User:Hillclimber
Thoughts In Verse by: K. Curtis
The Power of the Word
The word ever so powerful Can uplift or tear down Can unite and draw together Or can bring low and separate
The word has set armies in motion It has ceased the rue conflict It has brought love where none was It has destroyed its very existence
The word chosen in haste Becomes a sabor or shield Defending not love But stealing its place
The word spoken in anger Will undo the best Its base and mean spirit Not easily reeled back in
For the word is either the servant of love Or the messenger of deciet and avarice Used as a weapon will always return The same spirit to its speaker
My words I will not toss about My words I will now choose With consideration for the effect They have on others, as well as myself
I will not go sparely with them Neither will I spend them foolishly I will use them wisely with intent To create the world in which I intend to live... K.Curtis March - 1998
The Living Man
I am the song of the living man Sung by multitude of birds circling high Over lake, stream, and raging river
I am the dance of the living man Light of limb as the sidewalk marionette Hewn from the wood of an old growth forest
I am the masterpiece of the living man Put on the canvas of a multitude of artists All Rembrandts, Monets, and Van Goghs
I am the stage of the living man Not in shadow behind closed curtain But in the fullness and spectre of the lights
I am the church of the living man Never a common pulpit will suffice For I am known as the oracle of all times
I am the highest thoughts of the living man Noble, original and always well spoken Shedding light into a dull and foolish world
I am the dream of the living man Who but can discern their origin Nocturnal images lost to the mortal mind
I am the fullness of the living man That of every woman, child, and elder No one has ever been , that I am not K.Curtis April - 2006
A Question
Born to a world of bickering, biting, and backstabbing From the wail of the cock's crow in the morning To the arrival of the crescent moon at days end A never ending maelstrom of human confusion
From neighbor to stranger right on up the line All with their little petty judgements to render One continual barrage of shared mental neurosis A full blown plethora of self interest and demands
Such are the days passed by the alpha of the species After which it's back to their dark little caves Where they eat, drink and rest themselves To be restored for the next days raging battle
Each new day persueing the unfinished harangues of the last Never clearing their mental calendars of devious malice New skirmishes passed onto the coming days agenda While the old ones are perused like a favorite cheap novel
Yet dare not impose on any the obvious question That one begging of their thoughtful consideration The straight-forward inquiry into the heart of the matter Which might bring a measure of sanity into their lives
Which is why they live like a cheap wound up mechanical toy Why they don't just stay in bed. Why not just stay at home Why not just go for a swim or take a long walk Why bother showing up for such insane activity and call it living... K Curtis May - 2006
The Dark Age
Creator so malformed, maligned, and mis-represented From the minds of men, women, and innocent children Taught to parrot the fearful ignorance of their elders The Dark Age is still upon us, it has not left us...
Starry, starry night illumined by shining moonlight Sunny yellow day preceding cool blue evening Raindrop falls upon parched earth for a season Green leaves and orchid blossom come alive
Creator so malformed, maligned, and mis-represented From the pulpit, spoken language, and it's literature Establishing credos and doctrines furthering ignorance The Dark Age is still upon us, it has not left us...
Rolling river and cool mountain stream move in rythym Deep pine forest and wooded hill sit serenly sleeping Waving golden wheat upon distant field keeping time With gentle breeze and a patient nature
Creator so malformed, maligned, and mis-represented By priest, president, and teacher in collusion together Each spewing the message of fear, guilt, and division The Dark Age is still upon us, it has not left us...
Fish in the water, birds loudly arising at the break of day Deer in the field, ram upon the mountain, and fox in the woods Moving through the years without need for instruction You'll not find an unholy one amongst their vast numbers
Creator so malformed, maligned, and mis-represented Awaken foolish nations. Rise up from your slumber Look about at creation, see it's lesson and know that The Dark Age is still upon us, it has not left us...
Breath of air amid tall pines in a quiet forest Fresh sea breeze caressing a secluded cove Flowering Oleander lining country road's edge All speak their sermon without vile condemnation
Creator so malformed, maligned, and mis-represented Get up. Stand this very moment and depart the banquet table Leave the world to gorge themselves on their greedy feast For The Dark Age is still upon us, it has not left us... K Curtis May - 2006
Uncommon
Consider the multitude of evils cast upon men's minds The rules and regulations, so to speak, collected Day upon day, year upon year, decade upon decade, From which decrepid, ramshackle lives have been constructed
An existence claimed as their own, founded on treasured ignorance Collective bits and pieces of tainted experiences and borrowed obligations Fictional accounts given credence by a vast slumbering humanity Passed off as original, firsthand, life-enhancing common sense wisdom
Few be those who have taken account of it and offered challenge Who dare dust off ancient volumes of fellow travelers preceding them Drawn by a vague and distant sense which compels them in a different direction Leaving the rules and regulations of convention on the shore of the common man
Setting forth toward unchartered territory bereft of common comforts and frivilous company At first embarking under tentative sail with little provision to an unknown destination But loosing full compliment as the need of clear destination defers to the call of the venture Cheered on by seeing that the destination already attained is, in fact, a homecoming
All unchartered waters are the same. All unmapped lands are of the same nature. Not one holds any more promise than any other, but merely captivates momentary senses. Thus are destinations relegated the same credence as rules and regulation in common society The wise traveler now knows that each moment is a destination to which he has already safely traveled.
Let go of the common. Shun the self-effacing. Turn from the ordinary. Gather a few useful possessions, leave the vast majority behind to collect dust. Life is an all-inclusive resort of paramount proportions, so come as you are. Leave the platitudes of common sense obscenitiy to the masses and demand better... K Curtis May-2006
Shiny Red Car
Shiny red car with sinister intention Empty driver seat with no passenger A beacon to a dubious landfall Warning weary travelers of danger
Screaming peril of great proportions Siren beckoning fools to their destruction Ruby red lips uttering epitaths of pleasure While casting chains about her victims
Oh weary traveler surely beware Thou tired, spent, and vulnerable man Hastily make good your departure Leave behind all in your timely escape
For the lure of this siren beckons And rends one dizzy with promise Dazzles, binds, and draws near all Whom come under her pitiless spell
Do quickly turn away from her influence Be not unduly captivated or flattered Remain weary of any natural attraction And steer in the opposite direction... K.Curtis June - 2006
Spinning Planet
Half asleep under a blanket of heat on a mid-summer evening Not a single leaf moving in the trees outside my open window I wait for the soft whisper of a cooling breeze through the air A world spinning quickly becalmed in a heavenly sea without motion
The bird, the goat, the hen, the donkey all lazily awaiting as I For the stirring of some kind of motion, any sort of movement From the mountains above or from the sea down below me But nothing is moving on this planet speeding through the heavens
Oh for the touch of a cool breeze across my hot clammy forehead And for the sound of rustling leaves announcing motion's return To be enveloped in the smell of cool rain in the distance telling me The planet does continue to spin and speed through the heavens as always... K. Curtis June - 2006
Piety
There is no evil more contemptuous than the pious And no holiness more evident than the sensual woman Her presence bestows an inspired grace on those about her While the former condemn the very lives they profess to save
The sensuous see the beauty so abundant in nature Only pious holy men insist on denying and debasing it That which affirms life can be none other than life That which denies life surely moves towards death
To hold the source of life in a vivid sensual revelry Is the foundation of being most alive to the one While holding the senses with an evil contempt Is the ignorant and vile profession of the other
Oh pious holy man yet are you still decieved so As to hold seperate these from one and another That life is the handiwork of some celestial creator And with bony finger point to the senses being of a devil
Ahh that a sensual woman would take to the pulpit Stand her female form in front of the congregation Delivering in silence without any condemning sermon The true essence of the heaven right here on earth... K. Curtis June - 2006
The Sparkling Roadway
Such is the ignorance that abounds in this world That allows a few of it's captives to sit in prominence To hold sway over the multitude of their fellow prisoners Feeding all of them doctrines of self serving illusions
Such is the blindness ruling throughout this world That sees not the storm brewing within their ranks Building like a dark cloud rising on every horizon Gaining momentum, power, and breeding danger
Such is the greed of men so compelling this world That not one can fathom the end to which they travel Or discern the signposts along their sparkling roadway Directing them backwards full circle into a dark history
Like the swarming ant hill with hordes of crawling creatures A frenzied mindless procession struggling to bear burdens Day in, day out never with thought, insight, or question As to greater purpose or pleasure to be gained of this labor
Never will be the awakening of the ignorant, blind, and greedy Thoughtlessly traveling these sparkling and seductive roadways Running recklessly out of control, going to where they know not Hurrying to a destination they will find no pleasure nor peace in... K. Curtis July - 2006
The Human Chorus
Begun by one quietly humming a vague tune Sung by two voices was transformed into a melody Of which the many heard and lent their voices to Until the entire human choir arose and sang it
From such simple beginnings this music was born From the awakened souls of men and women it grew Outward to the hearts and minds of the multitudes Was it then brought forth and forged into an anthem
A balm so soothing, a song so appealing composed just in time To keep the madness and foolishness from ruling the planet To restore health, wonder, and sanity to it's inhabitants Lost from view of their own value, and that of their neighbor
All started by one quietly humming so vague a tune Which by two voices it became a distinct melody Of which the many heard and lent their voices to Until the entire human choir arose to sing it... K. Curtis July - 2006
The Glittering Shore
Gone are the days of the middle ground Lost in a shift to a life of constant motion Demanding timely wisdom and action Yet never allowing momentary reflection
Asking, yea demanding instant reaction To the world about us with it's glittering wares Wares we know not whether enhance or destroy But whose brilliance touches our minds and eyes
Loss or gain, balance upon balance always Riveting our thoughts and actions wayward Onward to a glittering shore brilliant in sight But bereft of anything felt within our hearts
Oh for blindness, for a simple uncomprimised mind One not captivated by these wares or the shouts of man One that rests in the composure and simple freedom Of being a complete and full human being each and every moment
Such is the object of the greatest of mankinds sages Lost or hidden in dusty volumes of lofty literature Unknown to the unwieldy masses of mankind Lost amidst their lives of never-ending motion... K. Curtis August - 2006
What Do You See?
What you see is what you get What are you looking at? If what you get is what you see What do you ill possess?
What you hold in mind is what you see A mental possession of great power Which can enhance or easily destroy That which it is focused upon
One upon one begets thought Two together confirm a vision A group either creates life or death By their very agreed upon vision
Is not the daily rise of the sun a miracle Or that our heart still beats when we awaken Yet we harbor thoughts of negative anticipations About events far less amazing in scope and nature?
Day by day we hold the key Moment to moment we use it Year upon year we suffer the consequences What we insisted upon, we always recieve.
Yet we bicker and complain about it We fuel the raging fire of discontent Foolish agreements forged in our minds Confirmed by those we've drawn around us
Never listening to that simple axiom Of which most all will agree upon That principle that we suspect be true That what you see is exactly what you get... K. Curtis August - 2006
Hot Afternoon
Hot and humid are the days With evening offering no respite On a mountaintop overlooking The forest and the sea below
Breakers washing against Iztuzu Driven by breezes that fail to arise To the heights but are seen only As evidence of their distant presence
The still of the mountain air hangs Not only silence but as a hazy reminder Of the sun's heat drawing up the sea To a warm and wet canopy overhead
Crickets and chicadas in pulsating chorus Declaring with loud monotonous epiphanies An incessant symphony orchestrating The ever present continuity of nature
I know the sun will lessen it's cast later Will depart allowing the moon to rise And yet will leave a reminder long after Returning to begin another cycle tomorrow... K. Curtis August - 2006
Artist
I am the artist creating my own canvas I use not strokes of a brush but vision I see what would breathe my art into life And feel it up onto the surface of the visible...
No rules, no limits, no hesitation in this art Forget the rigid deprecating schools of old Enter into the real world of creation now Lift your eyes, breathe in deeply and proceed...
No time to waste, much work to be done The years lost under the fog of the old Have disappeared with the dawn of a new sight Free to be, free to be alive, home at last...
No more the concepts of the dead and dying No more the labour without seeming end No more the sailing into a gale force wind Turned from the stormy sea back to home port...
Halting timid footsteps, baited breath at first Pace quickened with a growing knowledge The wisdom of the ages coming full circle Back from sages to me in the present... K. Curtis August - 2006