Fireworks on the Bridge of Montreal 

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The colors are being left by the wind
Reflected off of buildings
I can hear the tremor on the bridge
Of the repeating explosions of color

The color of marvels in July air
It’s thick by the night by the fire
Almost like a Sunday
Turning on its axis in the room

But it’s Wednesday and the midnight wind
Is brisk tonight, twilight has gone
In a Chinese smile, turning against the flames
Pleasant with its very own soundtrack

The night being turned on by fire
That’s a tail of peacock or
Midnight closing upon us now.

When my Soul Returned to Me

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-Painting by Thu Nguyen

I was born a revelation in a brain
Without prophets I learnt
The triggers of the rose and the majesty

Of simplicity, without ownership
I travelled to the spiritual reality
Where my soul was sent on a journey

Across invisible landscapes
Towards a purity of reincarnation
We remapped our vision trance

Until everything become part of the same thing
And everyone in those places
Actors of the same divine entity

And by and by my voice returned to me
My native voice of oneness and poetry
And that it answered with sweetness

And a kindness of dreaming friendship
with the players of every walk of life
With the homeless, the downtrodden and its as if

Everyone here is on a seeking quest
To go through stories to reach for a source
These are the revelations of wonder that came

To visit me, that I have writ but only translated
From a thousand mystics, from a hundred climes
The moving finger writes, but the heart serves.

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Because in Times Like These

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What kind of times are these I’d say
Who disappeared in shadows clear
Persecuted for the diversity we celebrate
This multi-ethnic urban reality
Where robots walk in our midst
Our behavior analyzed by analytics algorithms
I won’t tell you where the place exists
Time and space are a leafmold paradise
Where we can no longer hide
Convergence requires people everywhere
What kind of times are these I’d ask?
Where billions cannot feed themselves
Jobs disappear faster than they can be created
And the price of being educated is lifelong debt
What kind of times are these I’d know
Where if you listen, all you hear is noise
And if you surf the net, all you see is distraction.

To a Younger Poetess 

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What ever happens between us, your body
My body, let it not come between our
Minds, our splendid conversations full of
Light-hearted and cognitive intricacy

Your slender fingers of soul
Reaching into my empowerment
You nurture my little mental life
With your wispy spiritual somersaults

Your writer’s frenzy and literary ambition
Until I no longer exist, I am a half-curled
Froth of intellectual ecstasy with you
We soup together in diverse literary engagements

* * *

Wishing we’d have more years to converse
About the nature of art and limitations of language
To embody emotions and derive meaning
In such a wishy-washy language as English

And without much spiritual power as Sanskrit
Or simplicity of Mandarin, or how poetry
Happens in the interaction with life
Whatever happens been our floating sexuality

* * *

The dance of our young nimble caresses
Remember that our fraternity goes beyond
Corporeal attraction but is fused in mental affinity.

Intro to Nihilism 

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Self coward I’ve taken away the plumage
Gone naked, cold and flocked by doubt
I’ve given salt, cheese, my heart away
In wine I’ve tasted the thorny planet’s desolation

I’ve cringed at the noteworthy failures
Of Earth, my home, this arrogant star
These men lusting after power, so brutal
I’ve see the throngs scramble after banks

* * *

Went bankrupt and countries got stoned
I’ve seen propaganda of empires
Make a people crumble and become ignorant
I’ve left kingdoms of so called riches

To live in places more ethical and aligned
With the ideals that belong to the future
Shamed by existence, I’ve met my share
Of suffering, toil, regret, despondency

* * *

I have nothing left to say, death is what it is
Time will break our arrogance, the species killer
Will one day find a way to destroy itself
As humans expand in more meaningless dimensions.