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Date Posted: 18:57:15 04/10/02 Wed
Author: SuSanne &*_*&
Subject: From The Grip

FROM THE GRIP


Right now
I am as a river frozen.
Waiting for spring,
To spring me lose
From the grip
Of cold in ' north country faire' *
That I so love to papoose
As if my child,
Not blessed to have.

Or tripping about as Persephone
Released from her Queen's hell
To cavort six months on earth
Casting springtime spells
For growing greens
Blossoming trees of birds
Singing their songs,
Day and night, with life
Continuing urges of mate
Springing desires, left and right.

As air will soon give warm scents
Of lush growths for taste mint
Around this Northern world
As now, way south 'down under'
Has begun submerging under winter
So north can be south."

And do let me tell in hushed tones
Of the heat of World Center
Where passions run rampant
Often sparked by a careless mouth,
With words that shoot off to blow up
Or hide behind indiscreet coughs.

Causing lives suddenly ordained
To walk new paths on personal history
One's choice to scroll or script
Either bad or good
Since only cliché time tells
While flying to ring its bells
'For whom" it "...tolls"
In all versions of heaven or hell.

Perhaps giving some a grip
That goodness still can be found
Avoiding waste of time with gripes
That keeps going round and round
With all shades of gray in-between
The same opposite of Zen's
Black and white
Of echoed screams,
Not always seen.

Blocking views
In sad burial mounds
Of Native American’s wisdom
Tilling Universe's given land.
So long said, but still not heard.
Partly since greed and who's best
Of the immigrant American dream,
Can so blind, what we've heard."
Over five plus centuries .. of springs.



© SuSanne &*_*&

30.3.02~smb.powell
All rights reserved

*~Bob Dylan

*~Christopher Columbus~1492~


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