A living mathematics


12

Life is a mob of music
the sky and memories
full of bodies and wood
the feeling of watching

others, as if we existed
separately, the virtualization
of difference, the illusion
of diversity, the impression

of individualization, but
all the notes move together
in a cadence that is a pattern
where all the variables follow

predictable algorithms
it doesn’t take a computer to
see, life is a volume of designed
potential, impatient for itself

to manifest, for a brief vistas
of glory and effort, to simulate
something of the journey
and evolve a kind of ambiguity

of the summation of experience
which is invariably limited
to conditions imposed upon
the manifestation, and the living

would be speaking
in a kind of daze to itself
sounds over space, that join
to form some brief relevance

like a page of Euclid, a
trajectory of something that
once seemed important or
at least a step forward

In the diction without
A manuscript, a semantics
Of how to breath and what
To want, and how to possess

The moment better, as if
We didn’t all want the same things.

The Last Organism


Frost of the north

In the sacred guild of
identity, we are golden
selves moving towards integration
in a cosmos more diverse

than our imaginations
billions of forms of intelligence
all following an order
majestic and grave and

simultaneously in their unity
there is no “I” in the
cell that speaks to the universe
only a persistent “we”

after bullets come spirits
after wars come books
after theater comes dialogue
this world one cell

in a body of many cells
in an organism that we
call the “universe” faster
than the speed of light

how does an universe find
enlightenment, in a sea of light?
When spreading means star-pollen
And time is just a metaphor

For space, and space is just
An expansion of life
So what are we as brains
And bodies and energy

After all, we are natives
of oxygen and light
born on water and breath
speaking the same language

as all living things speak
specters in an evolution
without an end, extinction for us
might mean other forms of

life survive, racing for Earths
giving space for other
creatures to have their turn
in the cycles of dream

in the dirty light we cannot
recycle, in the barren cities
where we ate bread and bred for
a while, until it was our time

to climb back into the source
that all men fall from their
duality, back to some essence
of what they once were;
and again must become.

These questions that defined us


10

The day writes itself
And withers for what?
The lecture of the beautiful tomorrow

O’ thou present beloved
With the hem of planets
And the scent of roses

And these passing minutes
As delicate as my awareness
As ornamental as is my

Personal perception, all these
Frames of references
Bright like the quantum

Signature of pure energy
The day writes itself
And changes for whom?

We are but observers or actors
Or some part of the category
Of believers, that we are

Not the same people as yesterday
Somehow our questions differ
And what fulfills us embroiders

Its own meaning in our
Evolving tapestry of experience.

Photo Courtesy:

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Take-Me-Away-493475228

“It is She alone that Matters”


Masthead-16-Female-Role-Models

Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/becomingpohlin?fref=nf

It is she alone that matters
for she is evolution personified
mother, daughter, life-giver

while men play games
for profit, in politics
with imaginary paper
and virtual numbers

the custodians of the planets
are women, care-takers
without their empathy
our world would die

it is she alone that matters
those words mean more
than the history of feminism

or the inequality that exists
in many societies, it means
that our from the light and dew

women shape the future
while men sacrifice what they can
our teachers change society

with a bouquet, from the inside
and for all the comforts
of this world, the majority
are given by women

It is she alone that matters, maybe
You will understand when you

Find a wife, when you have
A daughter, then let’s be clear
Why you do evil every day
To feed your family.

Cup of Sachitananda


9

The cosmos has hid
divine herbs in our dreams
and one day upon
the west river we

shall all awake
to see truth, to live
in the light, and

in those blue flames
of the dawn, hope
will no longer be necessary

and faith will seem immature
for supramental identity
will be self-evident

alone, spring’s floods will
drip the bliss of worlds
and the grace will overwhelm
any circumstance of fate
by the ocean of poetry

in the forests of prophecy
on the beaches of mysticism
the Tao will reveal herself

to our mind like a sponge
of all the secrets of the
universe and synchronicity

spellbound for consciousness
as a boat drifts to the sun
creation and the great observer

will meet, and we will forever
be left speechless with the awe
of laughter empty of anxiety
and understanding mingling

with a pure love for all things.

The Business of the Recluse


(Brahmacharya)

8

The recluse is he who
loves nature more than man
for man is arrogant
and nature is natural

the recluse cares not for
the politics of civilization
and the inflated idea of

a currency that is not real
the dollar of this or that country
and imaginary territory
of this or that people

and imaginary Gods of this or that
origin, that is innovated
by this or that gestures
and who gets credit when

the credit is due to nature
the recluse not understanding
man’s self-importance
lives a life of contemplation

not only breeding for man’s dominance
not only mating for pleasure
but with an eye for the universe

and looking for signs of the cosmos
in nature and the history of man
and for the future that has yet

to be born, the recluse
has an internal being made for
not only for her personal affairs

but for wisdom, art, knowledge
and the formula of love that
could one day save humanity.

Story of Nature


Human – business evolution

The birds kept singing that
The birds had once seen
Flying saucers, though we
Didn’t understand their songs?

Octopi would once inherit
The Earth, after we had passed
It all seemed improbable

But nature had a way of making
Melancholy dreams a reality
If the stars that move together
In some sort of order

Could fly like birds across
The skies, then men could die
Like they had always done

To make way for ocean creatures
Reptiles, intelligent squirrels
Evolution had a way of mocking
Those animals that went extinct

With new varieties, it didn’t matter
That men thought they were special
Or that men were the creators

Of their own ruin, women didn’t
Exist anymore to empathize with them
Men did it to themselves and left
Life to nature’s own wisdom
In truth, the way it had always been.

Link: http://ocean.si.edu/blog/so-you-think-youre-smarter-cephalopod

Underneath Creation’s Willow


6

My thoughts and titillations
have no obvious footnotes
nobody will remember

what was once said
history only repeats itself
our thoughts are not unique
this bliss submerged
forgotten lifetimes somehow

live on like karmic traces
idiosyncratic music that
lives beneath the dust

the anxiety of living
the souvenirs of images
all gone, symbols like
eccentric sunbeams only
there for a time, languages

erased, civilizations once so
flamboyant must too dim
like stars change color

time leaves no trace
but evolution is divine
omnipresence watching
and acting on everything
universal laws reap and sow

we are part of the sum
energy and matter of the
cosmos, maybe that was enough?