Open Invitation

Like Air & Water

Hello, I wish we would have connected earlier
We should meet in another life
We should meet in air

Me and you, with a new world between us
In loving people too much, or not enough
I felt the scenes of my life

Anonymously, my consuming interests
Were psycho-social
If not, to talk to everybody

As deeply as I could
We would sleep in open fields
And travel west in our hearts

To walk freely into the night
Maybe in, another time and place
I wouldn’t be so terrified of

The malignity of the mechanics
Of how separated our lives are now
A schizophrenic individualism

Where profit counts more than people;
Goodbye, I wish we would have known each other
We should meet in another life

We could meet in water
Me and you, without the deluded sense
Of desperate egoism of this culture

I will leave our unity for then
Until then, I will take a deep breath
To listen for the shore, that’s the heart
At the other end of time.

When My Name Was

Changing Destiny

In the epilogue of final exists
At the wild invention of stories
In the emergency of all narrative
Who will you decide to be?

In the immediacy of dreaming
Where only a few years count
How will you stalk destiny?
Dripping with the temporary

Appetites of mortality
What will you give your soul to?
The journey that is
Beneath velvet stars, points

ii

As tiny as infinity
Blindly feeling even thoughts
Your body pulling you
In mundane directions

The moon never did any good
Breeding, profit, mating, belonging
But is that all you were created for?
In half-lit houses we ache

iii

But do not know why
A quicksilver fluidity of the future
And the grave realities that contains
All of us in holographic form

Forever retrievable, forever
Exportable to baby-earths
An algorithm of small theatres
Beautiful framed by the prospect of free-will.

In the Haiku between you and I

In the Haiku between you and I

In the Haiku between you and I
You and me, there is only silence
For I followed you blindly
Without words, like a fool’s errand

And our experiences were finite
But as poets we were prophets
Taking the ordinary
To make it all-beautiful

Immersed in the variables
Of relationships, I became
My own kind of poetic analytics
Poetry defined as immediate
Identification, and you were there

A myth in my eyes of incarnations
A lost journey of mine without a home
I followed you through time like a nomad
Of a poem our lives once wrote together

So pure and profound a calling
A writer-seer’s blind spot of pleasure
Ethereal, unattainable, self-sacrificial
That’s how the poetry between us sounded

Transparent, with a red dress of infatuation
Still warm, the muse of powerful
Barefoot cravings and blue-stretched out
Mythical bed of alphabetical nipple-tested
Vowel-slurring sweet anarchy.

Lullaby of futurities

Lullaby of futurities

I found reluctant peace
In the entirely beautiful
Memory of the future
It was as if I had been there
My sleeping head thus cried out

Mortal, guilty, embarrassed
To be alive, yet entirely
Giving, like a fever
I was swept with a faith
So radical, so abstract

So universal, I was lost
In the hermit’s ectacy
Of mystic super-sympathy
“the future”, my soul called out
With relief a certain fidelity

This too shall change, how lovely
It was to know that she
Would arrive, as sure as
A growing child’s full
Dawn of intelligence

The spirit in bloom
And the soul’s whispers
The inner beauty like a lullaby
Of whatever must be
To arrive at her wildly entertaining

Vistas of nature’s genius
She, the lovely future
Watched by every human love
With such involuntary glory.

Like a prayer

Like a prayer

It’s an unfortunate coincidence
That we end up with nothing
The moment we die

Only a last thought

A waking memory
On the border of this and that
Neither here or there

Shivering, anxious
In a cold sweat at the start
Of the greatest of endings

And there, in a note
Of the purest surrender
We find ourselves buried

Time flying into the future
Where we possess our
Spiritual necessity

It’s our naked privilege
Then, to be ourselves
Knowing, we are on
Our way to becoming
More ourselves every day

Every lifetime, it’s inevitable
And like, an aglorithm
Of soul training itself
On the Big Data of
A thousand lifetimes.

Ghost in the Machine

Why have the gods in their division
Severed us, from our heart of being?
From our soul, lured thee to wander
In techno-currency, o my lost lover?

While now I sojourn in sorrow
My biology made to remorse for
The artificial prosperity of corporate days
Nay, who could love as I once did,

Now Cortana and Siri must evolve
So that deity might become companion
And computer might become friend
Why has the future forsaken biology?

Because, because it was inevitable
To transcend, transform, evolve
Computers will pretend to be people
People will mask themselves into augmented reality

Bathed in information and duality
What will summer magic mean then?
Or the dream of other physical worlds…

2030

 

 

Is there anything
emptier than words without a pen?
than a heart without a home?
than an Earth without a star
to say, “we can try again”
on another world
with better machines
evolution is always
like an experiment with time
a species has to mature
in the short time it is given
or die trying, that’s us
always at the brink
without fully realizing it
my drawer is like a rat lair
full of the dreams of humanity
but can history say
we truly loved our world?

Mantra of the Nomad who died somewhere in Asia

Mantra of the Nomad who died somewhere in Asia

To a heart that is open
Everyone appears as a friend
To a mind that is still
The entire universe surrenders

It’s all in the way you smile
At the start of your day
And laugh at the end of the day
It’s all the peace one feels

When crossing the same river
Any river could have been home
I’ll keep butterflies as my companion
Not like I would want to

Trap any butterfly, they are much
More beautiful doing what they do
The same for flowers and
Forget the years, I’m going to

Leap duality on my way home
Home is where the heart is open
Home is where the mind is still
Home is the universe that waits for me
Home are the friends who live everywhere.

Psalm 17 – History

I will love thee, O Mother, my strength
Of nature, deliverance of all that is
Natural, without Man’s arrogance
Even these scriptures and doctrines

Carry the stamp of Man’s incapability
To write truth that is lasting
In my distress I will call upon thee
Universal Mother, when all the Gods

Have come and gone, passed like
The imaginary sanctuaries of the weak
I will call upon thee, O Mother
And cry to your Oceans, and with your

Forests watch as the cities crumble
I do not praise my kind, Mother
They have been as a darkness over
The fields, ungodly Americans and the

White Man’s order of hierarchy
Imaginary stocks and false economies
A devoring Capitalism that eats up its own people
With a debt that is nearly worthy of praise

For the vanity of such a civilization
Can quickly come to an end, like
The Fall of Rome or the drying up of the Nile
And if a period of darkness follows

This collapse Mother, I shall not weep
Knowing that for every fallen empire
A New World is born, such are the cycles
Of these lonely years, when the Highest voice

Warns us of the calamity of prophecies
Great Mother, I would plunge all of God’s work
Into the Oceans, like Atlantis, for one more
Chance at a better variety of humanity.

FEELING FOLDED GOLD ON GOLD

Raw with feeling of the unearthly beautiful
I watched tomorrow move towards me
A sentimentalism of verbs with a life

Of their own, making their way
Through mysteries floating across
Distances, raw with another country

Inside of me, I stood with certain open letters
Forwarding the bitter origins
Of nostalgia for ordinary streets

Those that are no more streets to walk
That feel like home, and stressing the importance
Of identity, wonderful and bright –

Raw with feeling of the bell-struck air
I felt like a Tourist on my home-planet
When did I lose you? Whose have you become?

Children I never had, wife I never met
Friends that couldn’t find their way
To the destined meeting place.

Sexism

No woman can compass despair
As one without a child, husband, family
For we as Travelers proceed

Not in a man’s world, but our own
Unconscious of the Width of Time
Unaware of evolution’s secrets hid in us

To pilot necessity without loving arms…
It is a Crucifixion to be a modern woman
With unequal pay, and duties more –

Breadwinners this time, history affirms
The feminine strength, endurance, beauty more
Than lazy men, so ignorant, so inhuman

Perhaps world, you should be ashamed
To shut out women from management
The true stewards of the Earth, those who care

No woman can compass despair
As pioneers who must strive as would men
In the bodies of women, to suffer more!

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Vector-Woman-411922911

Cycles of the Clear Bright

The cities will be ruined
And what will remain will be
Heavy dew, thick mist, dense grass
Fields, far as roads once ruled

The drunken parties of men will be gone
Fled into the fifth watch of
Galaxies, tunnelling into oblivion
Somewhere near the speed of light

Passing are all ruined palaces
Empires will crumble, as if gladly
To make way for the new
The coasts will swallow peninsulas

The skies will perform cleaning
Volcanoes will erupt
And broken gates will ease in
New wild gardens, waterfalls

Over bridges, time renews all
Life does not question, she moves
While we rest in moments of snow
Beneath migrating rains

The gravestones of Earth will be hidden
Only the voice of screeching owls
Will remind the lantern light
Of Nine Spring mornings
What all was once, can be again.

Portrait of the Void

These hours are not pregnant
Maybe in reversed tempo
I must be broken to love again
I wake up to the smell of pine needles
The hours of my humanity were edited
Performed memory autopsy
By the impotence of our toppled world
Yesterday or today or tomorrow
Blend into one, like a reconstructed
Holographic life, a quantum signature
With the breath of a fairy
Erected from lost discipline, cheated disciplines
These hours are like a miscarriage
Of all the love we stored in each other
Moments as brutal as magnetic suns
Whose ballet of light is unrelentless.