They never told me just what to write, only to "keep track". I often wonder if to some that meant keeping only dates of births and deaths, of landmarks, successes and failures along the road, like the cover of a Bible on a shelf. To others, I imagine it meant to record the minutes as if in a corporate meeting, so that all moments be not lost, all conversations searchable later, and nothing forgotten.

I myself "keep track" simply by this, committing my inner thoughts and observations to paper, for so long as such parchment survives in this world.

I write with no expectation that my words should last "forever", though I believe some I travel with assume falsely that they will. Has this lesson in our smallness, our insignificance, gone unlearned to many even still? That nothing we as "humans" do will ever remain for eternity, except perhaps our own inner evolutions, as that is probably the only thing we can truly pass down through our generations of procreation, an evolution of creation.

Perhaps we now move on so slowly, so consistently, so sorrowfully yet hopefully onward, to a new creation. Perhaps these words really could survive at least long enough to remind us, once in our new home somewhere, how far we have come, what we have fought and defeated, and how even just a few of us remaining continues our whole species to continue to survive. Perhaps our evolution could not continue in the situation we had put ourselves in for so very long. Has history not taught that one must die to be reborn? And that this 'death' is not always the impending fearful end of our lives that we may think it is?

We have all died now. In one way or another. The death of 'normalcy'. The death of all we knew to be true for so very long. The death of our way of life, until recently. The death of loved ones, of routine, of government, of security, of stability. The death of what were our homes, up there in the now snow-covered north. Even the death of the weather and nature's patterns we thought we could so easily predict with our 'science'. Probably the same 'science' that messed it all up.

Now we walk and walk and walk. Like corpses suffering through the trials of the underworld, we walk. Onward, to our rebirths.

They asked me to be the one to keep a record, once the reality of "home' no longer being behind us, but somewhere ahead still, finally sank in.

I think they asked me to write it, as the only true baggage I carried out of our pasts were journals & newspapers that could one day remind us where we started, or where we ended, or both in one. No one ever asked me to read a word from my luggage, as if remembering so soon would still cut too deeply. But someday they will.

And we all seemed to agree that a record of our present journey ought be kept, though our reasons for such opinions surely did not.

in the beginning, there were but pieces...

The problem was water, so rare to find any safe enough to drink. So we kept moving, kept hoping the next place would be the spot. A place we could find all we need, to settle, safely. Hoping just maybe this time.

Walking for long periods of time can often lead to reflection. So for vast portions of time we walked in silence. Pairs and singles, carts and creatures, dogs, horses, even an alpaca.

There were children with us, of course, who, for the most part, kept together during the days, as children do.

The nights held singing; and now and then, should new love or new life be born, even dancing.

No matter how hard things seemed, or how tempting the idea of giving up became, suddenly the river of children would mob by in laughter, or rainbows after raging storms might fill the sky, and somehow tired bones lightened, heavy hearts lifted, just that little bit more to keep sore feet walking. Ever on. To water. To a new home.

in the habit of creeping
keeping
all my dreams
hidden in drawers
a pocketful of sores
that just won't be ignored
barely consciously endured
still i do.

were you planning on peeking
seeking
all my dreams
yet to unfurl
shower promises, shower pearls
but i'm not that kind of girl
yes it's known throughout the world
and you do.

in the everyday dancing
trancing
all my dreams
lie here in this
your tragic sacred kiss
fading softly into mist
how could lovers not exist
in such subtle sweet remiss
as we do.

the best idea
seems to appear
as yet to run
in such as some
with hearts as ours.

his subtle flowers
no longer empowered
to moralize
what's deepest prized
yet so despised
by hearts like ours.

in tomorrow's turns
we'll find what burns
in tethered lies
and sweet goodbye's
while forever tied
to hearts devoured
yes those hearts,
hearts
such as ours.

to nmh

everything smells so wet
everything feels so set
floating in chaos of panic
hips burn, aching tantric
overwhelming sound of
daily life so subtle
impare & impede flows
of rhythmical rubble
swaying souls
decaying molds
consistent dream to
silent scream
fearful song singing old.

fighting more
less careless
demons' dress
untressel mess
deniably wait
for midnight's date
or fermented toil
in oil soft soil
sweet neuroses
timid & low key
apparent term sorrow
loyalty tomorrow
pale curtains spin
wretched room din
music tear quakes
in fasted mistakes.

marching straight in line
autopilot marks the time

a pace i can't maintain
in sunshine or in rain

but a tune interrupts
without notice nor with fuss

envelops the void
with me inside
lifts higher
and higher

lifts up.

fear flows freely via her veins now,
the wind-blinding clouds of empty-mind chaos
churn.

tunnel-sight priorities over all peripheral,
perspective more of privilege than of prime.

challenges what may,
the ever changing day
can offer yet refuge in
the silence rarely swayed.

peace within hostility
temperance within trial
freedom from chained servitude to anything
greater than thy own.

and what of thy young?

in heart, so fierce a flame.

in joy, a hope unspoken.

let love guide faith in forms unfathomed.

be not afraid.

frayed, perhaps, purpose calling rebraided,
be not jaded,
metamorphosing phoenix.

rise up, ever stronger,
fortune-weary, purpose-wise.
ever rise.
open eyes.

but most importantly,
BREATHE.

4/17/10

an oldie

life inside me whithered
pieces violently torn
in half what's left has slithered
to darkness lost forlorn

weakness now diverted
to strength for suffering sake
a night too real to breathe through
puts passion in it's place

gold bands do sparkle sweetly
until the floor
consumes
converse a bitter laughter
no weight in sterile rooms

wave the hand of freedom
thru choking tears of loss
anger fast replaces
knights of memory tossed


until then
hot tears won't cry

until then
regrets untied

until then
forever fly

until then
good bye


mirror marks handwriting
paper strands of hope
furnace not understanding
the sorrow or the joke

dreams will weave
in scenes unseen
terror of soft souls
without the spark of sanity
awake with frozen cold

murder remote of sympathy
forgot to knock the door
take the keys and leave
be
one choice
forever more

so plan the way and run
today time getting short
never know
what truth shall hold
hold onto fortress court


until then
hot tears won't cry

until then
regrets untied

until then
forever fly

until then
good bye
good bye

until then
good bye.

1/6/08

it's
the pulse in the bass
the rhythm in the rain

.......

perfection on approach
lost ripples in a dream
twin hands guaranteed
to never will be-ing

simplest of sometimes
thy Creativity
with arms opened free
blessing born residest me

mindfulness a toil
useless labels 'never be'
deny scorched memory
anything dreamt indeed

beauty breathless whispers
restless panic supersede
silent fear behind me
forgott'n finally free.

my life is in chaos

unsettling and unkind

dreams of tomorrow

today seem a nevermind.

my life is in chaos

control, like sifting sand in a sieve

money, a farse formed by factions unfounded

sucking my desire & will, to live.

my life is in chaos

i cannot find the key

desperate to take back

the girl who's truly me.

my life is in chaos

i cannot tell you why,

my life is in chaos

and still i fight,

and still my light

refuses

to die.

Cow Tunnel, song by Bunta Nuna, lyrics by hv

Baby, baby, baby,
you say you wanna know the truth.
But you couldn't handle it,
baby.
Too distracted,
actin' aloof.


Baby, baby, baby,
I know you've been watchin' me.
Open up those eyes a bit,
baby.
Let in
real-i-ty.


Baby, baby, baby,
you better come down from there,
the air's thin & you might fall,
babe.
But do you
even care?


Baby, baby, baby,
for once, won't ya listen to me?
I see you noddin' & smilin',
baby.
But you're not
convincin' me.

This is the Life, song by Bunta Nuna, lyrics by hv

got one life to live
tryin' to live it right
got nothin' left to give
but i won't give up the fight

such apathetic clouds
won't rain and wash me free
tears soak to the ground
washed out to the sea

spring is in the air
birds sing in the trees
this is the life
that you left me


things end up the same
i don't want to complain
but last time we were here
i still held you dear

now i'm here alone
with your lies i must live
but i need you to know
something's got to give

[change]

don't know what to believe
you'd been my only wish
your betrayal makes me bleed
worse than a swinging fist

i trusted in your eyes
but your lies came from the lips
now i just want to survive
these lies you left me with



this is the life

that you left me

these are the lies

that you left me

American Way, song by Bunta Nuna, lyrics by hv

whole generations lost

in TV space,

no time for a home

don't even

know that place,

you run so fast you can't

recognize your own face,

the silent plague of this

american race.



weaving webs of lies in my ears,

hiding underneath that un-

touchable veneer.

you are the sum of all a

rational man's fears.

searching for the shred of

truth

in my tears.



marching to

your own time,

of conscience and

partly pride.

your stars they'll for-

ever shine,

but how brightly till

they make you

go

blind?



believing the webs of lies in my ears,

hiding underneath that un-

touchable veneer.

you are the sum of all a

rational girl's fears.

searching for the shred

of truth

in my tears.



(change)



if i scream

would you hear me?

if i scream...



if i dream

would you fear me?

my dreams they

are so near me...





just tryin to find the 'american way'

won't you show me the 'american way'?

what is this 'american way'?

i wanna do it the 'american' way.



if i cry

would you hold me?

would you stay...



if i die

would you have known me?

or would you throw

me

away?




i can't find the 'american way'

is there really an 'american way'?

i don't believe in the 'american way'

it's all a lie, the 'american way'.

Soft clouds contrast
with fierce night sky
in breathless breeze
float silently by

Now rest your head
and close your eyes
as liquid dreams dance
to shy lullaby

somewhere
in this reality

laced
in cryptic subtlty

past the
private cruelties

caused by
insecurity

quiet tensions
seethe

such that some
can hardly breathe

in a moment
of tragedy

could one try to
thread the 'we'

'round a thing so
unsteady

or might you
fold it up

and leave

til a bleeding
seizing
freezing
fear

dropped
a tear

and he couldn't
hear

to believe me

no he couldn't
hear

to relieve me

he couldn't
hear

just how sincere

the worlds of a fool

could be.

when wrinkles outnumber hairs
we'll be rockin' in our chairs
on a porch overlooking a hill
or maybe, a cul-de-sac.

bonfires' burnin'
seasons keep turnin'

our kids playing with theirs
all The Family will be there
matriarchs' content peace
giggles blowin' in the breeze...

bonfires' burnin'
seasons keep turnin'

wrinkles mapping history
sands unscarred by time.
"always" unexaggerated
with you there, by my side.

My life is a series
of braided tangents,

seeking an eclectic balance
between surreal optimism
and intrinsic skepticism,

inconsistently motivated
toward conscious evolution

with the assumed consequence
of fallible wisdom

and a peaceful simplicity
ever only tasted

but never fully dined upon.