turn into life

 

of you and me 

of this sun and i 

as a lonesome child

i roam through

your sky

you've taught me

grace

as of a turning gap

in eternity

and of these sounds

my breathing

roaming loud 

i've learned from being

near

 

look up my child and

            breathe

each sun is a star

as each star  is but

            a thought in

            your eye

see      that you might live

not to die

but to fly

carried by the

winds of freedom

the shaping clouds

that are one’s only

turn into

life.

 

                        -jude    

 

 

 

to see, in movement,

to become

 

somewhere does seem this

flame to be

a‑burning from

as of future callings

in a burning

presence of waiting

 

for that, i shall be

for of that am

waiting for a word that am i to be

a giver of life to bare into knowing a one of few

the moment in

stilled presence

of truth 

 

i have heard her

eyes that they are

seeing through

without full

realization

 

can it that in a

sight i'm to be

is she

a sharing,

            and birth...

 

that am i to be born

            and of but myself

                        or

of man’s time

accumulation

 

where ends my waiting

and begins my

step into the present

 

i have felt these thoughts

and

of now i feel near

a time

a called moment

 

shall come my death

so shall also

that i will be

born into eternity

into a seeing life

a lone drifting soul

free

or

a touching, touched

a knowing born

or ...

 

these paths to be seen

to be passed

that i may be whole

 

its light's dim

and i yet but sense

of this gap in time which

awaits my movement

 

yet my words ,           are but

            letters lost

 

                                    - jude  

 

 

 

 

 

 

of her child and she

 

she rose to stand atop

her scream

as it pierced through time

"and leave me be,

as i am free"

 

this child lost in her colors

and breathing of life

ventured upon a day to greet

            a pale world

and unaware ,

            she painted her

living bright, across

            their skies

 

as she shared her touch

her deep innocent eyes

that is she

saw but what she dreamed

could be

and through her

blindness she thought to see

into life she bore a

child

lying near she silently breathed

for time was still waiting

and past the mating

would he come

giving his breath

through a hard painting of soft colors

that may her child

learn of a sun‑word

beginning

and she waited ,

catching her child’s

tears, and she waited

 

a woman is born

            for her child asked to see

to breathe                  of love,

            to be

and so this mother called

            by the love

began to sense.

 

she sat alone, knowing

strength from

only of her skin

as, viewing the colors

of only her reflection

and touched onto

her child’s  lips

her breath

drawing inward through a

now screaming pain

she met her life, and

commanded in lone

words  that

the child shall taste

 

as be brought into the

knowing, of

life  breath

 

and so this wooden toy

            was given into flesh

 

but they push ,

and scratch through their

screaming sands  that their game

continue

that she must return

but she has seen that

colored breath can reflect

color

 

she cried, for

her paintings were streaked

in the color of blood

and this is their realization

to the love she bore of

them

 

that she is free

and she met

a woman,

who turned out to be

she

 

breathes the child from

within her arms

and to realize she does

            see

steal my flesh,

but this, my child

shall be

"we have found flowers

in growing, upon

a distant tree,

and only then shall you find me"

 

and so echoes the

scream from the womb

of man

and into life steals

another birth

another life for they

to slay

 

            but      she shall never die

                        this woman has

                        found birth!

and she'll fight to breathe

for now she must

 

                                    - jude  

 

 

lone burn on a lone skin

 

flame,

oh  my lone reaching

flame

you have given into my dreams

a light

lit for seeing

and

carried for the being

a being in eternity

shall see its own

reflection in a glimpse

of passing 

through you

flame

 

and

            i want to feel

that what i see

may be real

and i reach

yet,i am burned

a lone burn on a lone skin

 

                                    - jude    

 

 

 

a waiting, reality ; ,?

 

as i have caught a touching

of the you,

            in a passing

a sight out into your distance,

present in its being

as its sound skips through

time

and, as i have waited till my mere glimpses,

become images whole in their form,

so do the children

dry their tears,

and hide their eyes,

so do the children

hide their fears,

and concede to their sighs,

            always,

                        they are waving

                        good‑bye

 

i have come to say

            hello ...

i have met your presence

            in my past,

and have heard the future,

riding

cape untied,

through color

 

            across the veins

            of my palms

are written, the yet to come

time emotions 

the over‑spilling

of your whole ;

and in a taste,

ah! i have sensed

the inching of life

across time’s

muddied‑black!

 

across the sand, upon the path

my finger draws, a thought ‑

a waiting reality ... life­

            " hello ‑ in that you are here reading,

            so are you, here!”

                                                           

- jude  

 

 

no giving and nothing to take,

 

it is so well into christmas

as soon comes the day,

and in the dreams of thoughts

fulfilled,

so do the children play.

 

i'm tired, alone

i've lost the urge to lie

as at least with them

i must pass away

refuse this day,

 

to share, can you remember

of that care,

there is no giving and nothing

to take

in the realm of

christmas time,

to touch hand upon hand

and share smile in smile

there can be only

one ending mile,

but where is the chime.

 

i remember a song

i remember a plea,

what did she need,

to skate away, from

this over colored, day

what has become

of the sun falling

in shaped crystals of

                        white,

 

i'm alone,       so will be

            it upon this night,

 

it's a celebration, this day

and i can't run away!,

and so, i'll stay

i meet christmas on my hand,

and as i stand, so will

reflect my mirror

image,          of one,

and tobabily

of one...

            - jude  

  

 

 

 

 

 

and again; to meet her , on a windy day . . .

 

and yes,

i met her on a

windy day,

in speaking to her

as she to i

there came a cry!

"i am out, but to play,

won't you, catch a

minute

and stay?..."

so,       i grabbed her hand

as i was under wind command

            that together,

                        we painted and

shaped, a passing cloud

into a picture,

unknown to the years of time

 

and as that cloud continued

its passing

we smiled

and yes,

i left her on a

windy day ,

or so was a thought 

that i could see,

  

and time blinked,

            and i came to

            notice

we had not gone away

            but were merely

            caught by a cloud’s

            movement.

but now,

she was asking not to

            play

so i drew closer,

            i drew away

to become,   and into the

                        sounds she spoke

            with blocks, i watched

            as she attempted to

            reinstate time

                        and she built

                        until she could

                        no longer find

                        her tempted direction,

toppling her blocks

            i held her hand

to speak,

            "come, it is again

            time to play,"

though she couldn't say?

 

she danced!

too quickly,

grew her body

tired,

slumping, she fell into sleep

to dream, of times

unworn

yet un-cold,

 

and she woke,   to me

            wanting to see,

 

and on a still day,

she came to say,

join me, won't you

"i want to play"

and i watched as she,

returned her hand

to herself, untouched!

to take her hand and

speak;

"first we must find

the day, and see

before we are allowed,

times air

to play."

i felt a windy day,

and knew i couldn't

stay 

and with such of a play

that i wanted to say

i had to leave

for she couldn't see,

perceive...      my day.

and yes,

            i met her on a

            windy day,

 

such a pretty lady

            in pretty eyes

 

            she's wandering slowly

            she's wondering wise.

in building color castles

for her child,

            so comes a smile,

and once again begins a whisper

            begins the wind,

 

and again,

            to meet her on a

            windy day ...

 

                                    - jude

 

paper man

 

paper man

painted

smiling

and drawn

strong

fiddle yourself about

as within my

fingers

please

once again

 

i am a star‑time‑dancer

writing melodies

the chimes of light

 

and being      the hero

of myself . . .

 

                      - jude   

 

 

 

 

 

yet together

 

and she has no reason

to listen to their

            sounding chimes

they say it is christmas

            they pour their wine

in drinking    these separate

thoughts,

so drunk they stumble

out through the day,

they're smiling

 yet hold no words

to title their play,

for across the floor lies the

broken glass   thought to

lie raised across

all their lips.

 

that she stands in command

            of         a lone

            wandering smile

and for no reason

            she gathered the

pieces of a fallen cup

reshaping it into a glass

            for wine

            not trying to find

            walking off the line

            she drinks with

her      child

 

and of

her only christmas

she has found

            playing lonely in

            the sand

            an only touching

 

and in sharing

so        finds the world

                        of her smile

and that none will see

            and free

to be  to be touching

            she is her child

            as her child is she

 

and on christmas day

  

they are born alone

yet  together...

 

                        - jude   

 

 

to the movement

 

and     as tobobly and

            i

do ride this wind together

we whisper 

our timeless

welcomes to the

movement of the new year

            come

a new year past

 

and she looks

into the eyes of

the

child she.

to see

color come

and into light

color gone

out through blackness

she whispers

her tired

living  thoughts

into those free eyed

reflections

 

come tobobly

you are to be

given birth 

see yourself

 as her hands caress your

            time drenched

            skin

feel as she colors

you in to a present

history

and speak softly 

as she rests her tears

upon your

wide knowing

eyes

 

as she looks  

tobobly

            through your eyes,

she will see

            time is present

          

as the time

which is here.

  

she holds

            a child’s breath

            but to warm her breasts

                        as she walks

of that warmth

            being of a smile

            that is

                        a sharing in

                        living

she hears the pain

slapping its tears through

                        rain

            rapping softly within

            the heart of

                        tobobly

 

and     before time    timeless

            she enters     this

            new year

                        smiling

                                    alive...

 

                                                - jude   

 

 

 

 

 

a tiny , sky dancer

 

and yes she is

a tiny sky‑dancer

of the clouds

 

sun‑songs

and to the tune

she     dances her

            body

through the air

            free...

 

oh! come, my tiny

sky‑dancer

"and so spoke the earth

to the sky"

take my hand and

            i will cover you

            warm

to free you from the fear

of a blocked empty

            night

 

and there she lied

beyond day 

as before night

listening

            wondering

 

and where will she turn

our sky child

does she fear the night

can she dance without

            light ?

 

there in the darkness

            do we hear

where of the silence

is that fear

that tiny dance

is only sand

yet in a silence

we only can hear

dancing tiny dances

  

within the day

what holds a sky‑dancer

in her sway ...

  

and if i wondered but

at a loss

that i've heard her

            and it is night

            where is her dancing

            star filled light?

 

then suddenly, from there

in the black

i met a sound in

            coming back

 

a tiny sky‑dancer

could be heard

listen time

a wind is stirred

 

and through the dark

            but came a light

sailing            she     as if a kite

then in a tint, the

sky turned blue

danced    a sky‑dancer

returning day 

anew ...

 

 - jude   

 

 

 

 

 

 

wondering at past scenes

 

and here i sit  just to

wonder  at past

scenes

of funny plays as deeply painted dreams

 

but what is this 

i feel

is the air but ever real

that its passing

here,

and abou,

 

it is so 

that i would like

to know

in from those shades 

can they ever grow

 

yet  this  i really

must say

again, it seems the time is

that i drift away

 

to the where that

            i           go

well                 can we ever know

yet is of its matter 

for where is there

beyond here

and as you grow

closer, do

ever you come

near

 

it's a sound of time

a drifting

of movement 

he's calling my

name 

there are but seconds in which

to say good‑by

            hello, ...

to catch all, those

lost sights   for it

  

our last glimpse

as reality is but 

seconds away 

  

and we are gone

 

go along and

            join yourself

touching sky

            learning why

reaching for the nowhere

            and walking alone

 

and there is  no reason

            and yet

you've grown

as you've touched

and

you're free...

 

        - jude  

 

 

 

 

 

but me...

 

and not i

not you

but we

 

no, we are not

of them

for they are not

of us,

 

but we

and so of my

dreams

of their

never  to be

 

but me...

 

  -jude   

 

 

the absence of a hello

 

i'd say good‑bye,

            but tomorrow

            has already come

 

and i sit alone

i wonder

why must it

always be tomorrow?

 

where has gone to ...

            today

 

what should be said

and they forget to say

                        hello

 

and when i am born,

            they see me dead

and when i'm dead,

            they see my birth

 

so where are we

we're not

 

and the lie

they're wanting not

to say good‑bye

the tie,

they never

hear

the absence

of a hello

 

              - jude  

 

 

love song , between two foreigners , in a foreign land

 

and strangers we must

remain

for this is the

land of birds

            un-whole       caged

of         productions

poorly staged

 

meeting

we have slipped our words

out between the cries 

of barred‑out

rebellion

and back through

a returning    a distant

reflection 

will only  we

admit

that we

have sat

alone   together

 

we are leaders

of our own separate

non‑cult

praying never to each our

own 

non‑gods

yet lost    between

            their day phrases

 

reaching out i have

heard my smiles

crying to smile

and in reaching out

            i touch

 

in their game

i have been told

to run

to demand, a giving

            reality

but i turn

and away a refusal of

 

acceptance

a dismissal of

their lifeless  time ...

for as we stand

            we are without

            place

            without time

belonging never together

as

belonging never apart

 

so between the

spaces of their

dust covered

            colors

where             were we born

where we must

gasp for air

we wait ‑‑‑‑‑ to turn

 

and in the freedom

of my aloneness

i can ask not

as the wind is its only

master

 

to turn

into hello

into good‑by

 

yes we are not

to be children of time

but  godless

            subjects and

                        to ourselves

to share our bodies

whole

and to leave our

un‑whole

fantasies

to lie only within

their realm of

            us  non‑existence

 

to be free       she & me

here only shall

we find to see

that which we are

if we’re to be

 

to touch

to share...

            be it hello

be it good‑bye

only to share an equal word

   -     -     -

only to be

 

                      - jude   

 

 

alive . . . dream ; reality!

 

that she awaits a piece

of sky

as though promised once

to her

from a time of birth

 

standing naked

atop

a lonely hill

            before a free

                        air

does this lady

hear the beating

of her

own heart

does she stare

into time

that she may see

past

and through onto

the reflection

of she             alone and naked

            within her own

                        eyes ...

 

through a glimpse

 to her

spoke

her body

to speak of a life

breathing through

a waiting of air

and when i did stare

            from upon

            my colored cloud

i saw he, as

dream time

air

as an eagle   she crosses

the sky

with each movement

as a reflection of

sun‑warmth

 

and to turn which

            way

 i may

there i was

            smiling

for within my

eyes    lied  alive,

her reflection

composing life

            upon the

            sand

and with the

child

upon her hands

she smiled

her just offering

before the sun

to her  awaiting

dream‑reality.

 

                        - jude  

 

 

but, that i hear!

 

but      i keep feeling

those dreams

i had once heard 

and thought of

as real

and i   keep

finding your

breathing warmth

standing near

 

thinking of waves

i meet the wind as we clash

above

the sea

on an earth tied sky

of movement

and i can hear

my own breath

breathing strong 

as i travel

holding reign over

my

all movement

as i sense

the sound of

freedom

 

and am i reflected

 

i speak with

her

from across separate

plains

and i gaze

down into her

self   through her eyes

to see a whole

universe deeply

set about stars

backed by an eternal

blackness

and there beyond

i do almost

glimpse a sight of myself

 

reflected

 through that sight

i am of warmth

 

eternal and real

 

the lie once

discovered

as a personal fantasy

leading nowhere

past my skin

through my body

            out

naked

            against the sun

 

and why still

            do i listen

i crave a universe

            to swallow

to swallow me

 

i have heard the

waves as i hear the

            waves

that i must

search the shore

for a craft

that might carry

me

 

because i hear

because she might

hear

that our friction

            might create

            sound

in this vacuum

given to us

as life.

 

            - jude   

 

 

that all breath is movement !

 

in the there of somewhere

            and nowhere time

so does rest 

upon the hill a castle

as upon

the castle a hill

and do the doors

            who wait

to be               only

            between the

coming of night

            and     the

going of day

            lie        between

            movement

as sand without sand

            silently so

stares this castle

at a closed door

to within

to without

circled  walls

            in a circle

            about a circle

enclosing a circle

            about a silent

scream

 

and as wandering of

an all‑breath of

            living

she stares  from an only

            stance

to a thought‑sun

 through an evening

beyond a day

into the flame 

of fire eternal

of she

and to see

as who  these sands

are as

they dance their distant

            songs

 

a sun‑king does see

her body’s eyes

a sun‑king she

may never touch

there within those

shadows of light

does stand her reflection

lost to the deep of

color blackness

 with her image

coming last

between all the burning

            colors of deep

 

that she heard within

a touching of flame

            one can only meet

pain

            laughing that

god     of her reflection

keeps painting his flaming

            red‑blue words

between her and

her sun reflection

he knows her fear of

                        a darkness

 

and he paints it dark

this her light‑reflection

 

does she dare to move

beyond her stare

and into that castle’s

center  flame

that she may move

freely in or

out,

of her tower  kingdom

that is his skin

 

might she turn

and meet herself

past his forming words

            that she might

            meet the air

to listen to breathe

a filling air a sky

            above

            a kingdom of only

            she  waiting beyond

            time

that she might see

 

birds of wind

with outstretched wings

who are of all‑sands

touching the sun

lying untouched it is

their sun

her sun

 

will      she turn

                        is her castle a

flowering in the air

            with it’s form in

            only she

still she stands unaware

            before her natural

            movement

            in her castle a

flowering upon their ground

as she

as they

            her sky . . .

            their earth

torn and so worn

she wraps tightly for

            warmth

her arms about

herself not to move

and may a burning

            pain‑touch

pass her by

and yet i t is the earth

on which she stands which commands

 

in a thought‑dream,

i saw her screaming

in a thought‑dream

i saw her dancing

pain  steps

 alone  in the walls

of her fingers

safe and mating

with her sin

no longer theirs

 

below can no more

their sun play

its games of

hiding reflections

 

in their eyes so dies

her reflection

drawn falsely in

hate lines

of color

in her eyes so is born

her reflection

drawn real in

light‑lines

of color

 

that all breath

is movement 

even without motion ...

 

                                    - jude  

 

 

 

 

in the where, of here!

 

in pictures on the wall        

dance those strange

little men

no longer

as my body stares

and no silly grins

            do return to me

            as i see

            what must be

and                 my

            unwilling reflection

 

a child so young

i have met

stirs and breaks out

a frightened cry 

not to the sky

to a need that

a care might be

near

and i rise aware

to hold a listening

stare

if no one else

i am there

 

yet       i stand still in

            my shell

till again scars are

            burned against

            the inside of my

                        skin

for i am seen

            not to be there

 

yes i know

            it is their world

            and, in but a mistake

            of time

            it is, that

a body holds

            me       in the

            where  of here

 

                    - jude  

 

 

fingers upon my hand, ...

 

so simple

that if i could want

i'd        care       just

            once   to

belong            to a somewhere

            second of time

as a man

 

yet they can only

hear

what to them can only be

a god 

a freak

a running wind 

a pulsing sun

 

as it is             a man that i am

not a god       a freak a running wind

            or a pulsing sun

for these                    are but pieces of

            my manhood

fingers upon my hand ...

                       

                        - jude   

 

 

with nowhere to end

 

where

 there

oh!  but where

is this being from

that i am 

feeling

have i caught

                        as a sky catches flight

her                  that i stand

            in closeness

            in a world of un‑me

            that might i be

            she                

            born to words

painted strictly upon

            every  four walls

and we are

told                  of our where

            to know

 

but can it be

so, that a

sight

my sight

reaches out

­forward

and past

 that i can see 

 the essence

of beings 

first 

with my words 

then to follow

or

is there within

me a slightly

stained man of

too‑sane proportions

who

laughingly

spills lies 

from within

to within 

and with nowhere to end

as there

is a nowhere    to begin

                                    - jude   

 

 

what matter,      does it ...!

 

when you are all alone

in a sphere of nothingness

and shout

then moves not those

            screams

            and so

                        what matter

does it that you cry out

 

that you are

 

what matter

            does it...

 

                        - jude   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

to the whispering of a sun-world

 

of her face

            ah! such a face of

            smiling warmth

i heard a reflection

            which could not

            be seen

i thought a glimpse of

            myself did pass

for seconds across

reality

 

and     all behind

those endless narrows

            of formless walls

came  and centered in

            a breathing

sun

a soft flame

she

that i thought the

feel of something

beautiful drifting 

along side 

against my wind

 

but a wind

messenger whose

fingers are dying

smashed against those hideously

tall and screaming

people  buildings

am i ...

 

and if i turn into my

            reflection

she must turn away

 

yet i don't cry

as i don't say

it is her time

her day

and without

 there are no smiles

  

no warmth left to be

real

 

i think

i feel

 

her thought

standing near

                        as i've no fear

                        i'll hear

and yet           stand alone

                        that lies there

            alive

                        my wind’s freedom

                        for       a

smile shared

 

no pain

just the rain

up my cup 

to the whispering of

a sun‑word . . .

  

        - jude

 

 

 

 

 

 

 warmly funny

 

so

            hour speaks the sun

and

            who spreads the honey

separated in part

            you whisper quietly

            and yet           smile

warmly funny

 

        - jude

 

 

 

 

when you cannot ;

 

know...

 as i know

that when you can not

smile

i am there smiling in

your place

           

that when you can not

cry

i am there crying within

your face

 

for i have met you

and have felt

the    

eternity

that you are...

 

            - jude

   

 

hidden strong

 

oh!      that i can have

nothing to say

for       of her speaking near

it is not from

words

that of she    i hear

 

from a smile

strangely drawn 

to warmth she comes

floating into me

and it is a sound of

being alive 

which shares

an almost reflection

upon the sky 

within the haze

of my eyes

 

was i asked not to come

not to go

am i so

when i hear

these 

distant sounds taking form

 

am i near 

or is it

a fantasy 

in strength 

stronger then fear

 

swallowed by the light

of her eyes

i'm not surprised

to hear her beating

alive

 

and gone       alone

                        yet caring not

            if nothing's there

            there is nothing to

                                    be forgotten

                                    and if   what

                        i hear  might

 

 

chance           to be...

a someone

                        reality

                        breathing towards

                                    me

                        as near

            i’ll leave

                        this hand

                        to a wind’s

                                    command

                        to know a touch

                                    and feel the sand

and here i play

            knowing either

                        way

somewhere breathes

            a child

reflections of

her own warmth

hidden deep

yet ...

hidden strong.

 

                        - jude   

 

 

 

 

her own ‑ all‑breathing sips

 

and when cries the clown 

so smiles 

does the jester 

then with the clown

comes streams

of floating

laughter 

does the jester come

to dance his

slow knowing 

dance

before her too wide

smile

freely silent and listening

as silently he sings

to bring  her

smile and frown

that she'll stand no longer

with painted lips

but as a facial

expression of her own ...

all breathing sips

 

              - jude

 

   

 

the fear !

 

strange is it?

and every time

or such

that i turn around

i have seemed to

have scared

            someone ...

 

and i wonder 

at all the quiet

fear

as i am reflected in

their eyes

 

silly                 am i

                        or

            are they

 

                    - jude  

 

 

of wind control...?

 

i am

the door 

i open 

myself

to you

 

you are 

just my reaction 

in your own wind

it is for you to move

either away or in

 

i am

but a god

who has created the earth

yet knows that wind‑life

is not his command

 

you are

man as you want

wind‑control

beyond your own ...

 

            - jude

 

 

   

 

do we want to be alive

 

a teacher’s tool

is not truth?

but wisdom

as wisdom is the act 

of giving the power

of living to life and

truth is but

a point where motion ends.

 

and teaching 

as is learning

is motion ...

 

and if motion is eternal?

can there ever be

one truth

 

yet with living as an act

of motion what matter

does truth have

in our being alive

and all back to the question

"do we want to be alive...

or

stagnate, living?

in a glass sphere

of truth”

 

  - jude

  

 

to explode!..

 

i was drawn one day 

onto the words of

a man 

as i passed

through 

a rising of

sand  in

the air

 

i stopped squatted in a

listening position 

to see this man and his words.

 

i turned          but what i saw

was                 a man built image

            of a little boy,

            reading          ‑ strictly ‑

            from the

            turning pages of an

            old black book!

 

So       i turned toward his

way     and asked

            "you speak well.

what to me, my sir

            might you have to

            say and what of

                        my

movement on my way"

 

he turned first to me

and then again to the book 

to read me some words.

first i turned away but suddenly

returned around

to say

"i have already read

that book and know

not you as a

better reader

it was the you i

wanted to hear

  

and when i listen, i hear 

just silence.”

  

So       i'll go away and

if again we meet

 

some day,

            please gesture to

            speak from you

to me              or retain thy

            silence

as i have met you

            and care to

                        hear.

 

and i walked away,

            smiling at the

            body sands

            waiting to       explode...

 

                                    - jude   

 

 

 

 

 

only michele before the world

lying aloft of time before her growth!

 

her small hand stood in

movement slow

before             the wondering         

touch

            onto mine

what gentle thoughts run 

as this child,

young in light

attempts to know

into those hearing sounds

that are greeting

 

pillows of bouncing light

balls

are prancing rushing 

and carrying her 

to as fro

aloft

a flowing free sky 

lying across time

before her growth

is her childhood

alive

                          

                                    - jude

 

  

 

strong ?

 

holding strong 

hidden in hiding

behind a song 

and words don't belong

music  comes

out  a‑singing wrong

 

for what do

really you

            long for ...

 

who is singing which

song among the

many floating

in

 

and why

of the holding strong

pushing here

pulling away

 

to move

to sway

in wind say ....

 

                        - jude

   

 

what is fear ... ?

 

and     why need

            thee    to build

walls...?

 

the air is free

and permits no

falls

for it listens to all

silent sound calls.

 

and walks silently 

for only those of

listening ears

to hear...

 

what is fear...  ?

 

             - jude

 

  

 

absurdly deep!

 

sometimes

when a thought

cries a laugh within

me

in that moment

the absurdity falling

from their moving

mouths 

rings.

i can't but help

to

speak to them

to the air

an absurdly

deep

physiological statement

 

so.

                           -jude

 

   

 

fairies

 

it is night  and i've

come alone

 

i'm just sitting here

looking for fairies

under my sink

 

you think it funny,

strange?

 

i don't and neither do the fairies

 

                          - jude

 

 

   

 

“dream seeing / reality,

false light or morning bright”

 

"so what is real

 

will i take him in whatever

form,

and so

            paint over it  the

            many colors

and here is born my reality"

 

it seems so easy

for a child in love

 

she built her home

where there lies no

earth‑solid

no trees

for construction

he promised  on one

day that he

might pass that way

and one day 

he passed.

 

she stood there

across his path letting

him pass through

catching a piece of him

into

her womb 

controlled by love’s strange 

needs

glancing unaware he

noticed his passing and

stopped thinking

in their god‑words 

did touch a touch

wanted.

 

he walked on leaving her

and she holds onto a

floating  last piece of

un-shattered reality

molding it before her into formless

dream‑seeing.

 

time always moves on­

 

there came a cry within her

of         wanting birth

            and she hopes in the

            thought of his eyes

 

again he comes this‑time

                        tired

            and so stops   playing

                        teacher on the

            sounds he hears

she wonders; "what if he hears

these hidden birth‑cries

i've stolen from him

what will happen to the

freedom of his unattached

spirit"

 

playing still in her makings

which are beginning to

breathe

she fears       'who is turning

                        my life'

 

and when from her mud‑stakes

of earth building

she begins to breathe

            reality becomes

 

the face which reaches

new from her womb

is not the face she carved

wanting to be.

 

he must not see,

this is not a tree

i've wanted for him

"his pain would be mine

            in my love

but i want his love.

i've stolen it

knowing it’s non‑existence"

 

she wants his morals as

she wants him

knowing still of this

conflict between the

two.

she dies?

she cries

 

earth child  forced to be

real

if it is something you feel

you want 

it is something you can not steal

 

but the motion has begun

and now breathes without a sun

 

she is caught in the over‑complications

of many non‑meeting

realities

and can not turn

for two children have played

with the tools of man and

            woman

 

you my child must stop

find your woman run

and shed these dream

realities

if you want to be born

free to be this

love you love.

and me...

i wait 

not to carve false realities

i  an alone god

have a caring pen

and know

just ... to reconstruct

your real into the

real it is

and then to

vanish as gods

must always "to see her

smile real all‑time"

 

she'll begin in pain

and walk in rain

as she must now stain the morals

of her wants

but if she walks  she will

            greet her sun

and meet herself and meet her child,

to become not what she wants

but who she is.

 

if she wants,  ?          - jude   

 

 

 

 

 

 

a difference:

god or man ; man or god

 

l,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,0,

            -

45 (362,880)

-

9

            -

45(362,880)

            -

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,0

 

(or)

9         

            -

45 (362,880)

            -

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,0

            -

45 (362,880)

            -

9

                       - jude

  

 

nature/man

 

a flower

saying never no

to the bees 

fleeing freely always

her pollen to the breeze

 

nature            one and natural

 

man    never one

                                    innocent

 

                                    - jude

 

  

 

 and of love ; in a smile . . .

 

wind current calling itself

            around

my name,

            did have a beginning

 

the eternal lines of

eternity 

are rays of light life

burning implosions 

into a forever

sight

 

i hold he,

in all‑time knowing 

as the future 

the past 

are but extensions

of an omni‑present

 

blue is a candle

solid

which lines her

flame  it is the same

                        in it’s forever

                                    change

 

and though

            i'm not there

            kissing her

i yet still know

a smile

for the warmth of her presence ...

 

and of love

i continue without

skin‑hold

 

and of love

i have become eternal 

in a smile 

quietly warm

and beyond myself

of myself

 

she!

                        - jude

 

 

  

 

shadows,  of fear,  of light...

 

and as a candle light

dances so also

of a near distance 

lives the shadow 

in  behind her reflection.

 

it is                  as this candle’s

                        light

                        falls behind its

                        own darkness

then

                        its shadow‑form

                        finds that its time

has an only control

                        over

            the candle’s dancing

movement

time’s call

for all fear to

stand side by side

and strong 

in front 

before all

            reflections

returning

 

candles last

never through

a night

must we always

depend on a shadow’s

might 

to pass our love 

from light

into

eternity.

 

let's meet our shadows

and consume their fear 

that may a candle’s

fire  reflection

remain as an only shadow

movement 

through 

our night.

 

            - jude  

 

 

that i am burning with life ...

 

someone’s rain is falling

as tear drops

against the windows 

of my glassed existence

and through my glass 

skin

runs a storm 

a clashing of clouds

for a right of way

 which 

has no dimensional

direction

 

her hand sees cold

with blood running

from fear 

as it lies beneath 

my hand of glass.

 

so i reach out

in my non‑form

form

to catch whatever

strength of her

storm              that might i

            hold

to return with

her screaming cold

 

and here, within

my glass  tomb  of life,

will i swallow

into nothingness

those drops of her

raging fear

 

that she will

hear those known

echoes die

behind a too ... strange

glass wall

 

 

that i may hear in her

walking away.

a newly rising sun‑warmth

a smile

through my glass

skin

 

that i am burning

within of life ...

                        - jude   

 

 

 

 

 

 

movement control  vs.  meeting eternity

 

hello               woman

            what time is real

            as you're living

                        across now

            against what you feel

and in understanding these

burning yearnings

            there no longer

            stands yesterday

            in these right now

                        turns

 

is time a

hideous call

carrying your name

 

if          now is now

then  then is then

and                 tomorrow’s shine

            is a line broken

                        from today  to be

forever lost from

                        your moving sway.

 

dressed in a flame‑cloth

dress

is she a lady,

lost to the

from the stars

living without a history

to carve color

into the shade of her eyes

ah! but so

she tries 

somewhere distant

she cries 

to greet eternity in her

airless drifting

soul

 

in a somewhere i have seen

her 

an unknown to herself,

speaking her body calls 

 

through

an expanse in the

now of eternity

deciding decisions

as carving paths

living against the wrath

of her soul

vs.

time.

 

she turns in now

            before she shall

            hear the call

of her  destiny

against her own

            life’s movement

"and let her movement

decide

as she will rest

aside playing

life in her

their

game of living"

 

strangely alive

and yet to be born...

 

                        - jude   

 

 

 

 

 

considering the burial...

 

kneeling does a child

atop the grave’s

empty time‑drift

shoulders of hair

sway   unattached

            beyond the wind

stained from within

with lost tears

dried before they

could have ever

fallen.

she is lost

            to the earth

neither standing

                        or

sitting

does she feel

the turn

 

a wind returns

            her hair

and she stands

to stare ...

a hand reaches for 

those droplets

of color

drifting apart

from a now

                        long  past ...

            spectrum

eyes     consider

            small frozen

tear‑drops

tied restrictively atop

            the lids of her eyes

"and as they never fall

she remembers

not

their moment of

creation..?"

 

a woman

            touches          the sky

with her every‑skin

          

reaching

molds sun rays

into ...

caricatures

of life

 

against the

strife of circling

shadows

as they roam

against the corners

of her

            now‑light‑world

she smiles

            until

a rolling laughter

mellows those

sharp hiding corners

into

flattened, rolling

plains of unrestricted

light

 

on a night i watch

this window of day

carry shine

from time.

into eternity

and then ...

back within time

free 

to see

i feel myself,

smiling...

 

                            - jude  

 

 

 

 

 

in the presence of you

 

i remember on once

waking early 

as before myself

my being was wandering

distantly 

between myself alone

and a world of

turning‑clock eyes

i reached to my side

wondering if i were alone

as i saw i was

and awake.

 

i hear  a once

                        an awakening with

                        my dreams still

            turning      realities about my

                        mind

            startled i turned

                        wondering if i was

yet to be alone;

my dream passed

back into me 

and i was.

 

i know            a once

            there was an awakening

            when i awoke

                        hearing all the

            sounds of within

                        of with‑out

whistling sun‑day‑shine

in new coordinated 

as known  patterns

and i turned not

to my side 

as within the

warmth that was myself

touching day

i could hear

the presence of

you.

 

                        - jude

 

 

 

 

   

 

being, movement in our flight

 

an air bubble

adrift in the

            sky

            catches earth reflections

as will he fly

 

mary, mary

not ordinary 

her self‑skin gardens

do grow

vegetable gardens 

and sun flowers of

the night

will she sow.

 

swimming atop a

rolling hill’s wave

bending moon‑rays

            across my own thoughts

i had once built a

            world

all the earth colors

come alive 

atop  the white

bright of a day’s sight

aglow against time’s

eternal blanket

of night

 

that she came

considering the grass

with her toes

and walking in the wind 

as it blows

 

hand in hand below a universe

of movement

we played together 

made together

a nature’s flow

 

and we grow together

towards a night’s light

crossing star‑shaded

worlds being movement

in our flight

 

            - jude   

 

torn sheets lie forever torn

 

torn sheets lie

forever torn 

that mere needle and

thread

allow

a needs

necessary scorn

 

i found           there upon a

            too cold ground

one day          a too young

            bird with

broken wing

her feet   were too long

down against the

sound of earth

 

she was dreaming

her nature dreams

and in the sky

she thought to

fly ?

 

i listened to her tears,

            and all the years

of un-flying she spent

            alone and

            not quite lying

 

i had molded my arms,

into the wings that

were meant for

she and had learned to

fly that

i might give to her 

her wanting piece

of times sky

 

i remember carrying her

from here to there

teaching her

those turns that are

the air 

for i heard somewhere

as she held a

hidden care

just to really fly.

 

well there came a

day she walked

away

speaking to test her

wings alone

 

i waited to greet

her in the air

on one day    i heard her

say

"i'm flying"

so i rose aloft to catch

                        this sight

searching for movement

                        across the night

 

yet       here i found

still upon the ground 

this lady‑bird making

her sound

she was carrying the feathers,

of         too many others

            found resting from

                        their flight

            i heard they were

                        stolen in the

                        night

was she trusted with

            too much might.

 

and there was an eagle

walking against her side,

            speaking of a world

            where they can hide

speaking of birds

from where to steal

                        a ride

and closed are

eyes  to the sky

forgetting forever of

that reason in

why

 

"i need not work

my wings

to find flight 

i can merely sleep

during day 

and steal rides at night"

spoke she

from he

 

by painting the night 

does that make

your color light

 

watch as your flock

turns away

they were giving freely

yet still  must you 

steal their sway

 

and with a bird you expect

to fly away

    ------------------------------

i but stayed to

catch you 

when you fell 

in your now

non‑movement 

i can no longer dwell

 

shall she burn the sheet

or

shall she  sew the

            tear

            all before a

lost care

for her true flight 

is lost to her

by

a skies light

 

yet in  a lies air

            can ever there

grow a living stare

            a moment

            whose strength is care

not a stolen fare

 

                        - jude   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

playing sky shaping

 

playing sky

shaping with me

she

may we see

to be well

 are we

            naked thoughts

within  the sky

in act

copulation

within copulation

we are children born from the

womb of time

            in coming

                        we're touching as free beings

                        within eternity

 

if then recreating time

            from our own image ...

 

                                    - jude

 

 

 

   

 

something, . . .

 

something...

and it fights

its timed existence as

it struggles here

            into my light

as i near this sight

so   reacts my eyes

my body to catch hold

                        of its sight

 

to catch knowledge

to learn its wisdom

and again create a movement

of white

individually colored

light...

 

- jude