(For Keith)
Strands of DNA do what our life does
Coil in pairs, bonding with available others
To define one’s self,
As above, so below
As within, so without,
And so it goes, our lives spiraling onward
And outward
A path beyond our control
A path filled with chance meetings
In a world where nothing is really left to chance
A path of change if nothing else
Spiraling ‘round our changeless nature
And all for what?
The chance to simply be
In the doing
The chance to love and know others
And so get glimpses of ourselves
In joy and sorrow
Sharing it all as it goes
Round and round
This mortal coil has a beginning and end
But surely Life goes on
Within us and without us
Leaving its mark
So easily recalled
With the smile upon their face
(8/20/26)
EXTERNAL ILLUSIONS
images
assigned
&
occupying
the
sensual
phantasmagoria
perceived
feeling
for
form
in
aesthetic
reality
or
pseudo
transcendance
reproduced
& receptive
contemplation
of
fortuitious
transparent
phenomena
analogies
&allegories
of
activities
in
blossoming
perspective
re emerge
impersonal
inorganic
changeless
manifestations
It's waking up to a chaotic morning
not expecting the end of everything
built with passion to last for generations,
it's facing a challenge harder than others,
whispering to ourselves
this frightening and changeless reality,
" All empires crumble and fall,
no writing on the faded wall,
no place was safer than home's tranquility;
there we were protected by our parents. "
A family trusting in God
will know no fear, it stands
in unity; it's bond is made of iron,
the stronger the fortress,
the happier is its livelihood:
how lovely is to watch the logs burn!
All empires crumble and fall,
it took layers upon layers,
to build them and seconds
to destroy them in violent rage;
envy for someone's achievement is cruel,
he has worked hard for his good image!
This nation is being ruined by violence,
no law is obeyed, thugs stick to defiance;
a fearless leader must put an end to all,
although all empires crumble and fall!
My breath rises beyond
a trail of sacred space...gliding ,
deepened by silence immense
where peak of light anoints
my soul union with divine rhythm--
the grail of non- resistance widening
Beyond a path illimitable,
a haloed center drifting on
meditative realm unmapped by this world:
I am at risk of a swarming flight
into nothingness
shapeless,
changeless: there is no finality
in this final release... only a blaze of discernment greeting the god within...
that in the absence of mind's overtures ,
an inner sanctuary wraps me quiet...
that void emptying. cleansing
my marrow , my bowel of gut
while I become nothing but whole.
(“Anagogical Moments Merit Badge”, 2011, original oil)
The essential point
Is that the Natural Great Perfection
Of complete and perfect enlightenment is uncreated,
Not dependent on causes and condition
Thus not subject to change and degeneration.
Uncreated it simply is
Simply waiting to be discovered
Our true nature
Changeless, primordially pure, untainted
And complete.
Maybe this just doesn’t compute
Flying over your head
Like a satellite at midday,
Or better yet, Sun on its usual course
Across the great arc of space.
Doing what it always does
Unstoppable, indispensable
Immutable and ineffable
So easily taken for granted
Yet so easily appreciated with every cell of Life.
(5/19/26)
"Another day, another dollar;
a day late and a dollar short."
Here summer comes early.
Mostly, it never really leaves.
Here there are fresh-faced
children -- but they will change.
Boys will ripen to close
copies of their fathers --
those many sullen somber
silent men. Girls will mimic
still their mothers, aging
early in summers' petulant,
pervasive, potent green.
Here hopeless men will not
expose, in words, their griefs --
since there will always be only
the harsh monotony of each
tomorrow's changeless green.
Around sun-reddened weary necks
hang heavy burdens, weighty worries
never lessened, the endless summer's
cruel paradox: how such paucity
of hopeful human spirit festers
in the midst of profligate abundance,
this all-enveloping, overgrowing green.
("First Light", 2006, original oil)
Samsara’s wheel of Life,
Wheel of ignorance and suffering
Is but an illusion,
A mirage of a vast collective
Of veiled ignorant minds,
Like a spinning projection
Of hope and fear,
Above the true wheel.
So what is this true wheel
That turns at the base of reality,
In the heart of each of us?
Let’s just say
It’s not something
That can ever be named,
Yet something actual and changeless
Just waiting to be discovered.
(3/10/26)
A world contained within a fragile sphere,
A silent scene that conquers time and fear.
I lift the globe, a universe so small,
And in its glass, the cherished moments call.
I shake the base, the tiny flakes arise,
A gentle storm that dances, whirls, and flies,
Obscuring briefly all that lies beneath,
A winter’s breath, a delicate, white wreath.
Then, settling slow, the quiet comes again,
The painted house, the path I knew back then,
The miniature figures, fixed in happy play,
A perfect, changeless, everlasting day.
It is an ode to what I can’t forget,
A time capsule where souls in miniature met.
The world outside may rush, and tilt, and change,
But in this glass, no life feels lost or strange.
A moment held against time’s steady flow,
My happy place, where loved ones seem to grow.
I watch the flurries fall, then linger near,
And keep the best of every vanished year
The Nature of Reality,
Or limitless sphere of space
Manifest in all possible experience,
Is by nature beyond experience
Since in this space there is ultimately
Nothing to grasp, and no grasper.
Sure, we can describe it,
But that is based on either hearsay
Or a direct realization beyond description,
Like trying to describe honey
To someone who has never known sweetness.
With the kicker being that we
Have always been the honeybee.
And so people talk, poets sing, and sages
Converse with the wind or simply grin.
The effect is everyone
Ends up hearing what they want to hear,
Each of us only able to hear
What we are ready to hear,
And even then we may only be ready for a hint
Of what will one day be obvious.
The Nature of Reality
Is unchanging, and so is always
What it has and will be,
And yet we change within this empty sphere,
Like a caterpillar, consuming voraciously
Until we are ready for our metamorphosis.
(9/27/25)
(“Rainbow Body” detail, 2018, original encaustic)
A Journey Without A Goal
The path to enlightenment is a wondrous
And delightfully paradoxical thing!
It is complex and yet simple,
Endless and yet immediate.
The problem is it is never us who becomes enlightened,
Since enlightenment is a reunification
With what has never been divided,
And so the journey then becomes nothing but a dream.
What is found in enlightenment is what has always been,
The dharmakaya, “body of truth”,
That which is changeless
And actual.
But since this isn’t a person or identity
It means we who find it
Have never actually been separate from it
And so have never actually existed…
The questions remain;
Who/what is dreaming?
How can they/it actually ever wake up?
What then is the true nature of the dream?
(8/11/25)
This ailment sure for long shall go,
In an ill world along shall go.
Yet, head held high shall go with life,
Where so it goes gung ho shall go.
And like every life upon earth,
Pitted like a ping pong shall go.
Man a human, it’s obvious,
With him his every wrong shall go.
With a cautionary signal
The church may warn, loud gong may go,
And still with same gait world shall go,
Jingle bell-like ding-dong shall go.
Who can change the gait of this world?
As ere, with the same song shall go.
______________________
Ghazal |06.07.2025| world, change
Ekphrasis on Album Cover Art – 3-28-25
Jericho Road – Written, sung, recorded by poet
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thinking About Jericho Road
A road with no name, where earth births stillborn stones,
Snakes through stillness
Into a fading perspective that neither winks nor smiles
Not touching impotent palms of bleached fronds,
Colored in the scent of cold ashes,
To whisper a chorus of mystery
To saints and sinner
In shades of hard steel
And colors of monotony on this threadbare path.
Blank road devoid of thought,
A monorhyme of barren greys and dust
Without imagination,
Makes no covenants with curses or blessings
Kings or pilgrims
Or with the fragile flower
Changeless except to remain
One moment held by time, that knows each name,
Without a star, only an invitation for resurrection.
Do we allow the compelling mind to control our unwilling steps?
Do they obey or deviate from the path smeared with insecurities?
Isn't it sad to seek unfairness instead of much desirable closeness?
Many have adopted this absurd concept that leads to nothingness!
Incredulity is the changeless anthem of the cynical and the stubborn,
within their unyielding spirit lies the ultimate reason of self-treason;
they won't settle for anything less than a bundle of useless allusions:
their trust spurs from doubt, their anger can incinerate aspirations!
" Quell clamorous voices, hush their madness before unrest rises! "
Is this suppression or plain ignorance to compare the final outcome?
The enraged Vaillant emerges from the cussing crowd and shouts,
" Isn't it sad to seek unfairness and desert others that show pride? "
" We'll be defeated and furthermore humiliated, whipped or stoned
in public squares and the mob, as always, is devoid of conscience. "
No interlude can spare lives, no pardon from popes in fancy robe;
no tears from sobbing mothers can halt the ax that drips blood! "
CHRISTIAN CONCEPTS
Imagine,improvise,initiate
Contribute,combine,collaborate
Share,support,participate
Meditate,cerebrate,celebrate
Create,co-operate,contemplate
Crucial Changeless Cardinal concepts
Did anyone see millions of rainbows fill up the skies?
Did anyone see the heavens bloom and a child appear?
Flying, floating, and fluttering to a numb-filled surprise
Rested between Joseph and Mary, filled with divine cheer
The racks where they dwelt, as there's no place in the human hearts
Mystic music concerts were heard like thunder and earthquakes.
Cows, bulls, and sheep stood as though forgetting their breathing arts.
The Almighty's graces seemed to surround them like ice flakes.
Those who were sleeping were dreaming of the birth of a saviour.
Though they felt a thud, they did not feel the need to be awake.
And, hence, on that blessed night, they could not find God's favour.
The shepherds hurried to meet him, who came down for their sake.
Cows mooed and goats bleated the Gloria of the angels.
Eyes open, Jesus slept amidst changes that seemed changeless
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.