Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Candle Light

Candle Light
by Jason Motsch

By candle light I write,
waiting for him to arrive home.
A quiet assurance of anticipation's delivery.
His face is divine.
He is a radiant starborne bird
Flying by my side as we walk the country roads
that quilt the hill country of our lives.
We paint a dream together realized on a
Love splashed canvas of living rainbow light.
We avoid the radar of vultures and 
Soar into each other's days and nights
like angels of old Gods,
their eyes gleaming like candle light,
shining from my eyes as I write this tonight,
waiting for him to walk through the door.
God I'm in love!

Old and New

Old and New
by Jason Motsch

There are too many flowers to notice the weeds,
although at times weeds are beautiful.
Clothed in the finery of kings and queens,
the countryside gets a makeover every season.
The leaves are earrings decked out with God's finest jewels.
Why talk about death?
Whatever happened to transformation?
The longer I gaze into the heart of autumn 
The more my spirit spills over into the air,
mingling with the canvas of the countryside and
warming by the fireside of the sun.
Change into the wonder dazzling the peace of nights
under Christ's watch and growing into the days of Pan's desire.
Ages past they knew what we know so let's continue
to dine with our ancestors on the food of old,
the stuff of today,
the masterpiece of creation.


by Jason Motsch

The dog is barking at the mailman.
I baked some muffins today.
Kate Bush sails out of my speakers and into the room.
The cats are resting in higher depths.
The weather is wintery.
I love it.
All these things on any other day
would be mundane.
And they are mundane today too.
Some of the most mundane things
are some of the most divine though.
I find peace and wonder in my ordinary ocean
The waves lull my senses from the inside out into
a passion with the world.
I am restful on waters of common tongues 
speaking out against the slavery of tomorrow.
Today is the last and final word.
Thus it lasts for ever.

Friday, October 11, 2013


by Jason Motsch

I hold a trembling leaf in my hand
And with faithful abandon cast it to the wind.
The forge within is shaping the blade
Which is to carve a whole new sculpture
In my soul.  
Further along the wooded path
The wind returns the leaf with a gentle gust nestling it  in the branches
Of a nearby tree.  
My spirit melds with Creation,
and flies to the air above where it 
Sings with the birds of the sky.
The terrain below is a patchwork quilt
Of blessings and life.  
I see the earthen vessel that has been
carved by the Unfolding- my life, my words,
My song.
Tree, forge, wind and dust now mingle
and begin to stitch up wounds godly within.
The throes of birthing pangs give way
to a new life envisioned in the reality of now.
Waters rush through the cascading fires of yesterday
wearing away at the canyon walls and forming new streams
that feed the Ocean Light.
I am a thing of the sea and breath in the liquid like
the holy eucharist of old, inebriated by the blood of Christ.
The mercurial ichor flows deep through the cosmos and I am but a drop
falling endlessly through space and time. 
There is a quilt of stars reflecting the earthly foundation below.
And above, beyond, yet still within it all,
Is the nameless, endless, timeless

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Love Took a Walk

Love Took a Walk
by Jason Motsch

My fingers pour forth  ideas that 
grow in the city gardens, 
tended by a faery kingdom that illumines the
branches overhanging the blossoms on this night.
My mother sits on a park bench and 
guffaws at jokes the winged little beings delight in telling.
I see her there, her peasant smile, 
heart shaped face, 
loving countenance beaming with joy.
She picked a flower and had one of the faeries
deliver it tonight to me.
I didn't know that I was 
sitting only a few blocks away from her until 
my loneliness sprang up like a cold damp cave in my spirit.
But suddenly I heard barking and there was our old dog. 
I took her for a walk down the street and saw my mother and
felt her joy for my life and being alive again.  
She multiplied into ten of her and gave me applause for how well she thinks i am doing.
She gave a thumbs up for my partner and said to give him a hug.
I left her there and she will be there until i want to go back and visit again  
or until the faeries send me another note of mystical grace from the creator.
Love took a walk from heaven to my heart to this poem tonight.


by Jason Motsch

Confronting the demons within,

Man becomes afraid.
It is everywhere and nowhere.
The fruits of the mind are endless,
splashed across the Universe
like the stuff of creation.
Some call destruction by myriad names.
Others call love by a meadow of light flowers,
Infinite and eternal.
I choose to be a harmonious bird instead of 
a broken piano.
A gear in the cosmos' clock instead of
a rogue atom.
I suppose human kind will always have turmoil.
I'll continue to open the curtains in the morning and
let the sun shine brightly on my soul,
sipping a cup of coffee, and reading myself
into the day, becoming one with my creator's world,
as it is meant to be.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013


by Jason  Motsch

Loving kindness knows no form.
We attach our details to deity or idea
thinking it equals knowelege.
No one holds the amulet of truth
except for the creator.
Heaven is not a country club for the the select
And Hell is not a place for the outcast.
Maybe judgements should be thrown into the sea
like the lead stones they are.
Maybe our versions of ultimateness
should be discarded for love.
No one knows God intimately except
when seeing the daylight on the face of the 
trees for the first time.
No man nor woman speaks
for the Buddha except when they wrap
their arms around the orphaned child
lying sick in the streets.
We are the trees.
We are the orphaned child.
The sunlight and gathering arms
are the medium for a Godly work of art.
So let's pick up our pen, brush and lute!
It's time to fashion a new kind of heart.
Let's show the way.