When Nature With Rubies & Stars Pelteth Me 


Screen Shot 11-04-15 at 03.00 PM

When the night is almost done
And we have walked a life of years
Dark and light, with uniforms of snow
Steps through rain and dimples ready

To face the morning’s mist
When body is in her frightened hour
Do not be afraid, soul
Spirit that shines in smiling procession

For change bears her faithful witness
There is no fight in the Great Spirit
She’s just there, in peace and surrender
A vacancy of meditation’s ambush

On heights of piercing wild
Where stars are free above the winds
When the day has come
To look inside your self

And silence like an ocean rolls
I will hear the voice of Time
And she will fling her speech in prayer
And all beauty will unscrutinize

For nature is the bright majority
She guides the continual crowning
Of my steps, and takes me by the hand
A feminine onset of eternity
In my blood, and health in my shared oxygen.

Love-Designed


11

Love-Designed

I got a tattoo from God, it’s invisible
But glows when I’m in need
You can’t see it, it’s inexplicable

A design of everywhere, intelligent design
Of whom I was created to become
After all, I was put on this Earth
And I went along with it, quite gladly

Without a plan, but I believe I was
Evolved & that my genes are a culmination
Of how I love the rain, or, why poetry

Speaks in my ears, though I don’t appreciate
Music or paintings or graphic design
I’ve always wanted to write a poem
That felt like a Tattoo from God

Though I’m sceptical of the Bible
And religious texts that people quote
I’d prefer something more abstract

Or beautifully living, like a Sufi ideal of service
Or how the Tao encompasses mystery
I got a tattoo from Evolution, but that’s another story.

Treatise on Attar II


77

The home we seek is in eternity
my spirit has wandered
across endless countries

I have experienced
the pouring of so much grace
to live, to love, and i have looked

everywhere, for Your love –
then suddenly I am filled with it
as a mystic ecstatic with the source

i have felt famine in my veins
and been a slave among peoples
but my prayers have been my light

my poetry the last drop of devotion
that was my strength, when i was weak
my life was the opportunity that was given

if I ignore it, if I waste it –
i will only turn to dust
either way, i will one day live in eternity,

as a spark or a cloud or a gem
or a filament of gold after stars
kiss each other coyly.

Treatise on God II


94 love

Here, bear testimony, you are your own best witness
Do unto others as you
Would have them to do you
Love must be sincere, therefore

Cling to what is good
Be compassionate at all times
Love has no intent to harm
The fulfillment of the law is kindness

Mercy, charity, service, helpfulness
Hope, love and faith together move –
But the greatest of these is love
And Love for God’s work in us

Dear friends, let us love on another
For love comes from God
Everyone who loves has been
Born God and knows God

There is no fear in love, therefore
Perfect love drives out all fear, anxiety
Fear punishes, love gives
Say yes to love, and no to fear

At every juncture of your life
Here, bear testimony, the love in you
Will be your own judge and jury
Great love is not only for self, family, friends

But for all beings, all creatures
There is no chosen people, no right nation
All planets together move in the galaxy
A friend loves at all times, whoever forgets God

That is their concern, for God so loved the world
There we were created to love the world too
No one can serve two masters, so listen
Inside your heart, and serve the true soul

For in thine own conscience thou findst
The truth of thy love, and all fulfillment therein.

Treatise on Jesus of Nazareth III


92

Many people mistake their work
For their vocation, but our vocation
Is to love, universal and immediate
This is why we are here on Earth

If you marry something, make sure
It fills every opportunity in you
To make the world a better place
That is the feast, and that is the holy communion

Having loved those who shared our lives
How can we have any regrets in the end?
The resurrection is when we die to ourselves
And learn to give without rewards

Who can achieve it, all who have shed false-belief
I cannot consider myself righteous
If I do not learn to love the world more wholly
More fully, that is the vocation of my love

A new commandment I give to thee:
To serve each other, by this all the people
Will know that we are all disciples of true caring

Blessed are those who are not afraid
To lose what wasn’t meant to be;
From the rising of the sun, to the place
Where it sets, is the name of my Lord which is Love.

Treatise on Jesus of Nazareth


90

But I say to you, Love your
Enemy as you would your Neighbor
Your Neighbor as you would your Mother

Do not persecute these or yourself
Father who is in heaven; he would not approve
Be compassionate for all creatures

Do not let your hearts be troubled
Trust in yourself, as the universe incarnate
Trust also in others, as if they were you

Ask for it and these be given unto you;
Search for it, and she will find you –
Love, like the universe opens all doors for you

A new command you were given:
Love one another, as nature gave you life
Free of possibility, full of potential

For the universe loved her many children
Eternal life endures, like a lover
Whose objects are not limited, but unlimited

Whose bliss is unconditional, not only for thy family
but I say to you, Love more if you want
To be closer to perfection, keep only possessions

In your heart, that is thy only commandment
For what shall it profit a being, who forgets how to love?

Treatise on Yunus Emre


I tried to make sense of the holy books
Until love arrived,
Then all the scriptures became
A holy single syllable
Her word was “love”

Divine love is the one I need
Day and night I burn –
I read the faces of suffering creatures
To find the lips of thy glory!
My pity would break into an outcry

That went beyond all God’s images
The only source I have left is your love
I find no great joy in being alive
If only to be one drop
That contains an ocean

Each passing day fans and rouses flames
Of the desire to love both worlds
As the same, Heaven and Earth
My abode and my destination
I tired to love all the people of the world

Until I felt you by my side, in everybody
Do not let me wander from your love
Don’t let me leave your door
And if I lose myself
Let me find myself again in You.

62

Treatise on Kahlil Gibran


58

The teacher is who learns from pupils
They are everywhere, emerging out of suffering
Leading you to the threshold of mind
Where all ancestors worked for the same cause
And all descendants unite inevitably

The strongest souls are those who
hold the most love in their service
there are no scars in rebirths, only
karmic residue, personal tendencies
Your living is determined not so much

by what life brings to you as by the
attitude you bring to life, perception is
The quantum variable, in silence’s vein
We find new teachers in purity
New levels of humility, where wisdom

Ceases to worship itself, but melts into spirit
There sweetness of friendships remain
Rising as faith like a knowledge in the heart
Beyond every proof, boundless as unconditional love
Yesterday is but today’s false shadow-memory

And tomorrow is but a Beloved-dream
Faith is the living oasis of the present
The timeless in you is aware of life’s timelessness
You pray in your distress, but you have been here before
We are all a prophet, we’ve all forged bonds of love

Arisen from the same loaf of mind
Alone in the same music of our hours of separation
Give your hearts, risk all to give
For in the moving sea lies the greatest rewards
We wanderers, ever seek the lonelier way
That we might trap divinity in a sunset

On some height we thought we were the first to climb
When love of higher things beckoned us
We followed him, though his ways were hard and steep
Even while the earth sleeps we travel
And give praise to the scattered winds of our legacies.

Treatise on Du Fu


87

Vulnerable while we ride the wind
We are as gulls drifting slowly up the river
Dew is heavy on the lips of sunsets
With a loving morning in view

I can feel the edge of Heaven, tatters of Autumn
Beginning to drip with the frost of Winter
The spider’s web is ready for me
Nature’s plan for me is being revealed

Long rains have turned to frontiers of snow
And the red fruit of pomegranate drops into our mouths
Like the rubies of a fastly approaching giant Comet
While we will all be separated by a human death

I will see you in my dreams in the after-life
Old friends in exiles with only words
My poetry already knows how much I will miss you
Caught in a net of a thousand nights of laughter

The setting moon will spill of our stories
As the moment when I first saw love on your face
The waters of time are deep, deeper than memory
Don’t let the river gods take you, I know the stars

Are a country of petals shed like ancient tears
Where all the grief of the worlds turns to love
In a super-nova that has the mouth of pure love
My heart is a world of water and crystal

Already ready to be reborn, like clothes damp
With the time of spring rains, long rains
Heal everything, long rain has not harmed the land
Our weeping voices will rise and join the clouds

In the blue skies our wings will not falter
But wavering, flinching, I will reach summits
Of the Sovereign in the ordinary, the rainbows built
In the supreme architecture of my descendants.

Treatise on Hafiz


51

Beloved, your love should never
Be offered to the mouth of a stranger
Only to someone who dares
To cut pieces of your soul
Out with a knife of the sharpest attachment

To warm you with your own warmth!
Even after all this time
The sun would never dare to say
To the Earth, “You owe me”
Then never seek your just rewards

But learn in this life how to truly give!
It lights up the whole sky
Run my dear, from anything
that does not strength thy budding wings
Awaken thy heart to the necessity

Of only one language, human love
For all other things are mere sayings in the wind
For only by loving can you taste
Your mortality, nearing the God
Through the eyes of the angels

To scream from the guts of Infinite existence.
What we speak becomes the house
We live in, so speak of love
As a pearl that delights to live
At the bottom of the ocean

Be content that the light, will one day
Split you open like a diamond
Love this Earth, with your beautiful eyes.

They Built the Poet His Table Downtown


36

I search the ruins of my
Subjective mementos
Hoping to find why the poet
in me has been exiled

the rapid stream of life events
has finally caught up
with my prayers that were
names of the dead, history

will not repeat herself in my eyes
poetry is the sister of my memory
body guards of the wilderness
that I endured as a lost youth

and my writing is getting worse
in the greedy arms of living
I have lost lyricism, my address
of universal ideals that once

felt so bright, now I only carry
the breath of others a bit further
in imitation of what is gone
I cannot try anymore to

outyell time, she works no more
addressing the unborn, it is time to live
the future has her own fate
at night I as a poet read

how every author betrays themselves
paradise will be finished
not by words, but by loving deeds
can a word on page be loving?

oily in quiet warmth for family
that is how a poet died
light-hearted as hope to another generation
summoning still the unborn, the born.
Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Waiting-to-Fall-413179324

I Died for Beauty


79

I died for beauty many times
Though my heart was scarce
I poured it on the page to be a poet fair

A dead breed, adjusted only
In the tomb, I died for beauty
Like the extinct Romantic –

All of us speaking of love
In wild adjoining rooms
I questioned God softly

Why I failed, to be a writer
In such a world, it was because
The world had grown ugly

Over the centuries, without nature’s
Touch, ‘I died for beauty’ I replied
The future cared not for beauty anymore

My ancestors wept and my descendants
Did not know, that the moss had
Reached the lips, of all wombs

That came before, I died for beauty
For a poem, lost and covered up by names
Of all the poets that came before

The Universe does not applaud the meek –
And poets’ love a royal dress
Distinguished to nobody in particular

I did for beauty anonymously
Without a trace, a unit in diversity
My own wheel in the starlit dark

I cannot say why I turned for beauty
In tides of Supernova, I died for beauty
Like last night, on some unfrequented road.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/dari-411941266

Fragments Beneath Eternal Trees


16

I am a fragment on the white clouds
Of Apollo, Vishnu see himself in me
I am the Autumn silver of first snow
Washed on my morning face

I am the stubborn silence that accompanies
Too much happiness, the foreign
Country love. I am the last request
Of a golden heart gladdened to be poor

That the purity persists despite that
With a prayer book full of lyrics
Sutras of the melted precipice of self
I am a fragment of all that was once divine

Set in empty volumes of diamond flesh
I am the end of an invisible dynasty
Poetry dies with me, as a window
To the gray-maned mythology of italics
Where words became monuments of Autumn herself.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/she-409922245

Poem on Beauty


69

My Art is no art
I seek to submit to nature within
That the heart’s streaming tears
Might praise that which is holy
Abiding by a sacred partner

A fullness of life, my companion
The heart of my Art
Has bangles of poetry
Necklaces of pure music
Whose verses & notes are extremely
fond of each other

They love each other deeply
They have no self to interfere
Sleepless and wondrous & pondering
They climb divinity and need
Each other so constantly

As I need to paint, write, rejoice
Even if my technique be wanting
In qualification, education, specification
My Art is no art
Needless to say, my love includes

All manners of healing insignificance:
The moment I stop writing
I face earth’s beauty, and
She tells me to write some more!

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Elation-V-408683972

V


11

Voices, cherished and most dear
of those who we left behind
they are too lost for us like the dead –

Voices, loved and so idealized
of those who formed our minds
they are there, sometimes

in our dreams speaking glowing alphabets
deep in the heart of our self-prophecy
when sleep cleans our neurons

Voices, remain, loving and old
as the first dawn of our being –
and then, the sound of their poetry returns

as life’s first cry of language
like music in the night, sweetly fading
a chorus of moments returned

all at once, spontaneous synchronicity
Voices, the cherished melody of being human.

Photo Courtesy: http://zemotion.deviantart.com/art/Motherland-Chronicles-37-Masked-407999452

In the regime of hunger


63

No more of this poetry.
Bring on the hard, harsh real life instead;
Let the jingle of verse disappear
Bury the lyrics of my youth

Like precious Ivory of another time
When the creatures of the Earth were free
No more of this poetry.
No more need for the serenity of a poem

For the empty invisible sense of victory
Poetry, I give you a break today
In the regime of hunger, the Earth
Found more useful things, like family;

The full moon burns like a loaf of
Bread in my mouth, my wife
Waiting for me to overcome idleness.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Sophia-and-the-Pilgrim-406349902

Alive We are But Vessels


51

So, I will bend down with my soul
So, I will lay my face in the dust
So, I will find humility after brilliant failures
The songs of living will go on muffled

In my deviant will, my devious heart
I’ve had twenty-thousand desires
To err like this, to say that only few
Things matter, to say that the majority of moments

Will go forgotten, laughed upon, utterly accepted
So, I will bend my will to the nature in me
So, I will love what I was meant & made to love
So, I will find listening in times of bareness

And my life’s precious hours will disappear
Like all hours have fled before me
So, this is it and I am just one
So, the street-dogs will repeat what I have said.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Autumnal-Waters-404640689

Requiem for Everyone


50

Everything has its own hour
Where loved, treasured, not sold –

becomes our everything for a time
Until ‘nothing can last forever’ becomes
the day, the month, the mysterious year
where fate can unravel in a turn

So be it, looted, betrayed, traded, doomed
Our life is a mystery of cherry perfume

of laughter and fountains, transparent
as the constellations which depict
the cosmic story of individuality
miraculous, dark and the stories

We have always known until they
Happen to us, we encompass everything
Eaten by time’s hunger, under the wing of stars.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/colours-of-nature-404205374

Lyrics in Recession


44

This horrible but superb painting
Is modern society faltering badly
the autumn empire of greed falling
an economic diagonally downward spiral

it’s october and I’ve found anticipation for a day
the pure diversion of the eternal present
it will be all gone soon enough
This splendid but tragic superb music

of living without justice and competing
nestling the alarms of a hush-throated society
I will close the doors of sense and world-news
for a humbling sort of use of poetry

to satiate the lyrics that internally glisten
for the new creation of some future’s
giant transforming wing, for minds
and youth to whom all anguish has been mended
to live or not to live, in a better world.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Lightness-of-Being-404173536

With Specimens of Song


– Where Hart Crane once jumped

43

You love the invisible
You write IT everyday
You claim your little notes
Further the language of the Day

With ample letters, of your love
To witness the light which delights
The air is clear and transparent
Where your voice speaks like a melody

Your love is for the invisible
With incorporeal pillows vain
Your sunrise is a spiritual event
Somewhere inside your little brain

Your love, it is for the invisible
A dreamer interrupting his own ground
You write journals for eternity
God bless your suddeness
that which you call dear poetry.

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Bridge-at-night-II-403312876

Prayer Untitled


35

Prayer is the last response
Of presence when life is denied
So to remain quiet

Is sometimes next to God’s ear
Watching and listening
The last apparatus

Of apparent prosperity
For to own is not permanent
Anything can be taken away

A spirit-diamond trance
Can problem solve
The symmetry of misfortune

Prayer is the last response
Of an unconditional force of happiness
Too infinite is consequence

For us to seize destiny by the throat
Prayer is the easiest sport
When our slow capacities deploy

A crude response to vivid nature
So to act is not always wise
Then do we notice things overlooked

Our mind italicized by light
That darkness be prerequisite
To spirit’s final room

As narrow time’s jostle between
What we once called life & death
Bent to water, till we died

Prayer is the last response
When belief no longer regulates
The perception of our undue significance.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Skyfall-403075862

Sleeping on the wings of poetry


15

I’ve satisfied the poetry in me
by mastering luminous humility
I can chew personal poems in
the meditation against coercion

it’s a lifelong habit to read & write
though I’d prefer a mandarin certificate
than another restoration of crisis
through and by writing, soaring there –

I’ve satisfied the poetry in me
or so I always think, before and after
I wrote the last, till the penning of the next
veering upward like a pigeon with

an unworldly frown, I laugh to think
at how the car honks, door slams, angels cry
of a trillion worlds, while I can simply write
poetry is the last beautiful language
difficult though it has always been to me.

poetry courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Scintillate-402634741

To have lavender lips under the leaves of the world


11

In poems anything can be said
eyelids don’t obey the night
hearts might float as silver flying machines

throats might have a spiritual flicker
in poems anything might fly
slow heart breaths to music’s touch

lavender creeps in through the bedroom window
and fragrance tell us a bed-time story
In poems dreams collide, with the ocean’s floor

with stars that spring loud as the streaming sun
treasures could last for centuries
on eager notes of autumn amusement

In poems anything can zealously work
for the beacon of the times had a candle
that said to each morning how much I loved you

with a mouth for cranberry tea and the bluest glow
In poems I miss you always
for even careful words are too numerous
To be taken seriously.

Of Post Modern Poetry


13

The poem of the mind begins
from imitation, the sufficient finding
of ourselves in others, of language in mind

the poetry of the heart begins
from adoration, the theater of possession
when all the scripts repeat

the scenes shift with insatiable actors
I slowly construct my new stage
the poem begins with delicate listening

a repetition of silence between each vowel
with an invisible audience that cares
the poem of the mind beings after modern poetry

ended with a souvenir of free-verse
when everyone became a sufficient poet
confessing to learn the speech of themselves

now I will never know exactly how to write myself
though it is fun to make metaphysics my business
and in sudden righteousness, pretend I’m more than a spark.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Untitled-402575231

Now I the art of taming souls possess


22.09.2013

7

All winged creatures have I loved
All flowers small, all oceans brave
The stillness round my form
Swept all spirits with a smile –

Between the drama, and the storm
All lovers have I befriended
All children that passed me by
With eyes full of empathy’s tears

For the last onset, of love witnessed
In his beloved power, and breaths
As blue as uncertain waves
That could flow for eternity

Between windows of light & life
With lips to sip the jasmine bashful
As reaching late his flowering soul
That counts the nectars and treasures bliss.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Bee-eaters-402005428

Awed by your Splendor


22

If love hast ruled me, not hate
then shall I arise an older mate
who never loved like I do

where youth and love lie side by side
we shall stay young, in bed
and cherished happiness
If love thou hast for me, dear muse

my bride the rosy leaves
are flying to the shores
give to me, thy groom, soft sweetness
for eternity has gladness

here to pass, until the silver cord
bends lips of full kisses to thee
thy form is lovely, nearly as thy spirit
whose eyes are honeyed moisture

thick with the longing of
a lifetime without Aphrodite’s full charm
If love hast ruled me, not hate
then shall I abide with thee

Awed by thy splendorous dress
of good nature and stars near
with a bright face for me
in the roundest lights the earth can hold.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Golden-Autumn-400631743

This is the poetry


14

This is the poetry of all my years
with the rhythm that drops like water molecules
and the tongue of holy fires
that shoots with the breath that never-stops

This is the poetry designed for rants
that elegantly convey the big-mouth chanting
of an oppression and growth
of a thousand preaching words of subjectivity

This is the poetry of freedom
it gets enchained in singularities
and skips over synchronicity for thrills
of divine flavors past Shakespeare

This is the poetry that dares to search
for new manners of the riddle of words
into the silence of the great canvas
of art always becoming more personal

This is the poetry of body shaking pride
the quick and childishly glib facade
of the imagination stretched as far as a new nation
that connects all philosophers and poets in time

chanting a single written phrase
This is the poetry from the universe of life
the experience that no sociology can comprehend
the dreaded degree of loving necessity

when I talk to myself in poetry I talk
through all the wild poetry of your eyes.

Poetry Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-zoo-397858926

Voice


105

Now I feel the leaf of voices
Nothing mightier than the Trees
The sky where no word is spoken
But the speaking of life; sun & earth

O what is it in me that lusts for voice?
Language, the hoping neurons in me –
Now I wish the water of voices
That traces the blood of perfect organs

The soul of ancestry that brought me here
Now I feel the crypt of voices
My temples struck by the depths
All wait for the right voices, for whose melody?

The water follows the moon in my
Ancient feeling, with fluid steps
Forever ready, as if to sing –
The ignorance of words is so so clear

The non-duality from which every utterance follows
Trapped in time, but it is still beautiful
To feel poetry in nature, mysticism in the wind.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/resize-me-392917067