When you reach the youth of old age,
Don't let actions go inactive.
Though life's compact, take space for you.
Repent not; repair, if you can
Face all !But don't deface your smile
Stop blaming but start accepting
Age is a number; keep engaged
Mix and wipe the feeling alone
ego deface ~
invoke God’s grace
Recognising this form is dust,
an urn shaped from Mother Earth’s crust,
enlivened by the touch of God,
we feel each heartbeat as love’s thrust.
To get to the source, heart is thawed,
that thus by giving love our nod,
in stillness we get to the source,
gentling touch, as conscience does prod.
As life then charters its own course,
soul ascends without use of force,
revealing that life’s but a dream,
where we repay debts through remorse.
Ego spawns desires, then thoughts stream,
pursuing which, we let off steam
but come what may, we’re doomed to fail,
because things are not what they seem.
The code of love is penned in braille,
that even the blind may set sail,
going way beyond time and space,
where dark fears no longer assail.
One with oneness, invoking grace,
steps towards heaven we retrace,
by our soul’s choice to vaporise,
that lower mind we thus deface.
Wonderstruck each morn at sunrise,
witnessing each breath in surprise,
clear light dawns, even as we yawn,
whence transformed as light, ego dies.
Son of a gun narcissistic
With a personality pessimistic
Everything resolves around you
Victor or victim that you bruise
When you look in silver mirror
You can’t see because you fear me
My natural beauty that you deface
Graceful in defeat as you beat me again
And yet somehow I still WIN
I let you walk in my trap
Recorded it all and sent it zap
To the authorities for proof
No more abuse wear your cell
Meant for my mind on yours
I’m forgiving me for loving YOU
Parting ways is so sugary
I have reasons to enjoy life
No longer fearing empowered
I am a black flower blooming
What is life but a lucid dream,
borne by desires we choose to stream?
When ego cravings we deface,
from pores of space, in-pours God’s grace.
All that’s dear will soon disappear,
so why should we then live in fear?
Upon exiting life’s rat race,
from pores of space, in-pours God’s grace.
The soul and universe are one,
so melding with the cosmic hum,
steps toward home as we retrace,
from pores of space, in-pours God’s grace.
Divine Mother implants a kiss,
felt deep within as boundless bliss.
As love’s benign burns we embrace,
from pores of space, in-pours God’s grace.
space wishes to remain unknown
even though we live in its home
but when we come into our own
we know space as the mantra Ohm
voids within voids constitute space
through its pores we see God’s light
when last remnants of ego we deface
we see the truth by spherical sight
petite rhinestone buttons from the forties
buttoning up the back of a size zero blouse
it appears to be chiffon, sheer, classy, chic
Old Hollywood glamour, but who can wear it?
No one in this family; I want those buttons
But dare I deface this gorgeous garment?
Used books were sold each semester.
Los Angeles City College bookstore, and
California State University, Long Beach ...
They, too, sold used books.
I've been in possession of some -
Students felt fortunate stumbling on the right one,
For some classes commenced without certain books -
"Liberation Theology" was one such book-
I'd already own a copy signed by Dr. Cornell West
He spoke at Dr. Maulana Karenga's center one Sunday.
The point I want to make is:
Some used books held handwritten notes-
Students left their marks on pages of time.
And as the years passed, I formed a habit -
That habit told me not to borrow library books.
Why? I read, and like breeze with leaves, I twiddle words.
To deface another person's property... how trifling.
And so, I'd browse Barnes & Noble, and
Thrift stores housing books I would purchase and cherish.
For I know countless poems will come to mind
For I have seen haiku moments in my travels,
For when I die, find me on pages of time.
*
Unkept promises are like brutal blows,
ruthless ripping words are the harsh slashes,
they strike unaware where latent hope grows,
and cleave through ruptured heart as it crashes.
The mind becomes raging fire of the wild,
uncontrolled, it simmers the blood of pride,
flares to burn the gentle patience defiled.
Undowsed, it singes sane senses defied.
The smoke billows up opaque and intense,
conscience trips losing its stability.
Vile breath is clouded by the ashes dense,
face of restraint they deface instantly.
Mind then turns to volcanic infernos,
with dancing lava of anger scorn flows.
Inelegant, the silence wakes and yawns,
pretending not to notice or to care;
while symphonies of chaos greet the dawn
and ashes of our Banner fill the air.
The few, with vacant visage cry the creeds
~march on with signs remastered from the old
in broths of propaganda where it breeds,
the willingly disposed in boredom's fold.
Onlookers pause and gasp in rapt surprise;
unruly hordes deface the hallowed halls,
like "Kristallnacht" they scare what they despise,
too late for recompense when conscience calls
or quell fallacious lectures as they wreak...
dumbfounded when the fruits of silence speak.
A land of virtues with cultural grace
For myriad religions, a home place
A peace loving paradise by nature
Honoring traditions, its grand feature
Many a scholar hailed from this blessed soil
Reformers made it renowned with their toil
Assorted branches of knowledge flourished
Awe-inspiring arts and cultures cherished
Invaders tried to grab this divine land;
And aimed to deface its glorious brand
The brave leaped into the great freedom fight.
Protected its legacy with much plight
The soil, water and breezes are pious
Adorned with the crown of Himalayas
Handles all hardships with no compromise
A true faithful friend to all its allies
Truth, justice, kindness and love are its stands
For global peace, it always stretches hands
Evergreen is its heritage story.
With a lot of joy, I praise its glory.
Place: 4
If Your Birthplace-country was a poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Date:02-06-2023
They scar and mar the alma mater of the altar/
We’re hard on bars as we rock it and lift off far and soar sure of our space car/
They’ll never run us flat too solid for that /
Matter of fact we hear ‘em like a fawn’s blat after we snapped with sass and packed brass/
More chatter they chit chat the madder the hats/
Were out here spit for spat aghast at the sadder cast/
Thinking their blabber lasts they flash and lambaste/
Then lay waste and deface their two faced ace/
Glazed flakes with play fakes stake out to take from an honorary mate/
Years they’d wait after my best mates tragic fate/
A frayed tactic that’d leave my Dad, my hero dismayed /
Worked many days, played and paid to have it the way it was made for our stay/
Irked by the flirts of dark days lured by stark strays
Self-expression is dependent upon personality
We can only really be who we are deep inside,
Some folks by their nature defy conventionality.
There are folks who can set inner nature aside
And, with strong determination, choose to be
Whatever they want to be with enormous pride.
I am thinking, specifically, of people in comedy
Who are hurting deep inside, but never show it;
Perhaps, never realizing it, do not seek a remedy.
We can all think of sad, sad cases this shoe fits,
It always behooves us to look below the surface
What’s going on beneath all the glamor and glitz?
I suspect this may lead to some who will deface
Others merely wear jeans instead of fancy lace.
Written July 29, 2022
Here lies Abercrombie Wellington Jones
Under the flowers are all of his bones
Young people like to deface his gravestone
Due to all the slaves Jones used to own
It’s sweet, so sweet, our God’s embrace.
The gladdened news - Christ’s costly grace.
The saddened haze, when all seemed lost,
when leaves fell off the tree, when frost
would splinter hands and feet, deface.
Of atmosphere - our outer space,
the depths he held - our inner place.
Christ paid it all - to sin’s exhaust.
It’s sweet, so sweet.
He wore our leaves, the fig’s disgrace.
He shared our loss of par’dise-ace.
The death of Christ, was worth the cost;
He rose - the barrier was crossed.
The salvation of human race -
it’s sweet, so sweet!
4/22/2022
Contest: Your Favorite Theme (Rondeau)
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
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