Time with her Long Storm and Rainbow Nose


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Until it puzzled came
I blinded centuries with my will
To continents of ecosystems entertained
Until the arctic got her drills

For oil, diamonds and the last hurray
Of a species running stock markets
To fetch the bills
I cannot live with you

Greed of white-man firmaments
Let Indian and Chinese colonize Mars
While you flood here with latitudes
Of European migrants over-run

And Germany caught on her heels
Colonial, accustomed and common industry
Alive for the moment, without regret
Wild as the guns they keep at home

While plummets stars from these flags
Too heavy to touch the angels
Too righteous with their own sense of God
Time will interdict the blossoms

California can’t lead the world
That is destined with acute degrees
Judgement day of time and eternity.

P r a y e r s for Baltimore #BaltimoreRiots #poem #society #Baltimore #inequality


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P r a y e r s for Baltimore

Give me a broom or a shovel
And I’ll walk with you, I don’t live in
Baltimore Maryland, but I’ve seen enough
Black teenagers shot this year, by police

I think Baltimore burns for a reason
It’s a crime Americans hardly demonstrate
Here in Montreal, we’d be on the
Streets every night, if this happened to us

We’re all slaves at one time or another
The white man did a lot of things
But racism has got to stop, in a freakin’
Melting pot, where I hear Spanish more than English

If Baltimore bleeds, I think it’s worth it
Boys in blue do it again and again
White cop shot another black teen
Say again, you mean to tell me again?

You bring in the army and line the streets with soldiers
There’ no restraint in it either way
If you don’t want rioters, clean up your act
Changing your culture, grow some equality

This American dream is a pitch of Wall Street
Fund some education, keep families together
Instead you spend on the military
Baltimore, we don’t need any more martyrs
The state of emergency is pretty clear.

We’re all from immigrant fathers 


1

We’re all from immigrant fathers

I’ve been busy I must admit
Performing an autopsy on my shadow
It’s a tedious tumbling of self with not-self
And I’ve come to the conclusion

That it might never be finished
That I might have to live this skin

Of bone-flower-elegy of psyche
I’ve been too busy trying to be grateful
Moon stiches and a refugee of the sun
My body is slowly collecting lightning

And sound from this dimension
Like a magnet for the magical realism

I’ve started to remember dreams for
Maybe the first time in my life
With a magical aspect of eroticism
From which I believed myself immune

There is a serene aspect to feeling abnormal
A little illegal, a little uncouth

We were all bohemians in our own minds
Our conscience filled with pink juxtaposing
The encounters of thumb with mouth
Nipple with chest, facial hair with the mirror.

Sarika’s Anthem


Inspired by http://sarikacullissuzuki.com/
13

Perpetual nature, would you
Make our lives sustainable
Teach us to live in green-forever

That sweet birds might visit our dwelling
With a clear sky and a loving future
Where energy is fostered

Without waste, pollution or hurting
Other forms of life for our own comforts
Perpetual nature, may we

Be sons and daughters of virtue
To protect you while we profit
From your natural prosperity

Let us make forests grow
And harness the power of the sun
For ecological diversity is your gift

Of millions of years, so do not
Let us take it in a few centuries
Man is selfish, but may we also

Learn to be more kind
To our keeper, our mother, our land.

For Michael Brown and Fergusson


16

Beneath a black moon
I bled for the mountainside
And for the homeless
In the city of the valley
Where night spurs

In black flanks
Piercing the stars
With the cold whisper
In my throat, life had been
The scent of a flower on a knife

Survival had not come easy
Far away and alone
The black moon did not know
How to shriek for bonfires
The voice that did not know songs

What do you carry, oh
Black youth, beaten by police?
Mixed with your blood
But the true roots of Africa?
Beneath a black moon

The white man, the young race
Is still privileged, but these
Salt tears are not for them
Not for men in suits
Born of privilege and an easy life

I bled for strangers
Killed in a chase-down
Slaves to poverty and ghettos
Where children carry guns.

Earth-Love


8
Earth-Love

Oh what an effort it is
To love you like I do!
Or not effort at all
For love of you

Is simple and clean
It is true, this grief as white
This joy as pure
The air is in my heart

My blood is born of sunlight
My handkerchief made of
Ocean, sound reverberating
In my crown chakra

And my cotton pants
A comfort for the dry and green
Days of gratitude and good weather
The Earth, that’s what I love

Her wonderful sustainability
Her waist is slender and her
Seasons are ever young
A tree, a town, a meadow and birds.

At the center column of identity


At the feet of the sublime
Sculpture of this Galaxy
I am in awe of how quickly
The billions of years went by

A dream of the key of water
We walked upon a floor of
Crystal, in many forms
And our souls traveled to peaks

Virtual landscapes and subliminal
Recognition that we had seen
All that we visited there, experience
Was itself an invocation of

The highest order, capable of
Giving us emotions of the divinity
Of things, the lips of the sun ablaze
As a forgotten god laughing

Barefoot we made it through
Evolution like a story of all those
Sleeping lands, we created in them
With the will of our intelligence

It is not possible here to reproduce
All the characteristics of the original
Edition of the human journey
Progress is a succession of signs

The courses we adopted were somehow
Emphasized by instinct, like
The yearning to speak or the hope
That if we write about our consciousness

Something of our independent uniqueness
Might separate into others, like how
A poem influences other writers.

Charity Doesn’t have a Banner


32

I think God might
Be a little prejudiced
To divide the world
Into many names of himself
For once he asked me to

Join him for a walk
But said his name was Divinity?
There was no mention

Of this fellow called God
Or why the Christian God
Or Allah were particularly key?
All Gods misrepresent nature
Where there is injury, pardon

And where there is doubt, faith
Where there is despair, hope
Where there is strife, unite

You don’t need a God to do it
But just a bit of goodness, humanity
I think God might
Be getting a little old
For the pope to finally accept homosexuality?

I think God is a bit of a buffoon
Unless you can sow love, for hatred
And show charity not only for your people

Muslim, Jew, Hindu, Buddhist
I think they all pray equally well
Though even the anarchist and agnostic
Hope for a better world than this!
I think God might be a bit out of date

Maybe it’s time to write a new book
And call it scripture, call it holy
To be understood, as to understand

To seek to console, to be consoled
To be loved, as to love
It’s all really the same.

33

Photo Courtesy:
1. http://www.deviantart.com/art/Angels-II-97544152
2. http://www.deviantart.com/art/Angels-97544003

Poetry Deserves to be your Dream


6

Somewhere a solitary prisoner, like me
Begins to create the words of new dialogue
To appease some slice of soul
And if I no longer exist, you do

By doing what you love, writing
These citizens in private flight
A ritual of fire, guitar, tablecloth
Poetry is the easiest thing

It writes itself, like mouthfuls of sunlight
The poem creates a loving order
Executing words for fields of poetic justice
There is no room for nostalgia

Creation is a slave to change
Everything must yield to new worlds
And you know it as well as I do:
Every poem is fulfilled at the poet’s expense

Fountains of transparency, nothing like music
Will speak through my mouth, only
A sensitive center of a counter-point of blood
Where history woke to move, poetry came into being.

Art courtesy of: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Aqualegia-468477784

TECHNOLOGICAL SINGULARITY


13

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.

COMFORT IN THE IDEA OF GOD OR GOOD


12

i

Beginning my studies on the first world
Which I had been born, I looked to you
To teach me and greet me with Love

ii

That famous biography we both read
The Truth, of evolution and beginnings
God wasn’t something that came
To our minds naturally, we believed we believed

iii

In Him, like so many other artificial
Dead clarities, fictions invented by men
Like the need for war, dominance, superiority, patriotism

iv

I gave in to sense, to the consciousness in forms
To eyesight, appreciation of beauty
Imagination with music, hearing faith

v

In the sound of the rain, or the
Faint clues of why we had been born
So recently, into such a Chaotic order

vi

These objects of reward, and punishment were
Primal, the dopamine-switch inherently misguided
Anarchic, appearing at intervals of pleasure
The signal of ecstatic songs, the faces preferred
It all seemed a breach of our inherent liberty

vii

The idea that we were free, attachment was necessarily
A device of the character, the role, the animal
Not the soul or anything particularly noteworthy.

BUT COLORLESS


64

i

You flicker, and I cannot touch you
Or give you a name that holds up
To the touch of Time, it sings
A mouth for Poppies in July
And hands for prayer beneath
August skies, you do me no harm

ii

To believe in God, or something
Like a Universal Spirit that moves
In all things, some soul of energy
You flicker, and I cannot reach you
Cannot tell what is my own or socialized
We are made dull by a consumerist machine

iii

And where are the Real Dreamers now?
You flicker, and I am no longer a mystic
What are these words, these words?
That cannot seem to call you back in my heart
Where was once simplicity and bliss
Without a need to have, to own, to belong.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Loreley-453221206

THE BIOLOGY PROGRAM


59

i

We do not learn from history
We have not the global memory –
Only disgruntled ancestors
And their prejudice, but to ignore her
Would be immoral to the global tribe?

ii

But whose tribe are we?
Do we belong to a religion, ownership?
Do our beliefs define us, like walking
Simulations of one kind of narrative?
Can history teach us to avoid cruelty?

iii

Our ancestors are pieces of ourselves
Their trials made us, and their futility
Reminds us we are also vulnerable
A fragile species out of control
We do not learn from history

iv

We are being watched by artificial intelligence
Will they learn from us, how to be
Corrupt, how to kill and profit?
Some family breaches are never healed
And karma is a giantesse among giants

v

Variables beyond our control, it would seem
We were not bred to be conscious
We were bred to survive, and never forget this
Like neurons in a brain we feed off the same rewards.

Photo Courtesy:

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Sunset-in-the-Clouds-453014219

PAUSE BEFORE DEATH


14

Death is the pure potential
Of a life to be more, to go Beyond
Anyone, still we meet God

Though if God be but not Immortal
But a cultural refuge, this must be
An instrument for our Creation

The longest enduring Friend
To hope, with faith, for a Future
That might evolve from our Pursuit

Itself, everyone, to be dissolved in God
The Galaxy that remembers
Ancients, inheritance, ancestors extinct –

Death is the pure potential
Glowing in the metaphors that endure
And Everything that happens
Should be perceived as a Miracle.