Psalm 11 – Fortitude

Praising love, I found a countenance
That could survive poverty
I found the magic to reject
The labels I was taught

And duality, seemed like a poor
Attitude, where I sought to feel unity
Praising beauty, I found myself
Rarely in adversity or internal strife

Praising God’s miracles, I escaped
The better part of oppression
Even if my trials were no less
Than others, I shared the burden

Of organics, in a world increasingly
Not chosen by God for his people
Where nobody was right or wrong
But just more or less out of date

Out of touch with the pace of change
Praising progress, I found myself learning
At every stage of life, waiting for a time
When I could talk to God again.

Psalm 10 – Politics

I will praise thee, O Lord
Not for the fair world
Thou hast created, making
Man rule over women

Making one kind of a man
Richer than another, not for
How docile your creation is to
One species, which plunders

For the cheap profit of a few
Decades, what nature took
Millions of years to create –
I will observe how change will fix

This Era of its doom, its politics
Of heathens, mine enemies have
Wallets, they have bought power
They possess superiority

I will sing praise to thy name, Selah.
Even in the darkness, I will find
A way to feel the light
Not because this world is fair

Or that there are many Good men left?
For all creations come to an end
And some cities in peace, still perish
In the game beneath the stars

But the Lord shall endure forever
Like nature, like love, and some remember him
Who may or not be our descendants
It does not matter to me, history

Will always be determined by
The new masters, and masters
Rarely have an objectivity of truth
That might reveal their former wickedness.

Psalm 9 – The Violence

O Lord, how forgiveness
Frees us from the past
And acceptance, empties us of
Traumatic memories, it is ordained

That our fate should have
Highs and lows, though there is
Always somehow the feeling
Of something like the presence of God

Or the potential for angels
And the proximity of nature
Or the caress of silence
And the quantum dominion of

Powers we cannot fully understand
The prophecy of secrets
And the workings of the invisible
But the beasts in the field play

Just as Man does his part to acquire
To mate, to make war and steal the
Lot of his neighbor, to overcome
His own fears and insecurities

And profit, in the trials of others
Let it not be said we are better
Than animals, for I have seen
Man in all his glory and vanity

And even the most intelligent men
Were better villains than in the stories
And Man killed exceptionally well
Even in his more mature wisdom.

Psalm 8 – Capitalism

O Lord my God, let me not say
Let me not lie, “my God is best”
For each values experience uniquely
Selah. How many Gods have we

Invented? Rending to piece the idols
Of other gods, for our own
Cherished idols? We might worship
Money, but even the God of the

Marketplace, becomes false with debt
The Lord shall judge the people
The Nations shall suffer their karma
The Americas shall be torn apart

O Lord, let it not be said we were
Good Christians, praising only our
Version of right, our emblems of patriotism
Let it be known, we were also cruel

Unfair, corrupt, as any other Masters
That Lorded over other men, that filled
The realms with images of our likeness
Making the world love money, like we did

Capitalism was the plague that we proliferated
We rewarded evil, until the corporations
Became the high priests of our home countries
Feudal, full of disdain for the common people

Barons, full of spite for justice or freedom
O Lord, in thine anger, if though shall destroy
Parts of this world in thy holy crusade
Let history show the white man
Persecuted others to be like him.

Psalm 6 – The Discriminated

But as for me, Deare Lord
My house is a home for charity
That there is yet room in
My heart, for this raw beaten world

And enemies to befriend
And hope, to give away
As a beggar does something kind
For a little coin, I too pray

In my own kind of prayer
In my own variety of goodness
Like I trust all these beings
Who suffer like Buddhists together

And make up imaginary sin
For a bit of an excuse, to prostrate
Themselves against universal laws
For if we are all guilty of something

Where does our aptitude for judgement
Come from, our inability to forgive
Even the slightest of slights?
Our talent for animosity

Even when the entire world suffers
The same ills, like one village?
What is the need for war
So that a few might have a lot

While most have none and die
Without cause or rights of plenitude?
Why torment minorities, when they
Have less hope of a good life than us?

Psalm 5 – Silence

Thou hast put gladness in my heart
Without telling me, such is
The mercy of thy Grace, O Lord
I never did anything to

Put you there, of this I am quite sure!
Stand in awe, little Mortal
Thus I am small and happy, Selah!
I have lost all righteousness

Whatever Greatness I once was
Has passed and is gone
My only love now is what
I can give to this world

Before I too am gone, we all
Change in the nature of thy grace
Give ear to my words, O Lord
Not my thoughts, but my heart

That knows nothing but the
True consideration of universal love
Personal love being too far close
To the animal, to the wickedness

Of Man and his devotion to possession
Possessing nothing, I find myself
More free, more giving, more apt
To not speak but find peace

In silence and the simple things
Consider that, my final meditation
And in not hearing the voice
Of my own thoughts, thy blessing.

Psalm 4 – Equality

Do not hear me when I call, O God
For I am not so demanding
I do not imagine I would be saved
Besides, what about all the others?

Save first the innocent, the pure
The righteous who are brave
To never call upon thee,
They who have not hurt others

For what glory is there in imagining
Being close to God. Selah. ?
Without helping others, a life
Is not truly worth living, after all. Selah.

Let me know the true value of
Sacrifice, let me find a method to
Serve. Selah. Nothing else really matters:
I will both lay me down in peace

And find joy in the love of giving
For I have taken a lot, enough, truly.
Let me not imagine sin, Deare God
When sin is a concept of obedience

Let not my righteousness extend
Into thinking I am more holy
Than any other soul, for all souls
Must be made of the same stuff
As are all bodies, brains, stars. Selah.

Psalm 3 – The Sacred

Lord, how in thinking of only
Myself, am I lost in a world
Of cruelty without redemption?
There is no God for the selfish. Selah.

God does not exist for those
Who compete against others
For profit, for territory, for power
Against humanity, against life

Lord, how the masses are
So serious about their lot in life
And equally almost stupid
To the wonders of existence

In their down-trodden state
They forget the grace. Selah.
Will their tears come to nothing?
I will not be afraid for myself. Selah.

If God is near, the heart finds
Salvation, in what was given
Not by taking, but in accepting
Not by pushing, but by smiling

Not by cursing, but in learning
How simple is this world given. Selah.
I am only now beginning to comprehend
When I found light, I realized
I had no enemies, I awoke to this.

Psalm 2 – Unconditional

Why do the weak find God easier?
It is because they know innately
How to surrender to his Will
The Lord cares not for your

Human strength, in an artificial
Society, in contexts of your
Politics, or your ideas of good
I will declare the decree that

God is natural, takes no particular
Joy in judgement or acts of superiority
But gives life, as the sun or as
The soil or as the trees and waters

Why do the loving find God easier?
It is because they innately know
How to give of themselves and thus
Are given back to a hundred-fold

Therefore, do not be so meek
And shut thyself in thy little routine
But make time for kindness
A little each day, that thy death

Won’t be a selfish act of escape
But a liberation from all thy good works
Be wise therefore, of what it means
To be natural, to rejoice, without

Judgement, not condemning others
To your petty views, to your ridiculous
Biases, no matter how benevolent
What can thy possibly know

Of another creation’s fate?
Morality is by instinct a failing to take
Into account, the universal laws
That is the true nature of things.

Psalm 1 – The Humble

Blessed is the poor of wealth
For he learns to value real things
Like love and his social being
For there are many kinds of food

On this Earth, some closed to
The greedy, for his delight is
Born from humility & simple things
And his dreams are not to

Emulate the successful, for he
Witnesses their vanity, corruption
Blessed is the man who cannot
Be bought, he hath no price

He does not frequent the marketplace
With rumors, propaganda, selfishness
Instead he walketh by the river
Instead he helps the unfortunate

For he has suffered enough to know
Who requires help and true meditation
And understands the necessity of charity
And the right conditions of altruism.

Time Splits Open

In my love of day
My love invents another day
In my window night
Another night is invented

We are what we think
So carnival of carnal imaginations
Be still, learn to concentrate
For the calligraphy of fate

Shows sign-seeds of
Syllable-clusters, rampant sparks
That the stars in my hands
Invents a touch that deconstructs

Itself, these eyes that have
Taken these pages by storm
And this heart that cannot
Let any portion of the
World go unloved alone.

Photograph Courtesy:

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Camille-486793992

The Young Brain

In memory of the
Germination of words
I held dreams to the
Mansions of meaning

Remembering that myth
Permeated culture, a million
Notes within symbols
Hidden between the context

And the semantics
Of the dawn-wet architecture
Of how to think the same things
Each generation has thought

The important questions were
Immutable, a meeting place
Where all minds wound up
A municipal garden of intelligence

The corners and plaza where
Feelings, instincts and awareness
Intersect, like lightning
And the words meant nothing

They were only a bare minimum
Translation of experience
And experience wasn’t much
But a simulation of variables

An algorithm of sense
The salt and pepper of pulse-beats
Of time, but how the present
Was as untouchable and intangible
As ever, like a child who never ages.

Photo Courtesy:

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Glitter-491028440

Premonition of Transcendence

The gateway of my being
Is a wide open clarity
Where I am tired of speaking

I want to go beyond
Into the nameless silence
Where duality disappears

And forms seem unimportant
Unfasten my being into
Pure energy, quantum syrup

For the Ananda in my brain
I want to go on, I cannot;
I am not built for dreams

But destined to sing in
Imprisoned blood, separated
Like a self in egocentricity

Arriving forever at selfishness
Keen to behold a face of springtime
That is more expressive than instinct

Grant that I see the face of
The living one day, I wish
Everything would speak to me

Each pulse arriving forever
Only in the relative present
That is only an entrance of magical reflections.

Photo Courtesy:

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Gone-491037965

I Came Here

I came here
As I write these lines
Not as a poet, preacher, prophet
But at random, an explorer
Of language, this first
Invention, I find it very fine

Finer than many of our
New things, I embrace
The lineage of poet-saints
And eat the mystic rhetoric
For breakfast, all to have a

Feast of the mind, a daybreak
Of the soul, that is not
Contrived by economic murmur
The first light, the dispersion
Of the birds makes me feel free

Like the music behind verse
I came here
As I write these lines
As a simple fool & observer
Careful to maintain my silence

In this world of propaganda
Careful to maintain my purity
In these times of great corruption.

A Self-Help Poem

To love life, a gift from Creation
Is a duty we too easily forget
Misunderstood is the wonder
Lost in suffering, is the gratitude

But friendship with life, is so
Essential to finding beauty
Learning like a child, so fundamental
In our ability to appreciate circumstance

And paramount, in the capacity
Of limited creatures to choose free-will
And exercise their soul, in blossoms
Of experience, in honest affections

In pure becoming, that’s the philosophy
No trials can censure love out
There are these holy attractors
These metaphysical magnets of bliss

They are quantum fuel for the sensitive
Not only to be sensitive to suffering
But sensitive to virtue, open to kindness
Giving and receiving, without judgement

Participating in harmony spontaneously
God knows you are apt to enjoy suffering
But to make it a habit would be an absurdity
Make love the habit you base your life upon

To walk a golden path with a smile
To find your dreams on a sunlit assertion
That your life is what you believe it can be:
Life is a perception of how you reinforce the positive.

A Gift of God

Mother of my Angels
Master and spouse of my
Soul’s bread and water

Come to me, in simple purity
All that I am is yours
My possessions mean nothing
To me, my ownership is not
Something I value, I seek

The universal frenzy of thy bliss
And peace beyond the goodwill
Or ill will of men, their politics

I tire of their customs of ignorance
Let my cavalry be a spiritual vocabulary
The last touch of prayer before
The world changes, as I change
Along with the world, as is

My divine inheritance of this world
Of poverty, these heart-broken people
Their sadness is my sadness, but

My compassion, will it ever reach
Its perfect age? Will I ever know
The fulfillment of my empathy?
Or shall I be as a secret friend to life
Who gave to life only secret signs

And hidden signals? Who will know
My face that lived for the Will of God
The faith of each one’s true experience?

Photo Courtesy:

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Lake-490814078

These Years of Embryonic Spirituality

How beautiful is the vision
God is light, nature is divinity
So respect what is given in this world
The spiritual essence of

Biological and artificial things
Gem of our eternal beauty
Mirrors of the cosmos-soul

Splendor point of our familiar
Lives, these words fail but
Our hearts can still heal the world
Love is an eternal being

Perfect and free, that goes from
Person to person, in our racing lives
To describe what I have seen

Cannot be done, only by giving in
To the universal love possessed
In each one’s soul can it be shown
How beautiful is the vision

The Holy Spirit that does not require
Dogma, prejudice, judgement,
Not even scripture, or authority

Life is an immeasurable distance
An intuitive unity of person and people
Observer and event, subject and object
Do not try too hard to be impressive

But let your inner humility shine through
The whole universe is supporting you
To be simple, and simply yourself

Father, son and holy spirit
Mind, heart and will to do good.

At the center column of identity

At the feet of the sublime
Sculpture of this Galaxy
I am in awe of how quickly
The billions of years went by

A dream of the key of water
We walked upon a floor of
Crystal, in many forms
And our souls traveled to peaks

Virtual landscapes and subliminal
Recognition that we had seen
All that we visited there, experience
Was itself an invocation of

The highest order, capable of
Giving us emotions of the divinity
Of things, the lips of the sun ablaze
As a forgotten god laughing

Barefoot we made it through
Evolution like a story of all those
Sleeping lands, we created in them
With the will of our intelligence

It is not possible here to reproduce
All the characteristics of the original
Edition of the human journey
Progress is a succession of signs

The courses we adopted were somehow
Emphasized by instinct, like
The yearning to speak or the hope
That if we write about our consciousness

Something of our independent uniqueness
Might separate into others, like how
A poem influences other writers.

Teach me to Heare Heaven’s voice

Goe and catch a falling starre
That stars have watched us all
Our lives, in our horoscopes
And as anyone might study

A sentient race, still filled
With so much awe and hate
Things invisible to see
But quite evident in our history

If thou findst an Earth that
Has not destroyed itself, there
There would be peace, but
Oft’ after many trials, pilgrimages

To the outer edge of distance
To start again, on a brighter earth
If one day the planets seem strange
Just remember all beings go there

As surely as the rivers reach the sea
Goe and catch a falling starre
And imagine all the creatures
Waiting for us to mature
To welcome us into galactic-community.

To Creation

If yet I have not all thy love
Remember this, I was born
Into your world, strange nature
I breathe, because of you

And your Deare evolution
I shall never have it all?
Being poor, and who made me so
And all my inner beauty is yours

I have nothing to bargaine with
Anymore, time can have me all
I have no great goals for my
Lofty mortality, “it is what it is”

So they like to say, I am tree, river
Stone, and just a bit of flesh
That grew in your womb never
Saying oaths that others do

If yet I have not all thy fortune
Let me be as you intended me to be
I can only love so much, do so much
In the fragile state for which I live

My remaining days, there are no letters
Like my genes to bring me home
Home is the planet I live upon
God’s riddles are for the absurd

Faith is not the kind of jewel I wish
To store in my brain, fruitless hope
Nor was any return love vowed by thee
Life does with me what it wills

I am as a fish in a polluted sea
Or as a tree in the last forest
I am as a world in ruins
For the sake of the greed of a few

Men who could not win your love
Any more than I could make the
Universe be aware of my existence
Love is for those whose hearts are young.

The Big Apple Meets Ebola

Ebola has my name on it, the Doctor
Who came back with Ebola
In New York, yes you heard me right
His name is Mr. Spencer, I’m a

Spencer, he rode the subway in the dark
And he went bowling a week after
He came back, and he only went
To the hospital very sick

This is dementia of the public system
And the main stream media
Is being blacked out by the Czar
Appointed by Obama, he’s a lawyer by trade

Are you surprised that Ebola
Can hitch a ride with a Doctor without borders?
There are no borders for a pandemic
It increases exponentially

And peaks sometime in 2017
I’m sorry to be the first to break
The News, but Ebola is running wild
Somewhere in New York, somewhere near you

There could be a city that has it already
And do you think the media would let you know?

Further Reading:

1. Video one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9mSVvljtlQI

2. Video two: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4LGAEbkDO8c

On the Ascendancy of Bitterness

I can lecture on the darkness
I’ve tasted shadows like burnt milk
I can lecture on the shadow

I’ve tasted her tongue-dried appetite
The way she cowers in fear
For what is new, in confronting change
I am older now, more fragile
Being had, enjoying how love decays

I’ve grown simpler in these hours
Dying, a bit each day
Though I admire great things that

Can somehow outlive their maker
Even if they have a false shine
As most human things do
And have a tinge of exaggerated
Self-importance, their relatively silly grandeur

I can lecture on the cruelty of men
And the sadism of women
Who care more for clan and religion

Than any real human goodness
We live in ignorant times
And the world is growing more illiterate
Each year, but that is not my affair
The disgrace of catalyst has yet to unfold
And how I shun the self-righteousness
Of the young, what they don’t know yet….

Later Verse Last Letters

i

The progress of the soul is a slow
Endeavour, full of the ironies
Of the narratives we create

These contexts exchangeable
Half-hearted escapes into subjectivity
That I know I am an epitaph
Waiting to happen, that my
Mortality hangs on a leaf

ii

Like a moment lost at dusk
That my legacies are without meaning
And all that I am will be forgotten

That this world is temporary
These signs we make to each other
Mere symbols in an eternity
Of syntax lost between bodies
Miraculously born and aged

iii

Without dignity, sick with
All that misfortune can bring
Tiding of a lost world

Not enjoyed by God, not followed
By the banks that profit
On the debts of the carnal
My art is short-lived, indeed
And not the childlike plaything
Of how a self-praiser prays.

Elegie to the Spirit’s Freedom

We are bound to nature
Not bound to any one man or woman
Truly, we are free in the

Will and whim and wit of change
Likeness glues love but how
We art all similar, all shaped
By the wild roguery of the age
We are bound to nature

And to her we rebel
Not bound by the custom of our day
But free to resist and gloat and panic

Against the conformity of the times
We are not even bound to love
Some live in a pure state of individualism
Managing their wealth and health
Just so, and finding new paths to happiness

If I have caught a bird, let him fly
For in flight have I witnessed
The Soul of the Earth

In heights, in speed, in liberty
Women are like the Arts
Forc’d unto none, open to all who search
The liberal arts thus never go out of style
Nor the women who read

Those sort of books, the seas
Receive their contemplation of nature.

Photo Courtesy:

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Place-for-dreaming-489692545

Promises of Earth

There is no freezing eternity
Not time, not my picture, not video
Nothing can capture who I was

Though I bid you farewell
In a thousand soft loving poems
Thine, in my heart, lived
Where the soul dwelled
That soul that brought dreams alive

Not of my own volition
But for my love of you
That is the weather-beaten

Secret of the human heart
That the sun beams a thousand times
On our years of mirth and toil
To labour was simply another
Way of exercising love

For the world and those dearly possessed
For a few weeks, a few key interactions
That shall this be true, that

All good things come to an end
Should now love more, that once was lesse
All Elegies to their doom must last
In the rest of the moment’s embrace
That is where I left my soul

That is where I left my body
That is the favourite moment
Of such an ordinary heart

The purgatory where my life-force
Rushesth violently in melodious promising retorne.

Photo Courtesy:

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Afternoon-fog-489632694

The Charm of Simplicity

I have possessed nothing
In my short life, but have on occasion
Been the unworthy messenger

Of confined love, or idealism
And a sense of hope
For the future, but aren’t
Other creatures so, is this not
The destiny of youth?

I have loved and been caught
In the energy of a generation
That changed so much, not

Changing the world, but
Altering their destiny with it
Good is not good, unlesse
We refuse the curse of invirtue
To be virtuous is sometimes

To stand alone, simple and profound
Deare love of goodness
For nothing lesse than thee

Would I have broke these happy dreams
That made a dreamer out of me
To be possessed by a divinity real
In my short life, to charm
Fabled histories and enter peace.

Photo Courtesy:

http://www.deviantart.com/art/–490230783

Ebola, Puppet of Propaganda

Ebola, coming from the Continent of our roots
The WHO is exhausted by your contagion
Nurses are leaving their posts, doctors are dying

What can contain exponential growth?
Not the money and debts of this bankrupt America
We print more money and expect
The world to stay the same, but it won’t
Not after you Ebola, a profit mechanism

Vaccines, for each strain and mutation?
Ebola, your incubation period is too long
Your death-conformity is too high

How can you possibly be natural?
Man-made, racially biased, targeting
The weak, the poor, the masses
Ebola, a colonial rampage in your DNA
I call your bluff, genocide, Genocide!

Obama doesn’t mind Ebola, flights stay open
New epicenters for outbreaks arrive
The pundits say it’s already too late

Fluids or air-droplets, both, who is to say?
The CDC seems strangely apathetic
The UN is oddly apologetic
Ebola, are you ready to decimate
The white man, as you have the black?

The Sunne shines of Women

i

I’ve had love enough
For songs and sonets
And maps to discover

The face of this world
I dreame of thee
Like I champion women
Fought for them, stood
By them, though

ii

Better hemisphere I would
Discover, love so alike
In each face finds beauty

And in every heart finds
A good part of goodness
All strange wonders befall
Thee, when women are near
And last, till you write your

iii

Letters, a woman’s constancy
Can gain you your portion
Of wealth, and true wealth

Is albeit, emotional, social
Like older clothes, worn best
And vertues in their splendid attire
Given by those who know us best
Women, who are braver

iv

Than the spring, with courtesy
For all manners of wars
Of the market, and in the face of
Disease, calamity, bankruptcy.

Photo Courtesy:
1. http://www.deviantart.com/art/sun-335657211

Love’s Mataphysicks

If yet I have not all thy love
For loving is never enough
I must do more than pray
Both increased by gratitude

And the desire to love more
If yet I have not all thy love
I thought, dream it, enjoy it
I cannot deny, I share it

Fiercely and without restraint
If yet I have not all they love
I who am so little wise, so humble
So simple, deare perhaps I

Shall never have thee all
My stature was made small by
Nature, my wit outbid by
More generous fates, my time

More short and partial to trials
If yet I have not all they love
Be it said that love’s riddles were
Unpublishable to me, triumphs

As if out of reach, treasures
Undeserved, comforts unmet
If yet I have not all they love
Do not bargain but say farewell

Deare, well I know, I shall never
Have all of thee, never know thy
Full heart, love doth every day admit
The worthy choice of my lost destiny.

Photo Courtesy:

1. http://bittersweetvenom.deviantart.com/art/another-one-inside-the-shell-440125761
2. http://bittersweetvenom.deviantart.com/art/don-t-let-me-go-439633033

To Name is to Create

I draw these letters
Alphabets I was taught
The day draws its images
The night will blow them over
Forever, they are mere words

Writing in the sand
Symbols do not return
They are invisible
For the rest of years
No one will read

Poems left unpublished
No one will read
Novels burnt before
Marketing, but writing
Is my way out, my music

And my bread, the milk
And wine of my loneliness
So what am I to do?
These poems sharpen
My emotions, they love me

Across the night
Where I am but a ghost
In the conjunction of stars
I drew these letters on
A white canvas, they are

More me than anything
Else I have or will own
They know me better
Than the women who come
And go in my life

I will tell them my secrets
Poetry has set fire
To all poems, but I am that
Living fire, I am that warmth
Of a thousand glorious sunsets.