in defending bastions which are but smoke
we play the game inane of make belief
sacrificial fires continue to stoke
to examine the depths of human grief
presence remains still endlessly waiting
as polarities orbit tranquil heart
compassion quells desires unabating
readying consciousness for a fresh start
limited by space and taunted by time
an illusion which we have so conjured
where freedom lies in creating a rhyme
pulsations of love in heart go unheard
no narrow agendas are now tabled ~
veil thinned, bilocation is enabled
493.
Prayer For Governments
Oh Father God, we pray for all governments
That they be just & helpful to all its citizens
Oh Lord Jesus, we pray for every government
That they serve as bastions of every citizen's sentiment
Oh Holy Spirit, we pray for our administration
That it may bring peace & prosperity to our nation
This we pray to our One True God. Amen.
-12/25/2015
(Dumarao)
*Prayer Poems for Christmas
Written: May 20, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Silent One
1st place contest winner
*******************
Beneath the bastions of broken time,
moss-mantled memories murmur,
their whispers wound with winter’s weight,
their petals powdered into pale oblivion.
Yet in the orchard of absence,
where peaches perish and ivy coils,
my pulse still pounds—
a prayer pressed against the prison of stone.
Love lingers like lightning,
longing to lance the dark,
to carve a chorus from the cavern,
to kindle kisses in the kiln of night.
I long for honesty heedless,
for a heaven where truth is not tied down, where pledges aren't cloaked with
conceit,
but breathe, naked, unbroken.
But solitude sings its stubborn song.
Shields shine,
sanctuaries stand,
roses rise unseen,
Their perfume folded into lost air.
Knock, if you dare-
Not to conquer,
but to hold.
Bring birdsong, not battle.
Bring tenderness, not tyranny.
I will glimpse—
the sanctuary of passion,
the grace garden,
where every rose
radiates with the elixir
of its existence.
certainty
a
peculiar
allusion
naively
encountered
in
juxtapositions
ignored
proxy
patterns
snugly
textured
bastions
of
lineage
resonates
with suspicion
in
a
perennial
metropolitan
renaissance
Long, wide, vast, high, dreadfully deep protective walls
Battlements, ramparts, bulwarks, and tower folders
Living quarters, arrow slits, gatehouses, and halls
Monstrous walls built as though with steel-alloy boulders
Water-filled deep massive moats to obstruct the foes
Bastions and merlons within majestic meadows
Forts and castles are mysteries of histories.
They are focal themes of bewildering stories.
Just as all our limbs are integrated,
though each organ has a different role,
know everything is interrelated,
each one inseparable from the whole,
which we too are, as the light we extol.
Meditating thus, that we are the all,
from cave of our heart, bursts forth a bliss squall.
The sun is our eye and heaven our head,
breath is the breeze and blood crystallised light,
wherein once we are by throb of love led,
radiance of our aura pristine white,
engulfs the universe with bliss delight.
Meditating thus, our form is transformed
and bastions of heaven, peacefully stormed.
In God’s heart an intent arose,
which we may simply call His will,
to manifest the universe,
where agape love may overspill.
God conjured earth, water and fire
which are present in every form
and once this knowing we acquire,
bastions of wisdom we can storm.
These three elements God combined,
to create all that’s manifest,
by force of His absolute mind,
each form being by His touch blessed.
There then are only these three things,
within all diverse forms beheld
and in each heart God Himself sings,
that soul may choose with Him to meld.
Reworded, we do not exist,
as a separate entity;
of highest truth, this is the gist ~
false is ego identity.
All we see is an appearance,
diverse spectrum of vibration,
wherein all that is, is entwined,
commingled with God’s creation.
Scripture read, differing we say,
air and space deserve inclusion;
we need them too in form of clay,
five entwined in perfect fusion.
The inner sound current and rapture of bliss,
entwine with empowerment of soul’s third eye,
with fragrance of sacred ash veiled as God’s kiss
and as senses so converge, in joy we sigh.
In this way as bastions of ego are stormed,
layer by layer we are slowly transformed,
with the false falling away, we cease to sway,
beholding the light of Self, as clear as day.
The jester and the poet
the last bastions to protest
oppression
neither blind nor deaf
the silence tells the story
of my disgust
you have lost my respect
one day, when is your children
do not come crying to me
Hark! The clarion call of enlightenment rings,
As education's chrysalis unfurls its wings.
Long fettered-by archaic pedagogical chains,
We now shed the husk of antiquated refrains.
In crucibles of curiosity, minds ignite,
Forging knowledge that pierces the night.
We architect academies of boundless scope,
Where queries bloom and nurture hope.
Not mere facts, but wisdom's essence we distil,
Cultivating resilience for life's uphill.
For the erudite maverick with cerebral fire,
And mentors who dare to inspire higher.
Arise! Let transformation be our refrain,
As we reforge learning's domain.
Our voices, a symphony of choice and change,
Through adversity's gauntlet, we arrange.
In these halls of intellectual renaissance,
Every mind finds its resonance.
As vestiges of the old order fall,
We pen new axioms for one and all.
These bastions of thought, our legacy true,
Where futures are sculpted, both vibrant and new.
She's freer now
she spends her time
on the wherewithal
Through the bastions of yesterday
she prays for brighter days
She wrote me a letter
questions of sand
a matter of the heart
reposes a promise
comet like she smiles
Through concrete glades
a vetch on the hill
she is restoring yellow
Although demons of darkness have been slain,
since we tread softly with a mindful eye
and no longer think about loss or gain,
perhaps it’s too late since we will soon die.
Is it regret or remorse we emote,
as we ponder upon life lived thus far,
where throb of love our unconscious heart smote
and thus from God’s light, we drifted afar?
Be this as it may, we have now transformed,
having imbibed within, bliss magnetism
and with bastions of fear, lust and rage stormed,
divine light bursts forth from mind-body prism.
All we do now is share words of wisdom,
on how all souls may enter God’s kingdom.
Little black books- blooming everywhere.
From shining sea islands to Belair mansions.
To white house lattice and cathedral bastions.
Little black books- blooming everywhere.
Many pawns are sacrificed; many pawns are pared/
but the queens, bishops, and kings are always spared.
Little black books... blooming- blooming everywhere.
Little black books with time-dusted secrets.
Magically disappear.
They offer no rope nor traction.
Following a prolonged icy tongue-blast.
A slow slide into the greasy crevasse.
Where lie soul-stiffening white jackets.
There seem to be infinite oceans of infinite critics.
Vast deserts without an oasis of empathy.
Powers that be will steal the last of the cherries.
Leaving mountains of bluish pits and pluming death.
Drunk clowns are juggling our happiness.
Squirting flowers filled with ink and lye.
To cloak the last bastions of gilded sanity,
To poison any goodness in our lives.
So, what are the children of silence to do?
Sit in their blackness and lick a sticky candy dish.
Surrender the ghost of a million to appease a few.
Or come out swinging in the light-with fiery fists.
Beyond bright garish flashes of neon lights,
blaring music and drunken barroom fights,
it's my wish to find tranquility and solitude
within a realm where the moon is red-hued.
I'd gladly wander a crimson moonlit path,
far away from this world's uncivilized wrath.
Where warblers sing lullabies to me at night
while I watch a hungry owl take wing in flight.
Myriads of stars will be shimmering in the sky,
and in complete contentment I will peacefully lie.
As a red moon rising hovers far above my head,
I'll be sheltered without need of worry or dread.
In a quiet sanctuary of tall evergreen trees
I'd welcome the evening's cool flowing breeze.
With a blanket spread on meadowed grounds,
I'd revel with joy at Nature's awesome sounds,
like the trills of doves giving their mating call
and the muffled rumble of a distant waterfall.
There are no bastions here, nor fortified fences.
In this meditative place I can liberate my senses.
I'll be one with my surroundings, totally at ease,
as if I'm floating on calm waves of unruffled seas.
Far from cacophony that offends an idyllic repose,
beneath a sanguine moon, where no one else goes.
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