"Life is 10 percent what happens to me and 90 percent of how I react to it." ~ Charles Swindoll
Earth is a template by God created,
wherein I am caught in crosswinds of fate,
praying to powers that be that I may remain elated,
even if soporific soothsayers sorrowfully state that is too late.
"Life is 10 percent what happens to me and 90 percent of how I react to it",
is the telepathic wisdom that one morn did suddenly so dawn on me,
that living in the here and now, if but to God’s will I do submit,
my consciousness is magically untied from mind’s tree.
Likening earth life to be somewhat like a lucid dream,
wherein I am both the actor on stage and director backstage,
enacting my ordained role, I dance with joy atop love’s moonbeam,
to the jibes and taunts of myriad shape shifting forms taking no umbrage.
In silence I invoked bliss magnetism, which now in my heart strums.
I know I am not decaying organic body-mind, I am not this,
so with seeking ended, I am nonchalant to outcomes.
“Made in God’s image, I am love, light and bliss.”
Though we cannot transmit the taste of bliss,
through words as symbols we try to translate,
the rapture felt by Divine Mother’s kiss,
tingle magnetic that does not abate,
God’s touch, immediate and intimate.
Likening body-mind as a balloon,
in which sun’s warmth and cool light of the moon,
entwine in heart and joyfully explode,
creating bliss bubbles that makes us swoon,
reflecting thus, let’s sing to God an ode.
You’re the tame auspiciously lurking in the still of my nightmares, frivolously evicting the static that haunts my memories, illuminating this frantic mind if even for a second.
Crippling the narrow minded ways in which I’ve become entrapped, a one way road futile in substance and willingness to succeed
The savior of superficiality aligning the monstrosity of a broken roar, promising problems putter to the likening of a minuscule oblivion
The cosmic egg splits, wherefrom two forms emerge,
the polarities of Self, male and female,
who seek to unite as of soul’s innate urge,
so descending from head to heart, they set sail,
where their union results in a bliss upsurge,
after which the brew of dark desires seems stale.
Likening head to ego and heart to God,
we stoop to conquer, when we give love our nod.
I got it peace may be an appreciation of the world
or it is what is happening when we say for instance
something is western or eastern or southern
or northeast or northern
or something is wonderful as in river following through
a direction.
Or peace is water carrying stones hither or thither
towards elsewhere likening a dispersal of fruit
or dusty dushman.
The river may be life or something to tell:
it may mix with the weather,
it may be on the same line with the season,
it may wall with the day's breezy wind or temperature
or nice sound.
O I got it peace is life, which to an extend is very fragile
will not I elsewhere fear to be harked and in case duped
of my glass or let say peace of mind?.
Yes, I got it , I got it peace can't be gotten from the
market even though we buy the guns and uniforms
and flags?.
I can be good but may not take of your life better
than you .
I can be your brother but still not a soldier or police ,
whom am I even to do than you in secret?,
whom am I even to tell about you more better than
yourself, if you really got the point?.
Blavatsky said space is God
but pause we her give a nod,
consider: where is God not?
Contemplate thus, be self-taught.
Wisdom Leadbeater affirmed
and Annie Besant confirmed;
koilon: a term coined for space,
they both recognised by grace.
A quick google search will show,
there’s more to space than we know
oft whispered of in folklore,
this vastness is heaven’s door.
Straightforward are words we state,
known to those who meditate,
likening space to a womb,
that doth existence entomb.
We may claim soul’s ascended,
when space-time is transcended,
which we can if we be still,
to God surrendering will.
when we be equal
to both highs and lows
likening life to a lucid dream
joyous at all times in equipoise
what then remains to be done here
“In the gap where no narrow thoughts intrude ~
Heart is bliss imbued in the interlude”
~ quote by poet
Desires that bind, we’ve left behind,
making our touch gentle and kind,
each breath prayer of gratitude,
poised thus in blissful quietude.
Tranquil silence shows soul the way,
that by making love our mainstay,
ego cravings do not intrude,
poised thus in blissful quietude.
Stillness our orientation,
enlivened by meditation,
vibrant in time stretched interlude,
poised thus in blissful quietude.
Likening life as but a dream,
where myriad illusions stream,
we’ve no ambitions to conclude,
poised thus in blissful quietude.
With no agendas on our shelf,
ordained fate unfolds by itself;
we feel bliss rise in magnitude,
poised thus in blissful quietude.
In time transmuted as the flame,
highs and lows to us are the same,
with heart transparent and soul nude,
poised thus in blissful quietude.
Awareness self-aware sans thought,
throbs with vitality love brought,
as our heart’s transformed attitude,
poised thus in blissful quietude.
“This world is but thought and thoughts fade away ~
Eternal is God’s love, that’s here to stay”
~ quote by poet
Alive here on earth, what we know is this
What is born, will die, suffering decay
Though fleeting are moments of happiness
We hope one day bliss will be here to stay
Mind tells us we’re here for a short sojourn
But heart assures there’s more to us than this
Ceasing doubting, our soul befriends silence
In timeless time we’re drenched in mists of bliss
Yes, body decays and so does our mind
Yet it’s but the vehicle we ensoul
Oh worthy hermit, we are living light
Made in God’s image, as scriptures extol
Awake! Arise! That that dies, never was
We’re here but to live, learn and smile awhile
To share God’s love and light and so ascend
Ambling along with joy, mile after mile
Bilocating consciousness, truth is known
Birth, decay and death is an illusion
Likening earth life as a lucid dream
Awakened soul is free from delusion
I have nothing better to say
Than Alhamdulilah on this special day.
Many years ago when Mama gave birth to me,
She knew a success is what I'd turn out to be;
Kiniun the King of the jungle,
Akoni ti o care about those wey dey grumble.
Heart of a lion, heart of an empathetic,
When it comes to vomiting rhymes-
Y'all know I'm energetic!;
Emaa bami kalo through the pages of my story,
You'll understand why I give God all the glory.
In the times of yore some wrote me off,
Likening me to pertussis that causes whooping cough;
Rejected, neglected and probably hated,
I knew God is watching and so I waited.
And on bended knees I pleaded with Him:
Ya Allah position me with the creme de la creme;
I prayed with tears upon my orbs,
That He should bless me and any begotten cubs;
And so I claim longevity, I claim wealth,
I claim prosperity, I claim health.
I claim sabr, Ya Allah I claim Your mercies,
And guidance against worldly fantasies;
As I add another year to my sojourn,
May I not have any reason to mourn.
Be with me, throughout my days in Dunniya,
And when in Akhira accommodate me-
In Jannah, a place of joy, and no fear.
Niggyraslife Da Poet!
Likening life to a splash in the ocean,
wherein love aligned, our role’s simply to feel
contrast of duality with emotion,
embracing and releasing, with zest and zeal
each offered impulse without thought commotion,
knowing that in timeless time, all wounds will heal,
our nonchalant presence, centred in the void,
is rarely if ever, by ego decoyed.
08-November-2022
Likening autumn to beauty in death,
behold mighty trees in full bloom exhale,
as leaves fall to ground, with their dying breath;
dark seems the future, so in fear trees pale,
succumbing to thought onslaughts that assail.
Shifting sands of time makes us realise
that soul lives on even though body dies,
resurrecting soon, in another form,
so needless upon death are our heart's sighs;
God's flame of love is kind, loving and warm.
18-October-2022
Aversion to noise
Desire for silence
Both are blockages
Both resist the magnetic current
Likening life to a lucid dream
A dream we alone witness
In astonishment & wonderment
We celebrate
Each breath
Each pulse
As it fills
Our emptiness
Mindfully cognisant
Here & now present
Embrace & release
Each moment with ease
We may call this orientation
Ever present meditation
In continuation
10-November-2021
Descriptive voices get louder
While likening dust to powder,
Evangelizing ones in a sermon.
Proclaiming it ‘A summon’
The prettily molded man is dust
To all early and late –arriving corpses, a must,
Worse dust, the one obsessed with lust.
Metal too, correctly, is dust,
As fatefully it goes ahead to rust
Assembling some kind of crust,
Sometimes into eyes blown by a gust
And not seldom penetrating concealed bust.
A rather competing dust
Of as worthy trust
Is silt
Which leaves join when they wilt
And trees after they have begun to tilt.
Dust- A most mischievous thing:
For its flights into eyes without a wing;
In the ears not too good a ring
And for hurting of our indulgent king.
Cotton Web
Walls,
Old, stinky paint over cardboard
Vents in place of windows
The kitchen’s
Sticky with oily cotton web
A likening to smeared prune paste and rust
Bathroom’s packed with hair and dust
Twin brick buildings hold hands and huddle up
Lightening struck and dared split them up
Ears covered
Eyes shut
Doors swing and squeak with pests
Swift shadows
And fast tails
Leave behind droppings
And opened nests
Marckincia Jean
09/11/19
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