Transforming Time
In this cathedral of the future
everyone remembers
where they were when time sped up
True freedom with no compulsion
for just one single way
the good and the bad work
together never the utopian
But a shift in thinking
This is how we learned
to transform time
One Foot in Reality
She is lead into the realm of tomorrow
Past superficial emotions
into a heightened consciousness
Towards a radical change
Her own inner reality
not restricted by logic
Into deeper forms of experience
Through matter into the spirit
She sees the cosmic forces of change
Swing Man
The appetite remains
But what are the expectations
for the future
Our new man should be
so very different than the old
He more free and loving
as he spirals to his interior
his equilibrium double reason
The cosmic intuitive
of the every man in change
In the Beginning
What if we have this beginning
story totally wrong
She held the molten world hot
She knew all the dreams and nightmares
And yet She let the world become
Each of us are our own Adam and Eve
Every story of love and lust
Is always emerging
As their world floated in space
Ancient Portals
Long ago mirrors and reflected doors
The nymph arranged flowers
and erased centuries
Passion was a dream
an elegant style of realism
She could be amorous or petulant
She held your calm impassive gaze
Yet you always knew
once you went thru that door
You were lost to love
Tattoo
The lovers and landscape
Were patterned on her skin
Each touch of
This tattooed map of longing
Where she had traveled
unidentified clouds
rivers of philosophical differences
all spread out before her
Staircase of stone and wonder and
She emerged into her garden
free to walk that dream
Former Knowledge
Todays living room
He was van gogh
She was a blue goddess
They sat and talked
The wine flowed
sweet and clear and sharp
The world was suddenly
more interesting
She was all curiosity and
He became a human soul
We could see how
the poem of this love story
would be written.
Elements of Time
Nakedness is the answer
to the first question
She spun through the
centuries of time
wandering through a
landscape it was tuscany
or paris london plain trees
She resonated with her
own reality knowing
when to go with tradition
and when to toss
that old cloak off
Sweet as wine
tender as the skin of a peach
Her heart was the clock
she knew from the beginning
Childish Judgment
From that deafening language
of never or maybe
The season of childhood
and all its temptations
were laid at her feet
And she only has to pick
from the pears or those
secret and powerful
thoughts
Tiny wings emerged as
our butterfly became the
young woman she was
Always
Never be afraid
Go toward your own
Truth
This is the journey of life
Visionary Portraits
Created at twilight
darkness inspired
retreat from the visible world
Sound poems
poems without words
language
largely unintelligible
All accident is excluded
from the cult of the genius
change as an antidote
to real life
change collage
real life with its technical
virtuosity of abstract hearts
and abstract living in houses
Art can neither prevent nor end war
so we turn to philosophy
and formulate an ethical principle
for the equality of all persons
and things everywhere
in principle against all principles
What of the artist studio
and the classical aesthetic tradition
this preoccupation of materialism
with time measurements
and money?
Republicans autotomtons
Uncle Rummey had all these
crazy ideas and what came of it
Nothing but war his
advertisement for self
This dada
milky way
and just when you think
the moon is setting
we have a proverb to live by
And always more time
and
no indication of time
pages torn from books
and journals
lead memories & methods
fermenting insanity
easy to use for everyone the message
just keep on the righteous path
Criticism of criticism
this leaf landscape that
makes love to measure
or jokes about their relationship
to the unconscious
all this repressed desire
Freud said do you
ask
what is obscene in your world?
typical vertical mess or
the vulgarness of warfare
At what crossroads
are their
a new means for seeing
an alternate reality
submerged by the waters and
the historical references with
ordinary things
If we choose to live
in this funnel of solitude
in this thoughtless chapel of now
to express the mystery of that which
cannot be seen or that which cannot be touched
We must decide for ourselves do we have
A reverence for life and art
mimi shapiro
september 6, 2006
Maps of Consciousness
Does
it matter what you do not know
Or if you have not discovered the meaning of life
Swimming through the universe
Between earth and moon past the vast blackness
Of continued questions
Are we guided by reason at all?
Are you moved by
the colors of Tuscany?
The abundance of that landscape
Sudden light of whirlwind stars
The confusion of splendor
Or the crystal of ocean waves splashing
Or just hope for our tomorrows?
Ancient meanings
of an open cluster
Poetic inspirations
Oriented by legends from the 1000 Arabian Nights
Do you know the story of the 100th monkey?
Maybe the pale sun on the horizon
Gold streaks of forgotten dreams
Seen in a perfect sky inspirations
Are you willing to be the traveller through clouds
On a moonlite night in Delhi
Myths of a Marco Polo searching
Who speaks? the listener only hears
Those words he is expecting.
Maybe that is today
Myth of Sisyphus futile and hopeless labor
What does the absurd and contradictory life teach us?
Questions piled on the conscious revolt
Is not the whole of wisdom
Each mind is not a permanent structure of existence
Religion which has been ruled out in principle
For centuries has so much force today
A nearby star apparently moves relative to distant stars
Who knows what direction to take?
You hold the sun in
the shadow of the moon
And whisper to passing asteroids
Through silent territories
The high renaissance is but a distant past
Sweetly absorbed in the contemplation of my own being
The maze governed by symmetry’s flashes and sparkles
Is the sun peach or precious silk?
Is life a warm summer sunset?
Magnetopause shock wave solar wind listless fear
Looking for the answer to that Tolstoy question
Is life meaningless? Are we lost like drops of ink falling
Running together like a black blot.
I question everyday on this earthship
Every new moon and springtide
The secrets of autumn
The alphabet of winters
Strange shadows
Strange thoughts or rare passions
A sensual beauty whose eyes conceal an inner world
Greek goddesses or just women of antiquity
Who create a vortex of rising layers
Arabesque butterflies who encircle each magical male
For that endless debate
From an unconscious past these are your dreams.
Why does the world
have such a tormented history?
The better question is
How do we –
You and I – change this?
Is there not someway to defeat these monsters of war?
So the uncurable shadow is not cast on the future
To really discover what causes what
And how to achieve peace
And the necessity of explaining the finite and vice versa.
Every line in the
ocean in that invisible night
All of eternity written in the sands
Sunset red or blood red
Tomorrow man must change from riding
The war of war and insanity
What if suddenly there was a silent change?
What if every person thought
Today we must be ready for peace.
Ships sail with hope
The weather of love
Clouds of kindness
Dew drops of understanding
Oneself and the other man
Determined conversations
A toast to poets and professors
Shadows and dreams entertwined
Knowing each others souls throughout the universe
Connection
Communication
Between travellers and nations
Between those soldiers sent to war
So the approximate boundry of the halo
Extends to cover our planet earth.
Time is running out
Our twenty four hour clock ticks
Each peace rebel would be joined
By thousands of sympathizers
Until the whole world knows
We’re safe now...we’re really finally safe
It’s a mathematical equation
Multiplying until peace covers our land.
If only we believe
it was so easy to
Change the hearts and minds
Of every woman and man.
Like the hourglass turned upside down
Pouring grains of sand
Until words of peace change
So that we have found our purpose
And the past
Takes us to this new understanding.
Please take my hand
before we are
Dying skeletons all over this land
Peace is the only process that will work.
And it’s reason enough for change
There is nothing strange about living in peace
It has just taken us so many generations
to finally arrive here.
mimi shapiro
lancaster, pa
july, 2006
© 2010 mimi shapiro