Bleak Winter

[Baut Images: Winter Collage]

Oh, bleak Winter,

From where have you come

To taunt us with bygone days

Of snowfields in the sun.

Bleak Winter with gray skies.

Branches scratching the Light

From out the day

And into night.

Bleak Winter with little snow.

A travesty of a season

Carved in ashes

For no reason.

Bleak Winter with perfidious weather.

Leaving us to ponder

Where Jack Frost has gone

In a mood so very somber.

Bleak Winter like humankind.

Bereft of integrity

Forgotten values

Living the life of a banditti.

Oh, bleak Winter,

The tombstone cracks

Under the very pressure

Of a single snowflake's track.

2012 Roger Allen Baut

"To every life a light that shines,

To every heart a beat that's true."

The Great Game

Baut Images: The Iron Mask

Call a spade, a spade.
A club, a club.
A heart, a heart,
And a diamond, a diamond.

A spade, to dig your grave.
A club, to beat your wife.
A heart, to rend and wound.
And a diamond, made from blood.

And so it is
You play the great game!
The great game of Poker,
Whilst trying to outsmart one another,
And pretend, to be friends, when you're not.

Petty deceivers, most of all,
As you dance and piroette for wall streeters.
Smile and nod for politicos,
And skip and jump for the corporates;
Who rape you whilst you sleep.

Liars!
Fake friends!
Cheaters!
Poisoners!
You know who you are!

Duplicitous humankind.
You have sown the seeds
Of your own destruction.
So, go on and play your games,
Just know you're already the loser.

Call a spade, a spade.
A club, a club.
A heart, a heart,
And a diamond, a diamond.

Kali reigns supreme!

Roger Allen Baut

"Blessed is he that reads aloud the Word of the Prophesy"

Winter Solstice



Baut Images: Sudden Snow


Sudden snow.
A pause.
An inhalation.
Waiting.
Watching.
The planet stirs.
Solar storm warning.

Winter Solstice.
Ice knives fly.
Too late.
No cover.
Homeland insecurity.
Fear merchants.
No recompense for the rich.

Sudden snow.
A pause.
An exhalation.
St. Vitus dances.
Bankers leap from windows.
Jeremiah reads Lamentations.
The city lays deserted.

Roger Allen Baut

Who will Mourn for America?

[Baut Images: Liberty Forsaken]



Who will mourn for America?

Who will take the time to contemplate

All she's been in the past?

Her freedoms, lands and opportunities,

That made her a diamond amongst lands.

Who will mourn for America?

Who will think to consider

Her Bill of Rights and Constitution?

Written from the needs of a people,

Who refused taxation from a crown.

Who will mourn for America?

Who will remember her greatness

And Lady Liberty with torch held high?

Who welcomed the many, to a land

Of vast plains, great lakes, and opportunity.

Who will mourn for America?

Who can, even now, see the blight,

That has descended upon her lands?

The taint of greed, lust for power and wealth,

Has infected her from heart to hand.

I will mourn for America!

I will spend time at her shrine,

Reflecting on the promise of hope for all peoples!

Burning pine and white sage on her altars,

And casting the ashes, on her oil soaked sands.

Roger Allen Baut

"...Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth,
None of them along the line, know what any of it is worth...

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view,

While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too..."

Seeds of Insanity

[Baut Images: Shattered Dreams]

They say it all started

when Cain slew Abel,

and the seeds of insanity were sown.

For who of a sane mind

would kill another,

and not even think it was wrong.

Then came the long march

of death and destruction

from Babylon to Egypt, then Rome.

Mighty Rome took it further

through conquest and legions;

by burning and salting the ground.

But empires rise, and empires fall,

as it seems they so often do,

and with avarice friend, build they tombs.

Then look to religions,

saving souls with fools gold;

shadow empires amongst all the rest.

Priestly travelers call

with their banners unfurled,

and a sword hung close at the hip.

Yes, they say it all started

when Cain slew Abel,

now those seeds have all fully grown.

Roger Allen Baut

This is once again in 'triplet' form of image, poem and music video.

Rend the Wounded Sky: Version 2

[Baut Images: Rend the Wounded Sky II]

Sharply castigating the sky,

The sharpened thistle's spears

Strike upward at the thinkening clouds.

Dark swords against the gray,

They slash and tear

And rend the wounded sky.

Lightning crackles downward,

Striking the thistle's swords

As blood rain falls on unhallowed ground.

These are the days,

That have been prophesized

When the land is torn asunder.

The battle in nature has begun,

A last desperate hope

To restore balance on Planet Earth.

Roger Allen Baut



Please note: This is in 'triplet' form of image, poem and music video.

Destiny...

Rend the Wounded Sky

[Baut images: Rend the Wounded Sky]

Sharply castigating the sky,

The deadly thistle pod spears

Stab upward at the thickening clouds.

Dark swords against the gray,

They slash and tear

And rend the wounded sky.

Green lightening crackles downward,

Attacking the thistle swords

As blood rain falls pelting unhallowed ground.

The battle in nature has begun,

In a last desperate hope

Of bringing balance back to Earth.

Roger Allen Baut

Please note: This is once again in 'triplet' form of image, poem and song.

listen...the prophesy...

from the Delerium CD Syrophenikan

Dark Skies

[Baut Images: Dark Skies]

Dark the skies.

Dark the clouds.

Dark the Age.

Dark the thoughts.

Dark the leaders.

All the darkness

One could want!

Spawned

By witch hunts,

Inquisitions,

Persecutions,

Corruption,

Greed,

Intolerance,

Torture,

Abuse,

Ignorance,

Bigotry,

And Wars.

Dark the leaders.

Dark the thoughts.

Dark the Age.

Dark the clouds.

Dark the skies.

Roger Allen Baut

and yet...

"Don't let

The eyes of sadness

Reflect on

Your inner soul

Let the Light shine through

Let the Light shine.

And deliver you through

The passages of life."

Delerium

I Hear Atlantis Weeping...

[Baut Images:  Atlantean Dreams]

I hear Atlantis weeping for her lost, lost Summer children,
Who having cast her aside for brighter gems and toys;
Left her to die alone on her once proud beaches.

Hear not her cries for help!
See not her withering lands, and forests, and streams,
Littered with the refuse of Man.

Hear O Ye People, hear the sighs of once fair Atlantis,
Hear her cries, as they ply the winds along Pacific Coast Highway,
And as she laments her fallen Summer children.

Children who see naught, but their own selfish needs.
See not the suffering of their brothers and sisters,
And the hungry and homeless roaming in-between.

Hear her now in the voices of approaching Autumn leaves,
Falling, ever falling from the hair of the fallen Summer children;
Lost in their food, and drink, and greed.

Children who now waste away in their hazy dreams,
Tossing and turning, and needing more and more;
Crying in eternities non-time, "Come back, come back again!"

I hear Atlantis weeping...
Lost Summer children...
Who cast her aside...
Left her to die alone...
On her once proud beaches...
Come back, come back again...

Roger Allen Baut
It's Almost Full Moon...

Note: This poetic art form consists of an image, poem and music video to lend it a 3-tiered/dimensional aspect to the work. Please consider all three parts when viewing this work. Thank-you! ☺

The Buckeye Confesses

[Baut Images: Buckeye Butterfly]

I must confess, O Son of Man,
I am merely a buckeye butterfly.

Once upon a time, I know,

The air was free from exhaust.

Who sails upon the summer breeze,

Loving all the lands that I see.

For once upon a time, I know,

The grasses were pesticide free.

And while flitting from flower to flower,

Ive seen the results of your power.

And once upon a time, I know,

The water ran free from your chemicals.

Watching my kin growing fewer and fewer,

As I felt the pain like a skewer.

And, I must confess, O Son of Man,

Much damage has been done at your hand.

Once upon a time...

Once upon a...

Once...

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

...and a big thank you Natasha for being you, and all that you do! ☺

Requiem for One Stop Poetry

[Baut Images: Ecolo]

ODE

We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams,--
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers,
Of the world for ever, it seems.

Arthur O'Shaughnessy
(Initial lines)

As I awoke this morning, I felt very motivated to write this blog about One Stop Poetry (OSP) since I had participated in some of it's activities; namely One Shot Wednesday and One Shoot Sunday. I had also been interviewed by Adam on one occasion, and with Chris on another, with some of my photographic images being shown, along with one image that was  used in the Sunday challenge. What a great and positive experience that was!

The following are some of my personal sentiments regarding OSP:

• One of my primary beliefs is that our species, if it is going to survive, is going to need to bring people together, and work for the mutual benefit of everyone. Our forefathers knew this, when they said, "United we stand, divided we fall."

• This, indeed, is what I saw in OSP. People working together for the benefit of all participants and co-founders alike. To me, OSP brought bright and talented individuals together and provided an online experience that addressed the several aspects of the Arts.

• It was absolutely amazing to see how these Arts were presented, and that presentation must have been pretty darn good to pull me in. Especially, since I'm one of those rather selective individuals about what I do, or participate in. I look for quality, and I do mean high quality, and OSP manifested that!

• Everything about OSP was a cut above anything else I had seen regarding the Arts. Pages, layout, graphics, images, Mr. Linky (methinks) for participants to link their sites to an activity, programming, et cetera, was literally TOP OF THE LINE! Whomever did all of this work (and I think I have an idea of who it was) certainly should have been given more than a Shorty; preferably an Emmy and a cash bonus in gold; not paper!

• As I participated with OSP, I became acquainted with, and was fortunate enough to interect with some very extraordinary artists and a few of the co-founders associated with it. I really enjoyed this intereaction, as visiting their sites expanded my insight into how some of them presented their work, and how they did things. I also appreciated comments that were made from other participants and co-founders, when I wrote a poem for one of the events. I found the comments to be a wonderful tool to help me take a second look at what I had written or presented.

• So, it was, I felt a bit of sadness when I first heard about the departure of co-founders, and then to learn later on, that others were leaving too; especially since OSP had only recently celebrated it's one year anniversary. One short year, and so much accomplished. One short year and a concept that was so very much needed in today's materialistic and tired society. One short year and a model that is hopefully an inspiration to others. One short year and a Shorty for a job well done for the co-founders.

• To Adam, Peter, Leslie, Brian and Claudia, Chris, Gay and Jessica, some of you I know a bit better than others. I want to say to each of you that I am sure your efforts with OSP have touched the minds, hearts and lives of more people than you can ever imagine; I know it did mine! And, in touching those lives you have made a difference in them, and I am certain it is a positive difference.

• So a BIG personal "Thank you," is in order to each one of you, for giving me the opportunity to encounter One Stop Poetry! The path each of us travels is often a "pathless path" whether we realize it or not, but that path takes all of us to the same place at journey's end.

• FINAL THOUGHT: The sad thing is, that I do not feel One Stop Poetry had to end when it did! I think there were some other dynamics involved that brought OSP to its conclusion. There were enough people involved who could have carried on the torch of OSP, even if some other individuals didn't want to. OSP could have continued bringing people together for the benefit of the Arts and people everywhere...Think about it...Did OSP really have to end so abruptly? And why does it seem that our species keeps doing this sort of thing to itself...over and over and over...But it is over...sad...Sayonara to One Stop Poetry. Perhaps Sayanora to Homo sapiens..."The moving finger writes, and then moves on." Kahlil Gibran.

"For each age is a dream that is dying,

Or one that is coming to birth."

Arthur O'Shaughnessy

Roger Allen Baut ☺



Quietude

[Baut Images: Sunstained Warrior]

Quietude.

I see you sleeping.

Physically,

Yet, a traveler

In other lands;

In other realms.

Quietude.

A silence and peace surrounds you.

Angelic,

Yet, still human

With a dozen frailties;

Will a million perfections.

Quietude.

Your wisdom veiled by the ages.

Buddhic,

As you lie upon the lotus

Opening the incarnation;

Opening the kaleidoscoped eye.

Quietude.

The day awakens about you.

Light,

Filtering through gold-green leaves

Upon the warm broad meadow;

Upon the sunstained warrior.

Roger Allen Baut

Hidden and Revealed

[Image: Adam Romanowicz]

Hidden and revealed are the secrets of life.

Each of us searching our lives and selves

To find the answers to the mystery

That lies behind the door of our mind and soul.

A flower of windmists, a foggy day, a drop of dew,

An amber afternoon in October, a summer's night,

And a winter's day. All hold the precious answers

We are looking for, if we but only look within,

And see with our mind's eye.

Hidden and revealed are the secrets of life.

Each of us holding within the essence of truth,

And a spark of the Divine;

That lie behind the door of our mind and soul.

Roger Allen Baut

It Happened While...

[Image: Chris Galford]

Dusting the crop

Of harvested featherheads

Icarus pondered

On the abstraction

Of indesolate spheres of incandescense;

Burning brightly, in the Autumnal candles

Of forest delights.

Condescending the metachimes of clearessence

He speculated on the matters of improvisation

In spectral meanderings.

Momentarily gesticulating

On the gloating fusion of afterfacts,

And indulging in the cohesion of solar flares,

He plunged into the fragrance of coronal mandarin.

Arising from the sparkler fires of thought

Icarus merged with the complexities

Of the entirety, gaining,

The ultrimagination of the future born wizards

Of integral motion.

Erasing the dew from his brow

He plunged into the morning sunset.

Roger Allen Baut

Ecolo in the Sky

[Baut Images: Ecolo in the Sky]

Ecolo, Goddess of Earth.

Bright jewel of blue in Sol's great system.

Bringer of air, and water,

and life to all your children.

I see your fractured beauty,

As you gaze upon your realm.

As you remember, dreamlike,

The flora and fauna of days gone by.

What cruel fate is it Ecolo,

That has brought your path to this?

Yet, despite all the heartache,

You still try to heal your world.

Ecolo, Goddess of Earth.

Bright Lady even in these darkened days.

Just remember it's foretold, in future days,

Your life, and world, will be renewed.

Roger Allen Baut

Within the Vessel

I Am the Spirit Being

[Image entitled: Spirit Being]

I am the Spirit being

That lives within my physical body,
And I have experienced much

During my sojourn on Planet Earth.

I revel in the senses

That my vehicle provides me,

From touch, to taste and sight,

On to hearing and smell.

The flowers and forests,

Lakes and rivers provide us all

With a wondrous opportunity

To explore and nurture our world.

I am the Spirit being

That lives within my physical body,

And I have traveled much

During my sojourn on Planet Earth.

I have seen the sun rise and set

From an old Ryokan on Sagami Bay,

And beheld the Shrine of the Black Madonna

Tucked away in an Einsieden monastery.

I have watched the seasons pass

From blossoming Spring to Summer,

then Autumn's colours to Winter's chill

And back again, on their epic journey.

So much, so much to see and experience

As we all travel in our vessels of clay.

Collectors of experiences and memories

As we travel through time and space.

I am the Spirit being

That lives within my physical body,

As you are the Spirit being

That lives within yours.

Roger Allen Baut