I Will Be Life

I have no idea what inspired this poem. I write many poems in an almost endless stream of words. This is one such poem – sprawling its way to somewhere on a January day in 2016.

 

I Will Be Life

I am a red tornado
Rearranging the way things are.
I am a flying blue cobra
Ripping through the sky.
I am a white cloud
Stretching my fingers across the plains of love.

I am a sphere
Moving through all of creation.
I am a fractal wave
Waking on the shores of consciousness.

I am silence
Spiralling through the gardens of life.
I am a torturous scream
Rising from the fires that burn in hell.
I am a divine melody
That fills the body of all beings.

I am a small brown falcon
That hovers beyond the chaos below.
I am a small brown ant
Walking across the landscapes of the soul.

I am a mournful song
Echoing across the valleys of despair.
I am a joyful song
Celebrating the wonder of existence.

I am seven sombre monks
Guarding the doorway to the self.
I am eleven wise children
Standing with hands and hearts wide open.

I am a solid oak table
Holding up the weight of our suffering.
I am a pilgrims candle
Burning so that all might see.

I am a deep red wine
Opening the heart and setting fire to the senses.
I am a thousand grains of pepper
Exploding forgotten memories.

I am a raging violin
Leaping out from the tallest mountain.
I am a crying cello
Singing my way through the morning.

I am an unfathomable deep ocean
Carrying the creatures of dreams and nightmares.
I am a glorious green meadow
Filling life with an endless display of discovery.

I am the turbulent winds
That shred the architectures of suffering.
I am the inextinguishable and inexhaustible sun.
Always radiating from the core of all beings.

I am a towering sequoia
A bridge between Earth and sky.
I am an ancient gum
Who has endured and savoured everything.
I am the ancient lichen
Remapping the contours of rock and soil.

I am the bee sting
That wakes you up from your stupor.
I am the shark in your dream pools
Devouring your attachments and aversions.

I am the fellowship
That transcends all boundaries.
I am the tongue
That licks all wounds.
I am the ghost of memory
Reinventing what was.

I will be life
I am eternal.
I was the shadow
I held the thorns.
I’ve forgotten how to be wild.
I remember the things that really matter.
I am flawed but still I am perfect.
I am
I
am.

 

© R.J. Hudson 2016.

The Prodigal Charm Bug

After dark period that lasted 5 years, I found myself in the mid 90’s struggling to make sense of my life and the identity that I had created for myself. I wrote this poem in 1995 as a kind of homage to the suffering of the poet (and the human being), who upon realizing the impermanance, futility and folly of life, considers the possibility of bringing an end to his invisible, unnoticed life. This poem also speaks about the lure and folly of ego in the world and the charm of perpetual seeking and the promise of enlightenment. But exactly what or who the prodigal charm bug is, I will leave it to you to decide !

 

The Prodigal Charm Bug

From the clutches of some forgotten dirge
We rise – Like the Symphony of the Songless Bird.
Almost unheard – The impassioned beatings of the heart,
Soar as quiet as the sun.

The moment of gravity – Like conscience embodied.
But conscience is second in consequence.
Know not I – This circle of cells;
Enlightened you will be – That final hour when it hath come.
When I shall Dethrone the Emperor.
Many amongst the crowd aspired to play a part,
But only upon the chosen doth light fall !
Come not will you with me – Cross legged we’ll dine with white knights.

How does it feel to end life
Swooning into the arms of death ?
Soon I will know – Dragging the impossible to the lair of the body !
Believe me : This is the privilege of the poet,
Like the serpent that weeps – I suffer an illness that plagues the soul !

As the storm settles through your heart,
In one sense the soul will turn another page –
Descending into battle with a candle,
Like the lasting of my memory.

See the tree of life towering over us,
Like the blackbird’s wing – Stretched over the sun,
Branched fingers creeping through our eyes.

And I curse the beast that warps the heart.
Running – You opened the deity – In thy Art of Rage.
Collapsing, is this – The Sinking Ship of Life.
Whilst heaved, my breast lingers – And I am an Unseen Angel.

Enriched, the solemn giant am I.
A broken Warrior reborn – Piloting consciousness to the very edge.
The dog of my glory – Like the spectre’s shadow.
The moat of Angels and Fools still spinning.

The unprotected heart beats in my chest.
The agonies touch deep within.
And I am withered,
As translucent as the sky.
Lighter than my shadow.

For so long I have cheated the worms of their feast.
And so now : “I Feed Them Commedia”.
The Pulsar within me as aimless as night !

 

© R.J. Hudson 1995.