tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65285523549562803492024-03-12T21:58:15.578-04:00No Bitter WindSharing My Thoughts With The WorldC R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.comBlogger147125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-73118689220978013962019-09-03T08:23:00.002-04:002019-09-03T08:23:57.405-04:00I'm not here to stop<br />
The fall of the _____ empire.<br />
I'm not here to stop<br />
The martyrdom of the free,<br />
Chosen freely to be here --<br />
To be the blood-tax<br />
Of the coming Revolution<br />
<br />
In here to keep<br />
These ideas alive --<br />
A key to the treasury;<br />
A lighthouse in the storm;<br />
A comfort to those in need;<br />
I'm here to educate<br />
The next battalion and crew...<br />
<br />
Χϱλ<br />
(2019)C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-57068609382625100132015-10-26T04:12:00.001-04:002015-10-26T04:12:10.276-04:00Sarcophagus<p dir="ltr">If you were made of flowers;<br>
And if I were made of gold;<br>
I'd place you deep inside my heart,<br>
And let you there grow cold...<br>
</p>
C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-63379366410230146242015-10-24T06:01:00.001-04:002015-10-26T04:03:00.649-04:00To Go Back Home<p dir="ltr">You want to go back home, you say to me,<br>
To find that everything could be as it was?<br>
Yeah. So do I. Oh, how I wish I could...</p>
<p dir="ltr">I want to walk down to my grandpa's house<br>
Where my mother is home with her bright smile<br>
And a cheerful "Hello, my cutie bear."</p>
<p dir="ltr">But there is no end to the sad and suck--<br>
No normal to which I can return to--<br>
Just a deep quiet and abiding grief...</p>
<p dir="ltr">But, yet, there is the smallest of hopes--<br>
That some rainbows will cross the sky again;<br>
That the sun will rise to dawn one morning...</p>
<p dir="ltr">-- Not to sweep aside the pain and heartache --<br>
But to glimmer on the roads ahead...</p>
C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-40282243595146948222015-10-24T03:43:00.001-04:002015-10-24T03:43:06.033-04:00Emeralds<p dir="ltr">In this emerald darkness of our time together, I stand inside your twilight, and languish in your shadows...<br>
I collect sweet, warm zephyrs that gently play the fragrant notes of lemon, and of summer, and of hops...<br>
I dream quietly of tiny yellow blooms and green tomatoes turning red...</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WgehpPTRagc/Vis2iOSycaI/AAAAAAABqcY/pJpuXMLQ6kY/s1600/20151023_000833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WgehpPTRagc/Vis2iOSycaI/AAAAAAABqcY/pJpuXMLQ6kY/s640/20151023_000833.jpg"> </a> </div>C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-88784870252375883902015-06-28T21:23:00.001-04:002015-06-28T21:23:28.725-04:00Step Cousin<p dir="ltr">You are my friend, <br>
In the way that I don't hardly know you:<br>
You are my step-cousin,<br>
If such a thing exists...<br>
It seems to me, though,<br>
That you have his style,<br>
His knack for gifts, unusual<br>
And thoughtful;<br>
I mean, it makes me think,<br>
Am I that uncle?<br>
Am I that friend?</p>
C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-35811206189922575842015-06-28T21:18:00.001-04:002015-06-28T21:18:52.789-04:00Not The Length Of Time<p dir="ltr">It is not the length of time we have for love,<br>
But that we've loved at all --<br>
In a single moment of true love we create An instant of infinity that this ever-<br>
Recycling universe can never reclaim...</p>
C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-26847674149355719372014-01-18T00:27:00.001-05:002014-01-18T00:27:01.487-05:00In Black Hours<p dir="ltr">in black hours I watch thin clouds flee before the moon as ancient oaks creak quietly in the breeze</p>
<p dir="ltr">what portends this midnight<br>
what change looms <u>near</u></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-KfebPx3hPVI/UtoQotgZYgI/AAAAAAAAYfs/cvZBT4xr-HA/s1600/IMG_20140118_000418.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-KfebPx3hPVI/UtoQotgZYgI/AAAAAAAAYfs/cvZBT4xr-HA/s640/IMG_20140118_000418.JPG"> </a> </div>C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-60011497483010027632013-10-30T02:07:00.001-04:002013-10-30T02:14:29.926-04:00KAM<p dir="ltr">There is a careless familiarity<br>
Of two lovers--<br>
Separated by space, and time.<br>
I love you in a hopeless way,<br>
Wishing for a future not our own.<br>
To touch you seems so natural,<br>
To be with you humbles me. <br>
I love you in a helpless way,<br>
In awe, in a god's presence.<br>
I write these words, and lie.<br>
Control.</p>
C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-69518263845429456762013-10-03T00:32:00.001-04:002013-10-03T00:32:09.179-04:00My Bones Are Made Of Amethyst<p dir="ltr">My bones are made of amethyst and citrine, my sinews spun of gold, my beaten copper heart still pounds --</p>
<p dir="ltr">But I will never see my silver lungs, nor diamond plated brain, never taste the mercury in my veins -- </p>
<p dir="ltr">These jewels of my flesh will shine more brightly when I'm gone, when all that's left of me is light... </p>
C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-24804481388452973442013-07-07T02:55:00.000-04:002013-10-03T00:32:58.756-04:00Who Doesn't See?<div dir="ltr">
When I close my eyes I see everything...<br>
How do I focus on one star, one light?<br>
How do I choose who needs, who wants?</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div>
<div dir="ltr">
You suffer? You ache? You age?<br>
Are you still lovable?<br>
Are you still worthy of such love?</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Do you live true to yourself?<br>
Are your friends trustworthy?<br>
Do you watch the beauty of this world as inspiration?</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div>
<div dir="ltr">
With open eyes, who doesn't see?</div>
C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-17545437212293590792013-02-06T04:05:00.000-05:002013-02-06T04:09:04.351-05:00The Jewels In Our HeartsIt is the imperfections<br />
we have on the inside<br />
That create our outer Beauty<br />
<br />
Every pearl contains<br />
a grain of sand<br />
Every raindrop traps<br />
a mote of dust<br />
<br />
Time does not heal all wounds<br />
rather we layer them in nacré<br />
To soothe the pain, as we share<br />
these jewels that we keep inside our hearts<br />
<br />C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-27883250094719003322012-10-27T21:30:00.000-04:002017-04-01T09:11:35.791-04:00What Would I Tell You<p dir="ltr">What would I tell you<br>
If we were together<br>
And talked about my day?</p>
<p dir="ltr">Would I talk of the drudgeries,<br>
Of waking early, and work, &<br>
The usual driving to and fro?</p>
<p dir="ltr">Do you want to hear more<br>
About my meals, or grooming,<br>
Washing dishes or clothes?</p>
<p dir="ltr">How did you sleep? I might ask<br>
To speak of my dreams, and<br>
Rolling from side to side, alone?</p>
<p dir="ltr">No, I want to speak about the joy <br>
That is your presence in my life<br>
& every thought you influenced today!</p>
C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-73143112908404131492012-10-16T21:10:00.000-04:002012-10-28T02:35:30.705-04:00<span class="userContent">As I watch the future ply out before me, I often wonder, do we create our destinies, or just predict them?</span>C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-78558886884177824782012-09-27T21:55:00.002-04:002012-09-27T21:56:07.383-04:00 Make Your Word Be Heard<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">we once used such great words, <br /> words that rolled off the tongue in ways most melodious, <br /> words that, by constitutive sounds, induced a giggle,<br /> that sparkled, that awed and confounded,<br /> words that evoked emotions, imaginations, nightmares,</span></span><div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"> with just the proper pronunciation --<br /> I propose that we all be Shakespeare:<br /> not just the forgery of combination,<br /> but <i>creation!</i></span></span></div>
</span></span></span></h5>
C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-21707027078491391302012-09-21T00:52:00.000-04:002015-06-28T21:15:02.372-04:00I am always thinking: What does the future hold?<br />
<br />
Do I face it with fear, that I will fail, that I will be caught unable?<br />
Frail witness, witless, to my own demise -- Do you? Are you afraid?<br />
<br />
Is there a way to pull back from this grief, this knowledge of death?C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-84718852227066535402012-09-21T00:20:00.003-04:002012-09-21T00:22:05.078-04:00Our Nacred Hearts<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Time does not heal all wounds of heart and mind<br /> We learn, each moment, to stop touching the hurt<br /> A distance that we lacquer a layer at a time until<br /> -- a cure! -- a stone-walled defense against the pangs</span></span></span> <div class="text_exposed_show">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> As every raindrop traps a mote of dust<br /> And every pearl contains a grain of sand<br /> It is the pain we have on the inside<br /> That creates our outer beauty</span></span></span> </div>
</span></span></h5>
C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-91275587855466814372012-09-08T00:33:00.000-04:002015-10-26T04:05:07.837-04:00I Have A Tiny RoomI have a tiny room inside my heart<br />
I decorate with memories of you.<br />
So whenever my feet become weary,<br />
When the tides of life rip through me --<br />
I can take my ease in my tiny room<br />
And know that what I'm going through<br />
Is for you, and me, and we.<br />
Then I can smile, again, and carry on.C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-34567591022011297462012-05-30T00:41:00.000-04:002012-09-21T00:44:45.943-04:00Upon Witnessing A Great Old Tree<span style="font-size: large;">It is sad to see this great Old Tree</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So tangled and overgrown,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And to wonder if it will survive</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A stern pruning, or worse, <i>wildfire!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">What a strangled mess - with crossing limbs</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And sucker-shoots, and leaves</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Starved for oxygen, failing to floresce,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Without seed or stone or fruit ...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If fortune favors, no fungus rots the heartwood,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Nor virus plague the branch ...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But where to cut? And, too, how deeply?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Do I wait another season? Another year?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Another day?</span>C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-23576753053497679002011-11-28T01:48:00.001-05:002011-12-04T23:38:35.328-05:00As we look upon the coming Month, the Long Darkness of December, I would like to remind everyone of the Hope that the Longest Night implies: that our Sun returns from Unending nights, to Promise the next season. Humans have Rejoiced at this time for as long as History remembers. So when I say Season's Greetings, I am trying to connect to your Winter Celebration -- whether that is the Birth of Jesus Christ, the Enlightenment of Buddha, the Birth of Mithra, the Remembrance of Sacred Fires, on Menorah or Yule or Sadeh -- or remembrances of other beliefs: Kwaanza, Pancha Ganapati, Inti Raymi ... This is the Season of Love and the Hope for Rebirth! Merry Christmas, and so much more!C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-14006960324100433382011-09-24T01:35:00.003-04:002011-09-24T01:37:10.892-04:00my life i live in circles<br />
round and square and pentagon<br />
the lonely beats and crowded streets<br />
the twists and turns, both left and right<br />
sometimes whirling, twirling, boring<br />
how many times, how many names,<br />
the faces blur, the years and lives defer<br />
my life is love, and you, and them<br />
everything, nothing, somewhere in between ...C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-26748379969191336052011-07-13T01:51:00.000-04:002011-07-13T22:51:44.568-04:00My heart, my heart<br />
is torn apart and<br />
riddled with guilt and doubtC R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-91220079498515038532011-05-07T23:36:00.003-04:002011-05-08T23:49:13.309-04:00. Ennui . I had a dream, where I was lost in the woods -- not that panicky 'I don't know where I'm at' kind of lost, but rather the calm grey 'I don't need to know where I am' lost. The snow didn't sparkle, so much as the hazy mist of the skies allowed. The leafless trees were not familiar, but neither did any of it seem frightful. I hungered for naught, nor thirsted. I felt helpless -- Is there someplace I should be?<br />
Did I walk through this forest, follow paths that shift and turn and blend out? The foliage was mute, but I heard the high-pitched ringing in my ears -- not deafening nor maddening, just a quiet white noise. Here I saw a pond, tiny, covered in the thinnest layer of ice. The trees here I noticed, but only as 'the trees by the pond'. What could I see, though, in this mirror before my breath?<br />
Nothing -- some small part of the vast emptiness just outside the world, and the woods. My heart skipped a beat, as if I would dread this glimpse. But that was not for me, that fear, not in this place, this state. With no more association to the pond than the trees, I don't remember where it was. I was pulled by something, by the need to find someplace -- where am I supposed to be? Was this it?C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-36568056993465636422010-09-19T23:00:00.000-04:002010-09-19T23:00:24.202-04:00againThis day winds down, again.<br />
A little older, a little colder, a little more full of sleep.<br />
The many times this day goes on,<br />
I seem more wise, more humble, more fearful that I'm wrong.<br />
Days come and go, to close out weeks, and months, and years.<br />
The many ups and downs that seek to balance, lead me on, and tempt ...<br />
Do I wake again tomorrow?C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-35229445128443073582010-09-11T00:32:00.001-04:002010-09-11T00:32:51.230-04:00As the air turns to autumnal chillsAs the air turns to autumnal chills, I look back across the summer fading,<br />
and, lo! what life! What mad and wonderful adventures!<br />
I open doors and windows to watch the distant stars regain their hibernal clarity.<br />
Ah! winter and night! What great events are yet to come!<br />
Longing for warm drink and a strong breeze, I find my front porch calling.C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528552354956280349.post-4108232989852370442010-05-30T18:23:00.012-04:002010-06-22T18:55:51.115-04:00Sandy's Stupa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e7gITHkIl1Q/TCE9JdB-RnI/AAAAAAAAAD0/NiQ7u-mU2Tk/s1600/S6301786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e7gITHkIl1Q/TCE9JdB-RnI/AAAAAAAAAD0/NiQ7u-mU2Tk/s1600/S6301786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e7gITHkIl1Q/TCE9JdB-RnI/AAAAAAAAAD0/NiQ7u-mU2Tk/s400/S6301786.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sandy's Stupa.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My Peace Pagoda -inspired memorial, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">surrounded by standing rocks</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dedicated to Our Friend, Sandy (1996-2010)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and to the Message of Peace for All.</div>C R R Lavenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11603659284830814549noreply@blogger.com2