The soul is as an unseen Swan
Drifting down the black river
With only stars to stream the light across
And only light to make the river
Seem more bright, a perfect commotion
Of silk, snow, lilies, the flexibility of matter
Creation, the soul feels no bondage
With an armful of white blossoms
I’m sure the soul smiles even when
We appear to be at our worst
Down and out and suffering
As if there were no tomorrow
The soul sways and is partially hidden
It known no dark music, only stretching
Down the river like a waterfall
Discovering something for the
Inner evolution of form and whistling
The background music of everything
Quantum variables speaking new languages
The soul listens for the bulb of love
As rain pelting the tops of trees
And clouds over the river in a season
That is between seasons, for which
There are far too few names
The soul is an onlooker of the most mischievous
Parodies, smiling at the drama of last week
Piloting dreams for learning situations
Laughing at the calendar whose touch
Is bleak weather, irony of shaded routines
Patron, portion, logistic of the mother-instinct
In us all, the soul doesn’t find necessity hard at all
There is no bottom to the soul, it catches us on the other end.
Searching my heart for its true joy
This is the thing I find to be:
That I am not weary of time, though
It moves too quickly, and words and people
Drown out my own sorrow, this world
Deserves more than my self-interest
The salty sweetness of pleasure grows old
But helping others, that peace never ends
I found the small moments of empathy
In my days, the best, the cherishing of others
A more luminous goal than self-satisfaction
And now I am caught by the suffering of others
Not in a bad way, but in a collective-realism
That I too, had it easier than others
That I too, was born more fortunate
And thus to serve others may be the only way
For me to ever understand humanity.
These words have survived separations
Faces I can no longer remember of loved ones
Poetry has transcended my decades
Spacious and fluent like a last reminder
Of why truth is no longer as important
As beauty, inner beauty of a spiritual quality
Alphabets now shelter this candle
This life that was my hopes and dreams
These most intimate self-deceptions
Wildest faith of wonderful illusions
For a moment still I am there
With moons and roses, aware of nothing
But the shine of creativity on our inner cheek
The mineral blossoms and lotus of our imagination
It’s pure there to write like drunken water
In a light of its own color, reflecting the pauses
Silences, spaces in-between relationships and solitude
That was the best quality of the life I lived.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
Peace comes from within. Do not seek it without.
~ Buddha
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.
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 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
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?
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)
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
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
I was born with an enormous need for affection, and a terrible need to give it.
~ Audrey Hepburn
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.
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”.
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?
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
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.
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.”
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
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.
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
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.
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
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?
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.
The blog is dedicated to the people which care about their goals, dreams , actions including the ones that have paused , slow down or even stopped moving forward.
Wuji Seshat 