Do you eat three meals a day, or after 6pm?
When was the last time you walked barefoot on a beach of sand?
Do you like all kinds of music?
Would you be willing to dance with me?
Do you sleep throughout the night?
Do you like poetry, or to write?
What's your favorite color?
I know you are drawn to metal, how about fire?
Or rocks, and dirt, or the trees of the earth?
I know you're a great dad.
Were you a great husband? What did you do wrong? Or right?
Do you travel by plane?
How often do you travel? Afre you happy when
You get back home again? I know I am.
Have you been to Hawaii?
Do you sunbath now & then? Or is that a farmers' tan?
Do you care about the accomodations - whether it's a tent site,
or a luxurious hut on the beach?
Let's watch a sunset on the sand.
You say, you don't care about clothes
But isn't that a part of our image?
What people think is partially drawn by our appearance.
You like to be cool don't you?
Have soft, slick, fuzzy appealing threads hanging off your bod?
What about me? How important is it to you how I look?
Be honest - on a scale from 1 to 10.
Are you a night owl? Or are you cheery in the morning?
If you totally relaxed, would you fall asleep?
Have you ever been hypnotized, or heavily drugged?
Are you afraid to loose control? How about spontaneity?
Do you go where the wind blows or must you stay composed & in control?
Would you tease me lovingly, or make fun of my mistakes?
Can I get you back or will that be fatal in my case?
How easily do you get your feelings hurt?
Do you pout or withdraw? Or more importantly,
Do you forgive? How long will it take?
I don't mean to hurt, and I do want to know when I'm wrong.
Are you ticklish? Like a head massage?
If I tickle your belly will you want more?
Which part of your anatomy longs for my touch?
Do you hurt anywhere? Do kisses help?
Does it matter if it's day or night, if the time is right?
Sometimes I'm shy and like to lie in the dark.
Which time in your life was the best?
Childhood, high school, when the first babies were born?
What do you see in your future now?
What are your dreams & desires? Do you see a friend there with you?
Is she cute? Is she me? Have you got time to see?
If the answer's yes! Then the same with me!
I like a compliment every day. Something truthful & sincere.
I look for honest, encouraging things to bring others up.
Is it OK to say how I feel? I don't want to run you off.
I can be fun & I am easy to please. Is that enough?
Just to pat me on the head every now & then so I know
I'm pleasing you could make my day! How do you feel?
Do you have secrets? I have three - one you know.
It's how restless I feel when the moon comes out in force.
How would you like to be the Bachelor on TV?
If the ladies back stab & bicker will you walk away?
Are you intimidated by women of power or wealth?
Are you intimidated by anything?
What has been your M.O. if you dumped someone?
Just no more calls? Or did you bother with an explaination?
It seems to me you've allowed yourself to get hurt more than you should.
Self sacrificing? Thinking of others like the kids?
Did it work or do you have trouble with trust?
I'm afraid I have trust issues too.
Can I snuggle with you when I feel beat-up or weary?
Will you tell me when you want something from me?
It may take a little time but you'll get what you want, I know.
Do I ask too many questions?
Do I remind you of a little girl?
Do you still swing or play on the playground?
Do you like to flirt?
How about walks in the summer, or hikes or bike rides or such?
When was the last time you were in love, or felt such a rush?
You can say no. You can know that now!
I don't get hurt feelings much. Do you usually work it out somehow?
Are you like the man in the book "Women are From Venus & Men
Are From Mars"? I'm not sure it matters what sex you are.
Can we help it how we were born?
Are you ready for this poem to end?
Are you going to count the questions?
Would you like to hold me in your arms awhile?
Will you kiss me with your soft sweet lips if I promise to be still?
I hope all my poems will give you a thrill!
ZCMI February 2004
This blog was created for my grandson Luke Stauffer with some of my poetry & prose I've written since I was 23 years old, to share with family & friends to encourage their creative writing & the arts.
THE SPIRIT MOVES
A spirit moves
like the giant walls in Moki Canyon
Down to the channels end
and back out again
a spirit moves
A spirit moves
like the awesome bodies of water in Lake Powell
Observant, sometimes quiet -
sometimes loud -
Laughter gently rippling
along the water ways
The Spirit moves in on us.
like the giant walls in Moki Canyon
Down to the channels end
and back out again
a spirit moves
A spirit moves
like the awesome bodies of water in Lake Powell
Observant, sometimes quiet -
sometimes loud -
Laughter gently rippling
along the water ways
The Spirit moves in on us.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
TO BE REMEMBERED
Insanity reeks within all mankind.
Ignorance has its' corner in each ones mind.
Progress sets its' pace, along with time.
Happiness continues to remain undefined.
A view of the changes renews ones' rhyme.
Hope for the future to break through to the blind.
Continual motion cannot be denied.
Life of love must never be set aside.
ZCMI 6/67
Ignorance has its' corner in each ones mind.
Progress sets its' pace, along with time.
Happiness continues to remain undefined.
A view of the changes renews ones' rhyme.
Hope for the future to break through to the blind.
Continual motion cannot be denied.
Life of love must never be set aside.
ZCMI 6/67
THE MILK MAIDEN
I'm the milk maiden for one,
The mountain girl for the next.
I have compassion and love for mankind,
But sometimes regret.
For the pain is in proportion -
With the joy that I receive,
And I, like the gardner,
Plant many a seed.
The flowers grow and some
Are weakened at the vine.
When I offer food,
I'm rejected sometimes.
But then I'm lead by experienced hands
And pull the weeds, leaving the flowers
To breathe and grow by their
Own demands.
ZCMI 2/69
The mountain girl for the next.
I have compassion and love for mankind,
But sometimes regret.
For the pain is in proportion -
With the joy that I receive,
And I, like the gardner,
Plant many a seed.
The flowers grow and some
Are weakened at the vine.
When I offer food,
I'm rejected sometimes.
But then I'm lead by experienced hands
And pull the weeds, leaving the flowers
To breathe and grow by their
Own demands.
ZCMI 2/69
HEY YOU!
Must you really ask 'why'?
As you lie there shivering and
Feel the wind outside --
Join the vastness of your bowels?
ZCMI 8/67
NOVEMBER 6TH 1973
The clouds outside settle like fog
and I think of San Francisco.
It smells so fresh, so warm and moist,
and I think of San Francisco,
Two hours ago the lights sparkled bright
and I think of San Fransisco.
Now it's blurred and late and I think of
the nights I spent in San Francisco.
ZCMI
As you lie there shivering and
Feel the wind outside --
Join the vastness of your bowels?
ZCMI 8/67
NOVEMBER 6TH 1973
The clouds outside settle like fog
and I think of San Francisco.
It smells so fresh, so warm and moist,
and I think of San Francisco,
Two hours ago the lights sparkled bright
and I think of San Fransisco.
Now it's blurred and late and I think of
the nights I spent in San Francisco.
ZCMI
WRITTEN IN TOKYO, JAPAN ON JULY 12TH
About a dozen dead Daisies
lie beneath my feet
and I feel no pain.
One cries for want of love
And I pass passively.
The gardens fade
and lose their power.
The path becomes a means to an end.
Objective: To proceed with purpose!
But laughter in the background
Dominates,
Reigns.
Sadly I see the aging process,
The draining of a youthful heart.
Shortcuts taken,
Still time wasted,
Ringing with the song of life.
The song of life is nothing
more that nothing.
And a child smiles.
ZCMI 1967
lie beneath my feet
and I feel no pain.
One cries for want of love
And I pass passively.
The gardens fade
and lose their power.
The path becomes a means to an end.
Objective: To proceed with purpose!
But laughter in the background
Dominates,
Reigns.
Sadly I see the aging process,
The draining of a youthful heart.
Shortcuts taken,
Still time wasted,
Ringing with the song of life.
The song of life is nothing
more that nothing.
And a child smiles.
ZCMI 1967
HOW DOES MY GARDEN GROW?
I watch people go in and out
all evening long at work,
And none are so beautiful as you.
You ask me about my love life?
With most every flower there's a thorn
But with no one there's emptiness
I ask you, which could be worse?
How does my love grow?
With every new field or garden,
With trust and love in God,
With children and the dawning day,
With things done by my own hands.
I do not search for love,
I am love.
ZCMI 1/74
all evening long at work,
And none are so beautiful as you.
You ask me about my love life?
With most every flower there's a thorn
But with no one there's emptiness
I ask you, which could be worse?
How does my love grow?
With every new field or garden,
With trust and love in God,
With children and the dawning day,
With things done by my own hands.
I do not search for love,
I am love.
ZCMI 1/74
THE BIG SIN
The big sin
The big sin was committed
The unforgiveable, unforgetable sin was committed.
Today, in our town,
The wind blows wistfully-
The broken window screen flapping loosely.
And now the form of punishment
Takes its' final firm hold.
It haunts, it taunts
And eat away in many areas
Of the mind, body, self.
It carries no sweet juices
And yellow buttercups.
They are left to live
And die on their own.
It bears no understanding
Or flashing glows of enlightenment.
It calls and demands your awareness
From even the most comfortable place you could reside
It catches you on your unguarded moments
And you remember your burden of why.
It leaves your mind
As a bad thing and permits you to forget,
But you remember.
It infiltrates your body and makes you a slave
Through your dreams
Or your habits or self imposed limitations
Bound by its chain,
You live suppressed, unstill,
You lie by your will
But lack of rest
makes you rise unwillingly.
It shows, you know,
As you see others -
But well deep it hides
No hope for you to discover,
The way to rid of it,
Only to suffer-
The big sin.
The bid sin uncovered.
ZCMI 7/70
What is the big sin you don't want to uncover?
This poem was written in Grand Lake, CO
and talks about prejudice and the murder
and enslavement of past civilization ...
especially our amazing Native American Indians
The big sin was committed
The unforgiveable, unforgetable sin was committed.
Today, in our town,
The wind blows wistfully-
The broken window screen flapping loosely.
And now the form of punishment
Takes its' final firm hold.
It haunts, it taunts
And eat away in many areas
Of the mind, body, self.
It carries no sweet juices
And yellow buttercups.
They are left to live
And die on their own.
It bears no understanding
Or flashing glows of enlightenment.
It calls and demands your awareness
From even the most comfortable place you could reside
It catches you on your unguarded moments
And you remember your burden of why.
It leaves your mind
As a bad thing and permits you to forget,
But you remember.
It infiltrates your body and makes you a slave
Through your dreams
Or your habits or self imposed limitations
Bound by its chain,
You live suppressed, unstill,
You lie by your will
But lack of rest
makes you rise unwillingly.
It shows, you know,
As you see others -
But well deep it hides
No hope for you to discover,
The way to rid of it,
Only to suffer-
The big sin.
The bid sin uncovered.
ZCMI 7/70
What is the big sin you don't want to uncover?
This poem was written in Grand Lake, CO
and talks about prejudice and the murder
and enslavement of past civilization ...
especially our amazing Native American Indians
WRITING ON A DAYTIME FLIGHT
Sometimes I refer to myself as 'man' --
But how is that possible?
I have a different body
To be used and disposed of -
Even though my blood is blue,
My heart seldom true and
My eyes vexted in manors large,
My ego is spent with different intent
And I spell my words all wrong.
Man is an animal.
I prefer sheep -- not to be led,
But to graze freely and to feed
As they wish, beneath the same moon.
Man is beyond me but eternally
My preference, since I, a woman,
Can want him unquestionally.
My hand touches his and my heart is beating,
For I am a part of this Gods' creation.
To bear his baby is my destiny,
But bearing his burden seems to be my decision
Or else to love him I must follow
Unknowing of the doom
His possessed body carries
With him, to the end.
ZCMI 12/67
But how is that possible?
I have a different body
To be used and disposed of -
Even though my blood is blue,
My heart seldom true and
My eyes vexted in manors large,
My ego is spent with different intent
And I spell my words all wrong.
Man is an animal.
I prefer sheep -- not to be led,
But to graze freely and to feed
As they wish, beneath the same moon.
Man is beyond me but eternally
My preference, since I, a woman,
Can want him unquestionally.
My hand touches his and my heart is beating,
For I am a part of this Gods' creation.
To bear his baby is my destiny,
But bearing his burden seems to be my decision
Or else to love him I must follow
Unknowing of the doom
His possessed body carries
With him, to the end.
ZCMI 12/67
LITTLE CHILDREN
Little children
Give their offerings
In their individual way.
Feel His presence
Unawarely,
Kneel in silence,
Tradition wise,
And say their needs
In form of praise.
Seek no answers,
Undenying,
Satisfied to know He lives.
Gently walking close
Beside Him,
Softly calling out His name.
Content to play with
The mind He gave them,
Laughing-
Crying-
Looking for the dying-
Innocent, and unafraid.
Little children
Sing to the Heavens
Request of eternal reign.
ZCMI 7/67
Give their offerings
In their individual way.
Feel His presence
Unawarely,
Kneel in silence,
Tradition wise,
And say their needs
In form of praise.
Seek no answers,
Undenying,
Satisfied to know He lives.
Gently walking close
Beside Him,
Softly calling out His name.
Content to play with
The mind He gave them,
Laughing-
Crying-
Looking for the dying-
Innocent, and unafraid.
Little children
Sing to the Heavens
Request of eternal reign.
ZCMI 7/67
Friday, July 23, 2010
FROM THE SHEPHERD--TO THE JESTER
If you'll take what I have to give,
I'll give thrice more
And if that is not enough,
I'll give what I cannot.
If you take what you want,
You'll get what I am
And I'll give you an honest flow
of mine own heart & soul.
If you take me then and now and then
And see me through each sight,
I'll give to you my life, my friend
And it has always been.
And in return I'll ask of you,
new eyes to use awhile.
A sound I've never heard before,
What you are and ever more.
I'll ask of you that silent song
you sing so very well
And take as much while you play,
Amongst it all, along the way.
I'll ask of you just of myself
And give you back your womb.
And each alone, united, then,
We'll soar where we have been.
And as we glide and fall and climb
We'll rediscover once again,
The secrets held, the signs of life,
The meaning of no end in flight.
ZCMI 5/67
I'll give thrice more
And if that is not enough,
I'll give what I cannot.
If you take what you want,
You'll get what I am
And I'll give you an honest flow
of mine own heart & soul.
If you take me then and now and then
And see me through each sight,
I'll give to you my life, my friend
And it has always been.
And in return I'll ask of you,
new eyes to use awhile.
A sound I've never heard before,
What you are and ever more.
I'll ask of you that silent song
you sing so very well
And take as much while you play,
Amongst it all, along the way.
I'll ask of you just of myself
And give you back your womb.
And each alone, united, then,
We'll soar where we have been.
And as we glide and fall and climb
We'll rediscover once again,
The secrets held, the signs of life,
The meaning of no end in flight.
ZCMI 5/67
BAD TRIP
At this point I hate the whole world.
I'm nauseous as I listen to Christmas music
After leaving the Viet Nam military base where
Men have "lucked out" and come home.
No poetry to that -
They did what they wanted to do,
And the poverty
And the bigotry that runs free
The black and the red
That starve to death
While rich little bitches
Bicker over bread.
God, I'm sick of it all tonight.
Past the point of reunion
Of the mind and social sights
And standards ---
Read all about it then
Set it aside -
And ride on down your
Small, small world
You happy-go-lucky freaks.
ZCMI 12/67
I'm nauseous as I listen to Christmas music
After leaving the Viet Nam military base where
Men have "lucked out" and come home.
No poetry to that -
They did what they wanted to do,
And the poverty
And the bigotry that runs free
The black and the red
That starve to death
While rich little bitches
Bicker over bread.
God, I'm sick of it all tonight.
Past the point of reunion
Of the mind and social sights
And standards ---
Read all about it then
Set it aside -
And ride on down your
Small, small world
You happy-go-lucky freaks.
ZCMI 12/67
YOU ASK TO LOVE?
You see the end result
Of a free breed of fools
Who are forever dying of heartache?
You ask to love?
Well then, why see pain?
Glide onward and upward and live love.
No pause, for the dead scrolls lie dead
And music sings of living things-
Today, away, IN LOVE.
ZCMI 12/67
Of a free breed of fools
Who are forever dying of heartache?
You ask to love?
Well then, why see pain?
Glide onward and upward and live love.
No pause, for the dead scrolls lie dead
And music sings of living things-
Today, away, IN LOVE.
ZCMI 12/67
GOING, GOING, GONE
Take me where you want me to go
I want to do nothing but flow
I want no control now
All I can do is see
So expect no more
Live each heartbeat
Don't look back
You have no control to go
Anywhere but on
And up and high and wide - flow!
The seeds that are sprouting out
Must be felt and dealt with
The trips taken to discovery
And the inside of living
Found with love
Fly man fly -- take to the sky
Reek with laughter
And love the eyes & drives
And balls and boundless bolting
Of the calf, won to love.
Don't look astray
Say your love only to each new day
And listen closely to understand what's said
Grow strong and marvel at your strength
for here is where it lies
Dig it, dig it, and do it!
TITLE: "GOING, GOING, GONE"
All the way to a May Day
at Autumn time with Christmas
At five oclock morning through night
Recognize greed and leave it behind!
For today or tomorrow Christ may come
Talk to me of real things!
Of flashes of joy that are overwhelming
And then return to peace
And things I seek to understand
But don't turn back
I'll tell you the secret as I see it
Just live it - flow
On and on - just live it
Dig it, do it, and dig it!!
I want to do nothing but flow
I want no control now
All I can do is see
So expect no more
Live each heartbeat
Don't look back
You have no control to go
Anywhere but on
And up and high and wide - flow!
The seeds that are sprouting out
Must be felt and dealt with
The trips taken to discovery
And the inside of living
Found with love
Fly man fly -- take to the sky
Reek with laughter
And love the eyes & drives
And balls and boundless bolting
Of the calf, won to love.
Don't look astray
Say your love only to each new day
And listen closely to understand what's said
Grow strong and marvel at your strength
for here is where it lies
Dig it, dig it, and do it!
TITLE: "GOING, GOING, GONE"
All the way to a May Day
at Autumn time with Christmas
At five oclock morning through night
Recognize greed and leave it behind!
For today or tomorrow Christ may come
Talk to me of real things!
Of flashes of joy that are overwhelming
And then return to peace
And things I seek to understand
But don't turn back
I'll tell you the secret as I see it
Just live it - flow
On and on - just live it
Dig it, do it, and dig it!!
IN TIME TO THE MUSIC
I am a child.
I have no mother.
I have no father.
I am unloved.
I am a rock,
Not an abstraction of the form!
I have no need of dying,
No need for crying,
I am one!
I have the earth,
I have the heavens,
The Gods are at my command.
I am EVERYTHING - alas -
I am nothing!
I have the hells as well,
I am unloved.
I am the winds' grace,
I am the stars' face,
I am the cycles' pace,
I am humanities' race.
I was concieved of hate and have become
The songs' son and am one.
My deed is indeed in dying.
A hundred deaths or more.
My form is in which all of life must run,
And through living -
Once more be reborn.
Oh endless link of existence,
Routine unseen.
I am consistent only in feeling,
All of these things.
ZCMI 9/67
I have no mother.
I have no father.
I am unloved.
I am a rock,
Not an abstraction of the form!
I have no need of dying,
No need for crying,
I am one!
I have the earth,
I have the heavens,
The Gods are at my command.
I am EVERYTHING - alas -
I am nothing!
I have the hells as well,
I am unloved.
I am the winds' grace,
I am the stars' face,
I am the cycles' pace,
I am humanities' race.
I was concieved of hate and have become
The songs' son and am one.
My deed is indeed in dying.
A hundred deaths or more.
My form is in which all of life must run,
And through living -
Once more be reborn.
Oh endless link of existence,
Routine unseen.
I am consistent only in feeling,
All of these things.
ZCMI 9/67
NAMELESS PROSE # 2
Substance is much less
Than full forms of void
But at least you can screw real things
Instead of absorbing
The vibrations of the whole.
I'd paint a picture but it would hold no color.
I would print a line but soon it would disappear before my very eyes
And I couldn't hide behind my body because
I would dissolve as all soapsuds seem to do.
New breakthroughs have made a path
With promises for flowers and sunrays of
New found happiness.
I want to sculpture the world
Like fine gold candlesticks that burn forever.
Wave lengths find new deminsions to reach
Parts of the mind never found before
But undeniably existing.
If I give you a pan half full of gold coins,
Will you fill it with cool spring water
And watch it grown and overflow?
ZCMI 1/68
Than full forms of void
But at least you can screw real things
Instead of absorbing
The vibrations of the whole.
I'd paint a picture but it would hold no color.
I would print a line but soon it would disappear before my very eyes
And I couldn't hide behind my body because
I would dissolve as all soapsuds seem to do.
New breakthroughs have made a path
With promises for flowers and sunrays of
New found happiness.
I want to sculpture the world
Like fine gold candlesticks that burn forever.
Wave lengths find new deminsions to reach
Parts of the mind never found before
But undeniably existing.
If I give you a pan half full of gold coins,
Will you fill it with cool spring water
And watch it grown and overflow?
ZCMI 1/68
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