My first blog was in March of 2006. It was too 'windy'
to post here, but I was searching for evidence of kinship,
and I found it. I love you guys,
Joe

Its like losing an old friend. In this case, many old firends.
I suppose we will go our ways. I am on Facebook, Joseph Coleman,
we will find other places to go. But nothing can replace what we
had here, a village of people, a family. Thank you, Blogstream,
Pioneer, Colo, for all the great memories.
Joe

The way of the Bird

I stand before you, omega, I do not fear death!
I stand before you as I am, and you, with this hooded shround.
Why do you wish to hide; Are your eyes afraid of mine?
The journey has taken me to a central hovering.
Though my atoms crumble and sloth,
I will not fear the coming of the end,
it sights me down the barrel of gothic,
errant time, folding my linen, crashing my humanity.
I have been so careless as to object to God?
It is a piece of light, dressed in the dark.
It will take no prisoner, it will shame no side
I can no longer hide demons that thrash,
about the indigo night like blind lepers in a storm,
but what of my faith?
The question all humans seek will soon be my answer.
I praise the moment of final trust, laying me down for that final sleep.
I am seized by the ecumenical blaspheme,
that may break for me too soon.
Though I am a blaspheme, I do it in the humor of the great mystery.
Do I want God to know I walk in a Pagan’s shoes?
(Perhaps he already knows.)
I do know that someone guides my hands.
I may drift among the lines in my fingers, silent, brooding.
Though I am not young, neither am I too old to dance.
Bowing to time’s end, I lay away my uniform of dust.
We don’t come prepared; why go that way?
Lay no thread upon me, for I am human,
flawed at every link, drowning in the great essence of between.
(Is that what life is, an in-between?)
What a great joy this will be.
May the wind catch my wing,
as I go the way of the Bird.

During the years, following the Comet, earth was so shaken as to be wild again, with no boundary or means of compensation. Some were satisfied, most were not, and depended on refuse to survive. Order was gone as humans sacked store and factory of product. Discipline amongst peoples was remote, and they begin again.

Gothic yaw.

It’s been this way since the Ape ate the grape.
Yes, since the Mime swallowed his tongue,
it grew to great lengths of unholy, random, bores.
You gotta watch out for those holes, man!
The Holes of Expectations were darkened, in our way.
You must expect a hole; it expects you to fall in it!
The holes were no simple arrangement at first.
When you get the rhythm, you’ll wish you were anywhere else!
Pardon the pun, but you are too bored to stay.
Now the holes serve no purpose outside of where not to go.

The earth still turns, exactly, as it has, will, and should.
The water flows, the air we breathe is fertile, and inventive.
but there is wariness of accosting neighbor.
we must learn diplomacy, or be at the constant war!
We stock our shelves with food, against invader.
But most, go weapons hidden among the rocks.
Since we can’t grow the weapon, blessed be the more of them!

The Equivalent is sheepish men, they must be,
who would take on the thrashing machine of our yoke!
And so my people, we prepare for war, against war!

Mired in the milkweed, a life lives among the dead!
He will rise, messianic, be it on the brave, other, side.
They fought for their freedom, in a cycle of wine,
and judged each man by the eyes and the tongue.
This is the way it has always happened before.
It goes again, the way of the wind, to the corners of Earth.
Those driven under will begin again with small memory.
They will scribe their wars in hidden word, to warn future time.
And the Code will begin again.
The face of partition stares back at us through the eyes of the beast.
But what is this evil?
Through endless caverns host no opposing legend of gothic yaw,
we will yet be free to make our own!
Yes, it is the same as before.

Oh Moon, what is it you ask of us?
Our longing to be lovers has always looked to you.
Say you will stay, shed blood for us to realize your whim.
You come to us as cosmic, the cover stays so little.
Centuries have passed blending your air to us.
You will be back but not soon like this.
The tides wait with us to harbor your leaving.
Soon to come, so soon to go.

Tomorrow morning at 1:30-5:00 am, the Moon will be
weird, man! This happens every 400 years or so.
The eclipse should be visible to almost everybody.
Have a Moon Party! Celebrate the weird Moon!
Joe