Invitation to Experience

To posterity I give prosperity
Unread verses, anonymous scripts
Of the law of love encoded
Hardwired and entranced

Who will be born tomorrow?
I would write for them
Tell them of their hearts
And the dancing histories of humanity

Time is long and the worlds are wide
The path of the ancients
Runs in our acts, everyone’s path
Fate is not a solitary act

Beauty is not a generational event
Truth is not owned, liberty is not bought
I have never won, by sword or pen
My freedom, only in the future

Can you be free, not today
I wasted my life in insolent loneliness
Only to discover pure experience
Requires greater risks, greater acts

Of self-determination
Than I was ever capable
Traveler, hurry your steps
Be on your way, for you may

Not have the time later
To do truly what you want
To posterity I give prosperity
Lyrics unchained of two gardens.

I Lay Roses Across my Belly

I could live on bread and water
Rice and dal, bare essentials
Habitation of sustenance
Wonder of childhood
Morsels of divine association

Sacred foundation of the body
Raw materials of
Elements like flour, salt, oil
The meditation diet, water and fire
Or the Mediterranean diet

Olive oil and red wine with dark chocolate
Moments of food like pure vision
The pause of hope through
Long winters, where the light deprivation
Must be treated with other

Senses of life, bread is nourishing
The pagan morsels in your mouth
I dislike going in public
When I am hibernating
And require ageless cuddles

And making love like
Knitting a body
A miraculous body with veins
And a face and a purified heart
That gazes intently at you.

The spilled blood will have no fragrance

The spilled blood will have no fragrance

Angel.
Dissolve my tears
My drama is too personal
Woodcutter.
Cut my shadow from me
The torment is without
Fruit, or just reward
Winter is the night copied
When all the stars are blind
God.
Leave some birds
The seeds that were dreams
Have been wasted
Youth.
Let go of me now
I am no longer a virgin
Or opportunistic or idealistic
Time.
Needle in the water
Of my health
Do not think we do not see you?
Melting the sun like a great center
A snake of flesh
The wood-cutter does not know
When, my heart grew pale
With stress, or
How the silence became moist and wise
Beneath the burden
Of the escaping years
Angel, woodcutter, God, youth, dreams, time
Do not imagine just because
I am now old, that I know
What experience is
Perhaps, perhaps I was hiding all along
From living.

Suicide of a Diwan

The streets are mute
And the downtrodden are cold
And the girl pretends she
Has many suitors
The handkerchief in my hands

Is nothing much more
Than a rag now
And the night only has one moon
And the fountains have
Ten thousand pennies

I carry the “No” that you gave me
Buried somewhere, as if
It was a part of me now
My love is spinning
The murmur of the masses

Grows loud and I tremble
At the greed of this society
That takes more than it gives
Until giving means giving
To those who would profit from you

The afternoon was something else
Sunlight had been forgotten
If I die like this, from regret
Leave the balcony open
The reaper will harvest

The soul of my art
In my study
Beneath my dirty sheets
From my balcony I can see him
He finds the weight of the snow

Annoying like a transparent shadow
The streets will still be mute
And the downtrodden will
Still beg at the metro of the church
And when I am gone

I will feel myself both like
The balcony, and the tower, and the skies
Moving up, in a stream of shadow-light
And there, I will
Pretend that God loved me.

Like Aristotle’s Memory

I go in search of wonder
By doing so I find it everywhere
In the savour of breath
And in the flow of blood
Biology is an antique song

Who showed you the path
Of the poets?
The heart of silk
And the pen of light?
You leave us singing

In the little square
With lost bells
The lilies and the bees
Are gone, but wonder
It’s rippled like a legend

Everywhere, enormous
Pupils of gigantic glee
Injured somewhere in the wind
Farther than the seas
Intimate as every star

And I wonder, why is
Beauty and truth sprinkled
Like leaves in the galaxies
Did Aristotle look upon
Purple plains and wonder?

It’s a broken harmony
In the mind, in the protests
Of silence, in moments
Shrouded by desire
And the frozen sleepy pause

Of cities gone to sleep
Very bitter is the wonder
Of change and time’s labyrinth
I need search no longer then
Rocking the dawn
It’s found me here.