Friday, August 27, 2010


From the Author:

I have spent the last 10 years capturing snippets from the air,
holding fairy muses in the palm of my hand just long enough to hear
them whisper. I have journeyed deep into the jungle, high onto the
mountains, far into the desert, deep into myself just to find a space
clear enough to listen to words that I could share with you. THE
NEONATIVE is a book of poetry written during my travels throughout
Asia, Europe, and America. It has taken me years of inspiration and
work to write this poetry and I am unimaginably excited to share my
book of poetry with you.

Weston Elliot Strickler

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Thursday, August 26, 2010

Selected poems from THE NEONATIVE

Earth Marinade

Summer Sun I run
Through the tree's I breeze
and land in a meadow
of deer and cherries
Yoga yokes the sun to my spine
and my sensations
are psychic astronauts
dancing on ancient light
I’m a sprite
zig zagging
in and out
of holy forest leaves
landing upon a citadel of green
The forest is my cathedral
and I gladly take any position
of this church
I accept them all
as I float down stream
water bubble rippling around me
silking my skin
In the cool crisp water
I celebrate
how good I feel
to deal in crickets and wild grapes
in sunshine and shade
In the Wild
I marinade

    In Search Of The Neonative
Who is the beautiful neonative to these United States
Who takes the noble garb and gown of the sustainable
If you find this wise scavenger of the Earth
call me
for I shall sit at my lord’s feet
and learn the ways of the Savage
If you find one so enlightened
living intently and resolutely
like an aboriginal
resolving and renouncing the system of suffering
Please call me, I want this also
In my upper strata middle class ways
it will take me time
to work so low in myself
and so high in the touch of Nature
I long for this child of the Stone Age
who Nature deems her native
I bow to the wisdom that I seek
The light and transient
knowing what it is
beseeching the soil and dust
to take their rightful place as gods
who use civilization as a footstool
Seek me this wild barbarian one
upon the Earth and within myself
and I shall show you purity and courage
open like space is for all
shining as a star into the deepest heaven
radiating like the Sun upon all humanity
If sleep is the question and awake the answer
then this keeper of solitude
is the listener to the riddle
the observer of the beginnings of the universe
All is seen in the Sage’s transcendental sight
All is freed within the mystic’s neosystem
We are carefully treated by this simple and poor revolutionary
this gardener of the Earth
Trees rejoice
They will not be cut by this Buddha
Air celebrates
She will not be polluted by this awakened one
Mother Goddess herself sings
that one of her loved ones
recognize her as she was ten millennia ago
Who is this wonderful gatherer of these United States
Who takes the name of Life
If you hear from this muse of a new age
If you see this oracle of a new flesh
Please arouse me
I want to meet this living tradition of peace
and sit at my lord’s feet