2017 03 13
I walk long city street of cracked cement
past rusting warehouses and factories
with pack of books and guitar on my back,
heading nowhere on my vain quest for truth.
Another coconut falls from palm tree
to roll on thin meridian of white sand
that stretches straight between two busy roads
where cars glide slow through flashing traffic lights.
Homeless men with long beards in tattered suits
push shopping carts to collect coconuts
near expensive restaurants with shiny glass
and three thin cats dart down broad alley way.
I follow them and sit in shadowed nook
to stuff wood pipe with marijuana buds
that glow in lighter flame when I puff deep
and inhale visions of the timeless world.
Floating on golden cloud of rainbow beams,
I stand on street corner where people stroll
who flow in and out of blue-glass shop doors
so I feel vibration of secret dreams.
I stare at infinite sky of concepts
that closes tight around our spinning world
where all the dramas of human desire
flash across the eyeball of history.
Turning on tape recorder, that hangs low
on leather strip and pulses near my heart,
I strum six guitar strings and hum my soul
to tune my voice in harmony with light.
"I wonder if the bright sun in vast sky
is enormous eye of celestial soul
who dreams us all alive inside her mind
so I will sing the light beams of her name."
I open third eye in my head and smile
at eyes of faces floating like balloons
and see tall businessman in clean grey suit
drop a torn dollar bill in my brown hat.
"What do I do with a torn dollar bill
that imitates hope of obedient will,
transforming into the swift laughing bird
who soars reborn from light beams of her eyes."
Three teenage girls with long gold flowing hair
flash shy flirtatious smiling eyes at me
then giggle as they kiss me on the cheek
and stuff dollars in pockets of my pants.
"Three angels from bright clouds appear to me
to give me apples from the Tree of Life
then dance wild in the moon glow of my heart
till they vanish in light beams of her soul."
Skipping with joy, they vanish in large store,
and I see young boy, bouncing rubber ball,
with his mother walk out onto the beach
where she reads a book while he chases waves.
"First Mother rises tall from Lake of Dreams
and teaches her son to sing magic spells
while he gathers apples from breathing trees
that shimmer in the light beams of her love."
Young girl with long black curls and golden eyes
plays with her ginger cat on wooden bench
while her mother fries ground beef on a stove
and sells fresh tacos from silver food cart.
"While playing my lyre on lush Arcadian hills
I meet star goddess riding on golden lion
who gives me grail of honey apple juice
that wakes my soul with light beams of her heart."
I feel a hundred towers of steel and glass
vibrate around me like organic cells
where cars stream through network of throbbing veins
while the world spins slowly in empty void.
"Our world that spins around the glowing sun
ten billion years or more on spiral waves
regenerates our bodies from her soil
so we awake in light beams of her love."
I watch the swirling crowd of people flow
swift past my still point of the turning world
and wonder at their names and goals in life
and where death will find them on road of time.
"Though I wander forty-two signless roads
searching for answer to meaning of life
wherever I roam my heart is my home,
my way revealed by light beams of her eyes."
Satisfied with the song I improvise,
to create meaning from random events,
I turn the tape recorder off and write
title of my poem, Light Beams of Her Mind.
One person claps and someone else hoorahs,
and three people put dollars in my hat,
while crowds of people keep on walking past,
and I watch sunlight gleaming on sea waves.
After improvising seven more songs,
I pack away tape recorder and guitar
then walk eight blocks to the library hall
where I drink water and read history books.
At sunset I buy tuna sub sandwich
and eat at old picnic table by the sea,
then walk along the boardwalk past hotels
and watch stars twinkle red through swirling clouds.
I leap over the wood rail to white sand
and lie among tall tufts of pale green grass
beneath the boardwalk where it has a roof
to stay dry when rain drips through wood planks.
I listen to footsteps on walk above
and drift half asleep on ocean wave song
while cars glide by on busy night-life street,
and the silver moon shimmers on my face.