Random Poems

Etching

Worn, torn… by desires
everyone etching demands
back onto my soul
Ripping vinyl tunes of desire
scratching my soul
till I play their tune

Records break,
Souls bend
I only break if…
I am not being my own song

Casey Kochmer August 2005

Juggling Fire of Change

Risking everything that I am
to become myself

Juggling balls of fire
where the fire is my own spirit

Transformation is never easy
Watching who you are crumble
While growing into the wonder of something new

Gifts to Strangers – A Story About Poems

March 23, 2006

Today I was playing about, talking to strangers, and making some people laugh. Some people were giving me space as they thought I was strange. Since I was talking to strangers, well that seems to be considered to be strange here in Richmond. Some people were enjoying my free-form style of trying to write a new poem on the fly, just rolling from person to meandering in the street back to joking around with someone else in the hotel elevators, back to the streets to talk to more people. It was a chaotic flow in just being bounced about by the whims of what passed on by. My day started me to think more seriously about poetry.

I started to reflect upon how many poems I have handed out over the past few years, how many smiles, I have given to people lost in a dark moment.

It felt wonderful to realize I have done it so often that I have lost track of it all.

To live is to roll in the tides of emotions. It’s nice to give comfort and help others laugh in the tumbling about of their life.

Moving Across the Days

Crying alone
emotional jambalaya tumbling out.

Why? How can I explain:
the sadness, the joy, the depression, the wonder.
These tears blend as a beaten mixture now.
Their taste not of any one ingredient.

Crying alone
each tear lightens my soul.

One day I will fly
free falling to weightlessness.

Casey – April 19, 2006

Why explain? Just experience rolling into yourself and unfolding again. Helping someone isn’t to stop the tears. Water is truth. Let it flow to where it needs to go. Be the rain of your life.

Today, Tomorrow, Wotever

Watching the streets

Snippets of passing:
“But she only took 25 years to… listen…”

Angles of Gait:
Leg bones working as crooked stilts,
jammed crosswise, in her square framed hips.

Then he floats by…
Items glued about on a body
in a carnival recycling a thousand colors
of plastic homelessness.
Clear fan blade on the back of his bicycle,
… spinning, so slowly…
pushing downhill on down the road

Glances of strangers
never to know
where they will go.

Life is its own mirror.

Casey May 4, 2006


I was in Vermont, eating at a street cafe, watching life pass by. Wot am I doing? I will be flying back to Olympia tomorrow and then meandering elsewhere. Yah I know, wotever…

Kites

Living
My fingers as brushes
painting a life
in movement, in action
as me.

My calling: is to climb winding sky stairs.
To taste distant stars, the night, the day
all mixing to a single incoming scent.
As an inrushing breath reminds me:
I am ascending only within myself.

Exhaling…

To be the wind… is to be free,
despite others trying to tie me
Upon kite strings…
back down to the ground.

The sky is my canvas.
Setting loose, flowing with what comes forth.
Discovering greatness

is coloring outside the lines
of being tangled in one’s roots.

 

Casey – July 2006

I talked with a breeze, and these were the words that echoed back.

Dragon Kite

Now

To lose everything I was
To become everything I can be

To just live now.

Casey September 19, 2006


Been pondering this poem I wrote the other day.

Life is change; our fire flickers about everywhere. I have changed so much, yet my nature stays the same: always changing to be myself 🙂

I wouldn’t “change” a thing of my life: even as it shifts to something ever new. For all aspects: the bad, for all the wonder, for the sadness, for the smiles, for the pain, for the bliss, for the mistakes, for the peace.

At least I am myself thru it all.

It’s a matter of perspective, and that’s why I am a magician: I embrace the changes of living itself to be my magic.

Speaking Out and Spoken Word

Poetry
Personal Tao
Poetry of Loy Ching-Yuen
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