The February Poems –
“The Texture Of Timing”
Verses by Sananda Maitreya
& Dreams vs. the Dragons.
Welcome to the February Poems.
The Dragons of which we speak are not drug or alcohol induced
but perhaps even more pernicious, they are let loose upon
the spirit by PROGRAMMING
& the insidious demand placed upon us by our societies to
be ANYONE (& everything) but ourselves.
Liberation from old form is a DARE which we undertake at our
own risk.
Programming is a bully, barking at & beating back all but
the most determined.
But we are in the age of great transition & these poems are
meant for you.
Take courage, Time Is On Our Side.
We are in fact time itself, taking its time to BE time as time
now wishes to be.
Sananda.org #1

The texture of liming insists
On Madness AND Bliss
A little bit of that &
A whole lot of this
Audacity & Common Sense
Denial & the Smudged
Fingered Coupons
Of Recompense
Hand in Hand As One
Like the Butcher’s Daughter
& the Baker’s Son
Their Smiles Determined
But their Teeth are Clinched
Like Fists
A liutle bit of That
8 A whole lot of
Sananda.org #2

What you do with the Queen of Clubs
Will come back to you in Spades
Mirrored by the Setting Sun
Right before the Glimmer Fades
As il you were the only one
Whose Soul is bartered
Before she trades
For another feast
But take consolation that
A souvenir will survive your
Days in Hell at least
So now you’ve seen the beast
Her cool disdain remains enticing
The icing on her frosted crown
Rising from her ashes like
Brewers yeast
Nor was it that profound
But only that you were the only
Fool fixated & hanging around.
Sananda.org #3

The King of Hearts
Ate all his Tarts
& then lost them
in the Weeds
For sure are the
& their Lords
In AWE of the Man
Who meets his Needs
Fulfilling his Greed
In a Language
We all Understand
He Fattens the Fertile
With Crumbs
Fine Fettle for the
Fortunate collecting the Seeds
Holding their Breath
“Til the Morning Comes
The Land shifting
Beneath the Sand
The Portraits of Posterity
Into a dismissive
Indifferent Hand.
Sananda.org #4

The Poet
Always wants One More
As if he’s keeping Score
& As il it Matters that
Circumstance Cares
Bither Peace
Or War
Though there’s a Chance
That New Lines
Wait behind the Metal Door
Like the Vines
Separating Life
From the killing Floor
Just Gravity’s Gaze
Paying in Advance
For the Right to Ignore
Any Superstition
We Label ‘Romance’
Or any Other
As if’ our Rants
Add up to anything more
Than a Blustering Haze
While Pissing in Our
Sananda.org #5

Though Standing Still
It Ain’t About the Bull
He Had Time to Kill
Time to Die
It’s All
To Him
As Long As
Time Flies
As Long As
The Ground Remembers
What Blood He Leaves
On the Field
& Buries Along
With His
Sananda.org #6

Try NOT to Make Sense !
But make History
Because the Mystery
The Same Hand
That Gives Rise
To Applause
Is the Self’ Same Hand
That Gives Shape to
A Fist
Then Mimics the
Shape it Draws
With A Crotch Grab
A Nipple Twist
A Summons for
Breaking the Laws.
Sananda.org #7

Is to a Painter
So is my Vision of You
Drawing Figures on
A Liquid Canvas
Sketching my Memories
From An Overview
Fueled by Whiskey
Whatever Smoke Blows Through
So Put Some Pants On !
We’ve Got A Few Graves to Dance On
A Hell Of A Wednesday to Get To
“Cause I’m Not A Snitch
You’re Not A
I’ve A Lot More Sketches to Do.
Sananda.org #8

was fortuitous
That he wasn’t really
That he hadn’t gone
He just clipped his mustache
Shaved his legs bare
Along with his hair
Then Slipped through Time
When he Tripped in the Air
While Pulling A Man through A Hat
While They Changed A Lightbulh
On the Sun
After which
He Was Through with All of That
No More Rabbit On the Run
No More Stairs
Nor More Chairs
Holding Fat Staring
Or Nightmares
Where the Carrots Have Teeth
The Holes Are Flat
Holding Nothing More than
Sananda.org #9

If You Were UP to Yourself
You’d Be Up to It
You wouldn’t Twist your Form
Into A Map of the Woods
Then put your Mind through it
You’d Just DO it
You’d Protect your Balls
Grab the Goods
(& not like the last time when
You Blew it
Then proclaim yourself
A Mutual Twin
Again & Again
Concurrent with your
Body Fluid
Professing Nothing More
Than A Grin
When Confessing to Friends
While Taming Reflection
With the Shape you’re in.
Sananda.org #10 (!)

A FOOL Sees No Consequence
In Paying Lip Service to Dread
As Long As
He Has
A Balcony
& A Beckoning Life Ahead
Epiphany Speaks
In the Vocabulary of Fire
While Pressing Matters Wait
He Balances on the Wire
His Mortgage Paid
On the Margins
At the Highest Rates
Cursing at the Fates
Before His Sense of Self
& His Fortitude Expires
Proving Courage
An Ephemeral
& Latitude A Liar.
Sananda.org #11

As Long As I Consider
When I Sit & Take My Pen
That I May Grow
More Bitter
(& Old)
& Never Write Again
I’ll be Counting the Spaces
Between the Crows
While Lamenting the Chronicles
Only Heaven Knows
As I Scratch
My Heroes
But I mustn’t be TOO
All of them Tested
& Worthy
Though Not
All of Them
Bearing their Crosses
Takes Its
Upon my Back
If not my Soul
For Worshipping their
Turning their Silences into
& Sharing it Between Us.
Sananda.org #12

These are GEMS
(She said to him)
The Kisses that Find their Way
That Stay Around to Strike A Pose
Composing themselves into
Little Worlds
That the Wind Blows
Into Spheres
Whose Fears
Their Shape that Day
While Adding on the Years
Here’s to all the Suffering Saints
Who turned & looked the Other Way
So As Not to See Our Tears.
Sananda.org # 13

Back She Came After Dark
Looking like A Question Mark
All I Could Ask Was
“I Don’t Know She Cried
The Road Was Wet & Wide
The Lines were Crossed
So I Cut my Losses
& Surrendered my Bark
To the Dogs
of Deep December
My Mind in A Fog
All that I Remember
Is that they Circle in 3’s
As do their Fleas
While Walking Apace
With what they Chase
Through the Park
The Stars were Strung
On A String
Then I Went Numb
Can’t Recall Much of Anything”.
Sananda.org # 14

So There He Was Stuck in A Rut
With Kumquats
Between Paragraphs
Littered by Ifs, Ands, & Buts
Pondering the Inner Life of Astronauts
When Asked to Surrender to
Customs his Jewels
He Split His Pants & Said
‘Deez Nuts’
Besides his Blood Sugar
Was Low
His Wrinkles Etched
From An Economy Stretched
By Pink Possums
Purple People
Too Many Hookers
& Blow.
Sananda.org # 15

Meatloaf Came
Like A Bat Out Of Hell
A Raven In Spite
A Starling Riding
the Horizon’s
Raving with the Moonlight
That Separates
the Day from Night
Of All the Things
He COULD Have Been
He Was HIM
That Was Alright!
Though Now Deceased
He Left His Bones
To Make His Peace
Leave this Shit
Suffering Is Assured
But Better to Suffer
Your OWN Life
Than Someone Else’s
Who Surfs the Midnight Breeze
Spoiling for A Fight
Looking for Attention
(not to mention)
Stealing the Data
From your Second Sight.
Sananda.org # 16

Held the Rosary & I Held the Gun
Perhaps I wasn’t the Only One
Afraid to Shoot the Dragon
‘Cause if I Free it
Do I Lose my Soul
Or just Stumble into another Wagon?
I’d Say I Shot the Sheriff Too
But that of course would be Bragging
Gagging on A Lump of Coal
To Keep My Zig from Zagging
The World Can Wait
Longer than the Wind
That the Wave of A Hand Can Generate
When it Says ‘Goodbye’
Ushering in Solace to Participate
Sipping from A Chalice Short On Ale
But Foaming with Malice to Alleviate
The Distance between Heaven & Hell.
Sananda.org # 17

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