Cycles

The world changes
as it spins
round and round,
round self and sun;
the world changes.

Some keep up with the change;
some do not
- like engineer KK,
initials two parts Klan,
attitudes just one;
mocking and making fun
of those who try
to care
and save
and have a world for
those to come.
KK, if you had
credibility
with those who cared,
maybe you
would have saved
those trees
you claimed
activism
had
- ironically,
sadly,
perhaps even misguidedly,
lost.

The world changes
as it spins
round and round,
round self and sun;
the world changes.

Some mistake the changes
- like the lover,
alone, she thinks
because she could not
change to share her love,
when truth
shows neglect
lack of respect
lack of understanding
- she did not "get"
the one
once taken for granted,
now lost.


The world changes
as it spins
round and round,
round self and sun;
the world changes.

Some experience changes
- turmoil, mistaken loves,
painful lessons
in freedom
and truth
and responsibility,
as ways of preparing
for changes yet to be,
- like the lovers to be,
becoming who they must be
to be able to recognise
and take
the door yet to be opened
in years to come.

The world changes
as it spins
round and round,
round self and sun;
the world changes.

Some,
blest with honesty,
acuity,
or some other gift,
lead the way
and start
something
- not always good,
that has not been known
to those now here
- tho' it may have been
known
and lost
long ago.

The world changes
as it spins
round and round,
round self and sun;
the world changes.

Changes
- not always to the new,
not always for the better,
but change nevertheless;
unavoidable,
unstoppable,
unquenchable
- ride it or ruin,
seek only to guide it
towards the better.

The world changes
as it spins round and round,
round self and sun;
the world changes.

The only permanence
is change;
we can
lose our way
in the universal turmoil,
or
we can grow
and flourish
in the nutrient of the new.

© Kayleen White, 2008

A clean start

This morning is soft,
washed clean
by last night's rain
- last night's flow
of soft sound and supple water,
light-hearted as it drops
and flows
and soaks into the dawn.

The sun,
just under the horizon,
is stretching and yawning,
sending soft pastels
slowly walking
- still stiff with nighttimes stillness,
over the horizon
into the fresh showered day
to nudge and stir dawn's feathered choir.

I have "things to do",
places to be,
a rush to get swept up in.
But for now,
this glorious now,
I will relax
and share this fresh, calm day,
this palette of gentle colour,
wet earth scent,
silence,
and stillness.

© Kayleen White, 2008

Renewal

Merge and meld,
meld and merge,
make that cosmic mantra mine!

I thought them soft,
I thought them soppy,
those gushy friends of mine,
all on about
soul mates,
and two becoming one.

Merge and meld,
meld and merge,
make that cosmic mantra mine!

I'd been in love,
I knew the score,
I even given up
- convinced I'd not see love again
- till I did;
I even knew
love's embrace could hold more than two.

Merge and meld,
meld and merge,
make that cosmic mantra mine!

They were soft and soppy
I was real - I knew love,
until I found love anew.
Now I,
hard nosed I,
wanted to become one
with my heart's love;
now I
knew of soul mates becoming one.

Merge and meld,
meld and merge,
make that cosmic mantra mine!

Two hearts,
one heart beat,
one love,
one shared soul.

Merge and meld,
meld and merge,
now that mantra is mine!

© Kayleen White, 2008

The Coming of the Night

Such peace.
The end of the day,
all work done,
time to wind down
as sun goes down
and bold brushed clouds
sail about the west,
their colours
and cheerful flow
as they tack to and fro
add to the tempo
and tinges
of this time.

Red,
all rimed in red,
normally a colour
of aggression, energy and vigour;
maybe it's been tempered
by the long, sideways journey
through Earth's sacred halo
- Gaia's thin band of air,
so all I feel is
a strengthened energy of peace.

As birds' songs fade
with the light,
and the scents of the day
settle with the sun,
all is in readiness
to turn east
and greet
fast approaching dusk
and the introspective pleasure
of nightfall.

© Kayleen White, 2008

[Content Warning] Winston's dog

Sorry: the formatting has been bloody lost when I added the Content Warning - on several posts, and I don't have the time to fix them all so I won't fix any.  

It's morning; - and your point is? It's a new day, things to do! Life to live. Things? - same old things: the go-go-go at work, the struggle to finish yet another hacked round job with bigots pretending to be knights "saving" the job from the problem they ensnared you in to; the housework isn't done - look at the cobwebs, choke and cough on the dust. Life? - a life shared with one who hasn't changed as I have who no longer understands or relates someone who demands and takes for granted the boons I bring. It's morning, and though Winston, with his cigars and inspiring speeches for times of horror and desperation, is long gone, gone and buried on the other side of the world, Winston's black dog is back. © Kayleen White, 2008

On the night of the Dark Moon

Some are small
- well, faint, really;
others bright,
large
- they grab the viewing eye,
even through city's smog and gloomy light.

I don't feel small,
I don't feel insignificant,
I just feel warm, and
comfortable, and
at home,
as I gaze up.

No moon to add depth and perspective
- the stars don't do that
tho' it would seem they should,
As I feel flooded
with the vastness
of eternity
As I gaze at them,
lost
as in a lovers eyes.

© Kayleen White, 2008

Spirits of Flower

Consider the rose
sweet, soft on eye and nose,
but with thorns harsh of hand;
Now consider the lotus,
pretty, but found only
in harshest of water;
Both function,
with good and bad,
which is best?

Now that woman looks comfortable
motherly
calm, reassuring
- and so she sounds
and the listener
is comforted and calmed.

Consider that woman
she looks comfortable
motherly
calm, reassuring
- but sounds
harsh, crude, confronting,
and the listener
cringes, and is confused.

And now those men:
one hard faced, tough and crude
in look and spirit,
and the listener
cringes and cries,
but does not think to be confused;
the other,
hard faced, tough and crude in look,
but gentle and caring of spirit,
the listener
is reassured and strengthened
- and confused;

But then the listener
looks within
and sees
woman,
both comfortable, motherly and comfortable,
and hard faced, tough and crude,
and man,
both gentle and caring of spirit,
and hard faced, tough and crude,
and others,
some both male and female,
some neither;
none afraid,
all free of rule and restraint;
all function,
all with good and bad;
which is best?

And now, consider
that woman
who looks so hard faced, tough and crude,
but sounds
motherly
calm, reassuring;
the listener
is comforted and calmed,
and not now confused.

And that woman
she looks hard faced, tough and crude,
and so she sounds;
the listener,
listens to other voices within,
and is unperturbed,
and not confused.

And that man,
who looks so soft and gentle
and sounds so soft and gentle,
the listener
is reassured and strengthened,
and not confused.

Now that man
he looks soft and gentle;
but sounds,
harsh, crude, confronting
the listener,
listens to other voices within,
and is unperturbed,
and not confused.

Consider the rose
sweet, soft on eye and nose,
but with thorns harsh of hand;
And the lotus,
pretty, but found only
in harshest of water;
Both function,
both have good and bad;
which is right, and which
is wrong?

© Kayleen White, 2008