Twigs of my poetree of soul:
Timeless, sublime, tonal,
Melodious sojourn into life, self.
River banks, as petal and thorn
Roll, filled by agua’s flow;
Entwining on her bed,
Know, love is. Mauna,
Silence, echoes its song;
Which no words could trace.
Thus ananda, bliss, intimates
The eternal, and details
Living shantih, peace.
One lived as prayer,
Their light adding
To the well of light,
Their every step in grace,
They left no footprints;
That will echo always.
Feeling with your spirits hands,
See with the eye of your heart,
Hear with the ear of your soul,
And know with the body
Of life’s knowledge,
We can be prayer;
Being forever answered.
While feeling sacred on
This All Hallow’s Day,
I also feel pangs of the
Hungry, so wrought by
The profane; for the food
Wasted by us could feed
All the world’s…. Yet,
Betwixt, in the mundane
It’s only hurled.
You, a joyous lake.
Me, the mountain, underground,
Which, you fill,
That holds you always.
Within and without us,
Is this love.
Were it a cause that
Opened those tiny arms,
Alighting brilliance, a smile,
As I hugged him back, then,
It could not be known.
For, this child towards
The divine leads goes.
Would it be that we say,
It is not the life;
Rather, we know?
Denatured, this first,
Still, inside life’s waters rise
To Spring’s tides. We feel,
Below emotions ebbs and flows,
“…Go On”‘s vernal
Raison d’etre, to not know!
Will of life’s wind howls
There is no fear.
Being all the way live, ’til.
The way open,
Beyond time and bone of space,
In front of nose, original face.
Fire in the sky
And your art,
Entering my eye,
Life’s signs and meanings
Perceived by all our senses and
Being’s foci of attention, can
Divine from within and without.
That’s if our inner-eye
Isn’t clouded by false-ego,
Self-conscious self, or doubt.
As my breath is the one, prana,
And the life’s pulse, pala,
Reaching angelic source, sura,
So is this mind, manas, a
The eye that would it see;
Unbeckoning unto thee.
As well, this Bodhi, a temple,
Of the four and fifth, nur,
So entered by atma, a ray of thy sun,
Thus being winged, and
As such with wind;
Flying only in dharma’s dance,
Is returning to, Brahma, you.
For, there yet, by thy grace, go I.
Like the wind moves,
Not love, nor hate,
Only everything and nothing
At all; at once.
The depth of one’s sorrow
Is the well’s fathom,
Of meanings and moments
Shared with them.
As acid rain from your closed eye,
An acre of rainforest falls each
Second, earth’s tears bleeding;
For, all you see is grey.
My…, social justice:
A Weaver Of Life
To a student of Christ’s and Ghandi’s.
One who had a dream that someday
We’d live in the promised land and
Took us by the hand.
Yet, we won’t get there
If you don’t break your chains,
Refusing to be a pawn in their games.
We can’t turn our back to those
Unchosen, on the outside or in,
Simply ’cause they can’t afford.
We can bring them with us, if we,
Resisting, everyday, their common
Delusions, not be a link in that chain.
The chains that keep our humanities
Growth arrested, our potentials
Unexplored; our thoughts,
Feelings, and deeds flawed.
If you don’t refuse
To be the chains that bind you,
We’ll never break the chain.
The chain that murders.
The chain of delusions.
The chain of death.
Addressing, not addressing them
Have costs, the former is individual,
The later is global, as well.
what, when, where, how, why, who
Here it’s said the pen is mightier than the sword.
In the East, pen and sword in accord.
The latest great equalizer, multi-media,
In its ever more myriad forms, in the hands of
Media whores, has helped put the con back in the
Convolution. One of its en vogue ‘realisms‘,
Unnecessary, unending war is all good if you
Continually win, as long as its continually whined
About, allowing cover for the supposed left
Marketeers. Destruction to extinction are not
Profit, pleasure, power, for, clarity, is a sword
That cuts all ways, without, as there’s no cutting,
And a pointless point. We must put down the
Sword, and pick up the pen, to be in accord.
united suck of assassins
The corporate structures convolutions
Latest increase in its blitzkrieging speed,
Dictating the gutting of the economy, in
Its devolutionary direction, warring on the
Middle-class to poor globally through
Economic attrition, unending unnecessary
War, and extermination to extinction of
Humanity, large mammals, is their ‘final
Solution’, and it must be stopped. They
Think with spooned nose, speak with
Forked tongue, will “We,”, be undone?
C’est La Unvie
A million monarchs lie dead, though,
No less sociological programming of
Upper-middle to rich classes with
Decadence, affluence, inclusion, is.
No less societal determination of
Middle to lower, being excluded by
Division and conquering, privation.
Yet, they, on wing no more, still fly
In our spirit’s eye, heal humanities’
Heart. While their silent cry echoes
The 33,000 species extinct each year,
A rate not seen since the last ice age
Ensued; does it move you?
Does your curiosity ask why?
Will you, on this 33rd Earth Day, allow
A tear for all life’s fallen? Consider
The losses economic apartheid incurs,
Mirrored by the divide human-centricity
Has levied? Our underlying duplicitous
Disregard for life, greed and oil fueled,
Won’t abate for our existence, will you?
( For the beautiful butterflies )
Talk the talk, walk the walk, and even
Be the be, but, if you don’t vote the vote,
You won’t ever be livin’ in a democracy!
“What’s Love Got To Do With It…”
They say, a rose by any other…,
Would still smell as sweet.
Every 9 seconds a woman is raped
By someone who says he loves her.
Give a real gift to sisters,
And brothers, all, reach one,
And teach one, to not be a
Link in that patriarchal chain,
Not adding to that number of
Humanities bane, not a statistic
in la machine’s game, ever;
From this Valentine’s Day on.
(For 100th anniversary of Int’l
Women’s Day, and celebrating
Women’s History Month; reality)
Copy, share, as you will! Thanx for all you do.
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