Poetry Reading

You Are My Flower

Samhuinn

this is an excerpt from a short film that will be screened at 
Sacred Grounds on November 28, 2012

Cernunnos

Cernunnos, guardian stag.
Lord and protector of beasts,
God of the hunt, and of shepherds.
You have been repressed.

Flanked by the fox, trickster and lightning spirit;
By the otter, for play and transformation;
By the boar, for overcoming fear and forceful resistance;
By the frog, for impulsiveness, fertility, and creativity.

You hold in one hand the serpent of understanding,
Of knowledge, and understanding.
You hold in the other hand
A golden torque, for the sovereignty of the land.

The land is stunted, burned, drowned, and made toxic...
The leaders corrupt and perverse,
Wasting our resources without replenishment.
Return to your consort, Mother Earth.

Horned God, protector of beasts...
Bring balance and integrity.
Purify the Sovereignty.
Like a geode split in two,
Yearning to bond again,
Fit yourself into relation with Mother Earth,
Grow back into integrity.

God of huntsmen and shepherds revive.
Bring back a true relationship with the land.
Answer the shaman's prayers,
And transform the chiefs.
The earth pines for you.
We await your return.

- Jehanah -
(a poem for Autumn Equinox)

Song For The Day

Jenna and Mike, 1960

I sang to the birds, and the birds came flying

And we sang to the sun through the movements of air

I sang to the lizards, and the lizards came running

And snakes slithered in from hot sands of bright fire

I sang to the bear, and the bear kept turning
and the earth, and soil's tiny creatures asleep
I sang to the whales, and the whales came singing
And we sang, 'cross the waters of the oceans so deep

The song rose to the stars, it spread o'er the earth

And into the hearts of all creatures around

All our singing was there, we heard the great buzz

And everyone singing there loved the great sound

Jehanah

Otherwise

     I woke up once
     On another Earth
     In another time
     An uncertain birth
     In another dimension
     In another lifetime
     In a different body
     With an opposing sign
     Another shade of red
     A different hue of blue
     A secret Word for Love
     In the Mystery of You
     In a faraway home
     With an unfamiliar crowd
     From unique birthing gown
     To the eternal shroud
     I wrote a poem
     In a different rhyme
     It was slow in coming
     I took my time

     -Jehanah-

Walking In The Air

Next Century's Child

I am becoming next century's child
If I live I may go plumb wild
I'll have feral pets... like cats, foxes, and ferrets
And live in the forest in style

I'll build a glass house on a lawn
Where grey mice play and are gone
Feral cats will appear with the neighborhood deer
And curl up in my hut to stay warm

I will paint pictures and call them words
Say them in colors and sing them like birds
I will be sleek and I will be wild
When I shall become next century's child.

-Jehanah-

With Love, Jenna

Hunger

There was miner's lettuce and plaintain

   and dandelion growing
In parks and lawns
   and cracks in the sidewalks
And chamomile and fennel, nasturtium even
Peeking through someone's picket fence

Wild mother earth offered her bounty
But I wandered absent-minded and
   careless of food
Like a dreaming child

Wandering down Haight street
Approached for spare change
But I was fasting
Since I had no spare change anyway
Approached
Reproached
But I laughed
When he said he was hungry

Wild mother earth laughed
As hungrily as a dreaming child
The street opened up
The cornucopia flowed, untended

Memetic Science for Poets

What of memes and photons?
Is there a quantum language?

Having grown up on the Martian Chronicles
and Star Wars, can I expect less from my government
wherever and whatever it may be?

Templar bankers plot with Merovingian rock stars on-line
while Arab grocers hack and complain "No Can Do"
in the streets of Baghdad

Ghosts of Alexandria visit poets in San Francisco
wondering "has the desert arrived yet?"
the answer came "after the haiku is read"
the Mayans are coming, the fat lady will sing

Asperger's geeks are at their computers
creating meme-structures like a fancy spiderweb across the sky.
Earth sails across the photon band
random photons fall together in new patterns
Quantum poetry arranging itself
in gathered response to autistic thought waves

Practitioners of memetic science gather their best rituals to share
their images recall the universal tarot,  the major arcana
we call them shamans, wounded beyond recognition
we disguise them in the garb of poets and architects and musicians.

The newest megameme emerges and spreads.