Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile, the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
Are moving across the landscapes,
Over the prairies and the deep trees, The mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile, the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, Are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
The world offers itself to your imagination,
Calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting,
Over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

== by Mary Oliver

Im Dyin Lord

They call it depression
In the looking glass
I do not know
I call it the path

Emotional healing
And I can’t complain
I’m looking up ahead
An approaching train

It stops to get me
And I climb aboard
It takes me down
To the place that I’m…

Dying Lord
I’m dying Lord
Said I’m dying Lord

I’m Dying Lord
Emotional upheaval
Said I’m dying Lord

© 2015 Martin H Wilde

THE PLAYER OF THE VOID

The Owl flies at night

Brings good luck to the player of the void

(Owl Song)

 

If you go where no man goes

You find what no man finds

He’s moving on like an Owl in the night

The player of the void

 

He sees at night, a diamond shining bright

The player of the void

He falls to the Earth, to kiss it on the lips

Then soars back to the sky

 

You’re here I know, been here all my life, waiting by the door

To the land of the shining silver plain, on the other side

 

He knows his pain is the cracking of his shell

And faces night with day

To face the dark with faith and grace

To live the passion play

 

He flies at night

The player of the void

And waits outside my door

© 1997 Martin H. Wilde

NIGHTRAIN

Night train calls my name, from the dark,

It ain’t always been that way, but it’s that way now

She ain’t never coming back,

Lord she’s gone

 

And it feels so sad, you ain’t coming back,

And it seems so sad, you ain’t coming back

 

Dark voice cries my name,

Calling Marty look, look see, look feel,

Tugging’ on my skin like a hook in a fish

Lord, what you done to me?

Oh, babe, you’re never coming back, you’re gone

 

And it feels so sad, you ain’t coming back,

And it seems so sad, you ain’t coming back

 

Night train calls my name, wet, out of the dark,

Down that tunnel where, the light is shining, coming fast my way

She ain’t coming back, she gone!

 

Lord it feels so sad, you ain’t coming back,

And it seems so sad, you ain’t coming back

 

 

© 1998 Martin H. Wilde

THIS GHOST I AM

I took off from this place
Like a wanted man
I set out to put a face
On the this ghost I am

I crossed three thousand miles
Over the days I ran
I drove on forever
Into the barren lands

I tried to drive away
The addiction that im in
I tried to breath substance
Into this ghost I am

I bathed in down home culture
Big Easy in the Treme
Visited the future
At a Hooters in Meterie

I ate Mexican in Hondo
Watched Mustangs on the Pecos
Talk with a kid from Marfa
At a group home in El Paso

I tried to drive away
The addiction that im in
I tried to breath substance
Into this ghost I am

© 2016 Martin H. Wilde

Not Alone

He told me

“Son, its lonely on the path”

This, after I shared with him

My terror at the possibility

Of being destroyed

 

He told me

“We have fear, because we have no power.

The closest thing to power is choice

As our awareness broadens with time

It informs our choices more completely”

 

I got off the phone and thought

Thank God for that man

I am not alone.

 

In memory of “Jim”

(James Marvin Gordon, November 17, 1935-August 22, 2011)

© 2016 Martin H. Wilde

BIX

Alone in a mist, the man and his horn, head down

The sun beams are near; the Gin will be Frankie’s in town

Walk on a slant, a capsule for you and your baby

You done this before, you’ll make it this time, you say

 

The peak is so close, you touched it before

You’re almost there now, it’s sitting behind the next door

The stage is your friend, when it’s alive, you shine

But it can turn, alien, lost, high and dry

 

Out here adrift, you hope for the magic to come

You think back again, the times you said you were done

The people, they smile, like creatures you know from somewhere

Impending doom, a lamb in the black demon’s fair

 

Get me through this, I’ll make good my time

I’ll carry milk and honey, in that old nursery rhyme

The sickness is strong, twenty-seven years’ old

Older than sunshine, I’m afraid I will fold

 

I remember Daddy’s voice, the Bacon and Eggs

I feel the fear like Satan, and I whimper and beg

A minute of reprieve, anything for my life

Twenty-seven years old, Bix Beiderbecke died

 

Alone in a mist, the man and his life, head down

The smoke in the room, AA meeting in town

Walk on today, a capsule for you and your baby

You done this before, you’ll make it this time, you say

 

© 1993 Martin H. Wilde

MIRACLE MILE

Darkness all around me like a Crocodile
I’ve seen it all my life (it only smiles)
Look to the light within to keep it at bay
“The journey’s within” they always say

I call her on the telephone, hoping that she’s home
Her eyes stare through me, green arrows down my spine
Like a cat watching a rabbit from a fence
Always there in time….

Walking on the miracle mile again
Walking on the miracle mile again
Walking on the miracle mile again, like an English boy
Walking on the miracle mile again

Shove off he says, I’ll catch you
I love you, you know I trust you
You’re all I want; you’re all I am
I’ll lay here in this haze like I am

Like a staircase winding out of sight (I’m looking at heaven’s door)
Don’t hear Daddy’s footsteps anymore
Laying on the floor in a drunken stupor
On the bottom step…(I know)

I’m walking on the miracle mile again
Banging on the miracle mile again
Walking on the miracle mile again
Looking for you like a long lost friend

A street I’ve been on long before
Streams of humanity, traffic signals pushing through
I’m in mauling, scrawling, crawling, pawing
War-torn human hell

A woman cries, She’s crying out my name
But I’m too far away to talk to her
I see her down a gentle grade, a shiny sparkling surface
Like a slide to hell, soaked in rain… (and I set out)

Walking on the miracle mile again
She’s standing there waving to me like a long lost friend
Don’t know what it means, don’t think I care
I keep walking on down the miracle mile again

Walking on the miracle mile again
She’s screaming to me like a long lost friend
Sitting on a milk crate selling all her wares
To anyone who works and can pay the price

I remember you, I trust you, I love you
You’re all I am, all I want, it’s always been
Like a flashlight in a cave, outside heavens gate
Oh, darkness separate…

Have another cup of coffee in the morning
Then go on back to bed……

© 1993 Martin H. Wilde