O, Carol,
Cara Carola,
Il mio amore,
Bella fiore del mio cuore,
You, my green-eyed Irish lass,
With the golden hair,
Supple tits and ass.
You said
"Let's you and I be one
That the world will know
of our shared passion."
# # #
So, we were married
In the little chapel at the College
Where you and I first learned T'ai Chi.
The congregation of friends and family,
pet dogs, birds, even a monkey,
Blessing our union,
Breaking bread
from an enormous loaf
of German rye,
While a sitar droned
A raga of ancient love
For you and I.
# # #
On Mt Desert Island we honeymooned,
Woke to the song of a lonely loon
In our damp camp in the swamp
At the foot of Mt Cadillac:
Highest Point, furthest East on the Continent,
So we were among the first to see
The glow of the rising sun
On that particular brand new day,
# # #
You said
"Let our love be fertile
That we may bring a child
Into this world."
I came to you at night,
Following the scent of your pheromones.
secretions of your hot libido,
Your ripe ovulating womb.
I met you in our garden,
A blaze of chrysanthemums.
My eyes mesmerized,
My fingers wandering over
The ridges and valleys of
Your body's topography,
My lips following your breath,
The ins and outs of your mouth,
The sweet scent of our love-making,
My tongue exploring
Your tit-milk and clit-honey taste,
My love,
Your voice,
Like the song of creation, chanting
Verse from the Kama Sutra;
Lingam and yoni,
Yab to yum,
Calling to me.
I come, I come...
# # #
We hiked along Paxinosa Ridge
To the tip of St Anthony's nose,
Overlooking the shimmering Delaware.
There, peeling off shirts and shorts.
Throwing underwear and caution
To the wind, we fell
Into a soft bed of pine needles
Warm and fragrant from the blazing sun.
And when our bodies melted into one flesh,
Breathing together, coming together,
My wet semen quenching your thirsty ovaries,
We tilted your uterus up,
And uttered a prayer.
And so it was
That you conceived a child.
# # #
And you said
" Let there be a feast
That all may celebrate our pregnancy".
So we walked down Old Indian Trail,
Stalking the wild asparagus,
Fiddleheads, daylilies, mushrooms,
Puffballs the size of a baby's head,
And we made dandelion wine,
And called all our family and friends again,
Made music, and danced,
And had an Agape love-feast.
And you smiled and said
" Blessed be. All will be well.
Life is good.".
CANTO I.
O mother:
egg of my seed,
I have returned
to bless my father's blood
upon the altar of
my lover's womb
#
Greenapple of your eye, was I?
But greenapple moonlouting,
sibling revelries,
all grandmother jokes, these,
just stories, as such
beyond my recollections.
I, a grown man, seek
an intimate knowledge of
my nascent pre-experiential self...
# # #
In the vision of delirium
was the world-egg beginning,
throbbing, aglow
in the infinite ovary,
thin pulsing light
at eternity's end.
Earth mother said
"Let there be seed !"
and spread her glow.
Essential life-light
flooded the void,
creating the universe of forms
from the union of lights.
And fertile earth became,
and passionate sky.
And earthmother thrust up her mountainous thighs,
and carved her own anatomy
of black granite and basalt.
But seeing the earth
was barren dust, she spoke
"Let there be Life!Let cool rain, yes,
Let seas of semen,
Wash my mud caked flesh.
Let dust and ash dissolve into my bloodstream,
Let rivers of tears flow
Into my hot core"
And heaven came down
engulfing earth
in wet mud-lusciousness.
And earthmother swallowed it all,
feeding, seeding, breeding
her voluminous womb.
Naming Spring,
she rubbed her bellymound
and fell in love
with her own great creation.
Again, she spoke:
"Let there be birth!"
And allatonce sprang the Gods from the earth:
Ghost-vapors, flaming matter demons,
Stone mountains, immaterial gods,
Sizzling, screaming, baby giants bursting
The uterus open, leaping from navel,
Anus, armpits, eyesockets, cranium.
Multi-headed devas, pluralistic godheads,
Horned druids, hermaphroditic tricksters,
Myth-makers, fire and light-givers.
Trinities, Brahma/Siva/Visnu.
Created/preserved/ destroyed.
Thunder-wielders, Odin, Jehovah, Jove
Black Kali, Chango, born in darkest black,
Born in Brilliance, Sun-god Ra, and Rama
God of love, born, and born, and born again.
Masters of all the elements,
Born up into all cosmology.
Earthmother's volcanic breasts exploded once,
Nourishing
Her multiple births
With fire.
And heaven commenced
Sowing the ridges and valleys
With the seed of earth's first greening life
The mud became the moss, became the grass,
Flowering into massive pregnant trees.
Thus, beasts of water land and air became
Progenitors of all the breathing earth.
Earthmother sighed, released,
And rested under the deeds of gods and men,
And in a most beneficent voice, she spoke:
"Let there be Love
That life may always Be a Joy."CANTO II.
O, Diana,
Moongoddess of Love
We come to seek the secrets
Of earth's full fertile roundness,
Tuning mensis
To the cycle of the moon.
#
These harvest moon September nights,
We drank soma, ate our own grown zucchini,
Danced naked, eternally celebrant,
Praying our bodies
Might be as fertile
As the earth.
We perched on the hillside,
Hearing the moonsong
O whip-poor-will,
O whip-poor-will,
Poor-will.
Aurora Borealis: polarized
Horizon flame licking the Northern Sky,
Heaven and earth united, light midnight.
Moon Goddess speaks,
Vibrating all the spheres.
"O whip-poor-will
O whip-poor-will,
Poor-will."
Heaven commences,
Constellations move,
Shimmering with the shadows of the dancing gods.
Persius in Cassiopeia's bed,
Sagittarius shooting stars at Berenices.
Andromeda, Lyra, Vega, glimmering, love-struck.
Light forms pulsate, vaporize, rise, descend.
The North Star pierces the tip of the Southern Cross
As falling evening meets the rising dawn.
Mists glow, grow dim, vanish, rise again,
Transfigured, mystic auras radiate
Eros. The universe is sensuality.
Moon Goddess speaks
"O whip-poor-will,
Poor-will."
Ice blue Aphrodite, and red-hot Amon Ra
Ejaculate into pure white Manitou,
And darkest midnight shines as broad daylight,
Heaven releases everythingatonce:
Cornstalks shake, forest hills quake,
Crickets, frogs, mosquitos, woodcocks, dogs,
All sing to the rhythmic throbbing of the earth
In this precise moment of cosmic ovulation,
Above the moonsong, plaintive whip-poor-will,
All creation is one climactic moan:
Aum. Aum. Aum.
O. whip-poor-will, poor-will.
Feb 10th.
Today's bird mitzvah:
Downy in a tuxedo
With his red yarmulke...
Feb 19th.
Mourning Dove on ground
Pelted with seed by a squirrel
On feeder above...
Feb 17th.
Every Breath. Each step
Is a prayer for war to end.
Peace encircling world...
Jan 30th.
Dancing in the snow.
The birds and squirrels frolic.
All the world is play...
Feb 1st.
Bird Chi this morning:
My steps interrupted by
The flutter of flocks...
Feb 22nd.
Feathers on the ground:
Blessings from my bird friends for
Safe travels around...
Feb 23rd.
I walk across the yard,
Spread my arms. Bend down. Look up.
Peace is every step...
Feb 25th,
I find a message
In calligraphy of birds.
Peace signs in the snow...
Feb 26th
Squirrels, birds, cats, the dog
And I share the yard in peace.
We all breathe in Chi...
March 3rd.
Cold wind sweeps the sky.
I move hands like clouds to cleanse
Stale chi from the earth...
Feb 7th
Moving as snow falls,
I am the dragon rising
To embrace the moon
Feb 11th.
There is peace in yard.
I focus breath, mind, body,
Move it to the world...
Feb 12th.
Just breathing. In. Out.
Following the sound of the wind.
Moving Chi through trees...
March 4th.
The birds are planting
Sunflower seeds from feeders.
Prayers for Ukraine...
March 5th.
Casting net into
The universe. Pulling in
Healing Energy...
This old folk song, with original lyrics by Ed McCurdy, has been swimming around in my head over the last few days. I sing it a lot and have added some verses over the years.
"Last night I had the strangest dream
I've never had before.
I dreamed the world had all agreed
To put an end to war.
I dreamed I saw a mighty room
filled with women and men,
And the paper they were signing said
They'd never fight again.
And when the paper was all signed
And a million copies made,
They all joined hands and bowed their heads
And grateful prayers were prayed
And the people in the streets below
Were dancing 'round and 'round,
And swords and guns and uniforms
Were scattered on the ground..."
And in towns and cities 'round the world
The people all agreed
To spend all of their resources
On meeting human needs.
And schools and homes and garden plots
Were springing from the ground,
With art and music everywhere
And nature all around.
And health care was a guarantee,
And education was free,
And there were jobs for everyone
With sustainable energy.
And brick by brick, and stone by stone
The prison walls came down,
Replaced by bridges to Justice and Peace
Between each neighboring town.
And people power rose again
As corporate profits decreased,
And the governments of every land
were true democracies...
Last night I had the strangest dream
I've often had it before:
I dreamed the world had all agreed
To put an end to war.
"You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one.
I hope some day you will join us
And all the world will live as one..."
John Lennon
"In that ancient country
In that Northern country
In that Turtle country,
The best of the Lenape were the Turtle-men.
All the cabin fires of that land were disquieted,
And all said "Let us go."
To the Snake land,
To the East, they went,
Going away, earnestly grieving."
From a fragment of
The Walum Olum:
Migration Myth of the Lenape,
Translated by
Constantine Rafinesque, 1833.
I.Yo-Ho! Now you, my friend, are quite a find:
Washed by this spring rain, glistening discernably,
I saw you when I stooped to examine an orchid.
I have left the rose pogonia to grow more pink,
And picked you up from the sandy forest path.
Cradling you in my palm, I gaze in awe,
At these surroundings: Red Maple Swamp, in transition,
Mostly sedge and bracken now, in clumps that bridge
Deep pools of muck. But I know islands of sphagnum,
That will quake like Boreal Bog of recent past.
Now I sit upon this wall of glacial till,
Run my fingers over striations in the boulders,
Moving my mind through geologic time,
I hold you, listening to your chronicle:
Paleolithic tell, including Plano, or fluted points have been found, in undisputed association with remains of mastodon, mammoth, giant bison, and other mammals long extinct, through-out the continent of North America. Similarly, fluted spear points, in archeological proximity to remains that have been radiocarbon dated to 10,000 BC, establish the presence of Paleo-Indians in the Delaware Valley Before the retreat of the last Wisconsin Glacier.
Indian Pre-history of New Jersey, by Herbert C,Kraft, from a Delaware Indian Symposium, Edited by Herbert C.Kraft
II.
In eons before the Pleistocene tundra and ice,
What rumblings, deep within the earth, shifting
The crust like bedsheets of wakening gods, formed you?
From hot magma, forced through fissures in the rocks,
Cooling into crystalline forms around you,
Quartz, and jasper, feldspar and tourmaline,
This igneous intrusion further faulted,
Thrust up into jutting granite ridges...
What once majestic mountain mothered you?
What storms have you weathered, fractured by walls of ice.
Blasted by what winds, baked by the sun,
'Til less dense crystals decompose,
Granite, metamorphosed into gneiss
And schist, and soft steatite, leaving you exposed,
Gleaming black, as I see you now, perhaps for acres.
Through what biomes did the land evolve around you?
What flora and fauna have become extinct
In your time, and how did you survive
The grasp of tree-roots, the slow digestive juices
Of primitive lichen, the tread of giant mammals,
Saber-tooth tigers' claws, stampedes of bison?
When finally in the mind of ancient people
The utility of your nature was perceived,
How did you come to be what you are now?
What chronicle of that saga do you hold?
The distinctive Meadowood points of the late Archaic early Woodland Tradition (1000 to 500 BC), were frequently made from Onandaga chert from Western New York State… Have been identified on a number of sites in the Upper Delaware Valley, (Abbot farm, Goose Island, Salisbury). Meadowood people probably had a riverine adaptation, traveled extensively, for purposes of trade and manufacture…
Kraft, 1974.
III.
Broken from your black mother rock,
Cradled by hands over the ancient trails,
Crossing Adirondack and Appalachian Mountains,
Following Susquehanna, and Allegany River Valleys,
Riding the Delaware River in canoe,
Perhaps hollowed with an adze of brother flint.
Passed from hand to hand, for what exchange?
What skilled artisan crafted your fine point
Chipping and fluting with tools of bone or stone?
I'd like to have seen your fine un-weathered blade.
Fastened to a smooth well-balanced shaft,
of a javelin, or perhaps a feathered arrow.
With what rituals, by what magic were you blessed?
What prayers were sung to guide you in your flight
to break through fur and flesh and bone and heart?
What blood was drained by your sacrificial blade
That families of my ancestors could feed
On deer, or waterfowl, or fish, or hare?
Who were these people we call Lenape,
And what fragment of their journey can you tell?
Rev. Charles Beatty (1768), asserted that the Lenape came from far to the West, settling in the Delaware Valley circa 1396, A.D. Rafinesque, in1833, asserted his translations of the Walum Olum were a primary text, purporting to document the vicissitudes of our aborigines, beginning with their crossing the Bering Strait from Siberia circa 366 A.D., and ending with their crossing the Alleghenys around A.D. 1327
Kraft, 1978
IV.My attention is returning to this swamp,
This soil, these stones, this present ecology;
Second growth hardwood, fringing wet-land shrubs,
Once spruce and pine, and tamarack formed dense woods
Around what must have been a glacial lake.
Was this then a meeting ground for Lenape clans?
Unami, Munsee, Unilactigo:
People of the Turtle, Wolf and Turkey?
What others migrated over this land?
A remarkable sandstone slab, with two hyperextended hands meticulously carved, was unearthed from the Minisink Island Site. This, as well as the “Jennings petroglyph”, may link the Lenape to splinter groups of the Adeni-Hopewell Serpent-mound builders who migrated to the Atlantic Coast from the Ohio-Mississippi Valley
Kraft,1978.
V.
I hold you in my hand, and feel your weight,
Like the millennia passing through my body.
I press you to my forehead and imagine
That I am one with all that you have been,
As if through osmosis your energy is absorbed
Through my pineal gland, and then dispersed
Throughout my nervous system to every cell:
I'm alive with the experience of my progenitors.
I am living among the Lenape.
I will make a thong, and wear you around my neck,
Close to my heart, like a shaman's amulet.
I pray your sacred medicine will heal me,
And keep me tuned to the spirit of this earth.
Through the journey of my life, may I be guided
By the same Great Spirit that brought the Lenape
The length and breadth of the continent to rest here.
" To the Snake Island,
To the East, at Night
They walk and walk, all of them.
The men from the North,
The West and the South:
The Eagle Clan, The Beaver Clan,
The Wolf Clan,
The best men, the rich men, the head men,
Those with wives, those with daughters,
Those with dogs,
They all come, they tarry,
At last at the land of the spruce-pines."
Walam Olum.
I move my hands like clouds, like wind in pines.
I pick up ocean, look up at the sky.
Spread wings like the pigeons on the powerlines,
As a hundred birds are flying by.
I gather Chi from around the yard,
From the ground, the air I breathe, the trees,
With my faithful Blake and Abra'm standing guard,
Quietly sniffing, alert to every breeze.
I then sit quietly to meditate
On my very own beatitudes.
I focus on my thoughts and then I write
In my calendar notes a set of haikus
Such is my daily discipline this past year,
The foundation on which every day is built,
So, through the ups and downs, good days and bad,
I know that I am living to the hilt.
2021 has been a pain:
We're tired of curbside pickup, tired of masks,
Tired of missing links in the supply chain,
So many uncompleted tasks.
In June, we lost our precious Silk to cancer,
Then in August our beloved Mufasa joined her.
Both their illnesses were slow and painful torture,
Requiring daily hours of palliative care.
My guitar is still sequestered in the shop,
And our chorus hasn't met: not safe to sing.
I can't wait to play on Martin's brand-new top,
And raise my voice to make the heavens ring.
Yes, the year that's past has been a hard one,
Fraught with many little disappointments,
But when everything is said and done,
There's nothing that won't heal with love and ointments
This season's front porch rail is a love-fest,
With Chrysanthemums and Marigolds still in bloom.
And there are still some herbs awaiting harvest,
The vegetable pots all moved to make more room.
o, Dear Family, close allies and friends,
We're entering the winter holidays.
Best wishes for good health and cheer we send,
With hopes that yu will celebrate many ways.
If you are Christian, maybe you'll light aMenorah,
Throw some food coloring at someone dressed in white.
On the longest night of the year fee the planet's aura.
Fast from dawn until the fall of night.
We hope that you'll enjoy a Soulful Solstice,
A Divine Diwali, a Charmed Chanukah,
A Kwazy Kwanzaa, a Crystaline Christmas,
A Rad Ramadan, and a Happy New Yeah.
It was the first day after Christmas. Snow was in the air,. Alex went over to Daniel’s House, His new Christmas toys to share. He had a GI Joe Command Post, And a Walkin’ Rambo doll, A truck that crossed a bridge that exploded When you made the little plunger fall.
So Alex dumped his bag of toys Onto Daniel’s playroom floor, While Dan opened up his toychest Where he had toys galore. He had robots that transformed into tanks Or planes or Laser Guns, All the Masters of the Universe They were all set to have some fun.
They each lined up their armies For the game that they knew so well. They were playin’ in play heaven Blowin’ each other’s toys to hell. But after several conventional wars They grew very confused and bored. With all that devastation, Neither one even knew the score.
That’s when Daniel said “Let’s play Summit, Just like on the news. You can be the President, And I’ll be that Russian dude. We’ll pretend that people all over the world Are just waitin’ for us to agree To throw away all our war toys And only play games of Peace.“
Dan picked up his best warplane The left fuselage was smashed He handed it to Alex Who tossed it into the trash. They defused all the weapons And to make their game complete They took the shirt off Rambo’s back And the combat boots from his feet.
Dan said “I’ll convert my laser Into a diesel train, Take everybody on a trip Around the world.” Alex said “They can use my plane.” They took every plastic soldier And snapped their weapons off Converted them to pruning hooks And gave every one a brand new job.
Dan and Alex looked around At that plastic battle zone And the shards of broken Christmas toys And each picked up his own. Outside, the snow was whirlin’ ’round Dancin’ at the window panes While they pretended to bury All the soldiers who had been slain.
Too soon the game was over, They each said that they’d had fun. “Let’s go outside and build a big snow-bird That says ‘Peace’ to everyone” As they put on coats and hats and gloves Dan said to his mother “Please! Next Christmas don’t buy me no war toys I only want to play games of Peace…
This little whip of a sapling is your tree.
May the occasion of it's planting be
A joyous celebration of your birth
For all who watch you grow upon this earth.
May you rapture in its blossoms every Spring,
Seek the comfort of its shade when Summering,
Pick its berries in Autumn, when Winter winds blow,
Marvel at its shadow, dancing on fallen snow.
May you nurture it with affection as a child.
Climb to its highest branches when your youth is wild.
As a man, may you stand as straight as this mountain ash,
Bending with strength when adverse winds may lash.
May your dreams reach like its branches to the stars,
Rooted in the earth, defining who you are.
I posted these lyrics last Sept, but the song has been in my head as we approach the Anniversary, as it is every year. My guitar is still in the shop, so I miss playing it.
911 Anthem.
Words and Music By Jefferson Vitelli September, 2001.
Where were you, when the plane-bombs hit the towers? Do you remember what you were feeling in those hours? Do you still tremble from the terror and the pain? Have you had the nightmares, of falling through blood and flames?
And what did you do when you saw the city’s grief? Did you donate blood? Did you send relief? Did you raise a flag, or sing a song for Peace? Did you light a candle, for the flame of hope to increase?
And where were you, as the nation went to war? Looking for terrorists behind every door? Or were you standing for compassion and restraint? Could you help someone understand How other people bear us such hate?
And where were you when the bombs began to fly? Did your heart break yet again for those who had to die? Or did you believe some kind of Justice had been done? Did you really think a war like this could ever be won?
And where are you now, since that day that shook our world? How has your life changed to reflect the truth that was unfurled? Is your footprint like a bootheel on the face of the wounded earth? Or do you walk barefoot in the sands on a path to humanity’s rebirth?
Can you walk, or ride a bike to get to where you are? Or are you addicted to fossil fuels still reliant on a car? Do you talk to your neighbor even when you disagree, Or is there a wall between you over which you cannot see?
And many years from now when the history is told What will you tell your children about your personal role? Will you be proud that you gave a small piece? Or will you be sad and ashamed that our troubled world has still not found Peace
Peace. May there be Peace. Peace. May there be Peace. Peace is every nation, Peace on every tongue. Peace. May there be Peace.
Pacem in Terra… May there be Peace. Paz,quieremos Paz…May there be Peace. Paix pour tout le mond… May there be Peace. Frieden, Frieden… May there be Peace.
Jeffersong 