Monthly Archives: May 2014

There Is No Need To Believe by pd lyons


unknown photographer

unknown photographer

 

What is discovered

is beyond doubt

 

what is discovered

is beyond choice

 

free from duality

is certainty

belief has nothing to do

with what is

 

the teacher shows

the steps

the student takes

the walk

the teacher shows

a way

 

the student who goes

knows

there is no need to believe

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La La, La La La – by pd lyons


 

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La la la la la

I am rolling on the waves
on the waves
on the waves
I am rolling on the waves
far away from shore

The sun is shining not too strong
not too strong
not too strong
The sun is shining not too strong
far away from shore

Happy dolphins guiding me
guiding me
guiding me
Happy dolphins guiding me
far away from shore

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Junko Tabei – women we should know


In front of Tabei, who had already cleared numerous danger spots while also coping with the physical and mental stresses of high-altitude climbing, was an icy, knife-edge ridge forming part of the border of Nepal and China.

She would have to make a downward traverse of this ridge for about 14 or 15 meters — knowing that one mistake would send her plunging 5,000 meters on the northern, Chinese side or down to around 6,400 meters on the Nepalese side, where she could just see her Japanese Women’s Everest Expedition’s Camp II.  http://www.japantimes.co.jp/life/2012/05/27/people/junko-tabei-the-first-woman-atop-the-world/#.U394aoZLuJM

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Junko Tabei is a Japanese mountain-climber who, on May 16, 1975, became the first woman to reach the summit of Mount Everest. Wikipedia

“also the first woman to climb the “Seven Summits”: the highest mountains on seven continents.

 

  • Mount Everest – 29,029 feet – on the border of Tibet and Nepal.
  • Denali (the “Great One” a/k/a Mount McKinley) – 20,320 feet – Alaska – temperature gets down to -40 degrees at night – highest mountain peak in North America.
  • Elbrus – 18,442 feet – an inactive volcano in Russia
  • Aconcagua – 22,841 feet – the Andes, South America.
  • Carstensz Pyramid – 16,023 feet – Indonesia
  • Kilimanjaro – 15,092 feet – Tanzania, Africa.
  • Vinson – 16,050 feet – Antarctica – named for Georgia congressman Carl Vinson, a supporter of Antarctic research

 

https://suite.io/penny-white/2ftw2t9 

I will whisper my heart by pd lyons


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i will whisper my heart

like music

over the secrets of your skin

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Women We Should Know – Elizabeth ” Brave Bessie” Coleman


 

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Born on January 26, 1892 in Atlanta, Texas, Bessie Coleman was one of 13 children to Susan and George Coleman, who both worked as sharcroppers.   http://www.biography.com/people/bessie-coleman-36928#awesm=~oF0BOHRrIMTtVR

 

 

 

 

Elizabeth “Bessie” Coleman (January 26, 1892 – April 30, 1926) was an American civil aviator. She was the first female pilot of African American descent[1] and the first person of African-American descent to hold an international pilot license http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bessie_Coleman

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYYy-dT44

 

bessie-coleman

 

 

 

 

 

Only In My Fantasy, by pd lyons


 

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only in my fantasy

we stay

spoon fed in the darkroom

our bodied stretch

real places

long ago

forgot by all but we few

we fortunate few

known space

known true dark

how could

you of all those

lucky ones who knew

have left

and me,

like any other dope fiend

trail by substitution

as if ever lies could

get me high

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Fore Abbey, by PD Lyons


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Fore Abbey

Whiskered wooden posts
Decorated by bits of rusted star crossed metal
Silhouettes upon the hillsides
Random marks above the weeds
As if graves of unknown beings

Silent but for crows
Tied like rags upon an invisible thread
Suspended ever changing from an ever changing sky
More shades of grey than words I know

And when the sun
Ignites as far as I can see
A brief and brilliant green such as emeralds could only dream
Sure as this November morning makes each breath a smoky prayer
I know this rolling valley is the wherever I should exactly be

Cut stones shifted by anonymous hands
Nameless legacy bequeathed from each to each
Now held by my own
What lingers here for however long

Richer than any fame
Black earth by sparkling pebble beds
Fed by springs that have no end
Remembered by some other unknown soul

All who left their mark upon this land.

 

A version of this appeared in the Irish American Post in 2006. It’s good to be home.

 

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Poetry Reading, by pd lyons


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Poetry Reading

now that i have discovered

an empty heart

i am ready for anything

now that i have learned the fallacy of power

i am ready for anything

now that i know the only time

i am not alone is delusional

i am free

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New Riders At The Palace, by pd lyons


New Riders At The Palace/sunset show

 

New Riders at the Palace. Four dollars fifty cents; Sunset show. Hanging on East Main hour n a half to go. Around the corner by the Shamrock bar, light a joint and walk about. Pass by two guys from California. Walk together for a while passing the joint between us. They go into the Palace Hotel. I stand in line for the doors to open. Hare Krishnas make the rounds up and down the line say Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna and they give you a cookie or something sweet, sometimes give you a book or a booklet cool pictures to bring home and paste up on the wall trippy coloured god-head with many many many blue tinged girls. Turns out the guys from California were in the band one was the drummer and the other played steel or pedal or something I cant remember now cause it’s over forty years gone by. Used to tell people it was Garcia but I don’t know, I mean I didn’t know who they were then so how could I have ever said for sure at any point?

http://

 

 

 

 

 

The Disappeared by pd lyons ( Calliope Nerve Version )


 

 

The Disappeared

Along the lane
Straight down as rain
Without wind
Without sound
Wrapped in briar vines
Emerging posts of bone
As if some ancient mariner
Draws me in a secret un-gloved caress.
I wanted to keep you for myself.
I wanted you to stay, because you went.
But the police,
After further questioning
Came up with ideas all their own
And in so doing, made contact with
The families of the disappeared.
Occasionally,
To men in long wrinkled coats, they speak,
A fog of voices drifting apart,
Before reaching any type of destination.
Taking turns, cast looks around,
As if this really were sea
And answers like shoals of silver fishes lurk
Just beneath the surface.
Careful. Pretending not to notice
How each movement flickers in the lights
As if this really were all some cinematic image
Screened with no one but the actors in the audience.
Their silence magnifies only certain sounds:
Elastic latex snap,
Slicing shovel slaps,
Unsteady cigarette sighs,
Plastic, almost echo, abruptly ending zip.
Believing their expectations to be accurate predictions
They came for something clear and full of meaning,
Something settling and complete,
To find, as if some great surprise,
Only the obvious inescapably revealed.
Unlike them I know you not by what you’ve lost,
But rather by what you’ve brought back.
It was that which drew me
In secret un-gloved caress
And now plays out
Along the landscapes of my every night
And haunts my every morning with regret.
I wanted to touch that forbidden you again.
To trace upon that more secret map
Etched, invisible to the naked eye,
Every line of your journey.
To put my lips to you,
Circling with the tip of my tongue,
So that I’d know, everything.
I wanted to sift your powder through my fingers,
Into that coloured jar covered with a brass cap,
Tucked into my bedside drawer,
Sprinkled, whenever I wanted,
Not just as some aphrodisiac
Or good luck charm across my bed
But so, engendered with bodily fluids
You’d take on some other life
And I’d find out,
Just exactly, what it was, that I’d be thinking
As I lay there in the dust
Of the disappeared.

 

 

 

this version originally published by Muse Thing: The Calliope Nerve http://calliopenerve.blogspot.ie/search/label/PD%20Lyons

 

 

this was published in 2010 by another cool named yet now defunct blog zine. the archives are still “live” on line. you would find a great many darker artists represented there. the editor was very kind to me and of course many others. the poem has to do with what it says which unfortunately is a rather world-wide theme although it does have an Irish slant; so i think that’s enough said. it was probably written in 1998 or so when i had first moved from the USA to Ireland. we were living in an old two-story farm-house in county Cavan, a bit in the middle of no where – our nearest neighbours were the cattle in the fields and the crows nesting in the giant yew trees.

 

may all who journey remember

 

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