My Poetry writing

My Poetry

Poetry by, Brian Morrison

The concrete on the subway floor, wet from the boots which carry the day’s
weather from above changing the hue of the scent of the memory of that
forbidden cave from which we all have born our deepest memory of primitive
intuition. We mingle in our damp chill waiting, to be lifted to the
arrangement of hope, where time will pay for dreams of slow blue warmth,
Someday our hope, its worth and our dream of what can be
In the dampness
In the musty odor filled dreariness
The door opens as we bound by each other push, for some sign of relief
For some dream
Our dream
To come true.

On a fence

snowy owl on a perch
are you frozen like the birch
or is it a moment a twinge in time

aloft with your push, from feet and from wing
eyes piercing the ground as you fly
or are you frozen

like the birch

        Lost worlds echo and murmur
        Lost time days gone by
        Seamless senseless records lost
        No humans' trace passed on
        Nothing real from yesterday

        Looking ahead only to stay
        Can't find a message, can't find a way

        Crumbling slopes wash away
        The passage of the ages
        To supreme, to being
        The sword of contention
        In everlasting reflection

        When the time comes
        Who will be waiting?

I sat alone

With the crowd outside

All alone without a cloud, a joy, a care in the world

Numb excuse numb abuse

Worldly turns face to face

Trials of the mind

Riddles of meaning

Divided nations sit

All alone

With the crowd outside

Tangled tangible turmoil

Singing praise for race to race

Twisted words when alone have no place

Sounds are silent

Primitive thoughts

Primitive place

Primitive people

Primitive race

Sit in your sorrow

Live in your disgrace

Reason through lords

Search some other place

Spend your time looking

Following others mistakes

Salvation soars

And wisdom flocks

Jeopardy rules

Mindless games mock

Reach your goals

Your destination

Your walk

Struggle through nothing

Smile as you talk

Wake again

Put on the mask

Don’t even bother

What is life?

Don’t ask

Too late, you’re dead

Hark the heralded species rein

Spear headed by ignorant ways

Bless me my father

I shall not want

But for the day I am rid of this lot

The insurrection mounted

The insurrection of mind body soul

Everywhere the question, the longing

The desperation of truth, of time

Here, now to contemplate the contemplation

To hear, to question, to fault

Seemingly in the right direction

For the moment, every moment

How spent, well spent forever hoping

The twisted root of the twisted tree

Bells ring as the triumphant sing

The almighty victories of war

Here we sit in our cast, our fate

No blood has been spilled on our shores

Stone figures walk past me

On their way to the cemetery

We stop and pray to these stones

As though they hold the memory

Of those who went marching by

Endless rows

Endless feats

Sullen warriors

Empty streets

Heretics scream

Woman cry

The lonely brother

For whom he died

Seamless time of eternity

Stretching for endless time

Hands

Ticking moments flow through

Threads

Moment of uncertain minds

Endless cycle wanting

Knowledge

Simple rules, human desire

Catch me quick

Fall

Pits of ignorance below

Trapped

Membrane of life

Grips

Sorrow

Etched on the side wall of life's bowel

The extreme excrement of passion

Deep rooted anxiety

Curious inhabitants of the minds wandering chorus

Interaction thrives, growing in the fertile grounds of perplexed voices

Shallow murmurs forming sides, stretching from mind to mind

Paths paced from beginning to end in the relentless absence of peace

Above and beyond, when not a dream, is far to far out of reach

      It is funny, is it not
      how I say it's funny
      this my sincere fright
      this consequence of truth
      this morbid placid tooth decay
      this burning infectious sore of human spirit
      this spirit of confidence of ego to image of god
      this petulance of form of thought this river of greed
      this seed of hate this mountain of men made in the image of god

      It is funny
      the one dimensional inside out
      the disemboweled gutted rotten place
      bind me in chains, beat me, cut my veins
      suck my blood till the stench of death places the grin of power
      stretching across your face to the inquisitive crowd the neck benders, whisperers
      funny

Persistent flame
echo and flicker
shadow my eyes are cast
dancing in mirrors
the flat line bends
showing life with a start and a quiver.

womb of time
sacramental tomb
climb the holy mountain

split the night
split my life
split my holy spirit

cast the stone
really, I can take it
and guilt and holy bread and wine

pierce me with arrows
honestly, I do not feel them
nor that which you call shame

winds within spin
break off branches
(as if they were dead)
the only way I can see
to hear this high wind
whispering its secrets
is watch what it blows
in ways which expose
piece upon piece

I awoke and it was spring
My bark was fresh with all it carries
sustenance rising through my roots
right out to the far limbs of me
tangled twigs turning to the light
shadows growing at the base of me
dappled shadows ever changing
the wind whispering through
my dark form, my shape, my being
telling the story, the song that is
me bowing before my own questions
bending nearer to hear the answer
swaying, lightly singing it's chorus

Embrace your sorrow
be at one with your sin
reason through - lords?
primitive thought
primitive place
primitive people
Primitive race
search also another place
follow all of your mistakes
be at one with your disgrace
embrace... listen

The night

My life

My spirit

By a knife

Of eternity

Of all time

Of sacrament

Climb Mountain

By Brian Morrison

FOLLOWING ARE FRAGMENTS OF WRITING

let's see let's see

winds within spin

break off branches

(as if they were dead)

the only way I can see

to hear this high wind

whispering its secrets

is watch what it blows

in ways which expose

piece upon piece

embrace your sorrow

be at one with your sin

reason through - lords?

primitive thought

primitive place

primitive people

Primitive race

search also another place

follow all of your mistakes

be at one with your disgrace

embrace... listen

persistent flame

echo and flicker

persistent shadow

this dancing

my eyes glance

the flat line bends

shows with a start

then a slow quiver

womb of time

sacramental tomb

climb the holy mountain

split the night

split my life

split my holy spirit

cast the stone

really, I can take it

and guilt and holy bread and wine

pierce me with arrows

honestly, I do not feel them

nor that which you call shame

I awoke and it was spring

My bark was fresh with all it carries

sustenance rising through my roots

right out to the far limbs of me

tangled twigs turning to the light

shadows growing at the base of me

dappled shadows ever changing

the wind whispering through

my dark form, my shape, my being

telling the story, the song that is

me bowing before my own questions

bending nearer to hear the answer

swaying, lightly singing it's chorus

fresh hatched bird

the planet cradles like a nest
the planet pushes toward the test
unsteady, are you ready to fly?

Anybody out there?

I need reflection
to identify with
to feel received
while pouring out
What this becomes
depends on the sun
the wind the stone
and then it is gone
a reflection itself

in this reflection
reason

Hark the heralded species rein
spear headed by ignorant ways

bless me my father I shall not want
but for the day to be rid of this lot.

It's funny is it not?
funny how I say it's funny
this sincere fright, this consequence of truth
this morbid placid tooth decay
burn infectious sore of human spirit

It's funny this spirit of confidence of ego
to image of god
this petulance of form of thought this river of greed this seed of hate
this mountain of men made in the image of god

Isn't it funny the one dimensional inside out
disemboweled gutted rotten place
bind me in chains, beat me
cut me to the vein
suck my blood till the stench of death places
the grin of power stretching across your face
to the inquisitive crowd
the neck benders, whisperers
funny, isn't it?

hark the hurried species reins
relentless ignorance remains

bless me my father I do not want
to be a heartless miscreant

It is funny, is it not
how I say it's funny
this my sincere fright
this consequence of truth
this morbid placid tooth decay
this burning infectious sore of human spirit
this spirit of confidence of ego to image of god
this petulance of form of thought this river of greed
this seed of hate this mountain of men made in the image of god

It is funny
the one dimensional inside out
the disemboweled gutted rotten place
bind me in chains, beat me, cut my veins
suck my blood till the stench of death places the grin of power
stretching across your face to the inquisitive crowd the neck benders, whisperers
funny

persistent flame

echo and flicker

shadow my eyes are cast

dancing in mirrors

the flat line bends

showing life with a start and a quiver.

split the night

split my life

split my spirit

split by a knife

womb of eternity

womb of all time

tombs of sacrament

holy mountain climb

Cast at me a stone

I shall not quiver

drown me in no baptism of guilt

feed me not bread or wine

pierce me with arrows

which I do not feel

myself I know not shame

One day I woke and it was spring
My bark was fresh with all that it carries
sustenance up through my roots to the very
outstretched limbs of my life
crowded mixing twigs of reaching twisting turning to the light
my presence felt, as shadows grew
at the base of my existence
dappled shadows changing as the wind whispered through
catching sounds of my form, my shape, my being
caught to tell the story
the song
as I bent and bowed to the questions
released from me, the answer
as I swayed to sing it's chorus.

Some

Some semblance

Order

Lines

Come Go Here Now

Blink

Back

Sordid sensation

Past search

Blowing wind

Tree’s show

Bend

Heat comes

Seasons

Past

Logic Illogical

Perceptions change

Time remains

Life glows

Now it comes

I see my self

Time stops timelessness

Gone

Treason my self

Lines to follow

Missing my past

Reach

Reaching

Trying

Below the bottom

Vision quest

What I can’t see

Where I rest

Follow my foot steps

Cast away

Formation of form

Mirror Mirror

let's see let's see
winds within spin
break off branches
(as if they were dead)
the only way I can see
to hear this high wind
whispering its secrets
is watch what it blows
in ways which expose
piece upon piece

embrace your sorrow
be at one with your sin
reason through - lords?
primitive thought
primitive place
primitive people
Primitive race
search also another place
follow all of your mistakes
be at one with your disgrace
embrace... listen

persistent flame
echo and flicker
persistent shadow
this dancing
my eyes glance
the flat line bends
shows with a start
then a slow quiver

womb of time
sacramental tomb
climb the holy mountain

split the night
split my life
split my holy spirit

cast the stone
really, I can take it
and guilt and holy bread and wine

pierce me with arrows
honestly, I do not feel them
nor that which you call shame

I awoke and it was spring
My bark was fresh with all it carries
sustenance rising through my roots
right out to the far limbs of me
tangled twigs turning to the light
shadows growing at the base of me
dappled shadows ever changing
the wind whispering through
my dark form, my shape, my being
telling the story, the song that is
me bowing before my own questions
bending nearer to hear the answer
swaying, lightly singing it's chorus

the night

my life

my spirit

by a knife

of eternity

of all time

of sacrament

mountain climb

Seamless time of eternity
stretching for endless time
hands
ticking moments flow through
threads
moment of uncertain minds
endless cycle wanting
knowledge
simple rules, human desire
catch me quick
fall
pits of ignorance below
trapped
membrane of life
grips

endless rows
endless feats
sullen warriors
empty streets

endless rows

endless feats

sullen warriors

empty streets

heretics scream

woman cry

the lonely brother

for whom he died

Seamless time of eternity

stretching for endless time

hands

ticking moments flow through

threads

moment of uncertain minds

endless cycle wanting

knowledge

simple rules, human desire

catch me quick

fall

pits of ignorance below

trapped

membrane of life

grips

The light played

Up then down on the spider web

Like fingers of a maestro on her violin string.

The lovers quarrel

Their will, the testament

Reflections reflecting thought

The hardships of mind wrought

Separate in knowing

Separate in kind

Distance growing endless thoughts flowing

Life long ambitions

One day, one moment

Actions of lasting impressions

Cast from cast from molded form

Growing restless a primary concern

then, the wheel spinning together again

I look across the wind in her motion

Natures natural course, and beauty

Whispering, bowing, back and forth

Hoping for me, wishing for you

Always alone the will the way

Allowing to change, day to day

Natures course.

When we wait to see what tomorrow brings, we miss what happens today

Special thanks to Tom Clark for his insight and wisdom in helping with my work. you may read Toms work at: