The universal, eternal Atman, the endless soul
Resides in me as my breath, and makes me a single whole.
As the breath of the almighty, it is born without sin.
It drives, as a life changer, the physique it enters in.
When my physique is devoured by the detrimental death
My soul takes flight, and in a new life after, it takes birth.
With no color, form, shape, taste, or odor in its pure form
Its nature shifts to a flower, bird, or beast with its norm.
Commanding and demanding, approaching and reproaching
With peaceful, pleasant consciousness and conscience, heart-broaching
Within physical flesh, bones, and veins like blood, it would flow.
When and to which universe it would fly, I do not know.
Categories:
broaching, body, death, life, world,
Form: Rhyme
with eyes averted in graceful melancholy
what joy could be left not in belief
in new territory aweless with stale miracle
pond tossed stone rings ripple and die
obstinate and prolonged no going back
less new territory than new humility
once determined that the future is invention
we know not what the future will bring
other than by the offices of retrocalculation
subjective qualia gurgitated as analysis
what do I need in my head right now
to get the existence tax man off my back
forced to speak in a bland manner
to avoid the assassin just outside my door
because I have a face similar to others
which is apparently not impossible
yet a cause for some embarrassment
amongst the landfill intelligentsia
still capable of roundups and gassings
burning inquiries in a dark broaching sea
so dark all which is known is of no use
and one necessarily waits for nothing new
another boring accumulation of mystery
its inestimable charm pulls you off balance
a necklace of kisses from the blasphemer
offering your suffering ambivalence
nothing less than the tools of discovery
Categories:
broaching, how i feel,
Form: Free verse
What of those dreams that in our mind
Seek distant hopes and in them find
That love and life may be combined
Awakening, our thoughts commence
Become aware in sweet suspense
Of all that new life represents
For as the coming years unfold
Despite what history may mold
Remains a future yet untold
And so, in timid confidence
Of still unproven competence
Uneasily face providence
‘Til broaching wisdom born of birth
Exposes fundamental worth
Of all that’s meaningful on Earth
And in that moment of delight
To smile absurdly at the sight
When everything in life … is right
Apologies for not taking the time to do this right the first time.
Categories:
broaching, baby, birth,
Form: Rhyme
Spring bows to thrill of cayenne summer,
dreams spiced in youthful glow come May.
Bright ribbons wake my bare feet’s slumber.
Spring bows to thrill of cayenne summer!
Rainbows pleat dance, no clouds encumber
my twirling limbs, life's weaved sashay.
Spring bows to thrill of cayenne summer,
dreams spiced in youthful glow come May!
Spring sighs with age come broaching summer,
blue tears, red smiles ‘round pole in May.
Life's colors flow from gold to umber.
Spring sighs with age come broaching summer!
And shall I join wind’s lively number
or watch bright ribbons twist and play?
Spring sighs with age come broaching summer,
blue tears, red smiles ‘round pole in May!
written 2/5/15
Categories:
broaching, color, may, seasons, youth,
Form: Triolet
She sees me as a lustrous light of celestial origin
a blazing-blast, blistering-fast, free-flight beam
to thrill the sky's wide-eyed gaze
this little bright eyed boisterous boy
that spins and runs on Saturn's swirling rings
chasing marbles 'round and 'round against the wind
She thinks me powerful, an invincible protector
my flesh a shield from all danger
slayer of mythical-horned-armored-broaching beasts
this silly small boy that skims rocks
from shore to distant shore unseen
watching ripples write adventures
on the water's flustered face
She deems me the roguish romancer
with soft steel arms to faint
safely warm within securely spent
this foolish little boy that steals sweet kisses
laughing that she allows such brazen boldness
while standing on his head to just amuse
she proclaims me champion of her heart and soul
the one…the only…the everything
there is nothing that this lucky little boy
would not brave for her, his beloved
blind with love
and stardust in her eyes
Categories:
broaching, love,
Form: Free verse
My love, annihilation of consign
that thee, in aptitude, would frown on mine.
While adaptation vaguely draws the line,
that narrow thrust so vandalizing time.
Lean softly, thee contingent nature's rhyme
against my thought, a broaching matters fine,
staves holding only once in graces' entwine,
foreverness of love, a foul remind.
Indemnities research, cruelties ingest
preponderance so delivering fatal sign,
a faction not allowing heart's impress
outnumbers even reason for its crime.
So gloating, but for glory of conquest,
conviction stalling not this mire's assign,
some anger amplifies as in redress,
while warring carries on in merit's twine!
That bullish aggravate would thee confess,
this mulling captive loves thee with design,
before thy hand moves to refuel express,
admit our love is victim, we its pine!
Categories:
broaching, passion,
Form: Verse