With Specimens of Song

– Where Hart Crane once jumped

You love the invisible
You write IT everyday
You claim your little notes
Further the language of the Day

With ample letters, of your love
To witness the light which delights
The air is clear and transparent
Where your voice speaks like a melody

Your love is for the invisible
With incorporeal pillows vain
Your sunrise is a spiritual event
Somewhere inside your little brain

Your love, it is for the invisible
A dreamer interrupting his own ground
You write journals for eternity
God bless your suddeness
that which you call dear poetry.

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Bridge-at-night-II-403312876

To a Heart so desperately in Port

I am oppressed by Cathedral tunes
Of another age, or am I so ancient thus?
Carrying a Heavenly Hurt

From life to life, like a thief –
With little internal indifference
And hugged purple scars

That give me my cup of meaning
For the water of brief identity
It’s an imperial affliction to be

A part of a world you don’t believe in
A species, that made wrong choices
There’s shadows everywhere

Hold your breath, do not partake
In the look of death, though it kills you
Without a sound, this is the life

We have been given –
the appalling calculations, as a
Funeral on the road, with

No pennies for flowers
Without self-forgiveness on wild nights.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Sunkissed-0469-399845418

I Admonish Thee

Hope is the circumference of life
Faith is the circle of the fall
Creation the mighty exponent of
Oxygen and water, blood and time

History notes love is posterior
To fate, that seal of light
That spreads what we were
And mixes it with the cycles
*
That never stop, only recede to start again
Revelation cannot end with
Going blind, we learn to listen
Silence is the jewel of posterity

The future, the brimming Deity in our eyes
Perhaps we ask too large a place
No less to explore the furthest skies
Hope remains the circumference
*
Faith ends all beliefs of smaller bundles
Creation the happening where we exist
Open to all accidents of loss
Yes, oxygen, water, blood, time
These too will be taken away.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/autumn-sun-402106762

I fumbled at my nerves on Earth

I am a living acre without design
an apparent order of action in anonymity
this wind and sun are my neighbors here
i yet attain a shadow or of a squirrel

a silent truce with general nature
and the idea of a plan, severely retarded further
by the poignant excess of luxuries to the few –
I am a living care of temporary possession

an apparent cause of love in union
this landscape and tree are my playmates here
i yet attain a shadow or an art of flower
a silent truce with universal chance

it might be famine all around, but we still
live from smile to smile, by happiness
and small wonders fed, the years
i have been without a home.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/girl-emotion-401831549

Felicity of Doom

Death and conscience, O’ she –
Will easily classify achievement
Achievement being a forgetful thing

Dare you saw a few souls
Deep straight down, a white heat
Of harmony at the best & worst of times?

Then crouch within the door
Of possibility, and listen for –
The metaphysics of vanished others

Who mysteriously appear and suddenly
Take leave, we quiver at the forge
Of the social fire’s flame, that unanointed Blaze

Where we marry others for a moment in words
And sacrifice a bit of ourselves, to please
Death and conscience, O’ she will –

Easily disseminate our mutualities
Love being the most memorable things
It is not a question of who or stability

But how much did we give & love
On what Anvil did we place our heart
That celestial soundless tugged-of-within.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Amaranth-402725392

the Taste of Poverty

A Day! Help and yet another day
Where if prayers were as passer-byes!
They do not greet me, what a world

Such as this, deserves less prayers
More acts of startled selfishness
Might date a victory, in some forgotten

Future, where the past is no longer remembered
These nations and empires and economies
Do not steady my worrisome soul

My psyche was not built for war
Or angel-worn prosperity, I eat
The hopping-sideways for miracles

My life a quiet volunteer work
Of learning empathy in such hurried grounds
My velvet mouth chasing crumbs
With the taste of beauty and divinity

Lingering in my mouth, silver steam
Turmeric and ginger tongue-bells
Garlic butterflies off to the fragrance of noon.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/e-n-d-o-f-t-h-e-d-r-e-a-m-s-403349873

on Being Other Centered

I scarce esteem the business of a name
Time and being, too closely knelt –
To be somebody is surely
A bondage, as a play, the debts

Of somebody else’s keeping
In some spaces, imprisonment
With other co-conspirators, sweet
I scarce esteem my time on the Earth

Less with my comrades
Few and far-between though they call –
Bring my past despair, those
Bands of spice, talks or reckoning

So I may take flight from these
Boundaries of sense-in-pain
For consciousness is thus sandwiched
Between Eternity and time, and others

I can do without time and Eternity
Enough to be at heart with beloveds.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/In-The-Pouring-Rain-403324988