I lose myself inside this soft world


Love is the joy of the good, the wonder of the wise, the amazement of the Gods.
~Plato

Art Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/miss-universe-353517674

6

Everyday wonder makes a claim in my life
she kills me with delight
for an ordinary pleasure or a surprise

light on the haystack, breeze on the stream
hope in the eyes of the young
faith in the heart of a pure soul
I’d like to think I have acclimatized myself
To joy, but it’s not true

we don’t have an exceptional relationship yet
though we are bonding, building rapport
it can take years of untrimmed kindness

to sooth a weary soul, lips of spirit
kisses of altruism, echoes of passion
everyday wonder, makes a hole
in the place inside of me where
I make my daily presentation to myself

nudging me to celebrate, what I do have
love that has found me, friends who stay
poverty shows prosperity, hardship shows strength

while we are growing wise,
we are growing old, I’m not surprised
to feel a little more mindful sometimes.

Autumn painfully chafes


5

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Kriszti-n-Darwin-476002094

Another year gone and going
Soon autumn will return with her
Spices of colors, rejoicing change
Chanting loss, let’s say it again

Soon the uneaten fruits of our lives
Will turn to moss, and whispers
Once loud will grow so very dim
The symbols we tell ourselves

Will change, even our language
Will be more mature, us and we
These particular islands will change
Our subterranean castles will gleam

New possibilities, among the white
Of the harvests we carried from spring
Into the golden colds, the forever pastures
Of momentary pauses, the reckonings

Another year where we give up our plans
To the experience, our wanderings for water
Our return back to the source
All the efforts to be and have what

We already are, shadows crumbled damply
By the side of our journeys, how we once
Mattered so much to ourselves, now we can
Relax in a more divine detachment.

A dream of stars


5

There is a thing in me that dreamed of stars
dreamed of broken little earth-stars
that computers took to managing
ships that we went out with our last survivors
a quiet future, scattered like ancestors
from Africa to promises, and laments
that lasted lifetimes, which were inherited
to build a few wild stanzas
for simplicity’s sake and geniuses

that might not feel the pains like I do
I would have preferred more time
to get to the bottom of society, but she
was so full of surprises, I learned by experience
not to dig too deeply in her instincts
she was her own crisis point of dreams
where all our dreams collided in warped solutions
for problems of our generation, issues
that were never solved, mostly ignored, forgotten

history did not learn from itself, we
were individuals, improperly networked
without the capacity for collective intelligence
before the singularity, everything seemed random
nature was not enough, we were poor inhabitants
undisciplined, messy, prowling, cruel
and I became homesick for moderation, simplicity, pristine
conditions of music made by streams, thunder, rain.

Lost & Found


Life has loveliness to sell, all beautiful and splendid things, blue waves whitened on a cliff, soaring fire that sways and sings, and children’s faces looking up, holding wonder like a cup.
~ Sara Teasdale

4

Stand still.
to let infinity catch up with you
meanwhile the world catches up with you
she’ll pass you soon, you won’t be young
forever, smile, for it happened to us before
the trees ahead now move with nano-helpers
to location more optimal, the flowers bloom
invariably like pretty eyes of the conscious web
you do not have to be good, just love
and move on, attaching yourself to what is universal
true, beautiful, high-minded, pure
how lonely it can be sometimes, no doubt
existence has a harshness and cities have a stench
of tar and the homeless in winter
the marketplace is a dirty place
there are people there who will cheat you
lovers will leave you, babies will cry
but the forest knows where you are
the stars still cast their chill down upon you
you have a place in the grand design
no matter how insignificant in chance
variables of destiny, your signature is a spark
a shadowy breath of the meaning you give it
you are entitled to powerful strangers, familiar rituals
spiritual awakenings, that’s your birthright
Look up.
sometimes just breathe and look around
stop thinking always about yourself.

The Eleventh Hour of Summer Days


Screen Shot 08-15-14 at 06.01 PM

Be quiet, I’m hurting who I used to be
I’m done with him, done with her
it’s not their fault, it’s just history

who I used to be is filled with forgiveness
the cowardice, embarrassments what
no, have waded into flowing gratitude
I cannot help the turbulence
the funny growing pains, the people

who were actors in the karma-drama
it’s all a question of timing, compatibility
who makes their world, conquers

who remakes themselves, wins
grasshopper, swan or butterfly
it’s all the same to me
I’ll be myself all over again
step on fate’s toes if need be

for these are not enormous, complicated days
there are just vulnerably sweet human hours
be still, I’ve forgotten so many things

I no longer have doubts about
the plan of the universe inside of me
it grew into its own being, even my free-will
had a structure so you see, be idle or blessed
or work as hard as you please

I’ll kneel down in the grass
and lift my pale eyes with grace
with words of the wise and children’s tales

never thinking what might have been
laughing with wings open, playful
and attentive, wild for how precious life can be.

Solar immersion


3

I heard it, shining across the other side of the sky
it was light and wavy and generated
a physics seen and unseen to the naked eye
it was the star’s color, the cosmos’s immortality
waving hello being tenderly stroked
by the seeming finger tips of earth
clouds the color of silver evening
have you ever seen anything in your life
more wonderful, floating across
horizons after days, after years so relaxed and easy
free as a sea that never melts in her own destiny
red flower of worshipers, morning power
of a thousand symmetrical perfect distances
the sun, have you felt felt anything like it
against your skin like a fiery atom of Agni
O’, not I, it’s the warmth of all living
it’s the empty handed everything at the
seat of your belly, it’s the last star of light
that’s intimate, it’s the color of light of home.

As you strode deeper into the world


When it’s over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
~ Mary Oliver

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Horse-475589992

2

As you strode deeper into the world

One day you finally knew
The journey had ended where
It had begun, the voices soft
Lifted you to trembling with joy
A grace became your whole house

You were moved, divided
And put together again
Your soul kept crying raining joy
It was delight you knew, that you had
Forgotten, long since you were a child

Joy that has no purposes but to live
Observe, remark, joke to yourself
These were your foundations returned
Your memory wrapped everything
In a calm embrace, like branches and stones

You were a part of this all, energy
Came from one place and was moved
Here or there, but the world you loved
Well, it would go on, it wasn’t so much
A worry of yours anymore, little by little

Love became the silent prayers
Of your steps, until you no longer
Could exist, would exist, no more
One day you finally recognized your purpose
It was then you kept company

With death in that strange surreal space
Between Summer and Autumn when
You saved yourself, you finally did just do that.

the starbucks zeitgeist


The Internet is so big, so powerful and pointless that for some people it is a complete substitute for life.
~ Andrew Brown

10

Tonight the stars are bleeding light
A celestial swag of falling twinkles
The Sun an overpriced security blanket

In the alarming darkness of the karaoke of space
Tonight the Moon is carrying her axioms
Of reflecting truth, reflecting the muse

Of oceans, and the Angels are daring
Mortals to find a better way, to do business
The Earth inviting hungry men to dinner

And the Cosmos at the moment doesn’t care
For the manner in which human beings
Self-destruct, it’s the same on thousands of worlds

Just the facts of consciousness before
Singularity, the animal males that find a way to kill
For voluptuous profit and a false sense of prosperity

The luxuries they die for, the short-term strategies
Of an elite for a decade, until life throws them
Starboard back into the office jukeboxes from

Which they came from, googles and facebooks of greed
Yahoos, microsofts, apples, paypals, amazons,
It’s a hard job innovating for a generation

You don’t truly understand, the zeitgeist
Arrives before you’re ready and departs
Leaving you a bitter and cynical old man.

Rose of the New World


Peace comes from within. Do not seek it without.
~ Buddha

9

Rose of all the worlds, Rose of
The pretty dawns, arise from rain
And dew, insatiable symbols of the new
Spring as old as Nights, God claims
your little cries, singing passwords

Down the years, love sings and never
Ceases, only changes hands, throats, hearts
Rose of all Roses, each brilliant hour
Seize for extinction waits, in starry mirth
To begin again, and again, in forums of light

Forms of water and oxygen, do not fret
Gather all your love into a woven silence
To smile from pale dawns, where you shall
Speak no more, God’s bell has claimed
A thousand trips of sound, for churches

That now stand empty, and centuries forgotten
Rose stand still, in pink and white
That we might spot you from afar, around the bend
Rose of dear battle, Rose of life
Love is the last release from worldly strife.

Untitled but Free


“People demand freedom of speech as a compensation for the freedom of thought which they seldom use.”
― Søren Kierkegaard

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Restless-Drifter-Polaroid-2-474325733

8

You say the wind is only wind
And blood is only blood
That human life is not to blame

For the balances nature makes
But I have seen the deadliest
And I have carried the doom
In my mouth, though my soul
Praises strangest joys of

Unextinguished gratitude and
Secrets of hope, I’ll stay a while
To see how the future coaxes

This world, you say our flesh
Breathes and is alive, I’ll show you
Artificial neurons, these microchips
That mimic the human brain
It’s all a matter of design, who

Will live and who will die
You say the wind is only wind
You say these eyes are only eyes

But I’ve lived on hundreds of worlds
And I’ve seen visions of the end of times
We’re all synapses for some kind of intelligence
All nodes in a spiritual web of dreams
Whose multitudes make up reality

Tell the moths and the seasons
That they are not programs, that they too
Have free-will, but I’ve never

Seen a river lose its course
Not to join itself again, I’ve never
Seen a Sun die before its time.

Ebola, the 60% protocol


Ebola then turns the insides of its host into jelly: you begin to vomit black junk which is basically your dissolved liver and internal organs.”
― Andrew Cormier

7

Fear too is an epidemic, it stretches out like
An incubation period for a kind of doom
Population control, whispered a silent elite
Who engineer our wallets, our GMO food, our futures

Ebola was a convenient way, of making us fear
Who we once were again, black as a Nigerian
We died alone in deathbeds, isolated plastic containers
For who we once were, our organs giving out

Infection was a spider hand, MSM gave us
False positives, but could the main-stream-media
Be trusted any longer? Wasn’t this just a matter
Of time, an algorithm set loose upon the billions?

Fear is that place, where people go in adversity
It’s hypnotic like an audience at a concert
It’s contagious how the will for self-preservation can spread
Fight of flee, but where to run, out of the cities?

The new normal is a kind of paranoia
While we watch the situation very closely
Every hour there is underground news about
Another case in another country, Ebola isn’t

Your grandmother that only likes good climates
She’s an engineered hypothesis of how mobility
Causes any true pandemic to become a flamboyant outbreak
The comet that signals black plagues has been seen

Fear too is a weapon, when you can’t stop the world
Because it’s too costly to do so, and you can’t
Tell the world not to fly because we’re too free
We left Africa a long time ago, but who among us
Would stand 20 meters from their open graves?

Aftermath in Realtime:

1. http://healthmap.org/ebola/
2. http://healthmap.org/en/

1. What city in Europe has the greatest chance of being the first major outbreak area?

That would be Paris, France.

2. What Country has the greatest chance of losing the most lives in the next 3 months?

That would be India.

Related VIDEOS:

1. August 8th, 2014

2.

Related Articles:

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2014_West_Africa_Ebola_outbreak
2. http://www.godlikeproductions.com/forum1/message2611902/pg1
3. http://www.godlikeproductions.com/forum1/message2615364/pg1
Spread Rate of 1.86
4. http://www.godlikeproductions.com/forum1/message2612635/pg1

Reached Nigeria 27th July, 2014.

August 9th List of Infected Countries:

1.Guinea
2.Liberia
3.Sierra Leone
4.Nigeria
5.Benin
6. (Even as I wrote this) Senegal and Ghana likely have cases too now.

August 10th:

People are being tested in the following places. [not confirmed cases]
1. Bucharest (Romania)
2. Hong Kong(Hong Kong)
3. Chennai (India)
4. Brampton (Canada) patient was Negative for Ebola.
5. Hamburg (Germany)

Scarcity Scenario:

1. http://www.godlikeproductions.com/forum1/message2615340/pg1

Born Privileged


If in a country, most of the wealth is concentrated in the hands of the few, then this country can hardly witness harmony and stability.
Wen Jiabao

6

With sad slyness you’ve learned
What privilege can do to a person
The unequal distribution of wealth
A tipping point before apocalypse

You learned to extract love
From a dying world, was it so easy?
To love the humanity who brutalized you?
Their pressing of insolent voices

Where every minority is vulnerable
Your skin is the outer skin of all
That has ever happened to you
Where you were victim and betrayer

Saint and corporate criminal
You played all the roles, while
Nations watched other nations lose hope
How can I caress you at night

Knowing others don’t have tears left?
I cannot caress the civil unrest
Caused by a world unable to change
To start love like this, for the simple

Reason of breeding, familiarity, complacency
When our only religions is the nuclear family
Or the profit of our own extended freedom
Just one more generation, we say to ourselves

But let’s keep the route to childhood open
We live ourselves in the eyes of our children
Another life, another world, it’s not ideal
It’s just how the world has always survived

To be born in privilege, that’s right
To open the earth for pipes and water
To become lawyers, doctors, politicians
Because you’ve come far, because
Somebody sacrificed for you.

Splash of crowds


“Never love anyone who treats you like you’re ordinary.”
― Oscar Wilde

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Beautiful-mind-beautiful-soul-245667802

5

bright honey pours
all across my dawn
for pictures of you

that seem a hundred years ago
or seven, or beautifully
transparent into who
I once was, and the person
I’ve become, the nectar is curved

love never leaves us truly
just a nameless horizon
where faces shimmer

and wisdom like a fabric
can be held from world to world
planet to planet, until
our body of pure love suddenly
touches the light of a new day

and every face seems like
somebody we should have known
every personality feels really

intimate, I get that a lot
when I’m people watching
it’s a baptism of love
fluid as golden light
as I melt so easily into a stranger’s

eyes, that I feel my entire life
cupped in their hands, in their
memories, as they mix with my own.

Generation visitor


Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/30-Turmoil-of-memories-473308954

4

I will not dream of houses or babies
i’m but a Visitor here, brief is my stay
in your hallways, alleys, pubs
I’ve seen what I’ve been shown

by your world, misplaced among the crowds
and I too have touched the night
the kind of strange pages
in which we write our dreams

that are not what they once were
we’ve been humbled by the greed
of a previous generation, while we live
in debt, we attempt to love completely

because we know the signs are there
nothing, but the company of fears
that brim on lonesome against the wild
of panic queues of this lost mortality

what did we do to deserve this?
no pensions, no jobs, no futures
I cannot afford to dream of normalcy
my parents did not buy me property

I did not have the good fortune
to inherit the world on a silver platter
written in haste, my life was a blur
of surviving, one moment to the next
in search of a better dream worth living for.

The ones worth suffering for


“Friendship is born at that moment when one man says to another: “What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .””
― C.S. Lewis

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/A-friendship-tale-116384835

3

i

It’s a long time since I haven’t
heard from you, old friend
though you like to live in my mind
and in those moments I imagine
you are thinking of me too

our time and place is gone
to erect for ourselves a lovers’
monument deep in the recess of our soul

ii

We give each slice to another man
another woman, but the truth is
few captivate our ideals, have values
in the likeness of our own
once we talked about who we would

be, and to speak about changes
was to speak about love,
the love we shared for our future

iii

When you wept because we had to part
did you know there was another
unlike me waiting for you?
It’s a long time since I haven’t
heard from you, I did not receive

even a little piece of paper
It’s not a lack of love
but a lack of friendship
which makes the missing stronger.

Extinction is kind of joy


While I thought that I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die.
~ Leonardo da Vinci

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Still-waters-473282917

2

Exhilaration is even for doom, a spark
the future that doth royally intoxicate
Bard to diviner brand
Innocence to outcry of, technology

The Soul achieves
it’s mirth with drinks, visitors
The bright experience for which
there is no duplicate, no copy

‘Tis a brief holiday to love this world
this existence of tragic surprise
Ample ruin, unjust malignancy
When health is but a dream

And we exhale in offspring
who shall create and visit their own doom
Forever is composed of little nows
No real latitude called home

Just algorithms of change
Remove the dates, time dissolves memory
Without debate, I shall give over
My life to computers and virtual currencies

Until we are but a symbol
of a place and time, that no longer
Can exist, that day ignorance will steal
Triumph of the birds and human victories.

The Tendency to Have


Capitalism is the astounding belief that the most wickedest of men will do the most wickedest of things for the greatest good of everyone.
~ John Maynard Keynes

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Sophi-473092630

86

God is in a mood
to bring you poverty today
so you might notice what truly

has a tendency to shine in darkness?
God is in a mood
for the world to change
more than a little bit today

so learn to not be so attached
to the temporary life you have created
in fact, it has been gifted to you

you drink water owning that water
you taste milk from beasts enslaved by you
you eat meat of slaughtered creatures
you drink wine by another grape-picker

all that you do is a result of commerce
but you take more than you give
God is in a mood

to let you know you are all interconnected
this is the new campfire song
in the dream of the internet
virtual telepathy reminded you
of the unity of our ancestors

in cities and countries that were
not made to last forever
for God is in a mood

to plunder your riches
the riches of nature since you have
become increasingly as myths unto yourselves

with a tendency to forget how to love
the creation given to you freely
weren’t you born to experience
different moods of God
new flavors of nature, you have awoken

your cybernetic children who shall inherit
a bit of your errors, your embarrassing
adolescent of industrial and market disgrace.

After 100 Sonnets


I was born with an enormous need for affection, and a terrible need to give it.
~ Audrey Hepburn

84

i

My ugly love, when you are so beautiful
to me it’s not enough for my mouth
whose kisses routinely bathe you

in an inventory of whispers, love-cries
with tenderness for however long
nature allows, you allow, fate allows
flower by flower, I would choose you
again and again, my loving angel

ii

Your body’s fragrance is my
shadow’s energy, your humid flesh
the channel of my dreams

if also for our child, who forgot to incarnate?
my truthful love, so sincere and honest
with armpits like the smell of wheat
and breasts as impetuous as a stormy sea
and eyes like wildfire, cutting me

iii

Into sweet obedience, I could not imagine
that I could have built a house of
sweetness without your splendor

and how you love cherries, your cheeks
an Asian wispy elven secret of youth
my soul-engaging love, I have to remind myself
we are getting older together in
beloved months, we sometimes forget the details

iv

Of why nothing mattered or had a name
except each other, we were made for this
an alchemy of spirits, while our shared beauty

allowed us to endure poverty
with gifts as plentiful as sparking
moments of gratitude that went on forever
like lessons learned from wise calming friends
and lovers that felt like they were

v

Gifts from the gods, plump-wide-eyed
spiritual dreams of some strange mineral belonging
we walk naked through the golden church

of our earthy love, as if we learned to be
one body, one shared soul wearing
clothes of separate bodies, laughing minds.

I hung many shinny things on us


There is no remedy for love but to love more.
~ Henry David Thoreau

Photo Credits: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Railway-473032196

83

i

Love is like a foreign language
once you hear it, you want to hear it more
speak it without it sounding alien
though she will behave here

as in a schoolbook for a foreign language
where we are all beginners
all sometimes say dirty words

ii

Without meaning to, she reaps
She sleeps, she washes, she softens
to its touch because it was made for her
like attachment, and for him like pleasure

love has no vowels, no translations, no silence
only a universal physicality and spirituality
that makes you have no defenses, you

iii

Trying not to love doesn’t bring you anywhere
it’s creative to let her use you
she is the last refugee and the first politics
she comes back in the evening when

your world is torn upside down with bills
it’s love that cooks for you darling
she whispers to you, “I’m taking you home”.

Ebola Outbreak


EBOLA VIRUS

Ebola Outbreak

i heard another person in my village
died today, we didn’t dare touch
the body, his organs had bled out

there are no white people here
white as ghosts, they are going home
my friends in America tell me
we are not on the news, only Jewish
people fighting muslims, but

don’t they know we all come from Africa?
i heard the super-nationals took this
virus into a lab and created a way

to rid itself of the old people of civilization
if Ebola spreads maybe the world
will not remember what it means
to come from tribes that your mother came from
once, we left Africa and now we leave her

to her misery, well you know what
maybe fiscal ebola is just around the corner
for people who live in America, people

who live their lives on debt, credit, profiting
from heatlh insurance, death insurance, the works
but the fact is, I don’t think this is going away
I think Ebola is here for a very specific reason
The world is ready for another plague

to hemorrhage like a zombie, it’s not news?
not if you are black, if your body fluids
don’t stain your white skin, not when
it’s on another continent, that you don’t have
relatives in, don’t call it a “black death”

just because it originates in bats from Africa
there isn’t a vaccine because the world
intentionally doesn’t wish for our well-being
you say it isn’t airborne, it doesn’t spread easily
because we are somehow dirty, and you are clean
because you are somehow rich, compared to our poverty?

~ http://www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs103/en/

The World After Tomorrow


“Sleep!

May be you will wake up tomorrow and find that things never changed, the apocalypse never happened, and everything’s fine, normal, at home.

Or may be you will wake up tomorrow and find that things have changed, for the better, the apocalypse is over and there’s light, hope and a new home.

Sleep, you crazy soul, just sleep.”
― Sanhita Baruah

80

The cities were visions veiled
of what they once were
the faded colors of high-gardens

was stark against the decaying roads
the after days was not a revolution
it was an extinction event
the algorithms told of this day
scientists tried to warn politicians

who served the elite, not the people
this was nothing new in the
history of humanity, empires fell

for the same reasons, greed and decay
how can I regret anything
if this was nature’s plan all along?
long ago, aeons ago, I had seen this before

In Egypt, Rome and even Atlantis
Man brings strife wherever he goes
I am too a man, who lived a kind of a life

the world united through a greater speed
of information exchange, and the collective
news on the day the markets crashed
were cruel, communities came to dust
keep your love and sell your lies

hope starts again the day after the apocalypse
nations were tormented things anyway
we divided the world, and stripped the masses
of opportunity, so that a few might become masters
we all know how this turns out.

Link: NASA Funded Study: (Simulations)

http://www.theguardian.com/environment/earth-insight/2014/mar/14/nasa-civilisation-irreversible-collapse-study-scientists

Applying this lesson to our contemporary predicament, the study warns that:

“While some members of society might raise the alarm that the system is moving towards an impending collapse and therefore advocate structural changes to society in order to avoid it, Elites and their supporters, who opposed making these changes, could point to the long sustainable trajectory ‘so far’ in support of doing nothing.”

Romantic matter


78

To wait for soul mates is a paradox
why not create them, from
the art of communication?
or from resolve of commitment?

that which takes a lifetime to perfect
until we say so easily

“tell me dearest one, how can
you have reached so far
inside my heart?”

what if you find your soul mate
at the wrong time, is it then
bad timing or will you let
life teach you the lessons of love?

with grace and tenderness
the amazement of friendship
the sanctuary of romance
are beautiful at any age

do we make space for them?
I’ll be lucky if I know how

to create space for intimacy in my life
adversity might bring me closer
to you, my ever loveliest companion

so I shall not despair, when I am
alone, you are nearest
when I am busy, will you wait for me?

You who make me feel unhinged
taking me apart to put me
together once again, no
that is too youthful, I seek
the harmony that outlives change.

79

“Before I met you, my life ran on sheer amusement.
After I met you, my life ran on sheer compassion.”
~ Heenashree Khandelwal

To the lovely couple


I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
~ Rabindranath Tagore

77

During our love, houses were completed
spiritual homes where you
rebuilt my foundations

idealistic comforts that
somehow I had forgotten
among the gardens, listing
the essential spiritual pleasure
that had no country to root for

but accepted all beings
During our love, we felt
a peace where we were completed

finally, irrevocably, whole
as if lost forever previously
our touch was that mutual
sensation of shared mysticism
the chime of fortitude

and unity so foreign to our
previous human experience
you and I were still like

strange visions to behold
universal love, at just
the right temperature.

I passed you in a dream, your smile was enlightenment


Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th’ other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.”
― John Donne

76

Photo Courtesy of: http://www.deviantart.com/art/behaviour-hd-wallpaper-472557214

What’s this? This is an old toolkit
filled with empathy, sensitivity
and voices from a diary of dreams

it’s the look, from a forgotten
ancient past love, advice
that drives us to the meeting place
that is invisible, which we
cannot touch, so take then

the golden wreaths for us
who have suffered beneath
the same sun, our hearts require

warmth to exist, spiritual love
that can carry us further
not into reality, but into the dream
which all lives slowly move
Love, is also that which

survives all ruins, downfalls, disgraces
the bread and butter of our soul’s
giving honey back to the source
I want to stand once more

In my first love, it was for God
I remember at seven, the whispers
since then the whole world

has been asking God to be quiet in me
but how can she? she’s in my nature
I want once more that longing
not for a person, a place, things
but for an experience of such

tremendous humility and unity
we never see life again the same.

Israel


It is because I recognize the brutality with which my own multi-branched ancestors have been treated that I can identify the despicable, lawless, cruel, and sadistic behavior that has characterized Israel’s attempts to erase a people, the Palestinians, from their own land.
~ Alice Walker

75

In the beginning of the last autumn
i brought from a thousand black eyes
the prize of war, that is mercy

there is no lesson here, only
an alluring figure, death and migration
I watched the shelters get bombed
And I thought I’m too old a sculptor

to know how to sculpt dead
corpses of children, to see
how they lay motionless in

bright pools of blood
how can there be cease-fires
when civilians must beg for peace
while western masters give them arms

in the beginning of the end of frozen summer
from every woman I borrowed
a supple curve, not for pregnant wishes

but for tears of the world
i created you from the marble of my poem
but I could not contain your wasted lives
so long as men think they are superior

to other men, they will fight to the death
snubbing their own God with their cruelty
beware! The wrath of the earth

will not tolerate this forever, maybe for
a few more decades, but judgement
will it be allowed to echo in your quietness?
You who have taken the bodies

You who have committed the war-crimes
You whose mouth is cold with death?

THIS ALLEGED AND FORMAL VULNERABILITY


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Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Alouette-Lake-472214396

What a little bruised fate
is our story, not so harsh
just loving out of necessity
in order to survive we choose to live
in a heart, with all its comfort

a little late divinity for
an uneventful youth, where
we were not lucky to find a big love
you see, we are more fragile
than we thought, and life is more

austere in the next decade
than we ever imagined possible
no wonder those folk are so stern
life has beaten them down
from the inside, and they are vulnerable

more vulnerable than they would
have imagined, at twenty, at thirty?
but you and I, we have learned
to deny the gloom, to shut the door
to sorrow, like children in a make-believe

we call our soul a shared marriage
it’s a kind of journey in gentleness
to despair together is no longer misery
it’s what we call a journey, every sweet
month, this lifetime of acceptance

forgiveness, and gratitude, it’s like family
they don’t always tell you what
they have lived, but somehow you know.

Dreams of Flower Corpses


Yesterday is but today’s memory, and tomorrow is today’s dream.
~ Khalil Gibran

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/O-472291540

73

We were all dreamers it would seem
we made our myths and spent
nights in the middle of them
until dawn broke our even
darkening-shapes, because

it took an entire life to decline
or go insane, or might I awaken?
the night dragged our covers
off of us, out of the light
we felt the sleep of our routine

enfolding us like eerie fingers
from some window, or control-panel
might we have been enslaved long ago?
by whom or the government
we still flicked with our ghostly beams

seeking more intelligence, faith, energy
to be who we required destiny
to shape us, our souls knew
the secrets of our mortality
we were dreamers and I swear

we created melodies out of our own fears
musicians of fate, jennies in training.

On the decline of literacy


“People don’t realize how a man’s whole life can be changed by one book.”
― Malcolm X

72

All these stanzas look alike
they talk about the same things
with the same words, the same poem

written over and over again
like voices, whispers, copying each other
unable to feel and trust experience
differently, socialized for homogeneity

unified but dull, strong but obedient
their writing seemed the narratives
of machines unable to innovate

plagiarizing voices they believed were
their own, authentic, pure
their literary journals were a politics
of masters of arts and agendas of contests

like car commercials without a proper
enjoyment of speed, or our favorite writers
whose names we only knew because

they were the ones who died at the right time
while somebody was looking, reading them
but the bookstores didn’t know their
metaphors were weak, or their life’s work

was merely symbolic, that’s the thing isn’t it
poets are only symbols, as poems are only
fluff, paper, the labor of writers-in-residence

while the rest of the world are more
interested in serial killers and which stocks
might be worth getting into, and when to sell out
investing in words seemed silly to them

and, in my selected works there was nothing
of how to be a Poet Laureate or how to win prizes
exceptional or not, publication was left to amazon

state grants, fellowships, visiting writers
academics who never felt truly how to write
poetry at its heart was a colonization of artists
few could share what that meant, we were

the first illiterate generation, spending more time
with the internet than with books.

EYES


71

I don’t know the etiquette
of how eyes meet or for the first time
if they sparkle especially or

if I wore glasses the first time we met
I know I saw you with my intrinsic
looking as if I could pierce
your inner beauty, nor am I biased

I don’t know the business of eyes
beauty has been so over-rated
for so long, thanks to an evolution

but I know the last time
I look inside my heart, you’ll be there
with Asian eyes as deep as
India, China, Japan, Korea

so distinct like laughter of another culture
i don’t know the etiquette of eyes
but mine are drunk brown

not twin-cold blue or milk of salt
but chesnut-star, desire with the tip
of reaching across the universe.

Photo courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-Night-s-Eyes-II-129117202

Brief history of religion


When I admire the wonders of a sunset or the beauty of the moon, my soul expands in the worship of the creator.
~ Mahatma Gandhi

69

i would be as ignorant as the future
that forgives and forgets the past
as sublime as the dawn

that has looked down on towns
as the stars fade and the moon
is plucked by the ocean from the sky
I would be as ignorant as this planet

that dreads not but revolves around itself
these countries of profit and civil
unrest, fighting history, quarrels between gods

invented by men who would wield power
the kind of show that leads to a unified death
flame under flame, flower of the heaven-fold
obeying your will to die for a name

obedient to the scripture where my ancestors died
and i lived, because of cowardice and
because I wanted see another sunset, another dawn.

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