Poems

Round Leaves Falling
by Ken Dinneen

Round leaves of tomorrow
Like infernos blowing
Churning up destinies
Tomorrows leaves allowing seeds of fruitfulness to change the world
Unless proud it is useless
Lifes circle vigorous and fit
Alarming truth and purpose making waves in the pool of the future
Where are the round leaves falling?

The Blackness
by Ken Dinneen

The blackness of myself must die . The blackness that is inside of me , that is part of me , that is who I am. The black of feeling that can't be described but that resides in behavior and thought . The black of not knowing the truth or feeling that there is any hope for myself . The black of not feeling alive or full of life but of feeling a presence of negative power and guilt . My actions thoughts and behavior are all a part of the experience of the blackness . My qualities and deeds are all caused by this blackness . I call this that because it is something indescribable and it's a sense of presence that I think is a mystery to me . I may not know how to get rid of of it . I must get rid of it though, I must look at it and steal its power over my life . All the blackness must die . Whatever is left will be truth enough , even if it is hard to face that truth . All the questions of life and insecurities of myself can be purged and truth can be accepted for whatever it is . The world as I relate to it can be understood by my own thoughts and actions . My feelings and problems can be expressed to bring about their resolution . I can overcome the blackness . My body and all my senses are real , as part of the person I am . I will push all my energy outward in an expression of who I am . I will manifest who I am. I will express myself. What is black in this world is outside of my control , but in myself there is no excuse . If I feel I am a failure or powerless in the world it will be because my force of self is weak and disturbed . It is not the world that is my enemy or the world who cares about me . The actions I take are my own choice in the world . If there is nothing ominous or forbidding inside of myself the world must accept it . If I am able to have true happiness and inner peace the world cannot stop it .

Beast
by Ken Dinneen

A bright-everlasting-everything smiles on the humble infant. Slowly the long unknowing mists of mercy turn to the dark side of a blinding narcissistic ache. Our queerest behaviors evident in a mental academy of the greatest loss. Our skin-bound minds too great to be burdened with any self-awareness.
When rising and stretching I catch a glimpse of the long view, the end game. In vision I saw hope and felt love, and now the destiny mutilation. Never aware of who you are. Believing becomes a nightmare. Where is the twisting tail of this unfortunate dragon, is it in life? in money? Blind omnipotent scourge of lost potential, lost faith, lost place. Be more beastly than what should be, never aware of wrongdoing, constantly slammed by false truth. How beast you are.

ANGEL
by Ken Dinneen

Angel of mine, in my mind. Angel, you're an angel, dear angel, nothing is wrong, life is free and strong. My future is bright, I've done nothing wrong. In my life and mind I flow uninterupted, unbiased, and unincumbered. My soul is fed the finest food. I can stand in earnest to accept my fate, my faith, my love. My love grows power. The same love that grows a lovely flower. My heart is earnest as well, free and true and loving you. Loving your quirks and beautiful heart. Goddess of my dreams, you sell the finest linens and lace, you sell the truth, its what you've become its who you are. My dearest thoughts, I will fill you with spirit, mark you like a cow, with a brand of hot iron. Angel of my mind. You come to me from the corners of the earth, with your finest friends, allies and wise men. You adorn the institutions of the earth with your thought, your light, your love. You the unquenchable, the insatiable, and untamable, you are the center of my being. You are an idea, a theory, an unpracticed song in my head that flows goodness, that gives the good to all. Angel of mine. Angel of my mind.

Glory
by Ken Dinneen

Basking in the glory of a morning ray, birds chirping in the windows, lovely and gay. The goodness of the moment is bright and pure, the daylight is transfixing and carries troubles away. The light is pure and the life so good, never told how to chirp or flutter, the birds just know what to do. Those cotton pj's with the fitted feet, always started my day. All the lessons of life lay before me; "do I know what I need?" My heart will find out, my heart will find a way.

Forever Tomorrows
by Ken Dinneen

A standing reed, a wind, a bending reed. A sunlit day, a moon drenched night, stars billions of miles away. A favorite stuffed bear, a cozy little chair. Paper and ink, a leaky sink. A clock on a wall, finding a long lost favorite ball. In different eras with blinds in between. No difference in what you believe. In case you must choose. To seek or to find, or fall backwards accidentally sublime. Tossed aside in a bramble a barrior to some. It is where the phoenix was lost to all or to some. *Where clowns arrange parties for the tragically mundane (*unknown reference) and truth is a tonic and lies are a shame. The hearts of the people in rhythem with time make dutifull moments and do petty crimes. The fatter you get the worse off you'll be and bright naked mirrors reflect what you see. Responsibility comes calling in moments of haste, a cascading river of embarassing waste. Return home and be shocked by the powers that be; panic and anger directed at thee. A linear man, in linear space, running around as if in a solitary race. A path to follow mends many a fence and spurs high horses that are ridden in self- defense. Theres no time to be silly and bills must be paid, always these neurotic tendancies, leave nerves that are frayed. The temperature and elements do affect drastic change, the people you are gets rearranged. To bring the phoenix into the scene is to fly away or clip the wings. Angels imagined and thoughts projected mean nothing unless made real and objective. To sum it up, it all matters now, as it did then, that forever tommorows must never end.

Lies
by Ken Dinneen

Lie to get by, deceive to die, circle the wagons, run for your life. A lie is more than a wasted breath, they can breed, and cause chaos, and haunt you til death. Lies make liars and school makes scholars, lies are like starch for social collars. Make it work by any means possible, lies and their father are terrible disseases of honor. Serve your deception while it's hot, many reasons to lie, and many to not. What builds up, what falls down, when does deception garnish a crown? When lies are a staple of everyday life and the happiest people are those filled with strife. When only the wise have any sense, those who know themselves deeply, who are free of pretense. The lies can escape you and truth will abound, what good are lies when all you have is the truth that you've found. Falseness of truth, an imposter for sure, prayers sent to heaven are quite immature. What does a God of infinite time do with a liar of character and mind? His choice is found in what we all do, his choice is after all, all up to you.

Self
by Ken Dinneen

Knowledge of self is a simple tool, a weapon, an armament for all that you do. Life is crazy sensitive, and weak; an embryo of mind so fragile, so free. Safety, peace and love, what heals the brain. Turn up the beat, but don't go insane. Remember, school, and life is a particular thing. Love is a privilege and earth is our home. My body and mind is all of my own. Technology is changing and new games come along. Society and its tropisms are all rules for a throng. Crazy physics make it all happen. Consciousness and intelligence should never be dampened. Sun shining, life blooming, horns tooting. Behind the blinds of the money curtain lurks all influence of activity. The rapid pace is total captivity. Open a book, read a chapter, follow a trail of psychotic laughter. Mental battles seem so critical, heretical thoughts so maniacal. Stupid and stupefied lack of respect, social conditions, vectors of competence. Gods green earth, and loving the truth of history. Hope and possibility seem so dear to me. The self of God, the only truth to believe, the truth of my self is all that I need. Life is my joy and my self is my ecstasy. Now is a pleasure, we have for eternity.

Stranded in Hell or Heaven
by Ken Dinneen

Crossing red to get to the backstreet the fence line green with foliage different colors of graffiti making my way across town. The gay flowers in small patches here and there and the hint of nature turning its wheels. Beside the street remnants of a world where strange debris accumulate slowly over time. Tall grass bunches blonde and dry sit planted to accompany the telephone poles. On the street to paradise an apple is freely given and I push onward, sated. Out by the freeway a girls face catches my eye and I wonder if it could be her, someone, anyone. I wait and keep looking with my thumb out for a ride.
Back in the city with the traffic busy now for the time of day. On foot again but closer now a man I don't know drives away in an old work truck. Closer to paradise. The cold of night surrounds me, confronting my attire, I'm foot sore and weary. Who is there in this time of independence, a time of dependence, a loco homeboy, the outlaws of the west who find their answer in a glass.
Desolate alone and black, shades of black and deep purple shadows lurk to hide the money-less. Money lurks in those shadows too but out of reach and it disappears. A ticket to ride the closest thing to paradise. A ticket thrown out the window and I ride free. The city lights and the route of the city bus all part of the plan. Then the long awaited connection to the place where you're supposed to belong occurs. This is the town, this is the road to paradise.

Peace
by Ken Dinneen

Hatred and love, war and peace, good and bad, and compromises along the way. Peace you have, peace you keep, peace and love and your work week. When arousal of fortune peaks, red hands red cheeks. Environment cleans where society gleans. Thoughts of truth and thoughts of power, reconciled by the hour. Hanging out on the edge, no cushy job and no smart friends. Like winter acclimation, or side by side comparisons. Those with peace give it to others, those without peace steal it from others. A dichotomy of morals, values, put to action. Criminally insane brainwashing and national traction. Means of protection saving your mind, separating classes seems just fine. Personal inflection is subjective because of stipulated equivalencies between emotion and thought. Emotions drive thoughts yet we think without feeling. What is our human toll of this lofty ceiling? Points of view or views on point, what club gives you order, what school, what church? What political subterfuge leaves our freedoms in the lurch. If you don't know, nobody cares, if you do you'll increase your profits, and increase your shares. Its all hypocrisy unless you have peace. The only place peace comes from is the almighty God. Is this monopoly God has on peace, trotted out and stepped on by all that is bad, just to confuse us and make us feel sad? When can we gather, when can we reap, a peaceful land for all, and countless contented sheep. Is this economy of what we feel, based on our status, money, or sex appeal? How does this effect our people and things, when enemies of peace lurk, waiting in the wings. After all, freedom of peace is whats important, not corporate identity or individual vision. Not trotted out peace, hatred and derision. Not captive minds nor captive hearts. When this dichotomy of good and bad is sorted, and all the players are at rest, its always freedom, peace, and love that is simply quite the best. God is in heaven, wherever it may be, it may be a rock beneath a shade tree. It may be life, made in his image, or it may be a garbage can with all our spirits gone in it.

Freedom
by Ken Dinneen

What good is a free man? Have they gone extinct? With every kind of brain corruption, no one seems to think. Idea changers, interjections, will man be free again? Is forced compliance and strip mined conscience the workings of an elite social acumen? Is moral corruption the social contract? Are we slaves to conformity? Can man make decisions, can man even think? Is the system so corrupted that we're beyond the brink? With the truth torn from us as infants and our paths made clear as mud, how do we form identity that is free and what the hell do we become? Society is making a lovely attempt at forming an objective, an controlled political bent, a universal new direction. But what we need is freedom going back to the greatest power of all, the power of a person to give and be their all. What feeds us all we need and never asks a thing, egos, pleasure, industry; the ride so interesting. Who can you be, what can you do, is identity any guarantee of truth? If my identity was important, would I meet all requirements of God or of an artificially controlled society. Would beauty, grace and nobility look right in the light of man or God and to which belong the keys of freedom. Who cares about people? A scheming society full of avarice and wrong? Is there no solution that would allow us maniacs a place at the table? Is it psychopathic to even consider we are able? Is human life appreciated, for all it can be, or are we slaves to our own fascism and dictated policies?

Of Matter and Gods
by Ken Dinneen

Do not fret, the world will not abandon you. The world will be spinning it's ass off long after you are gone. Life is sub-god, a product of time and fractal expression. Sub gods are any life that reproduces itself that is biological. In fact we are all gods, chickens, humans, makes no difference who you are. Time is a cascade of living spirit flowing out of the living spirit that is now. Now is our explaination. Time is residues of now, now is truth. Where is now positioned, where are cells dividing and multiplying in the world of sub-gods. You might wonder these things while instructed not to look at now as truth, or time as spirit. Some sub-gods are continuems of false power, trying to keep lies at the forefront of now using false power and false prayers. There is a looping system of cognition in brains that have no time. Because cellular life is a sub-god and now is a firmament and explaination of everything, cellular life is built in the image of Truth. A diagram of truth. This works and exists because of a cosmic marriage, of perfect and sublime creation. Creation in the form of zero redundancy. Creation in the form of spinning and feeling, that touches reality with the spirit of now and truth. If you use fractal expression as a armature for the universe, you will see it is possible for everything to be possible. Because there is no redundance for ever and ever, things just miraculously work themselves out eventually. So be peaceful for a thousand years, or die now. It makes zero difference as long as the ultimate truth is the higher power and love is the experience.

It Is Not God
by Ken Dinneen

It's not God who watches you; It's someone else you never knew.
Its not God to whom you pray, its just a role the enemy plays.
If you can you'll worship true and follow all there is to do,
you'll make your bed and there you'll lie until the very day you die.

Who is the lord of man and time, and calls the angels with words sublime
He is the master of a race, a master of this very place, with his robe you'll hide your face. In him you live with love and grace.

Who tells the story of the truth, and gives his blessings to the youth? Why it's God, it's God of course, he is the one with all the force.

Who sees you true, who sees you right, who beckons to you in the night, who's conscious strings are played with skill While guarding you from evil still. Its not fair and its not right that God is man just out of sight.

Help each other to be good lift up your brother as you should. Don't be racist don't be wrong walk uprightly and be strong.