The Israel Of My Heart, by pd lyons

condolences to the world and in particular the children regarding the out come of the Israel elections. at least the Israelis have made themselves crystal clear.


The Israel Of My Heart
 
stares like a stranger
sometimes from doorways almost in the rain
sometimes through haloed moonless streets
unable to make peace
unable to articulate
engaged none the less
 the Israel of my heart
flows like tears
through my each and every step

how can I meet such darkness all alone?
it is through weeping not muscle
such chains are broken

dear everybody…. Today by pd lyons

dear everybody…. Today by pd lyons

this is it.
this is life.
LSD a placebo.
religious ecstasy a placebo.
stop looking be seeing.
stop waiting be experiencing.
stop trying be allowing.
this is it.
this IS life.
This is bliss.
get on with it.
see you later the sun is out all across the most amazing world I have ever known…..

every place is a small town needing to be left, by pdlyons

you think you know where you want to go,
unable to know where you are?
  small spaces hold a universe of ache.
leaving is all I’ve ever known,
 
all I am ever able to truly do.
when you are walking down streets
and I no longer do so,
does it mean you are any more there than I am?
does it mean that you’re leaving and mine
some how differ?

we can not fit any more into any space than the universe,
and that too leaves its own ache down it s own street.
all there is, no guide to us
or any one else for that matter.

like some

Micky Corbo hair do

angel wings

tribal dowries

cool tree in yellow back from the end of the year

crows like days between the worlds

all lemoning and impossible to capture.

As Long As Its You, by pd lyons

As Long As Its You, by pd lyons

As Long As Its You
When you breathe it is my name.
When you stare reflected statuesque,
Your own eyes black pools,
Liquid movement synchronize my own.
Who knows me any better?
Naked throat? Beating heart?
You may heal. You may feed.
Whatever you do, as long as its you.

Jenny, by pd lyons as published by The Poetry Warrior 2009

Jenny

my fingers have touched

your face

your razor cut hair

rose bud lips

every square inch of how you define your

slender secret self

vulnerable to love

shielded by the city

defensive diaphragms

nicotine & coffee

shadow sister

manhattan monochromed & cool

believing anything was possible we were the same

beneath warm tones of old bones

pictures of girls and oceans

first born anxiety

visitation eased by distance

horizons met and thus reset

soft steady ache like something summer upon green lawns

time to talk in silence

—

 

In 2009 this poem appeared in :

The Poetry Warrior - The Real Poet’s Ezine.

www.thepoetrywarrior.com

Thank you to Abigail Beaudelle editor.

Photography by pd lyons :

1) artist unknown

2) citrus in black iron

True Democracy & Boomerz by pd lyons

See I was taught that democracy takes courage. The courage to allow the rights of the other. Not only their right to exist but their rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That it takes democratic courage to allow the other a voice, a choice, a privacy, an equality.

The belief that majority rules is erroneous with regards  to true democracy. Otherwise everything depends on the personal belief of the many. This is only might makes right, this is not democracy. Democracy is the courage of all to allow the human and civil rights of all.

The question we should be asking people is – do you really want to live in a country where the your rights and the rights of others may justifiably be revoked every time the majority demographic shifts?

Today when I look at my country that’s what I  see. Rather than the nurturing of courage, it seems to perpetuate the right to bully, the right to instill fear, the right to make money at all costs, the right of might – with no regard for the amount of misery, tragedy, or  instability it causes  its own citizens or the rest of world.

It has always taken extreme courage to be democratic. It still does.


 

Boomerz

I live only in memory
The day to day does not inspire me
I only want to sit here think about what used to be.

Here only in my own home.

 Locked doors, paid taxes, insurance policies, protect me.
TV,  petrol chemicals, nourish me.

People not like me outrage me.

Boomerz – from  Caribu & Sister Stones

ISBN:     9781905425907

Published by Lapwing Belfast

Photos by pd lyons

How The Woman Alone Brought Rain To The Island, by pd lyons

mix media by morgan lyons

~

What if the Rainbow Hunters

Reached down to her,

There in the crevice of fresh water.

Wouldn’t their grass wrapped hands

Protect her?

And the children,

What if they stood by her

In the crevice of clear water.

Couldn’t their songs disguise her?

What about the crazy ones?

What if they ran in mixed up circles around her

There by the crevice of fresh water.

Wouldn’t their waggling red hairs

Conceal her?

And the High Priest,

What if he were to return, fulfill the ancient legend,

Blessing her

There in the crevice of clear water.

Wouldn’t his centuries of prayers

Absolve her

From the wrath,

From the armed bow wrath.

From the arrow,

From the pinning arrow,

Of the warrior,

Of the sun.

~

from: Searches For Magic by PD Lyons, Belfast Lapwing, 2001,

ISBN 1 898472 59 9