The Roggenbuck Principle


112

So I have heard you are obsessed with wonder
The predominant thought of your being
Is your Showzen, the arc frequency

Everything sent out returns to the source
You are a human transmission tower
Your channel is your life
Your thoughts attract consequent vibrations

So I have heard you are obsessed
With how to touch the world?
The law of attraction is a creative law
You are speaking or listening to someone

Most of all yourself, your harvest vibration
You emit and perpetuate your experience
The pattern, like a funnel of light
So focus on what you want, very very carefully

The power of your mind is innocent
Like an instrument, it requires executive oversight
So I have heard you are obsessed with success
Mind is your quantum alphabet, calculator, antennae

It’s not a secret, but it eliminates a degree of worry
If you know how to use it, feel it, channel it
Thank God there’s a time delay, choice is temporal
So now, decide what you want to be and think it.

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

the Taste of Poverty


38

A Day! Help and yet another day
Where if prayers were as passer-byes!
They do not greet me, what a world

Such as this, deserves less prayers
More acts of startled selfishness
Might date a victory, in some forgotten

Future, where the past is no longer remembered
These nations and empires and economies
Do not steady my worrisome soul

My psyche was not built for war
Or angel-worn prosperity, I eat
The hopping-sideways for miracles

My life a quiet volunteer work
Of learning empathy in such hurried grounds
My velvet mouth chasing crumbs
With the taste of beauty and divinity

Lingering in my mouth, silver steam
Turmeric and ginger tongue-bells
Garlic butterflies off to the fragrance of noon.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/e-n-d-o-f-t-h-e-d-r-e-a-m-s-403349873