The Ghost Of New Forest

As they spoke of senescence,
It made sense to get lost in the moment.
Perhaps familiarity gave resonance,
And passion diluted all conscience.

 

© Heath Muchena, 2011

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Hut City

Veil of a woman’s scent
A cataract to my life of zen
The stem of all desire
And a reason why I still have the fire and pen.

 

© Heath Muchena, 2011


The Great Repression

Liberties limited by legalese
Senses suppressed in systematic sedation
Perception shaped by PR networks
Health a topic for political debate
Faith an excuse for warfare
And wealth incorporated into a global state

 

© Heath Muchena, 2011


The Mind Mirror Maze

Since thought bears the projections,
So we should ask whence came the mind;
And while the illusion prompts our actions,
In those we manifest what we wish to find.

 

© Heath Muchena, 2011


Pleasure In Platonia

In the quaint tea rooms of St Martins
And through the wormhole…
We saw and spoke of life and all its patterns
As if the warmth of your presence was woven for my soul.

Maybe its the misattribution of arousal,
Or passion at its most fertile.
Whatever the case, it was pure wow
And that is the essence of living in the now.

 

© Heath Muchena, 2011


The Mewling Muti

Reminiscent of the roots embedded in loamy soils of before,
Those that got leached when the heavy rains poured,
And took away everything that made the trunk thick;
Leaving sickly branches and leaves and no fruit to pick.

 

© Heath Muchena, 2011