Peter Mayer Concert!

I am so excited to go see Peter Mayer tonight. Well, technically I’m working the concert, but that still means I get to benefit by hearing him play live. His lyrics are so rich with imagery, peace, and a feeling of passionate comfort with his spirit.

Peter Mayer is performing in Oak Ridge, TN tonight! WOOT!

Peter Mayer is performing in Oak Ridge, TN tonight! WOOT!

When he was here in February, I got to talk to him. I asked him if his lyrics came easily to him. He looked at me as if I’d grown another head. He said it was the hardest part of what he does. He works and reworks the lyrics until they breathe on their own. He was not condescending as he spoke. I described how it feels when I get the poem spark, where the lyrics sing on their own. He spoke warmly with me. I was an instant fan.

I’m sharing two videos with you. One is where the lyrics are so perfect, it made sense to me. If it doesn’t for you, that’s okay, but I hope you’ll give it a listen.

My favorite song by him:

To learn more about this incredibly gifted performer and lyricist, visit his web page so you never have to be out of the know again.

http://www.petermayer.net/news/

NaPoWriMo: Coffee or Tea

Ode to Kawphy

Kawphy Thyme is my Bapa's brain child. It is a truly magical experience when done properly.

Kawphy Thyme is my Bapa’s brain child. It is a truly magical experience when done properly.

The dawn blooms silver-pink, barely lighting my path

I climb the high hillside, filling my lungs with thinning air

With burlap in hand, I carefully select the dark red ripest

They drip from the fruited tree like tiny whiny grapes

I don’t cherish the fruit as much as I covet the seeds

The dawn heats water per the dictator’s striking hand

I am in Kenya, Ethiopia, Costa Rica, Sumatra, Timor, New Guinea.

I am roasting in the sun. I am cool beneath the shade.

I am the Sabbats and Esbats wrapped in the Holy Grail

I am the earth which collects my offspring

I am the water that nourishes my roots

I am the air which determines my wealth of ideas

I am the fire on which my ovaries are brought to life.

I am the spirit wrapped in each element,

Indulged with a noisy slurping morning prayer,

“Ah, nectar of the Gods.”

I am Kawphy, not the coffee you seek.

I am the commune of commiseration

I am the lifeblood of the creators

I am the dreamless sleep of the catatonic believers

I am the dream of the hillside, delivered for a tithe of glazed donuts.

I am to be honored as family, birthed to live among emotions.

I am the power to move the world from my small hillside tree.

magalyguerrero.com/napowrimo-with-magaly-guerrero-2015 NaPoWriMo

magalyguerrero.com/napowrimo-with-magaly-guerrero-2015
NaPoWriMo

NaPoWriMo: The Birth of Your Art

NaPoWriMo

NaPoWriMo

Lady Cathy Gritter took me into her church

near her garden door that led only outward.

It had nine panes of stained glass

that guarded the treasures within the hall.

On the pristine white shelves

is where she stored centuries of art,

a sacramental archive of holiness.

I’d enter her church through the side door

withering looks from her husband William

glared resentment at my childish intrusion

I scooted sinfully through to gaze with adoration

at the hallowed scriptures

blessed gospels of

van Gogh, Picasso, de Vinci, Kahlo

offering sermons of:

Sunflowers, Girl Before a Mirror, Mona Lisa, and Weeping Coconuts.

I was allowed to peer into the eyes of holy angels

upon my confessional return of each holy grail.

NaPoWriMo

NaPoWriMo

The Wailing Wall

I used to know a baby that shined a holy halo from the crown of his head.

When anger or hurt would come near him he’d shiver and cower in his bed.

The rawness of the world took away his glow, even then as an infant small,

He knew that everything he’d do would not be enough to save them all.

I once knew a boy that shined a dimming halo from the crown of his head

He used anger or hurt that came near him as his tools against the dread

The blackness in the world stole away his glow, even then as a boy not tall,

He knew that anything he’d do wouldn’t be enough to save his own downfall.

I once knew a man that shined a flourishing coin between his fingers misled

When aggressive words would punish him, he’d just smile with his words unsaid.

The evils of the world had shown him what to know, but his spirit heard the call

He knew that everything he owned was becoming holy, his bed his own prayer shawl.

I used to know a man that shined a holy halo from the crown upon his head.

No anger, hurt, or hypocrisy could touch him as he’d stand tall among the dead.

The disregard of the material plane was now everything, he’d shed

The rawness of the world returned his spirit glow, even as he’s enthralled

He knew that his place as a “Miracle Man” was found at the Wailing Wall.