Lyric Poetry of David Cain

The Great Dinosaur Dance That Never Was (This Art) by David Cain/Rumi.

If I love myself, I love you.
If I love you, I love myself.
In your light, I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest where no one sees you.
But sometimes I do and that becomes this art.

Fundamentals of Project Management (Stay Awake) by David Cain/Rumi.

We come and go between the light and dark. The door is open.
Don’t go back to sleep.
The sunrise has secrets to tell. Stay awake.
Ask for what you really need. Ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.

Like a vision. Like a painting to all memories.
Like a sound. Like a song to every heart.
Like a new word. Like a good book to all memories.

The door is always open for you.
Don’t go back to sleep. Stay awake.
Don’t go back to sleep.
Stay awake now.
Stay awake.

Where Brush Meets Flow (Van Gogh’s Foci) by David Cain

In the corner we hear time
and feel life
grind in color
against the front of the painting
where brush meets flow.

The opposite corner
isn’t square;
it doesn’t fit on the canvas.

The other corners of the opposition
form our ultimate reality
of vermillion informants
modeled
felicitously.

And the special status formerly sought
for foci and boundaries
is nevertheless
preserved
in fuzzy set representations.

The Space Within by David Cain (homage to Frank Lloyd Wright & Susan Dana)

Red square moments thru stained glass
syncopated moon and stars dissolve
thru Torii gates, birds perch
on sacred space, separating profane
and mundane, from nature and humans
in semi-permeable costumes. Destroying the box
thru space instead of matter,
profusely circumscribing organic quality,
philosophical views, butterfly lamps
The Moon Children Fountain,
a non-remodeled room filled with memorabilia
joining a hearth as heart fireplace,
pinwheeling from the heart,
horizontally and vertically
infinitely, vividly, revealed
in three dimensions,
the fourth in my imagination
in my mind’s eye, rotating forms, a woman running
to take clothes in during a Summer shower.
And a stylized metaphysical center, opalescent,
opaque, white and gold
light, inspired by the sumac plant.

Sounds Born Of Silence by David Cain/Rumi.

There is a place where words are born of silence.
A place where the whispers of the heart arise.
There is a place where voices sing your beauty.
A place where every breath carves your every image in my soul.

Trying To Remember To Forget by David Cain/Rumi.

And I try to remember.
That you gave me 3 kisses
In the early dawn of happiness
To wake me up
To this moment of love.

I tried to remember
In my heart
What I dreamt about
During the night before
I became aware
Of this moving of life.

And I try to remember.

Elements Gone By by David Cain

It’s through the eyes, the truth, the lies,
Having seen how it means or signifies

It’s through the mouth, suck it in and spit it out,
Talk to me, empathy, no silent shout

It’s thru the hand, making art, touch of smart
or in the hands of fools.

It’s through the ears, unstoppable cacophony.
Hear and mute and bang the drum for me

It’s thru the nose, the smell of time,
Breathing in, we begin, interpretations define.

It’s thru the feet. Take me where I want to go.
Move the deed. Stand the soul.

It’s thru the time. Elements gone by.
Energy perceived thru inspissated light.

It’s through the mind.  It’s not absolute.
Discerning fine, to think it’s through,  it’s through,  it’s through.

Let The Love by David Cain

Let the love of
What you love
Be what you do.

Let the love of
Who you love
Be who you are.

Let the love of
Why you love
Be why you are.

Let the love of
How you love
Be how you are.

Let the love of
Where you love
Be where you are.

Let the love of
When you love
Be when you are.

When If… by David Cain

I sing of dreams that come to mind:
The clock is true, holds my time;
She breathes in seconds she cannot keep.
Precious hours, her soul is free.

I try to imagine timeless space
Shapes and solids; solids and space,
I let go of separation.
I come alive to oneness.

Nothing. And Everything.  by David Cain

Traveled up a mountain one morning,
Encountered a man named Albert.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked.
Albert laughed and said, “I don’t wear socks.”
“I see.”  I said.
“The most beautiful experience we can experience is the mysterious.
It’s the source of all true art and science.”
“More mysteries.” I said.
Took off my socks and continued up the mountain.

At mid-day, the path becomes steeper, rockier.
I spotted a man named Pablo, painting with enormous energy and fertility.
He looks at me and says.
“Are we to paint what’s on the face,
what’s inside the face, or what’s behind it?”
“We?” I asked with surprise and excitement.
“The world today doesn’t make sense,
so why should I paint pictures that do?”
I nodded in agreement, and continued up the mountain.

The path becomes twisted, like a handlebar mustache.
Salvador was sitting surreally in an over-stuffed armchair.
Holding a spoon directly above a plate on the floor.
His eyes were closed.
I asked him “What’s on your mind?
“I am not on drugs. I am drugs.”
“I know,” I said. “Me too.”
“I held a spoon above a plate, just like you,
but a snore awoke me before the spoon fell.”
“So little of what could happen does happen.”
He replied with the look of a madman.
“I am not mad.” he said with wings.

Round midnight,
I heard a man playing copious notes on a horn.
“What are you playing?” I asked.
“I’ll play it first & tell you what it is later.” said Miles.
Space filled with thoughtful silence.
With his back to me, he pointed up the mountain path and said,
“Always look ahead, but never look back.”

I lost my balance,
fell down the face of the mountain,
and was snagged in the branches of a small tree.
I yelled out, “Can anybody help me?”
The echoes faded away,
I heard a voice in the distance say, “Just let go.”
I yelled out, “Can anybody help me?”
The voice in the distance answered, “Just let go.”
I thought what kind of cruel joke this must be,
So I yelled back, “Who said that?”
As the echoes faded away, a voice replied,
“This is the Muse, the universe, the Divine …”
I thought for a moment and yelled back, “Is anybody else there?”

Sheets of sound followed by silence and a whisper:
“One down. One up.” whispered ‘Trane.

Sometimes letting go of what we have,
or what we’re holding on to, can be very difficult.

Either way,
We possess nothing.
And everything.

Caesar’s Last Breath by David Cain

Click on this moment
of your statusness
like dirty chai
streamed in cerebrations,
with Chomsky’s friends

Whomever and however,
on the mask tome
to the one’s you love
and the ones you’ll never know
in big one’s omnipotent eye;

Ample feelings of eternal things
hollow shapes:
Re-used molecules,
Ceasar’s last breath,

Repetition, more repetition
incessant repetition
with tranced-out denominators —
in lowest and highest commons.

The transit space’s unseeness
betweeness
besiege us
here, and there.

Tribalists and non-sectarians
in social petri dishes
merge with observers
observing the observed

Unboundedness:
engulfed by veils
of need and want

Hand and space dissolve
now reclaimed –
live updates

In all things,
marketing.

The Activated Frame by David Cain

On the surface we hear why
and sense time’s
panchromatics –
layers caked on the surface
now magnified

The activated frame
isn’t complete
all the time on the painting

The other angles
of the unknown canvas
form our eventual happenings
of outlandish trial and error
sequenced,
vividly.

And the intervention long ago
for essence and significance
is for all that
sanctified
in velutinous (velvety) quintessence.

There It Is Again by David Cain

Rumblings of trains past
on the rails blast
furnace burns metamorphosis
a rhythmic and random
renaissance of serpentine soundings
in our bones and stones
a resonant zeus dancing
a reactive earth enacting
a triumphant playback
of zeros and ones vibrating
on and off
on and off
a happy continuation
a continuation of
all things one.
And as it plays back
on your ultra big screen
or your tablet of fire
Momentum from here
to there
rumbles everywhere.
There it is again.

HOW DOES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL? by David Cain

You knew, why wouldn’t you?
In the golden, angelic years
You were all the way in,
“It’s all spirit.”
You said.

Many light years later I felt you
Unexpectedly. You had haut-couture
And I was breathing through red colored brass.

Now countless light years have
Transitioned: My awareness is
Tuned to your frequency of being.
I could have downloaded your being
Hoping to be with you again.
You seeking a soulmate.

I didn’t know how.
I followed the uncertainty
Very successfully.

The fog of the dream-state
Born of tragic, romantic energy
Rattles in my mind, in my bones.

I feel the gray hair, and wrinkles
of many lives.

And I may never learn
If my mistakes
Are repaying karmic debt
or creating new.

Those moments of seeing
You in multiversal time
Gives me hope.
Makes me feel love.

How does that make you feel?

Life Is Truth by David Cain

Truth is perception
Perception is reality
Reality is consciousness
Consciousness is now
Now is merging
Merging is happiness
Happiness is laughter
Laughter is peace
Peace is love
Love is harmony
Harmony is eternal
Eternal is unboundedness
Unboundedness is immortality
Immortality is timelessness
Timelessness is infinity
Infinity is spontaneity
Spontaneity is creativity
Creativity is life
Life is truth

I will improvise. by David Cain

I sit in a triangle-facing circle
realizing the wondrous cosmic wave
of the sound, and know that it’s
virtual and in that knowingness
the expansive
gazing ball, spins into my senses
as shapes and forms
of fragrant whirling
metacognitive worlds –
OM is animating, beaming
aesthetic-lands,
the muse.

Drinking in truth, I feel that I’m
endlessly real & all I got to
be (do you hear the calmly
rendered voices of dudes tripping
in some room at twilight
measured mists of vapor with
cameras to drive the
proxies in their
ambrosial memories-)
i will improvise
it, all the screed of the planet
ubiquitous in this space,
balancing open detour departments
for lucid simultaneous
inner worlds – with rumbles of me
total mind – total sphere
resonating – reverberating –
I put it aside,
expeditiously, 10,000 notes
(of bits) squeezed into a single moment
of possibilities – I’ll be silk-shirt
invested & silk-hair contested in
the famous life of Pi cocktail hour
of choice Renaissance capitals
Kudos abiding & you’ll
have to see me where they witness
the b o o d a h m a n of my
road cases riding
yaggenspagger trucks full of
Old Angel Midnight back in their
souls – Jack Kerouac’ll
be astonished, distant –
My notes’ll be digitized in pantone 871
and sheltered in clouds like
A Love Supreme and Bitches Brew.

I’ll bring your keys back on Friday.

(From the album, Without Compromise.”)