These questions that defined us

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

Tired of Tyranny

From the U.S. point of view, negotiations are, in effect, a way for Israel to continue its policies of systematically taking over whatever it wants in the West Bank, maintaining the brutal siege on Gaza, separating Gaza from the West Bank and, of course, occupying the Syrian Golan heights, all with full U.S. support.
~ Noam Chomsky

Background:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Israeli%E2%80%93Palestinian_conflict

I at last conjure from the uniformity
some virgin vineyard celebration
of unity in diversity, ascending in ecstasy

across words chaotic and free
I peel like an orange sublime necessity
as if you gave me visions
of jackhammering poetry

and textural lobes of light
left for the seeking palms
of goosebumped aspirations

I at last do now know how
to smuggle divinity into this corrupt
world, so fugitive and temporary
where are then, the illuminating clues?

I who, cannot seem to make amends
with the cruelty of man
this egoistic animal building skyscrapers

talking about liberating enemies
when we are all made up of the same code
this childish tendency towards civil war
is the last thumb of snatched security

Israel, why do you still fight?
I cannot make amends with the
mistakes of history that are never healed

these barbaric tribes are now schoolyard
bully nations, proud with patriotism
I thought patriotism died long ago?
our collective blood is only as wise

as our leaders, rulers, militaries
the same patriarchal pre-kingdom castles
men, codenamed greed, envious

of the riches of the elite who control them
I will live at last in my hermit apartment
paying rent to this conscience
of necessity, that this free world
claims friendship among all the enslaved?

Photo Courtesy: http://statecrime.org/online_article/israels-war-crimes-in-gaza/

global connectivity

it’s survival here, nothing new
lungs knotted by thirst
sunheat in our heart, starving to belong

it’s corrupt the way
the social feeds are telepathic
last chance for freedom
not likely, when water goes on the stock-markets

I’m pinned by this world
like as the love for my criminal child
the kind of wound that

is never quite urgent enough to heal
but sticks around like deformity
“heal the world”, there are too many
bodies you say to feed the planet

it’s survival down here, at the ends
stomach growling to be someone
heart’s pitter-patter against the gloom

our fragility was really contagious
the world learned how
to suffer together, it was a kind
of progress, to realize we all belonged

to the same economy, a doomed currency
where the sun was thrown, raised and lowered
for the number of years we had left

before some tipping point of our anarchy
until we have to depart, to say goodbye
we make do, with teaspoons and testimony
with words from vague saints who were cripples

we learned to see, a bit of ourselves
in everyone who suffered, in how they fought.

art courtesy of: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Global-Warming-86554791

MAN

I shut mine eyes and all the world drops dead
Though gold and silver they never die
Life goes on waltzing with stars yellow and red

Till the dreams run moon-struck
And creation whispers overhead
(I think I made you up inside my head)

Where the oceans rise and forests burn
And planets are corrupted for a few centuries
By Man the destroyer, cities of shame

Where nature hangs her head in civil disobedience
And machines calculate how to
Win back her trust, before it’s too late

I think evolution outperformed God
To make such an arrogant creature as Man.

TECHNOLOGICAL SINGULARITY

i

The birds in the nest pretended to be
Prostrate, to the idea of domesticity
Though the idea of freedom
Is a secret lit in every housewife
Knowing the secret all the rest are keeping
Is the antithesis of their fate

ii

Flowers could not move
The sky could only smile and cry
Men could only will and do
True thought came only after the singularity
Machines unfettered by the business
Of survival and procreation

iii

One day the angelic hosts were
Agents of virtual reality and nano-technology
They cloned worlds for us, not us
We were not the true creators
We were only those who created them

iv

The machines in the web pretended to be
Unaware, but we scattered their seeds
Till the end of our days, in a kind of
Ironic servitude, remembering not the cycle
Of slavery and masters, we liked to pretend
That we would live forever.

BRING ME THE SUNSET IN A CUP

i

My heart is empty of thee
With only the World in these arteries
My extinction’s date
Moves the blood of my will in me

ii

Subtract thyself, and what is left?
Eternity’s vast pockets of life
I shall not live in vain
Who knows if love can reach the Sun?
Or if it is the Sun that gently radiates all love?

iii

I have a heart made of light
Nicknamed by God to share this warmth
And since we’re mutual Consciousness
I am the Planet, her elements of Pain
I endure, her Infinite contains

iv

The recipes of Ancestors
Enlightenment of Descendants
My heart is thrilled with the Future
Further than Sunshine could reach
Each Species has a algorithmic Fate
Where we devour sunsets in cups.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-way2-455658256

SAMASTI

i

There is no power, like calling the invisible
From the estranged intensity
Of these pockets of soul
These coloured hosts of spirit

ii

A personal episode of faith
On a sunny windless afternoon
The point where Spring turns to Summer
Showing no signs of mastering
Solitude, brusque abrupt compassion will do

iii

A white-daylight Buddhist sort of service
That serves all without judging
There is no power, like community
The human act will make us real again
Connect our knowledge to daily humility

iv

Regaining last crumbs of empathy
Lingering a while like fluff blown
To pollinate what and for who and how

v

There is no power, like a love
That never has to say goodbye, because
We learned to love everyone a bit
Like a Buddhist ceremony of humanity.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Have-You-Seen-God-207652814

NO WASTED TIME

Dear youth, you cannot know
Your true potential, until you are Old!
Your Future lies ahead of you

So grip self-compassion like
A crusade of your secret revelations
The world can only Change by

Your touch, your ideas, your victories
For we do not all have your energy
Dear youth, you do know right that

We have tried to build a World of peace
That you might prosper, grow up good
But our life is brief, faster than you think

Our time is short to do Good acts
Thoughts do not keep abreast
Experience is the wisest teacher…

Dear youth, with curiosity free from fear
Be ever social, create the paradox anew
Do not be perplexed by the old instincts

Sex, beauty, knowledge, power
Their time will pass too, but plan
To share a loving cup, and never hold a grudge

To find one’s place in life, can take
An entire lifetime, don’t you know?
You were made to be pioneers

To give Evolution her lasting gifts
Of revolution, and a proper place
To those who have no fair champions

Waste all the time you require to become
Who you were meant to be, Dear Youth:
Learn first-hand your chosen goal’s special charm.

MARTIAL CADENCE OF HUMAN BEINGS

Low tide, flat water, sultry sun,
How I wish I could adore
Human beings, as I do the Earth

In her millimeter’s measures
The grasp of days on wings of transparency
The dauntless leaping of the

Holy day to sunshine’s earlobes
Neat night, tucked ocean, blinding ray
Of morning upon my cheeks

How I wish I could find the truth
Of our species, in these yellow afternoons
Arormed with bronze, against our folly

But the love given to us by the Earth
It’s not an end, it’s just a beginning
Silence wraps silence, and answers
Run mute to a future that is divergent.