Arte Soy

bite me,
let me bleed
golden yellow, liquid sunlight.
sweet, sticky nectar.
seductive sweetness.
chew my yellow, red, saffron, orange,
rings of saturn, blushing skin.
feel my juice cloying to your fingers
like wild logwood honey.
savor me, ambrosia,
for the gods came to earth
not to make fire,
but to taste my divine florescence.
ravish me in my liberated ripeness,
succulent feast for the palate.
slurp me with ecstatic delight,
swallow my fountains of joy,
drink in my smooth summer richness.
squish me without mercy,
squirt my flowing
fruitiness all over your face.
let me drip down your arms
to your elbows,
then lick my every molecule.
let me drip down your chin
to your chest, to your belly button.
indulge me,
for it was me, not the apple, that
tempted adam.
suck my seed,
extract the last drop of milk
from the stars.
nourish your body,
satisfy your heart and soul
as only me, jamaican mango, can.

(Ian Mair contributed this.)

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Escaping from the catacombs, and realigning the lights, while next year’s mysteries penetrate the blythe, the bright.  10: Hyperion, halcyon, empyrean, sidereon.  This year and next truly hyperion.  30: Furthering the fuchsia, their orchids breathing fast, 50-100:  We celebrate concelebrant, within Adam Protoplast.  1000-1500: Is there a dynasty?  Which is the dynast?

(Sande contributed this.)

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I write sitting
Unwittingly submitting me to a chair
And I dare peer into my mind
What’s behind?

I dither
Rather, I gather
I …
A knowing arises
Disguises reveal the real

What’s the deal? I often wonder
Blunder upon blunder, like thunder
Running about in underwear
A boy terror

It’s plain to see, except for me
I keep turning away before
Afraid of ghosts and ghoulishness
Keep a path of righteousness

Yet the dark night reveals star light
I close my eyes to hide my fright
Gazing inward to such delight

And bitter shame
At my failures to play a game
Worthy of the better parts of you and me

So let the two beget one
The true, the Self, the source, the sum
Sentient, supreme, sublime fun

1 Comment » Posted by admin / Joshua Mapp Weiss and Poetry

I know
that you and I are through
of living like we do
time for something new
time for something new

It’s not that I don’t cherish
the love we share
it’s  just that
the moments are too few
the moments are too few

Why this life forlorn?
time to be reborn
there’s a door in space
to another place
and I am walking through
I am walking through

This place is love and letting go
this place is free to be and show
feelings, dealing with the  true
dealing with the  true

Oh shame, oh blame
oh the fighting that we do
Oh break up just to make up,
time we wake up me and you
wake up me and you

© Joshua Mapp Weiss 2009

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Start stop a trip trot
Drip drop down
Mellow yellow
Under blue top white spot
In the flip flop town
Coconuts hang in gangs
Green and brown
Most corners of this town

Soundtrack backdrop
A euphonic tonic
To a mental disharmonic
Light the wick
To your soul’s philharmonic
One Love Truth
Multicolored and supersonic
Tip tap tune in
Time you and I win

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Words on a page redden with rage
She’s angry again, he’s back in the cage
“It’s only a stage,” a voice does say
So why the fright?
Just turn the page into a gape
And make your escape
Write
Here and now
But how?
How?
HOW?
Like a dog’s bow-wow,
Au naturel
A spontaneous act
To this matter of fact

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I got a message for all the masses
my third eye
wears 3-D glasses

you may get high
but you’ll never surpass this

when you bring the static
I got homeostasis

everybody’s trying to rob me of my calm
it’s like playing hot potato
with an activated bomb

but when I get the feeling that my blood is getting warm
I just chill out
take no pills out
and I open up my palm

you can call me a pacifist
because I write my rhymes so I don’t pass a fist

it’s hard to tell the difference between anger and love
when you meet a pretty girl
and then you strangle her with hugs

so I drink
kava kava and not vodka

so I can chug a lug

and be a mellow fellow
when I pass out on the rug

when it comes to fighting
I just sit down and I write it
I’m a big guy pound for pound
so I can’t get all too excited

it only takes a small flame for wick to get lighted
you’ll only have yourself to blame
when your ignorance ignites it

this world’s a powder keg so if you’re carrying a load
you had best express yourself
or you’re gonna explode.

(Benjamin Shahoulian contributed this.)

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Time for meditation and introspection. And I continue writing though it leads me into strange uncharted territory.

After all, what does my life mean?

This is what it feels like to write. The call so loud it echoes off the cliffs of my soul.

In splendors of turquoise. Agate. The inner silences, so rare. This writing is ahead of myself. It’s like Hansel and Gretel to myself backwards.

Leave clues.

Back into my shell I crawl like a scorpioncrab.
I cocoon and eat and listen. Try to listen to the outside.
There is another world than the one in my head.
There is a whole universe.

(But yet, being fun minded I cannot resist the urge for play. Word play. Shouldn’t I be out playing with my friends? Not sitting in the depths of philosophy. Or philology. And why we like which better?)

The making of a human artist, the rarest breed among us.

Discover creativity. Recover play.
Which is why there is jazz.
Exist like jazz does.
Total improvisation is freedom.
And freedom is bliss.
This is what it is to write.

(Lee Zebede contributed this.)

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Yesterday I cried buckets from a well that had long been dry
Thanks to Santo Daime and the people standing by
I cried for the little boy who stuffed it all inside
And I cried for the little ones with nowhere to run or hide

For too long it seemed I may never release the pain
Until I met Santo Daime and the tears fell down like rain

I cried for my family, one by one and collectively
And I cried for humanity, brothers and sisters yearning to be free
I cried for Mother Earth, for her plants and for her trees
And I cried for my country, from sea to shining sea

For too long it seemed I may never release the pain
Until I met Santo Daime and the tears fell down like rain

© Joshua Mapp Weiss 2007

Santo Daime by Joshananda

No Comments » Posted by admin / Joshua Mapp Weiss and Music and Poetry

I’ve heard the best of generations repeat themselves

Mining familiar ground for something new

I’ve done it too

And so have you

It’s what we do

Find a riff

And give it a chew

We break ground

When we make sound

Bold and true

I choose the path of loves and sees

In my work, rooted like trees

Consciously moving with strength and ease

My body, my heart, my soul, oh please

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