity
  as the chaos wells.
But there was a time
  when we sought not an audience
We wrote only
  to express ourselves.
Cirbryn 2/5/83

I've been lost it seems,
for so many years
living in dreams
and loving through tears.
Though I haven't found it all
I've come and touched the seed;
for I have seen the writing on the wall,
and dreams are all I need.
   W. Mitty 5/7/85

_Farewell Poem_
But now tomorrow's come and gone
No tea leave to show the road we're on
And so I'll meet this shifting song
With laughter, clear and fey.

I've looked ahead, I've looked behind
I've looked around and still I find
My sense of wonder needs a chance
To be surprised by circumstance.
   Cirbryn 4/25/85

_The Private Garden_
The path turns in through an arched gate
Enters the woods and wanders there
Past shadowy glades and a sun-bright mead
On to a crystal blue-green lake

All of this by walls enclosed
High as a man the unworked stones
Held in place with greening mortar
Marking the land as private and guarded

So we must keep to the dusty road
That stretches past the unused gate
Trudging, weary, without rest
Our common goal still far ahead

But somewhere deep within our hearts
We'll keep that lovely garden safe
And visit there often
Though only in dreams.
   Sir Spirit 1/28/82

There is always the possibility
That one of a million mindless followers
Will listen;
And all the frustration;
The pain and futility
Of teaching
Is worth that chance.
   Z 3/13/86

Thoughts, ideas, emotions;
Fill the void.
Overwhelm the emptiness
Dancing to an eternal rythm:
Swaying, rocking, flowing.
Creating where nothing before
Was present.
Life,
In its simple form
Is not breathing.
It is not brainwaves nor heartbeats.
But thoughts;
Emotions.
Dancing to an eternal rythm.
   Z 3/13/86

I fear the black veil,
  the darkness descending
  from my brow, covering
  my eyes.
It scares me, this black sadness,
  for through it I cannot see
  the dryads dance; cannot hear
  the nyads sing; cannot feel
  the touch of your hand.
Do not desert me, though I am blind, deaf, and dull;
  though my voice is a croak; though my hands and face
  are covered with warts.
I am still me, trapped inside this body grown ugly.
  I cannot get out and, while the veil is down,
  I cannot seem to let you in.
But know that I remember thee, and love thee,
  though my putrid flesh shows it not.
Sir Spirit 10/7/85

_Islands_
Sunshine
Mulled wine
Sea wind softly carresses her hair

Worldly eyes
Innocent lies
Like the white linen dress that she just happenned to wear

Island souls in parallel
Dance in the sea's receding
The tide will turn, but it's just as well
'Cause the freedom not to give is what gives the gift its meaning
   Cirbryn 4/25/85

_The Extinction Song_
(to the tune of _Gimme Shelter_)
Well, the sun is setting
On another race today
But I don't give a damn
'Cause I've got bills to pay
Death, children, best look the other way

It's so easy not to feel
Ignorance is child's play
No time to count the bodies
Don't wanna miss my matinee
Death, children, best look the other way

Rape, murder, it's just another day.  (3x)

Well, extinction's got no meaning
That's just a word they say
So please don't call it genocide
'Cause that just might wreck my day
Ark, sinking, guess I'll just swim away

I tell you life, laughter, that's just the price you pay
   Cirbryn 2/22/85

_Hibernation_
She lies quietly
the Mother Bear
her strong heart slows
her snow-thick fur and
precious fat for stored warmth
blanket her in drifts

White on blue
on naked white
cold camoflauge of
Frost's steely death
stalks hungrily the weak
the excess
feeding the land
a strength through trial

she gathers herself and kin
when in the careful comfort
of autumnal preparations
As the Goddess below
she chants
		in peace I will sleep
		in peace I will sleep
Palantir 11/24/84

Only in my mind
Do we run laughing through tall grasses
Rolling the wild yellow mustard blossoms underneath
A summer of love in our hearts

Only in my mind
Do we bring forth life exultant
Full of the joy of life and hope
A tiny new being in our arms

Only in my mind
Do we sit in front of a blazing fireplace
Warming our hands and our hearts
A toast to eternity fresh on our lips

Only in my mind
Do we grow peacefully into maturity
Comfortable in long-familiar love
A spark of fire showed in our eyes

Only in my mind
Do I think of the loss
Without weeping
   Palantir 11/24/84

In a time
Not long past
Music filled these walls
Sweet music, sweet love
Have you heard it my friends?
It resounds here still
For those who dare to hear...
In the wee hours of the night
Be still, and you may find
The musicmaker and her song
Alone with you...
   Flame 4/26/87

The search now is not for purpose
But for a place
A place I'll call Willoughby
Many years I've gone on
With no place to belong
And no identity
Not necesarily shunned by society
But doomed to live a life
Of lonliness
I look for my niche
The answer now seems so crystal clear to me
Alone I have lived
And it seems alone I shall stay
It wouldn't be so bad
With a friend
A friend I'll call Charlie
But until I find my friend
I'll be content, I think, to live a fantasy
And shun society
The search continues
For a place
A place I'll call Willoughby
   Psimon 5/12/85

_The Kiss_
With a kiss a lover is found
  though no contract holds them bound
Passion pours like the ocean's tide
  confusion, fear, pushed aside
We ignore the undercurrent of distress
  with every move our bodies press
And somewhere between the beginning and the end
  we lose the meaning of a friend
Blinded with heated human lust
  we fool ourselves with fallacious trust
But is the passion worth the cost?
With a kiss a friend is lost
   True 5/2/88

If you ever feel the need,
  and there, we look at what we
desire to capsize, take off
  can find as new, old.
every stitch in time to catch
  anything between
the last pretentious plane,
  over and around what we seek
get out and off your chest,
  to find in all we search
in and out, singing yes to
  for
you.
	I will see you in that spot
	Where we meet in infinity
	in a crash of constant motion
Tyrre

.ce
_Black Bird's Passing_
Have you ever crowned a crystal menhir
	amidst a piceous, swirling main?
or felt the caul of churning arent waves
		Have you not beheld a black sunrise
			manacled by the horizon
and the heavens garlanded in adamant and alabaster?
		Or heard the narcoleptic lay of mermaids
			Or the skirl of leviathon
		Gathering the gales in his mantle -
		Becalmed by the song of the froth-born
		to hover and sound the fulgent foam of the
			somber and surging sea?
		And urged the nascent crests of its maelstrom
			that swell and spread to world's edge?
Have you not seen the rim battered by the cold and cadent breakers
			or the unshakling of a star?
		or raised a shout to exalt ascending shamash?
			For a towering emerald sun
				feral in the bright
			to melt and bellow malachite
			into a midnite sapphire sky...

			Have you never been where I've been?

				Then, let me take you there
Black Swan 4/4/82

_Song of the Chess Game_
Twas gathering dusk on the darkening plain
Where two armies amassed in precipitous power
They poised on a moment peace couldn't contain
Then plunged o'er the brink, embracing the reign
Of mad screaming chaos.

Forth the queen's champion, feral-eyed fawn
Till death stains his chest with a darkening flower
Knight's steed paws the air and then he is gone
"Can it be," screams a swordsman, "I'm not but a pawn
In some game of no purpose?"
   Cirbryn 4/1/87

To Brad's Castle
Breathless torrents of stillness
Pushing my soul up through my throat
Cause my heart to stop with time
The moment merges with forever
And timeless planes emerge from mist
I huddle, cold, without coverage
Wishing for a cup of hot tea
The imagined fantasy of a book
and the solidity of a roaring fire.
   Flute 9/18/86

eyes
that could seduce
a rainbow
and hair
that invites the sun
and the wind through
a maze of curls
hold me near you
a growing wish circles
through my mind
waiting, and wanting
if only you could feel
the heat in my touch, without
the burn
and the playful wind
in my words,
without
the sting.
I could be
me, with you.
   The Juglare 12/30/87

1:45 AM

The bed cradles my body
and the pillow carresses my hair
but it's too quiet
I can't hear you breathe
and I can't feel your heat
only my own
If I had the courage
I could have died with you
but now, I am alone.
   The Juglare 12/30/87

_Broomstick Painting_
The sky in smoky hues
Unveils the night
And slowly, slowly
Kills all thoughts of blue.
Black is the colour,
The peeping night
And watercolor poems
Erased on sight.
Words written in drunken sand
The midnight hour is at hand
   La Boheme 12/31/87

A creak of rails
Feet on stairs
A click of caps
And hidden pens
A clap of wings
Then silence
as the writer takes
Flight.
   La Boheme 12/31/87

souls have died to the whims
of unclear vision
they could not cover
their ears
they had to cover
our mouths
   Beta 3/11/87

.ce 13
enter here into the
world of the possible
free yourself from the
seductions of reality
do not see unrest in these
violations of reality
by opening your eyes
to the power of maturity
you will find a peace
a power
we call it kundalini
we call it life
Beta 2/26/87

The man with the shades
walks through the park.
Slowly, he glides towards
the fountain; as he
gazes at the shimmering
sparkles, a chill travels
down his spine.  He
collapses into the water.
The shadow spins away.
Minutes pass...The
man with the shades
walks through the park.
   Woodstock

I felt their hated stares
on my raw flesh.  Glittering
sounds cascaded from the
skies.  My heart pounding,
I threw my soul past them.
I hung above their heads and
forced spats of foulness out
into the air.  Enveloping them
like a net, they collapsed to
their knees.  My mind rambled
aimlessly throughout my body
as I was held in quivering
suspension.  Beads of sweat
oozed out of my skin.  Dripping
into my mouth, I tasted the
emotions of the evening.  I
realized the truth.  I ran.
I jumped.
   Woodstock

I am just an aging peeper boy
And on the walls I used to write
I recall the words to many "'peep'-versation"
Now they say I am a wall-criminal
That I'm fading away
Father please hear our confession

I have legalized poetry
Called it release
I have heard nearby footstep
And hid like a thief
I hid beneath stairs
That have made me so small
Invented pen-names
I have covered the walls
And I can still hear peeps laughing
Long after they're gone
We're just too big, we're just too strong.

Well the bright lights filled the courtroom
And they all did hear him say
"All of you are criminals"
But we just laughed anyway
'You may have found my pen-name,
But I swear upon these walls,
Your son will write my eulogy and
Your daughter draws here too'
Oh, father, don't let them make a martyr of me
We're just too big, we're just too strong.
   Morgan Freelance 1/6/88
   with help from Px
   rewritten with apologies
   to Mark and the boys

Sculptures in the sand
Studies in impermanence
Geometry of transcience
evanescent ocean effigies
formed with touch and care
for a moment's beauty
and standing now in time
without recourse to destiny
viewed in the moment's hold
a tribute.
   Firefox 6/4/85

How often I have gazed out on the wintery sea
inhaling the cold, biting wind,
and thought then in
my lonliness
I was finally content.
Why do I search for
that which I cannot have
and will always suffer for?
Why do I love the tears?
Perhaps, because they are me,
or maybe I am they.
   W. Mitty 4/18/85

Tho' the muscles
will shriek protest
from being so long
taut, unclench the
hand, release the
tears, and let joy
and happiness alight
on your open palm.
   Shadow 4/19/85

Your eyes, they haunt me.
They taunt and flaunt.
And fly away on a butterfly's wings.
   Aerworn 1/29/88

Past the point,
	diversity
	echoes strongly
	of
	individuals,
	uncertain
	in their stare.
Tyrre

moments
lost and found
time stretches
eventually
and I can begin again
   Flute 3/18/86

Leave me?
	shall I collapse,
or shall I learn to live
another way.
	Am I to cry, and hide,
Or may I laugh for the start
of a new day.
   Px 3/13/86

It was Wednesday
when the clocks
stopped and still
Wednesday when
they began again
We grew stiff-
legged and gray
though it was
still Wednesday.
   Tenar 3/14/86

Hey Mr. CSO Man
Bet you can't catch me.
'Cause I been here,
but you don't know where
	I'm going to.
Hey Mr. CSO Man
Now I think I see
That maybe given half a chance
	you could be writing here too.
Cirbryn 12/84

Something tells
me I'm lost
Funny how
the pages
turn
into the
night,
and then
to mighty darkness
   Tyrre

	Wait for something to happen, and watch the ink run in all directions.
Then
	touch something
	apart from time.
Wait
	until
	a part of time
	is always late
	reckoning
	still.
Tyrre

circles of figures
wheeling in dance
flaming and spitting
breathing the earth
some striving
or hardfast or
adjusting
interplay between
slow-moving bodies
and speeding lines
foretell the nature
of mammals and man
   Palantir 3/18/82

Bubbles of thought
Float in my mind
Aimlessly searching for ground.
Landing on edge,
Momentarily held in position...
They turn slightly and
Explode.
   Vail 3/7/86

A lonely poet stands upon a solitary corner,
A self taught guide of the weary and pursued.
Soon another fugitive of order
Will seek she who stands served.
   Aerworn 1/24/88

While sitting here on the stairs, I have to wonder.
Do cookies think?
Are there cookie minds and souls?
And, deep in their cookie hearts, do they harbor a deep
and terrible animosity towards the human race?

I hope not.
I just ate half a box of them.
Deep in the grips of sugar shock, I remain
   (a curious) Treble 4/16/88

Such quiet sounds -
Those of love's slippers.
Too soft to notice,
Until they pass by.

And only then,
When all is quiet once again,
Does one turn ear to the wind
And listen, listen.
   Aerworn 2/1/88

	SKIES OF LONLINESS
In clouds of gray and salty rain
I walk the mist yet once again,
  listening for Love's unknown call
  and waiting behind this imagined wall.
I pace the cold and foggy clouds
  with stubborn mind and head held proud.
Some say I place my heart too high
  and blindly pass true love by.
Some say this soltitude is my safety
  and for locked hearts exist no keys.
And since they say we choose our fate
  My choice is made to hide and wait
Wrapped inside thick darkening skies
  Listen closely; hear my choking cries.
 True 3/6/88

_Filk Time_
He's a real graffiti man.
Walls surround his lonely land.
But there's a doorway in the sand:
Graffiti

Scribbles down his point of view.
Cares not who it's written to.
For many look but very few
Will see

Graffiti man, best listen.
Footsteps echo, heart quickens.
Graffiti man, the C.S.O.'s are after your pen.

So he hides his true identity
Like the villains on T.V.
Graffiti man, when will they free
The wall?

Graffiti man, if you're weary,
Take a tip from Tim Leary.
In the scrawls of polychrome line
Your mind will expand.

Scribbles down his point of view.
Cares not who it's written to.
For many look but very few
Will see

Graffiti man, best listen.
Footsteps echo, heart quickens.
Graffiti man, the C.S.O.'s are after your pen.

He's a real graffiti man.
Walls surround his lonely land.
But there's a doorway in the sand: graffiti.
There's a doorway in the sand: graffiti.
There's a doorway in the sand: it's graffiti.
   Cirbryn 3/5/84