For tribalmysticstories: A Tribal Mystic Story; Poem For My Father

  • – Poem For My Father –

One day he took me to a copse of trees 

where we sat under a canopy of 

newly formed leaves  

above us a clear blue sky 

where he gave perspectives to me

different from anything I had 


Thoughts from the other side of

what we think we know.

How wind and leaves 

are not separate forces rather 

part of one single entity

connected to an infinity 

of larger and larger wholeness

stretching outward from 

the air we breathe,

beyond heat and light 

from the sun then, 

further into space and time until  

I saw myself in a world 

quite different than my own,

a world I’d never seen before, 

of single limitless form.  

He drew my attention to 

the random movements of 

the leaves

rising and falling, relentlessly 

shooting ‘round and ‘round,

limbs branches leaves and needles 

the grasses and saplings below 

touching one another 

sharing unique thought patterns 

not unlike the synapses 

of our brains though 

infinitely more complex,

not confined by 

the craniums of our skulls,

gathering awareness,

from earth and sky,

the mysteries of the world 

above and below spoken to them

content to accept all that is true

without conscious reflection.  

“Trees are the supreme creation of life along the continuum of awareness, free from all bonds, able to gather all knowledge from earth and sky and share with one another.”

I listened and within 

the silence of my mind 

heard leaves and limbs 

whispering to one another,

their voices rising and falling 

in concert with 

the wind, 

it seemed I was watching  

a playground of laughing children. 

He told me all root bound life 

the trees and even the grasses reach 

the tendrils of their minds, their 


into the planet where they feel 

the living vibrations of the earth and glimpse 

the secrets of life

“They know the stuff we struggle to understand.” he said.  “From the smallest particles outward, one long strip of awareness from where they are rooted, to the edge of the horizon and beyond, while we scurry about like ants grabbing pieces of sticks or crumbs of knowledge thinking how clever we are.’’

Space Devoid of Time


wind blows memories through my mind\
time recedes, I’m moving through
space devoid of time … in different
lands …

i’m in another place
drawn in as a sketch or

a figure etched in fog or
mist watching … seeing … seeing

the light of time past
stored inside …

Light from the past taken
still alive in that bubble of time

seeing clearly for nano seconds
but lived in once again!

The storied light of the past
alive within us all ..

through space
devoid of
time …

next to the timeless past
‘real life’
is a parallel universe …

a linear river of time,

boxed reality

separated from the past
by an impermeable membrane

impossible to break through
except during sleep

when past light bleeds into
dreams like wispy smoke and
we see by
the light of two

suns …

Ghost Trees Wailing In the Wind

A picture couldn’t  capture
the ferocity of constant
wind blowing at least forty m.p.h.

across the surface of the lake
straight from the north

white caps rushing
the water the trees
the sand and leaves …
everything combined
Shhsssshing relentlessly

my hoody inflated into
a reverse parachute
pushing my head and
body backward

dots of rain prickling
my face the occasional
snow flake spiraling through

forcing me to retreat
to calmer climes
along the road
so much
calmer now

than 5 minutes ago when i/first walked to the shoreline

I walked to 23 then back down the hill

hearing cracks and snaps
of dead firs breaking
like sticks

the bottom half
of each broken tree attached
to the ground pointing upward
topped by splinters looking like
beasts in snarling anger
released from prison allowed
to express their furiosity
at the plague of
beetles who had
caused their demise … long gone now …

off to greener
pastures …

their plaintive wails
and pent up frustration
their howls of pain
unheard …

ghost sounds
each tree could only hear

in their own after lives …

ghost trees wailing
at the wind

unheard ..

punctuated by


the initial sound
of ultimate

rot …




Imagine ….

It’s a frigid early winter

day …

no snow on the

ground trees bare of

leaves …

fingers and

limbs black against a dismal


sky …


you are on a bicycle

barreling down a black top

road pushed by a

powerful western

wind …

you are the only object

static ..

in your world of

movement …


the road a black


disappears beneath spinning

wheels …

boulders submerged among

giant elms separating fallow

fields of broken

corn stalks, plow lines

extending into the

distance …

approach …..

run parallel …..


disappear into the

void …


reality pure …

unencumbered by

thoughts and words


tiny …

distant …



larger and

larger … forming

funnels of


color, form, size and

movement …


You are experiencing


within a

river of

flowing awareness …

on a frigid early winter

day ….


Your world


against trees bare of

leaves …

fingers and limbs


reaching into a dismal


sky …

You are


wind … where

there IS no

wind …


IN wind

there is no

sound …

there is only




and SIGHT with

heart and breath

combined …

the sound of your




you are moving

faster through a world of

silent magic river flowing

sight …

while …

… IN the wind is only silence the

sound of your serenity pulling


further through

space …


The spinning road

beneath you

flies the tape that

measures growing


distance measures

time … the road


yet …

IN the wind is only silence the

sound of your serenity pulling you


further into

time …

the road that has an

end in time the

point of no



thread keeps growing


the fear within you

growing larger

yet …


… IN the wind there is only

silence the

sound of your



further pulling


into space


end …


point of no

return …


your comfort dream is


fear is taking

place …

the turning point upon


the dream within


river flowing



serenity drawing

closer …

the time is

right …


IN the wind there

is only …..




now …


the end is HERE …

Journey Home




At the end of the road I turned and faced the wind.

Flying dirt or bits of snow piled about in patches stung my face.  Small sticks, newspapers tumbled past. What few leaves left over from Fall were being plucked and sent flying over empty farmers’ fields like dark butterflys speeding along at breakneck speed in circular patterns.

I stared back at the road where moments before I had sailed through life, the wind at my back speeding past life’s beauty, aware only of the burden of unforeseen consequence and pain, the beauty of the world having passed by passed by unnoticed.  My only concern … TIME.

I tossed the heavy knapsack I carried for longer than I can remember into the tall grass where it disappeared.

Golden memories flowed into my mind.

“I must journey forward now,  against the bitter cold.” My destination?  A world where I once lived within the light.

Arms around my chest to keep warm the beating heart within,  I stepped forward and  began the journey home.

Fall: Trees of Life Remembered: AND Don’t Fix It If It Ain’t Broke! A Lesson From A Know It All …

Hello every body; Friends. Likers.  (OK, bikers too) First and Last time readers and all good people who read my poems and stories especially the people I see all the time who I feel I have a unique kinship with.  It seems that they like my work almost as much as I do and I love my work.  It’s nice to get the reassurance I get from you and I sincerely appreciate you.

When I read my stories and poems I’m almost always amazed that these words and these thoughts came out of me!  WHERE DO THEY COME FROM, I constantly ask myself.

Enough!  What I want to tell you all and everybody about is a rule I learned that served me well.  A voice that tells me …….. “Leave it alone! Don’t fix it if it’s NOT BROKEN”

Wull, I just learned it again today but because I remembered too late I’ve reduced what I wrote to a shitty ‘over tweaked’ poem.  Now I’m stuck.  Embarrassed, fer crying out loud! … Jeeeze … I told Jodi it was like walking around with my fly open and part of a white shirt sticking out .  Just enough to make it stupidly embarrassing, which iI feel.

So, here’s how it happened.

I was dozing, I had just started seeing the dark that comes before …. going under  … not ‘sleep’ rather ‘going under’.

Ok so, I had just started to go under … to see the darkness encroach, when my phone whistles at me.  Do you have a phone that whistles? Sounds like a bird? I don’t mind the sound but sometimes it’s pretty annoying.

My eyes flew open like somebody had just shot me between the eyes with a 22 calibre pistol.

Since I was lying on the couch by the sliding glass door, I turned my head and looked up at the trees.

They were swaying in the breeze, side to side, mostly green (but, turning color quickly), a gentle hiss, their hands  moving to and fro touching as they passed by.  The sky pale blue.

The reds and yellows were already being nudged off by the daily winds.  Mostly reds and oranges.  Leaves were falling through the air like giant colorful flakes of snow different colors mixing.  Absolutely beautiful, of course.

Quick as a …. I can’t think of a metaphor or … are those things analogies??  “Quick as a … ,” So I guess I’ll say, “Quick as a motherfucker,” I grabbed my phone and wrote the poem below and it was beautiful … I really liked it.  It’s not EXACTY the poem below. You’ll see.

The words flowed out of me.  It was interesting to watch my finger tick on letters of words that I was thinking as the thoughts assembled themselves.  I was outside of myself watching myself ‘hunt and peck’.

I liked the piece so, I transcribed it into the computer and posted it.

Within a short time I had 6 or 7 ‘Likes’ and that was cool.  A couple of new people that I doubt will come back but so what?  It’s still nice to see someone stop by, like what you’ve written, tell you they liked it then move on. It’s wonderful, in fact …

So since it was pretty good I thought I’d make it better so, I started tweaking it, making it more ‘logical’ … action proceeding in a straight line;  idea, reason or reason idea blah blah … I began trying to fucking explain everything.  Fuck that!

Pretty soon I had the damn thing so “F worded” up I almost cried and since I didn’t want to touch it because I kind of hated it, I left it here but …   it’s SO EMBARRASSING that this innocent, beautiful poem became twisted, stupid and  embarrassing.

So … apologize to those who read it, thought ‘Ewwww … ‘ and left never to be seen again.

So, the reason for all this bullshit is,  I wanted to give you the rule for writing poetry I use all the time  …. sometimes!!! … not always … this rule doesn’t work always  …  Nothing is right 100% of the time, right?

So as I mentioned already, here’s the rule again … listen the little voice that says, “Leave it alone, stupid.  Don’t fix it if it isn’t broke!”(Not always!  But, often enough).

The proof of the pudding is the following poem.  God knows, you might like it but, originally I think it had an innocence and sense of power.  Now all it is is some pretty words.   Awwwww ….. Awwwww …


So, I hope you get some use out of my “know it all” advice.

For those who think I’m REALLY being stupid instead of just acting stupid, all I can say is ”Why don’t you go masturbate yourself!!?”  Oops! … oh! jeeze! I’m sorry … !!! I’m really sorry!  That happens all the time!  I get so enthused.  I can’t help it!

So, anyway, read on if you want to.  ks … Ewwww ….

Thank you for your time and … I sell on ebay also so …. whoops!  Did it again.  Take care good people.  With sweet love for you who I see often, you make my heart feel warm.  Kurt



Wind’s a blowin’
leaves a fallin’
Fall’s a gettin’ ready
to rest its trees
underground to dream
vast earth dreams.

Our trees returning to


Leaves, their days in the sun
near done
celebrate with
prisms of color
once absorbed during the days of
earthly delight
the time of sun’s brief flight.

First red then orange
the first and second prismatic light
we see … the attraction of
majesty only partly seen
like the tail end of
a lovely sunset.

Comes next
yellow … of all the places on
the wheel of light’s fractal colors

the one that glows mid way
between lines with  definition;

Yellow glows as the refection of sun’s whole light
it sought from above.

They are the lucky ones who get to walk in
Sol’s great footsteps.


You’re familiar with, of course after
five months with limbs
the greatest parts/reaching out through

space and time with
loving fingers
running through existence
one last burst of color.

the gatherers of sunlight/their colors seen separately through life’s  spectrum  contained within.

Their colors seen separately/they are

the gatherers of sunlight

Green leaf gathering life so beautifully with sound that hushes and whistles low;
makes sweet sap from sun’s light

with great  great mystery.

Their work of summer’s past given
with delight to brew and wait ‘till
the nap of time

is over.

Their’s is the
nourishment taken from above
stored below then given back
to prove we’re all a part of cycles.

ALL of life within the bounds of living
the draught of sweet delivery
sustenance for next years progeny
next year’s offspring, given.

The sweet flood of
innocence and caring
passing on sweet memories of
summers past.

The blood of renewal
a welcome mat rolled out, the
pablum of hope, the splendor of
new growth!

Comes blue and violet that
unseen world of light remaining  hidden
except for maples and a few others
both ends of the world from
beginning to end; red and purple
emerging one from the other
home at last to rest,
to feel earth dreams before
rebirth again and again and again the
lessons of ‘being’ if only seen and


The majesty of trees!

spectacle, the
cycle born anew,  the same
lessons taught with each
November, the movement of
all that matters

they carry us through
time ..


Comes a time to rest the ‘eyes’ of their
community one great world of their
awareness connected

soon to go below to see
and HEAR and to remember
Mother’s most precious gift:

Life’s splendor ..

Wind and leaves the breath of our well being

within the bounds of
what they are we lie captured in between

Wind and leaves and trees the
great Mother who gives us
what we need, the
breath of

forever …

Outdoors Always Works For Me


Outdoors always works for me.

Lake gazing
lost in time
thoughts grow still
cease to ‘gzist.

Spellbound movement
roiling calm
trees and wind at play
taking weight away
from heavy snow.  

Blowing fallen colors
taking broken limbs
willing partners
grateful lovers
always playing.  

Northern breezes bring winter winds and storms/snow that swarms and lives in crystalline form/black and white vistas/endless vistas of black and white.  

Warmth brings
southern breezes.

Leaves whispering
wind’s return
forming perfect union
rising falling
sex collusion
seminal fluid
carrying seeds
blown everywhere
growing life
exploding … !

Watching wind and trees
their spellbinding movement,
their night time sighs form
perfect union.

Watching wind and trees
I see giving, always giving.

Giving trees with the
breeze giving with
the breeze …

Outdoors always works for me.

Where I’ll Sleep


I want to be buried surrounded by the fields of my youth … next to other kindred souls who decided to lie in similar peace on that grassy knoll sheltered by a giant oak,  it’s limbs spread wide to shield us … it’s roots embracing our boxed homes,

cradling us in our

sleep …

distant from the hub-bub of life … too far away for casual visitors with plastic flowers …

our serenity only slightly disturbed

by the occasional car rushing by …

the sound of tires rolling fast …

metal barreling through thick air

rising from summer heat

when corn silk and yellow seedlings …

trees and grass all join in

the dance of life …

thrusting higher and higher

towards the sun …

the same as my neighbors

when they produced seed,

multiplied, then passed on …

leaving  tiny bits of themselves behind

to prove there’s life

after …


in the stillness of winter’s coldest clear night … i’ll rise from within the Earth to

glide on moon’s rays …

the wind my flesh …

the air my breath …

the stars my sight …

the oak tree above …

my haven …

Life … Knowledge

 … content to accept all that is true without conscious effort, a part of the whole, absorbing through their finger tips … all there is to know … continued …

Unknown-1“Trees are such marvelous beings aren’t they?” he said.  “The supreme creation of Life, along the continuum of awareness, free from all bonds, able to gather all knowledge from the earth and sky then share it with one another.’’

‘’Look at the movement of the limbs!’’

We watched the patterns of movement different than the leaves yet joined together connected, waving at the world or punching each other in playfulness forming even more patterns laughing or even guffawing with the wind, its half brother/sister in shared partnership.

We listened and through the silence of our minds …  we heard the hiss of the leaves and wind, we watched the waving limbs patterned against the blue sky as laughter from a playground of children.

Then He told us how they reach the tendrils of their minds  … their roots … into the soil where they feel the vibrations of the planet and they know what they are hearing, they understand the language of the earth, they know the Truths of life the truths of the universe from the smallest particles outward.  One long strip of awareness from where they are rooted to the edge of the horizon and far beyond.

“They know the stuff we struggle to understand,” he said, “plus an infinity of knowledge more, while we scurry about like ants grabbing pieces of sticks or crumbs of knowledge left over from a picnic,  all the while thinking how supreme we are …. .”

Life … Knowledge …

This is one of my favorite pieces I’d like to share with my new readers … and re-share with those who have been so faithful and tolerant of me for some time now …  with gratitude for all your kind thoughts and actions … ks 


One day He took us to a copse of trees where we sat under a canopy of newly formed leaves beneath a clear blue sky where He gave perspectives different than any we had learned: thoughts on the “other side” of what we thought we knew …

He showed us how trees and their green leaves dance with  the wind not as separate entities rather, they are part of a larger whole with awareness stretching outward through the air we breathe then further into sun’s light and beyond even into space and time …

And we began to “see” the movements and hear the hissing of the wind passing through the moving leaves as one very large thought; and we found ourselves in the midst of a world we had never seen or felt before …


He pointed to the random patterns of the leaves within the hissing sounds of motion created by the wind ever changing … rising and falling, shooting ‘round and ‘round connected to each other with endless patterns of unique thoughts not unlike the patterns of our minds though without limit, more complex, more far reaching, not confined by the craniums of our skulls, free to gather new awareness, taking from reality the mystery of the world above and below the earth made real far, far beyond the wind and the air we breathe, able to understand the connection of sun’s rays then further … content to accept all that is true without conscious effort, a part of the whole, absorbing through their finger tips … all there is to know …

continued …



it’s a frigid early winter 

day …

no snow on the 

ground trees bare of 

leaves … 

fingers and 

limbs black against a dismal  


sky …


you are an eleven year old 

boy on a bicycle 

barreling down a black top 

road pushed by a 

powerful western 

wind …

you are the only object 

static .. 

in your world of 

movement …


the road a black 


disappears beneath spinning

wheels … 

boulders submerged among 

giant elms separating fallow 

fields of broken

corn stalks, plow lines 

extending into the 

distance … 

approach  …..

run parallel  …..


disappear into the 

past  …


reality pure …

unencumbered by

thoughts and words


tiny …

distant …



 larger and 

larger …  forming

 funnels of


color, form, size and  

movement  …


you are experiencing 


  within a

river of 

flowing awareness  … 

on a frigid early winter

day ….


your world 


against trees bare of 

leaves …

fingers and limbs


reaching into a dismal  


sky …

continued …