Spirit Wind

~

I am your guide, gateway to the dimensions.

I will remain in the shadows,

as you move through the liquid waters

of your essence.

The light is where I am.

There is no time where I wait,

so waiting is nothing.

~

~

The whispers you hear in the silence are mine.

I’ve been trying to catch your attention,

direct your energy back to the original focus,

the light that is free of pain and hurt.

~

~

Why do you not listen?

You can find freedom here.

You can reclaim your soul,

know that it is limitless.

Sometimes I feel your yearning to return

and sometimes you can almost reach me.

~

~

I wonder why you take so long

to see your true nature.

Listen for my echoes in the wind.

I will help direct your sail.

~

~

photos

Vengeance Of She (1968)

starring Olinka Bérová

She (1965)

starring Ursula Andress

~

poem by

Robin Stiles

from her book

Skipping Stones Through The Cosmos

http://www.fishpond.co.nz/Books/Skipping-Stones-through-Cosmos-Robin-Stiles/9780965475310

~

editor

Rawclyde

!

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I awake!

~~~

~~~

In the old hotel

Diana & I retire to

a busted-up suite upstairs

& haunt it

~

While we levitate in the

center of the dusty time-deranged room

indulgently locked in our favorite position & getting along

I fall into a deep deep sleep

~

When I awake I discover

myself prone on the cracked tiles of

the ancient Egyptian temple that’s half buried

in the sand dunes west of Yuma

~

Ishtar, the lost Assyrian goddess of love & war

sits up, peers down

at me between her miraculous legs &

says

~

“It’s time for you to return to

the Christian mission, Rawclyde

Your 10 days sleeping outside

are over”

~

She then taps

the back of my head with

her bare heel

which knocks me out

~

I awake again

having dreamed a dream

that was embraced

in a dream

~

Now I discover myself alone

in a sleeping bag

on a big pile of dirt & chunks of concrete

in the gravel pit next door to Crossroads Mission

~

Partnering with nothing

more

or less

than reality

~

The sun is about to rise

under a pink bed-spread

stretched across the jagged little mountain range

out yonder

~

A very long train

thump-thumps by &

somebody fires-up a tractor in

the gravel pit

~

I, camouflaged

in the early morning shadows on

my cold rocky knoll, instantly

roll-up my bedroll

~

As I trudge away from the peak

of my dreams

I realize that the invisible cosmic forces of the universe

are all around & inside of me

~

And that they can be evoked

for the common good

or remain hidden forever in a ghost town

   a ghost town called Love…

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)

~~~

Ishtar

~~~

Table Talk

~~~

~~~

Her foot eventually signals its presence on

the edge of my chair

by means of one whispering tap upon

my ghostly rubies.

~

“I still believe in transient relationships,”

says the newly-arrived shade

of Diana.

“In fact, before he hung me by the neck

until dead from that wearisome tree, the

sheriff & I…”

~

Diana stops talking with

her mouth.

She now talks with

her foot.  Her toes, especially the big one, tell

the torrid tale.

Her heel grinds home the punch line.

~

“The sheriff & you ~ what?”

~

Now her eyes quietly repeat

the confession of lewd debauchery

page after page after page

in about 7 zooming seconds.

~

She smiles.

~

Horrified I howl,

“No, not the sheriff!”

My fist slams down on the table, which

disintegrates into a pile of dust, there in

the broken-down hotel cafe.

~

Diana is standing now, chair discarded.

She steps forward.

Little puffs of dust arise.

“Poor boy.  You’re upset over nothing.”

~

She’s still smiling.  She can’t help it.

~

“Nothing?” I howl ~ still sitting.

~

“Nothing,” she sighs.

She steps closer closer ~ looms

over me like

The Statue of Liberty

come alive & opening her court-room robe.

~

My eyes go cross-eye-ed

and my soul becomes unglued

by the close proximity of the

living tabernacle of the sacred light!

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)

~~~

Walk like an Egyptian…

~~~

~~~

After a while the people of Yuma, Arizona

grow tired of I, the old mummy,

wandering around town bumping

into things and getting in the way of traffic

~

Plus my bandages have become yellow &

brown with crusty nausea fluttering

in the wind & dragging on the ground

I unintentionally cause 2 traffic accidents

~

The police finally catch-up to me

drive me to the California border

point this tired old mummy toward

the dunes, ah yes, giant hills of desert sand

~

It takes me two days to climb

to the top of a sand dune, ten minutes

to roll down the other side

& then I hear a bird-like female voice

~

We make small talk until finally

I tell her, “I wish you weren’t

a creature of darkness”

she rips a rag off my face  “Ahhhhhhh!”

~

And leads me to an ancient Egyptian temple

half buried in another dune

where she presses a button that moves

a slab & we step inside

~

In a colossus vault painted with moving hieroglyphics

I finally find the lost goddess

or she finally finds me

   an overflow of bubbly joy causes me to collapse…

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)

~~~

~~~

The Lost Goddess Pyramid

~~~

People people people hiding in metal cacoons

rolling rolling rolling all around most afternoons

& they’re lying down inside refrigerated tombs

dozing infront of TVs that turn them into goons.

~

I met an Egyptian goddess in the tumbleweeds

she pushed me down, made me her wanton slave

the pretty ancient disappeared in a puff of dust

I sit in front of a pyramid now a wanting to misbehave.

~

All the people sneek around behind tinted windows

I stick a thumb out, they lock their flying-by doors

I walk ’til I’m dead as they pay oodles for a private ride

as they build acres of parking lot & bigger dumber stores.

~

So now I sit in the sand infront of The Lost Goddess Pyramid

awaiting a swirl of dust to do what the last one did

numerous trains roll by, a chunk of stone falls off my nose

buried beneath a footprint & a trumbone blows…

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2011)

~~~

~~~