After I graduated as teacher: East London High
Because I boarded at an ashram in Durban
Check of my first salary, went to it as thanks
NOTE: The Swami - "not good in Christ terms" - but the most abstemious & disciplined man I knew, blessed my gratitude. His name, Swami Sahajananda, or formerly Srinivas Naidoo of Estcourt, said I would always have Grace. I have never gone hungry, or very cold, 42 years on.
Once by a waterfall,
once in an Ashram, once in a Church,
a boxing match, a fair ground,
a funeral, a birth, Once in the bloom
of murmuring starlings.
Once in a once and only.
Once in every moment given to itself.
Alone in a forest, finding the single root.
watching the swift flowing –
inside the falling, not falling.
Once in a while, in the never-ending.
Once in a war, once in a sorrowing,
Inside, outside and entering.
Killing and planting.
Not shadow nor the substance,
not the swift flow of past and future,
not chased, not running after.
All this instant there is,
not coming, or going -
being.
Everyone's seen the morning sun
the light slants and the blood-splattered sky
the full moon's sliced off to night's dark face
on to the TV screen, Facebook or Whatsup
seasons arrive and go, to return once more
the summer heat takes off your shirt
the hat tilts to shade
in the rainy months, the umbrella's out
to serve as a walking stick as well
nothing new about it, to write about
the mannequins at the shop window
the phenomenon not in it's field of vision
intricately woven with our lives
and yet we don't give a damn about it
at our work, play, courtship or party-hop
working against it, at every step
the paper to read and write on
the houses we live in; and roads
by undermining mountains for rocks
ballast for the railway tracks
automobiles burn the air
shortage of oxygen to breathe
impure air impair lives...
Yes, I have seen them live
in Sevagram a village in India
followers of Mahatma Gandhi
survive in an ashram
in houses made of mud and wood
just can hold a bed, table and chair
no electricity but lanterns
no tap water but from underground
to live in sync with nature
that's their motto and life's purpose
Mahi's husband was hungry
Hungry in his longing
One day to be able to stay at an Ashram
His aptitude for yoga was insurmountable
Money was not plentiful and savings were low
The journey would be expensive
Mahi was a brilliant crafter
Being habile made her weaving exceptional.
So she spent all her spare time
Weaving and exchanging her wares
Came the day when she called ..." Ayush"
Giving him the monies she had saved
The journey was made
Ayush's hunger fulfilled
Home was once more a place of happiness.
Poem written on 22 October 2020
Random words were..husband..hungry..ashram..habile..exchanged.
I
"Good morning. Jesus Loves You," I say
To passers by, with my calm shalom
I feel good, they feel good. But ought we?
Since Columbus sailed the Ocean blue ...
There's been a holocaust on the earth
The other one, against the environment
They can't stop it in the Amazon
So, why talk of the last Orangutans
In Indonesia, or Malaysia: old Batavia?
Yes, I am a pastor, and I love Jesus
(Which Jesus? you ask. That's the question)
II
After these post-Columbian centuries
India and China seem to have managed without Jesus
It irks me, that with so much clout, empires fail
To show the side of Jesus we see individually
The Samaritan woman at the well (John 4)
The blind beggar who never had eyes, until made for him
By Jesus outside the Temple (escaping stoning, yet healing)
Read it in John 9. Or the Love of the Father, Luke 15
The one Jesus revealed to us as "Abba." Why not these?
I heard Romans 3 (verse 23) and John 14: 6 aplenty
It sounded better in my private devotions
Shall I mention E. Stanley Jones, Christian ashram
(Not Christian Yoga). How to be a missionary
And tell them of Jesus. Just Jesus. Not the "civilized economy."
The Smidget Puggily learned Transcendental Meditation from the prettiest Guru. she’d ever seen. His hair and beard, perfectly coiffed, made him appear so brilliant and enlightened. He had the gentlest smile and positively exuded holiness. Not one single wrinkle or piece of lint, ever appeared upon his turban; he was perfect, in her eyes. Puggily had the most difficult time; emptying her mind; all she seemed to ever think about was him. Nevertheless, she managed to become an enlightened one. Coupled with her Smidget brain, it would not be long until she too, became a Buddha-mind; all thanks to her fantastically, wonderful and prettisome Guru.
Breathing in the light
Enlightenment is just a
Tiny Breath away.
Written 2-29-19
This poem is based on this definition of Smidget:
A completely cool individual who knows everything.
Contest:”The Smidget Puggily and Her Prettisome Guru Poetry Contest” sponsored : Caren Krutsinger
His teachings were gentle,
yet he did not bend to
the will of any man.
This little brown man
changed an entire world
for all time.
These words are
his legacy of wisdom:
“You must be the changes
you wish to see in the world.”
Great armies, mighty battles
bring nothing but bloodshed and death.
He knew change could not be forced,
but should be gently coaxed.
No mighty general astride a horse,
Gandhi became a father to a nation,
spinning cloth for clothing to wear,
raking latrines in the Ashram.
He became the change
he wanted to see in the world.
"You must be the changes you wish to see in the world."
Our family’s visit to an ashram—
Where parasitical monkeys haunt ’n hum.
Creatures known for tricks and hanky-panky.
So tussles ’tween visitor and monkey!
Monkeys win— tussles with woman or man.
Outwitting the monkey whoever can?
So woes of the devotees are many;
There doesn’t seem to be solution any!
A li’l one came to us ’nd held her hand out;
With a bottle of water, turned about;
Came back again straight to my son swiftly
Only to look for lice ’n his hair deftly!
A surprising gesture of gratitude.
We appreciated her attitude!
***
Composed on October 18, 2017
The world of viruses come
With lots unwanted gum.
Quick Heal is a family album
Where I can reject all scum
And freely continued my rhumb.
Viruses for all are season autumn,
Looking into browsers is alum,
Inserting memory cards darksome,
Quick Heal software is awesome.
Don’t worry! You are safe at bottom.
Browsing was like a deep chasm
From where Hacking my info a custom,
All these malwares made me a glum.
At this point came Hoary dictum
Quick Heal is the best centrum.
Antivirus software is an Ashram
Where all viruses to rest swum.
Quick Heal saves from boredom.
Quick Heal software is awesome.
There once was a man from DeBose
who had a gigantic nose
his nostrils squawked
whenever he walked.
When at rest it sat on his toes
The man got a job at a farm
his task was to sound the alarm
when the sly fox
tried the coop locks
intending to do chickens harm
One night his nose fell asleep
lulled by the bleat of the sheep
fox took a chance
interrupted romance
of two lovebirds, now the one weeps!
The man with the nose then got fired
The farmer now wished he had hired
a man without clothes
not a nullified nose
so prone to be slumber inspired
As the nose and his man went away
Nose saw the sly fox in the hay
with much boogie-woogie
nose hocked a great loogie
and splattered the fox where he lay
The farmer was pleased to be rid of the pest
though the hay loft was terminally messed
Everyone cheered
nose grew a beard
and moved to an ashram out west
You may wonder, is this tale is true?
I assure you it is, yes I do.
to doubt the nose
would presuppose
this story is nothing but poo
The legend of the hero nose grows
if questions of provenance pose
look on the shadiest side
of that big chunk of hide
for only the shadow knows