bloor and monroe

i see Her... but i do not understand...
i witness homeless men and women... on the stresst of Toronto...
and i see myself.... i feel their pain... yet i am helpless... to their needs... wants...

~~~
why am i so immersed in Her realm... why am i a prisoner still of Her gaze...???
~~~

i traverse the streets of toronto... and all i feel is pain... my city has been transformed... wholly... fully... completely...
into a Police State... the G8~G20 continues to exploit the masses...
THE MASSES...
WHO really CARES about THE masses...???!!!??
____----____----_____----____----_____-----_____
Who is between the S P A C E S...?!

~~~~~
i have visions of Her in my city... i am unable to have a promenade... without Her scent on my lips...

~~~~

i wonder when their pain will subside... i wonder what is was like 200 years ago...
how many of my red brethren were on these same sentinels... where are all the trees... where have all the flowers gone...?
why do we continue to kill them...????

~~~

i wonder when i will ever be able to acquire a new consciousness without Her in my psyche...
at Bloor and Monroe
the homeless men and women make their home...
i am just a hooded pilgrim without a hajj....
i live in a city i no longer recognize...??!!!
today i am ashamed to be a Torontonian...

~~~~
today... today... i am closer to that realm... that Other kingdom...
and i still have not reached Her...
She has yet to reciprocate my love
i long to die in Her arms... but there are only Silent Walls
which are now immersed with the cries of the protesters...
~~~~~

the Toronto rain continues... there is not enough of it
to purge me of Her... Her scent... Her vision... Her touch..
i am a pilgrim without a mission... a poet without a muse... a prophet without a scroll... a painter without a canvass...
a gravedigger without a spade... a homeless man without a hovel...
~~~~~~

my realm fills with atoms... i am unable to ponder the destruction that i have caused... the chaos that rains on Her
Psyche...
will She ever forgive me... will She ever forget...
the tears are many... but i refuse to show Her...
my realm fills with words... i am unable to hear them... i am unable to ponder the disarray that i have caused Her...
my realm fills with yawps from my city... a city which is now foreign to my eyes.... at Bloor and Monroe.
i see them decay... i see them with their hits... i see them struggle... i see them searching for nooks...
why am i so immersed in a love that will never reify itself...?????
every night... a thousand daggers pierce my soul... my body...
only to reawaken with Her vision in my psyche...
~~~~

The sane are not far from madness...
i am a madman plunged in a river of dementia...
i am immersed in a city that i do not recognise....
a city that purges , represses ... oppresses its citizens...
~~~
at bloor and monroe i yearn for Her...
but i only see empty alleys...
empty promises...
empty ouvertures...
insecurities...
and one hundred indecisions...
No, the universe does not hold axioms...
No, death has no humble abode...
No, i am not sober... She has intoxicated me...!!!!!
Yes, the Earth is an absurd plane...
Yes, we only have our vulnerability...
Yes, we only have love to proffer... amid this absurdity...
at monroe and bloor i plunge into the abyss that is Toronto.

Supernova 2110

i selected neither my name, my race, my ethnicity, nor my language ...
yet i choose you... i choose you... amid the atoms, protons, neutrons, gold, black gold and uranium.

What we have... what we are... must become Supernova.
This state which is grey... our state... which is grey... must transform itself into an ocean blue...
and be imbued with the golden sand dunes of the Sahara Desert.

i keep observing... seeing so much blue... a blue lagoon, a blue desert... and i need to quenched by you.

i can only imagine us on this terrestial plane... field... alone... with one flower which reflects our entities.
This flower is the peony... and its scent emanates from you... amid this desert i sense You and only Your scent... a scent that
lingers in the inner chambers of my psyche which jettisons us n this new
Supernova state...

Supernova... yes, here it is... Supernova... yes, here we are in new spatial dimension with no history... with no borders..
with no baggage, with no inhibitions...

here there is a peace... in this vast space... in this vast universe... which has yielded us in this Supernova state.
No one will hear my tears... no one will see my ouvertures ... no one will observe my yawps... no one will perceive me on my knees... as i profess my amorous chants to my Blue Peony.

Down there, on the terrestial plane there is a madness:
BP~and its spoils of the Gulf of Mexico
Gaza and its three year blockade
The occupation of Iraq and Afghanistan
The Hell Fire Drone missiles launched into North and South Waziristan.

The sane are never far form madness.

We must plunge in this state of Supernova.
You penetrate me like honey that transpierces the bee's honeycomb.

Yet this silence must subside... it is tragic... Time must evaluate us.
History will assess this decadent Western civilization.
History holds no prisoners.... history will be our judge...
How will History assess our Love...??

My Blue Peony, please release me from my present cell.

History must mediate all these crimes committed in the name of Neo-Liberal Democracies;
History will not evaluate the American Empire favourably.

Here we are: Supernova,
Here i taste you... you taste differently...
Here you are wholly ethereal;
Here we are: Supernova,
Here i sense your scent... your scent is ambrosial;
Here we are: Supernova,
Here i feel your frame... your frame is sensuous.

Ode to the Pleiades

i enter a new realm , Bishop's Cross, and i am afraid...
yes, shit!! damn..!! for the FIRST time i have fear...
Fear of the Unknown... fear of rejection... fear of being vulnerable...
fear of showing my tears... of wearing my emotions on my shirt sleeves...
fear of losing contact with you... i await the PURPLE RAIN... It kisses my lips as i observe the Pleiades.

i solicit the Pleiades... here in this dark realm... surrounded by a forest...
Under the sky awaiting my Artemis ...

but i am today... yes, i am for the first time in a state of anxiety...
unsure... unclear... of the sentinel that awaits me...

i yawp for unequivocal clarity.... yes, that is what i solicit that Zeus and Leto grant my muse
Unequivocal clarity... direction...

i desire her touch... her scent... her kiss... her energy...
Her gait is my manna... her scent is my nourishment...

Why am i so immersed in my Muse's space...?
When today so many suffer in Gaza... a three year naval blockade...
i feel so helpless... i feel so estranged...
Why does the Truth elude us:
Gaza, Hamas, IDF commandos...?


Why am i unable to understand her psyche...?
Why does Love elude us...?
Why are we blinded by the Other...?
~~~~

I feel the Hard Rain... i envisage my Muse... she must battle on the pitch... she must engage the Minotaur...
i admire Her colours blue, red and gold.... her number 50 is special amid these stars...
i admire her gait amid these forests and hills...

i am afraid that june 4 proffers me something ominous... his way stirs...
a waking shadow that lingers too long can only collapse amid these crys...

All in all i am plunged in a moraine... and i am not sure how to release myself from Her...

I solicit the Seven Sisters: Maia, Electra, Taygete, Alcyone, Celaeno, Sterope and Merope to either release us... or
fuse us... amid these stars, these forests, these hills...
unite us amid these strangers... amid this chaotic world... amid these barbaric minds.

If not , Hermes must be my guide to the Other KIngdom
He must release me from this pain...

i fell on black days... i hear and feel the PURPLE RAIN... this liquid must nourish me... us...
i accept the Purple Rain... i become one with it...
that is all i desired from You... to become One with you...
as you battle on the wet pitch...
as you yawp enthusiastic entreaties...
i accept the Purple Rain...
i absorb this Hard Rain...
oh, i would relish our touch in this Purple Rain...