Memories of earth

Memories of earth

It’s time to die together
In kisses before sunlight
In the nude nuptial dark
Our flesh is one body now

Can you see it?
Breasts and thighs and lovely lovers
Walking life together
Doing what they do

Groaning and crying
Trembling and thawing
Bursting with the heat of
Years of loneliness released

In a mortal touch, the fire
Of frequent faith in unity
Unity that transcends physicality
Love that mimics biology but

Is more, like a psycho-synthesis
A bio rational urge to share
The reciprocation of so many
Memories of pleasure that pulsating

Of pulse, breath, sweat and symphonies
Or orgasms and rises and falls
And little deaths of being together
Of the passion before the fall

Of the joining before the parting
That’s it I guess, it’s sex
On the dreamer time of fantasies
Fantasies that never die
Because they are of the Earth.






I don’t believe in poems
I believe in people
People who must

Reinvent themselves
Every day, to keep up
With the future

The future arrives each day
At every hour
With every change

Change is the information
We breathe, the life of the times
For sure, always, certainly, I bet!

I don’t believe in pleasure
I believe in moments
Terrifying, eventful, moments

That transform consciousness
And change perception
Points of reference are mutable

The selected poems of our lives
Are these moments right there
Are these moments right here

Relationships are the
Catalysts that made moments
Special, memorable, unforgettable.


Too poor for activism


Too poor for activism

Pretty words are not enough
They were never enough
Sometimes, they were just
All we had, without actions

Like cowards, we wrote
We tripped on beauty
Lyrical, sweet, like pretty
Necklaces of lace lit

By the lanterns of our moons
We cherished our pretty nothings
Calling them precious, we
Stood in our own myths

Self-aware of ourselves only
As the center in our own game
We crafted what we could
On Earth, like a soul on a mission

Pretty words are never enough
Revolutions are rare and bloody
For the majority of people
Have no courage, no true inspiration

To fight or stand up
For what they believe in
We are all watered down
Moderates, shy to go against the norms

Where women are raped in India
Where women are hit in Mexico
And women are killed for family honour
In many places where marriages are arranged

And here, where the internet
Is being monitored and our privacy
Is evaporating in regulations
Of the firm resolve of a police-state
That likes to call itself a democracy.

Whatever author doth yield to divine love


Whatever author doth yield to divine love
Like a small boat
Carried down the river
Of mystical Voice
I followed my way
Surrendering to
The poetic content
I was given, the few
Paragraphs I would write
That would be written
Through me like the last love
Of the little love I
I could give
To die of love
Beneath the veil of all bliss
Is listening, silence, stillness
The truth of no-language

And a music of nature/
Without symbol, duality, information
No binary code to ruin
The blank page, the white

Page that is not white/
Like a bubble on the lips
Of the river that carried me down
I wanted to be drowned

By language and arrive/
At the suffocation after idea
Where words buried themselves
In the silver bottomless sea

Of universal energy/
That is the end of poetry.

Creation as a Spiritual Experience


Creation as a Spiritual Experience

I do not judge
For I learned rather late in life
That we are all the same
We must be living mirrors
Of the Beloved

Nothing else truly matters
And if, this world turns
To desolate ways
Let us remember then
The Supreme beauty

Which resides like a lotus
In the human soul
I do not judge
For the inner eyes
Sees creation in the lives of men

The Spirit of God
In the seasons
An inner child
In the cycle of things
With tears for too much living

We must learn to forgive
With tears for too much truth
We must learn to feel gratitude
I do not judge
Because it’s not part

Of the delight
In the poems God wrote
In my soul, that were
Mine to share, like spilled
Divine mysteries

The ecstasies to which I grow
The ecstasies from which I came.

We should die except for death

We should die except for death

We should die except for death

Life whose caress lasted this long

Months of thoughts that followed


Like a tide of the simplest words

Question led to other questions

Empty hymns, humble revelations


Quiet secrecy between

Our brain and our soul

We should die except for death


Time is the measure of all things

And sing eulogies and hum enlightenment

All fortunes and errors crumble


So never be afraid of failure

We should die except for death

And we do, without hesitation


On a golden morning, some years from now

You and I my friend, will be no more….