kite dancing poem recitation

poem congealing ideas of these last few days into my contemporary reality evolution.

kite dancing


Hi world

I dance onward and onward
me as a kite spinning out of the gloom

what do I belch out, to make more room?

why do I keep on eating
as though my food does not feed me?

we dive on and on and into the restless wrest-ling match
of the ones who float and pray and believe....

And they real and rock in the seas
of our emotional being....

and so....we told them to go, onward and into the storm
and we drove onwards on a wayward wave....

and got caught in the sea, for what sort of dance?
so I choose. what sort of dance do I choose?




And the weight settled back intooooo
the fuzzy floating of, our unconscious being.... believing....

emotional bed of bedrock.
What next. What is on the field to play?

and the race goes on'
looking several steps ahead




and a forgotten few do ask to be seen
an apparition of our dreams....

some are dead within our own skin,
and some are dead within the world we live




Do we honor you? Have we become co-dependent to the living ones?
Do we leave song of our ancestors unsung in our listening?




I have forgotten to be deceived by
caving in of our choices.

what will you say? my subconscious?
when I reach into my mind? my sleeping conscious...

And so we dance forth and remember,
"I am my imaginings, as much as anything..."




what will we allow ourselves to be?
when we float into our breath and land upon our feet....




and so, my feet fall upon my dabbling of giving
my source to our collective sibling.




who am I when I shine? I am a star
and I am here and I can constantly transform

I choose I trust me
our thoughts have been unconscious I perceive

we drift and sing and drift and sing
as though our shadows are not at war

our shadow is at war
so be at war...

I live my simple truths
and my feigh is believed

and the giant automatic megaphone that screams
"take me to the farm, and farm me out,

and put me In so many pieces,"
I forget sense of whole.




I wonder, will the fates provide my feight/fate?




freight
as in baggage in tow

and Daniel's little girl said
she felt she had wielded her wand, and

I remember in the dance with her how bright I can shine
and shining radiates with a special rule of substenance

in our shared dream we floated and floated
and spun, and spun




and I told her upon the morn, "I see your dreams.
and I feel I worked last night

I'm tired from the fight of our souls learning to work
work together. and is there room for me?"




is there room for me? And I see
where I dis-associated my belief

and so
we go and go

and learning from books is the mental mans game....
Is the white mans game...

the black of white,
is flip side of the choice we bring




and the auditorium is full
of space to create




small piece of that circle was the world, and white man takes it all,
and everyone else melts their ideals

we have come to a time to reveal
to one another dancing souls...

I see the hole through you...
when is my antennae on? and when is my antennae off?

I see the bends and kinks
we straighten out bit by bit




and we can
dream, the dream of dancing




on floating memories
of seas of dreams




and I breath my wings
full of life




I spread my flapping span with grace around our land....




I feed you
and I feed me

can you see my wish to be a kite?
to be a kite?




and I have my kite string held by friends
held by friends.

and I can fly, I can fly
when I remember to believe

I have the gift to shift my shape and
I shift my shape and claim my bait, of being all I need to eat

so I feed upon my soul
upon myself

I live in harmony
with the world I breath




my wings dance across the sacred ground
I call home and feel at one

I belong
I have become my gong of truth.,.........
I sing my song...by feeling my earth beneath my feet

my quest for my kite string
is my earth beneath my feet

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• dancing

[spareaxe]

should illustrate with paintings sometime it would be great.

[peterswoorld]

What a wonderful poem...so delicate and so well spoken...like the sound of a singing meadowlark, if only it could speak at sunrise.

[f3hdemon]

Great Poem, Did anyone ever tell you that you resemble Sean young . . I mean no insult by that.

[candelarena]

that's great