The Veins that Run from all Centuries

I can feel a tremendous ballad
Approaching me from within

A rising discontent, with locality
I want to live outside of time & space

Embrace dimensions where “I” does not exist
That is the trusting of Omnipotence
And the true unity of Immortality
Life sustains itself, I can forsake this body

So long as I have a means to experience
The Kingdom of Heaven, spiritual totality

I can feel a tremendous ballad
Overtaking me from without

All these Delinquent Palaces
Achieving poetic strain, at a distance
Assisted by false estimates of mortal consequence
I can feel a tremendous ballad

Between Zero and the Bone
Between Love and all other interchange.

The Akashic Servant

My Brain is a network among the stars
In quantum curiosity, I am connected
Like a psychic network to all

I do not require intelligence
Only excessive sensitivity to sentience
A trance-state of the syllable of sound

Lyrics of all churches, all beings
My Brain is a channeled unity
The Lightning of the Cosmos playeth here

Like a chariot, or a vest, or a simulation
My Brain are neurons of serendipity
I am scaffolded, primed, pruned, trained

Transported by fate to divine service
My Brain is a network of illuminations
Grown soulful, with homesick eyes

Alive with the white sustenance of youth
And attachment to eternal themes
My Brain is intrinsic with possibility

A neuro-plasticity of the highest art
Of visitors, and occupations, and music
With narrow hands, to gather Paradise –

The Poetic Dilemma

Words answer my April
Words answer my every month
Every state, has a Window or a Minister

My feeling are of Two bodies
My soul and its liberty persist
I know it then, by the numb look

Of Neighbors, and the lost delight
Of Lovers, where is the Bee and blush?
For it is not yet Spring – and I am lone

Language is my last successor of pain
I am trapped in its Vitality
Self-Obliterating is the choir

Who that visits the Night is my poetic chore
Words answer my April
I make words for every hour

There is no Education in poetry
Only pure-feeling, as ashamed as courtesans
Here I contrast all currencies.

With Ourselves We Have Outdated Etiquette

I should not dare to be sad
So many the years gone by
The weight we bear is impossible
If we think we bear the most

But the truth is, it’s not us who have difficult lives
We are all dying every day
I should not dare to be so gloomy
While I encourage my friends

On different terms, we are who we are
Disappearing to ourselves
Unknowable, without friends and partners
I should not dare to be alone

With my insignificant Immortality
To withdraw is a worthless thing
Secure in our simplicity, we maintain control
I should not dare to be so unobtainable

That I never select others into my life
I must befriend the world, to begin to live.

Only a Passing Shrine

I live with Him – I see his face
Death, the sundown visitor
The look that claims us from the invisible
I’ve seen people die of grief
I’ve felt the enormous conviction
Of hopelessness, going unloved

The Stillness of the Room
When the brain stops being creative
I’ve looked in the eyes of the elderly
Tried to find the light in their eyes
There is an uncertain stumbling buzz
In the way I feel incomplete, in

The notices of feeling alive, intense
Is the lack of beloved visitors
The absence of true friends
Proof that physicians are wrong
About the human spirit, do I have
Permission to recant, permission to forget

That this life is a series of goals
That I learn and am growing
From traveling proceeding?
To Ache is human, it’s not polite
It’s just mortality’s oldest custom
The little toil of Love, on the edges
Of all that I hold dear….

After Heraclitus with Kundalini

To sneak upward is one way to reach God
My teacher said to learn to be transparent
To bathe in silence and watch the waves

To shed in the cycles of time
To renew the spiritual skin, again & again
Until you are so alive
That nothing can stop you
All nature is a fire

So learn the alchemy
Of transformation, befriend change
Shine on the sunlight and praise the metamorphosis
Dart with the ancient hieroglyphs

Learn what the ancients meant
By spiritual discipline, conservation of energy
The same river of the universe is always there
We burn in it and are taken away

Only to age in rugged paradigms
One step closer to quantum realities
Self-preservation is a spiritual event.

The Last Sunset

Sunset, so long I’ve waited
For your fantasy of color
That I could almost taste

The beauty between your fragile
Minutes, the aches of orange
The dusk of flashing pinks

I did not expect to ever find immersion
The kind where I could truly forget myself
But it was a necessary union with nature

Sunset, now that I’m finally in you
I look back at my self with the eyes of clouds
From pale blue warmth, sad goodbyes

I can’t stop the flood of inches of beauty
The river of time, glowing with sunsets
You bathe me in golden-yellows

This is the home-star I breathe in
As intimate, as the sound of rain

Sunset, so hold me here
I’m dying on the inside.