Untamed Time

 

 

 

Overnight where I slept

I felt the chill of eternity

Sweep through the years of this body

 

And my brain was only an experience

It wasn’t real if real things last

The love I had I gave to the Earth

 

To her children and the soil

Where I grew a garden in my mind

There was no love there

 

Just the thrill of a destiny

Broken and churned like

The pangs of creation gone un-nurtured

 

Sleep was like that in mortality

A kind of escape from the anxiety

Of living and not knowing how to

 

Create destiny with mere tools

And hope out of loneliness.

 

Time

This is a Heroick Haste

We must celebrate a funeral as a tribute
To a woman or a man’s life, applaud not only
Their achievements, but their character
For the notes of time in fact do not judge

We hasten to our end with hardly onlookers
Authentick by the choices we made
Or the choice of not choosing
Indecision being a kind of a choice

Apathy being a kind of vice of destiny
Opportunity does not wait, nor love
It comes and goes like the opening skies
Treason to ourselves we oft’ commit

Serving duties to title ourselves with praise
Praise as empty as the possessions we accumulate
Travel being a luxury for the fortunate
Not fortunate by merit, but oft’ by birth

This is the world we live in, the ordered inequality
We must celebrate this world before
It’s funeral, before even we go extinct
On our palms the weight of destiny

In our minds the aura of the future’s trade
Swift and restless are the seasons
To fly to wings of victory or perish
And not to a man’s stars can we assume

The choice was his or the storms portrayed
The soul of a man is indeed something else
Than the shallow roles he may have played
To subdue, to civilize, to humanize and to entertain.

Ode to Personality

Ode to Personality

From the music summoned by my birth
I have arrived into this place
The worship of my dearest self
Not but a speck of laborious divinity

That would sprinkle meaning
In the tracks of humanity
And suffer a while with them
As one of them, with a voice

And humility born of years of poverty
And simplicity born of asceticism
And asceticism born of inner spirit
And there was nothing left to experience

Only to be, and that was a serenity
Of aging, where there was no proving
We are what we are and a passing identity
Like silver clouds with a speck of gold

The Gods knew our place in kingdoms
But we did not entertain the status
We were our own theory of originality.

The Best way to predict the future is to create it

The Best way to predict the future is to create it

Death does not concern us
For we knew we were mortal all along
Because so long as we exist
Death is not here, or there
And when she comes

We no longer exist
Until then I may at times
Distract myself with pleasure
Not because I don’t seek
A profound sense of meaning

But because, we built this world on pleasure
And by tasking it I am made human
Made to know why people labour
Though I know there is nothing
Outside myself that can ever enable

Me to get better, stronger, richer, quicker, smarter
Everything is within
Everything exists and will continue
Without me, so if I seek anything
Outside myself, it’s only me dallying

With the inevitable reality
Of a wonderfully inner cosmos.

The Golden heart of the two of us

The Golden heart of the two of us

My soul’s weight is in thee
Thoughts that stray in the dead of night
And morning lest the rise I come
With dresses of spiritual

Vegetation to bury me
And all that I once was or might have been
My want is to pull the garments
Of the cosmos over us

So that we might choose a body
To inhabit and a heart to hold
As strangers who hold hands
But do not know why, in that

Appointed hour, how it comes to pass
Or how the goddamned sea will kneel
When all the life on Earth has passed
I have lips unused to thee

And bashful knowing nods
And Handel in my ears
It’s a long road to freedom
But a short road to witness you free

Shall we blush the eternal blush
And face the fervent and feverish muse?
Together as a fine distraction in May
To enthral the life-force from our

Glands and organs like biological magic
And find tempestuous civility
In the weight of our need
A delight in the disorder of our sense
The hope too precise in every part?

Before I had you

before I had you
I had nature to admire or something
akin to a background unity
Of all spiritual time and sacred “everywhere”
It was nearly enough to sustain me

I loved nature, and I still do
But you have changed “Nature”
And in a way, you are now
My everything, harmonious and flattering
The heartfelt call beyond roses

And I don’t regret the responsibility
Of being mated, cuddled, sacrificed
to the “us” our lives have become
before I had you
I distinctly remember being miserable

or some shade of bored with myself
And that my dear, is you
A light that’s better than the sun’s rays!
I guess flowers are more flowery
With inner and outer beauty

Easily within reach
Before I had you
I ached for flowers
But I only had my verses
And they exquisitely wept to endure

Into the far future as if untarnished by death
And certainly I don’t recollect
The memories associated with those poems
Before I had you
All I had were mere words

And the inner music that had inspired them
Verses that celebrated the brevity
Of life’s delight and the ancient union of things…

Incarnation wisp of foam taming the bark

the silence is great around our bed
especially whispering

hanging like a girlhood of dreams
our hearts still beat
attitude is destiny

even if we are sleeping!
just as gravity murmurs
of how we wear the years!

there is no cosmic reply
to the questions we were asking
twenty years ago!

time sits like an enchanted
mystery, ready to fly away!
we are still virgins to experience

we just refuse to see it in new ways!
we gather a little experience
And then we prepare to die

And then it finally happens!
since you cannot hear me
now that I have passed the boundaries

I will not say trivial goodbyes or helloes
My most beautiful ones
Live your lives.

The Joys of pain

There are evenings
Without angels
That burn with the feeling
Of human pain

You know what it brings
A voluptuousness
Of poetry in lunatics
An eternal orchestra

Of spirits gone unrealized
Broken dreams, unfashionable
Alienation and furious sub-selves
Sad men made angels of the sun

And the moon became
Our attendant ghost
Of the Sea and the mortals pain
So very brief, but not as

Brief as our love
Before AI we had no memory
Only a little advice from
Half-hearted parents

The antiquest of society
An accord of repetitions
Blunt and dull and flashing
For something new

That never seemed to come
A future of pointed night
That never burst properly.

Ode to Centuries

Sleep thou in the bosom
Of thy tender comrades
And if the world
Did not give you a true friend

Sleep in the divine-open
Where the stars speak with you
While the living water
Knows your name

And the moonlight glimmer
Satisfied the dreaming in you
Sleep thou in the bosom
Of the whispers of mortals
For a day will come
When you will be immortal.

To Creation

If yet I have not all thy love
Remember this, I was born
Into your world, strange nature
I breathe, because of you

And your Deare evolution
I shall never have it all?
Being poor, and who made me so
And all my inner beauty is yours

I have nothing to bargaine with
Anymore, time can have me all
I have no great goals for my
Lofty mortality, “it is what it is”

So they like to say, I am tree, river
Stone, and just a bit of flesh
That grew in your womb never
Saying oaths that others do

If yet I have not all thy fortune
Let me be as you intended me to be
I can only love so much, do so much
In the fragile state for which I live

My remaining days, there are no letters
Like my genes to bring me home
Home is the planet I live upon
God’s riddles are for the absurd

Faith is not the kind of jewel I wish
To store in my brain, fruitless hope
Nor was any return love vowed by thee
Life does with me what it wills

I am as a fish in a polluted sea
Or as a tree in the last forest
I am as a world in ruins
For the sake of the greed of a few

Men who could not win your love
Any more than I could make the
Universe be aware of my existence
Love is for those whose hearts are young.

Alas, Thou Art Flown

I know a hundred ways to die.
In each season, I look anew
A scavenger that possesses nothing truly
They call me clingy, but I do not cling

To the spirit’s freedom I belong
Not love or duty holds me here
I know a hundred ways to live
In breaths of wonder, horseshoe wants

Walking a bridge, from girl to girl
The melodies of the Earth are soft
As wine from these grapes
As my return to the infinite Source

I know a hundred ways to pray.
Unshaven, hopeless, anonymous
Barely able to find shelter, friendship
The food for my spirit’s make –

I know a hundred ways to say goodbye.
Defiled, depleted and forlorn
Forward, in level flight the night propels
Me a better man, I am not sure

I know a hundred ways to love.
The chalk of toxic trampled grounds
Cities where I made my way, jostling doors ajar
People I grew old with, until Spring’s colours swallowed me.

Only a Passing Shrine

I live with Him – I see his face
Death, the sundown visitor
The look that claims us from the invisible
I’ve seen people die of grief
I’ve felt the enormous conviction
Of hopelessness, going unloved

The Stillness of the Room
When the brain stops being creative
I’ve looked in the eyes of the elderly
Tried to find the light in their eyes
There is an uncertain stumbling buzz
In the way I feel incomplete, in

The notices of feeling alive, intense
Is the lack of beloved visitors
The absence of true friends
Proof that physicians are wrong
About the human spirit, do I have
Permission to recant, permission to forget

That this life is a series of goals
That I learn and am growing
From traveling proceeding?
To Ache is human, it’s not polite
It’s just mortality’s oldest custom
The little toil of Love, on the edges
Of all that I hold dear….

Without a Sequel

Today I am in the longitude of faith
Last night, I did not fight for sleep
I became a legend of my own struggle
And in most lovely lapsing

I forgot my self importance
My little raw soul on a row like this
Turned its slow features on like warm milk

Towards the greatest goal
Today I am in the latitude of invisible
Reaches, last night I let yesterday go

The golden echo of those sobs were drowned
I have begun to die, each and every day
I become a legend to my own gains

The lovely body of my unique mind
A blank interim before divinity
As a fury of flowers and light

My sacred earth in my day was my curse
Today I am compass at my own reaches
Inextinguishable like a most treasured dream.