Long Reincarnate Poems
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All the praises you pick along the streets
Go confirm before a new-bought mirror,
And if those rare glories you all find true
Then know she’s near that beauty shearer.
Who’s time, the unerring author of loss and decay.
And so while you wait for she who must deprive
Learn your immortal splendor to wisely salt away
In shrewd acts that the lay waste of time survive.
Reincarnate in yourself some elegant luster
To represent you in the ageless posterity,
And water with care the shoots that germinate
In the fecund garden of your youthful fertility.
The sagacious mother leaving nothing to chance,
Invest in an eternity of prayer, for if bootless
There’s nothing of yours to lose to time-owned eons,
For this enterprise outlives all, and gives all for less.
With these desiderata carefully appropriated,
Now your chance to savor the trappings of luck and time
With vast unapologetic bites and greedy careless teeth
Till the bells of the end give their long-awaited chime.
as is now fashionable
I visited a spiritual medium
it was all to satisfy my curiosity
and relive me from my life’s tedium
entering lucid trance in the vast void
instantly my soul guide appeared
he held my hand and assured
there’s nothing to be feared
in a gentle voice he spoke
body dies but the soul lives on
souls reincarnate time and again
once love’s imbibed our ego is shorn
he then took me into past lives I lived
genders and nationalities rotated
each touch felt was displayed
soul seeking to be liberated
I saw my beliefs were fickle
depending on culture born into
yet in each life my heart sparkled
feeling rhythm of God’s breath renew
I exited the session feeling much wiser
knowing God as pure love and light
He wants us to become as He
heightening bliss delight
73.
My Mother
My Mother, maybe like the others
Is conscious in family matters
I know her rags-to-money story
And money-to-rags-tragedy
When I began to be world conscious
Her presence – I was sometimes anxious
For she used to be irritable
Making my simple flaws terrible
Occasionally, she shouts at me
Eventhough I am not far from thee
Yet, my mother's ever generous
She's the one who used to buy me toys
Like Tatay, she'll not make me hungry
That's my parents' greatest legacy
Besides that, to her I attribute
My college institute
She worked for almost twenty-four hours
Burned too much her delicate eyebrows
I regret I still can't compensate
Everything she had done for me great
If given chance to reincarnate
I want for myself to be a straight
So that I'll not be again her guilt!
-11/28/2011
(Dumarao)
*First Incubus Collection
SheGirl is tamping down her blanket, comfy cattitude.
Pat pat pat pat pat pat, I admire her stealthy attitude.
She has me firmly in my place now, glad I have my popcorn.
We watch The Horrible Bosses movie, both happy, none forlorn.
When we hear words like “hit” and “kill” I cover SheGirl’s ears.
My husband asks what I am doing, for he has no fears.
This emotionally delicate cat with a heart of gold understands this talk.
I know she does; she is a reincarnate of my aunt, and does her walk.
When we are alone I call her Marjorie, my aunt’s preferred name.
We play Monopoly, my reincarnated auntie’s favorite board game.
I don’t bother to share this information or her nickname with him.
He is on his own couch lying next to his hound dog, named Jim.
Jim reminds me of his father, but I keep my mouth wisely shut.
I do not want him to think I am ready for a crazy loony bin hut.
Just before we go to bed I hear him say “Jim, I am glad….
That you are here beside me, for you smell like my dad.”
Flimsy fig leaf camouflage,
subterfuge reveals montage,
mind games at play everyday,
as conscience to rest we lay.
Enacting oneupmanship,
demons of mind we worship,
anchored in hypnotic trance,
enticed by dark desire’s dance.
Engaging in acts feral,
we find our soul’s in peril,
yet we wear the fig leaf mask,
making weary earth life task.
Naked one day before God,
our lower mind’s overawed,
for the web of deceit spun,
needs by us, to be undone.
By our hand, committed theft,
we find ourselves love bereft,
thus reincarnate again,
to erase our soul’s dark stain.
Harking to the divine call,
seeds of love sown, we stand tall,
same inside out, transparent,
vibrant in the bliss current.
28-March-2022
HMS
This or That, Vol 11 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
What is the meaning of life?
Is it husband and a wife?
Partnership based on romance
By some chance or circumstance?
Why is it that we are here...
Wandering in atmosphere?
Is our purpose more than this?
Does bliss lie within its kiss?
When did time start to tick tock?
Why does universal clock
Change the further into space
Rockets chase it in their pace?
Can infinity be reached?
Can impossible be breached?
Is there a way to sever
On forever - or never?
Do limits exist at all?
Are we bound for every wall
To be climbed in upward scale...
Forming a tale without fail?
Queries such as these aside,
Why resort to swallowed pride?
Biting off more than you chew...
Does this too appeal to you?
When we seek all that exerts
In the instance when truth hurts,
Is it worth telling a lie?
Ask yourself - why would you try?
There is no point in violence...
Can it be brought to silence?
Will there be an end to war?
Why implore the need for more?
As we age in time gone past,
Just why does it go so fast?
How do we, the human race
Evolve with grace in our place?
Following our final breath,
What becomes of us in death?
Do we reincarnate so?
High or low - where do we go?
In between incarnations, the butterflies nurture us.
In between lives, the butterflies uplift us and bring us truth.
At the moment of death, they begin their pilgrimage.
Landing one at a time, showing us a bit of our last life.
It is a gentle lesson, but one that must be done.
Each butterfly brings a glimpse of a sliver of a touch of our last life.
We see things we could have done differently.
This is why the butterflies come, for they are tiny angels.
Sent to help us make the transition from life to heaven.
And sent again when we reincarnate to help us return.
These empathetic messengers accompany us both directions.
From birth to life to life to birth to life to birth to life.
Upon death, they are there, and upon life, they are there.
Life and death, so intertwined, but the butterflies remain intact.
Accompanying us back and forth on our journey
From one realm to the other.
Balance of time slights the recurring vigil
Country's pride gleans the depleting residual
Annual tears water the artifices above manicured ground
Unextinguished pyre of tinseled youth still seethes 'neath clodded mound
The drum roll of spent days serenade each, muted mime
As ceremonial taps grant ingratiated minds trite stime
Into heroic feats rendered in soldiers' splintered prime
Human shadows hover in the solace of peace sublime
Sodden warriors' token sacrifice remains layered in lime
Sentient wreaths shroud shallower graves
Each, calcified bone now jading memory's slave
Stoic crosses reincarnate the souls of the fallen brave
Devoted progeny patriotic reserves from depleted fibers shave
Where we embrace love,
Grief is as strong as death;
love lost.
Where we are afflicted with hate,
Gratitude is as strong as death;
loss wished for.
Grief rages against loss,
Yet gratitude lost
can become violently angered,
terrorist frightened
of present and future
as past's reincarnate vulnerable pain.
Grief begins
felt in solitary vulnerability.
Gratitude eventually heals
through transparently shared solidarity.
Love is as strong as
mortality's vulnerable weakness.
No more,
no less,
as these merge into one healing face
of gratitude for co-relational gain
more than mere mutual absence of pain.
Habitual love,
Earth-inhabiting resonant life,
Eco-regenerativity
as strong as
Ego-relationality.
Together,
ego/eco-passion.
EarthTribe awakens remembering our original eulogy:
Earth reveals Her without Time progenitive absence,
teaching emergent integrity, peace, grace, karmic justice
to human nature within as without,
uncovering synergetic redesigning therapies
free of immunity to Earth's cooperatively
reincarnate generation.
Thank you to Elders for listening
to those who are voiceless
but not without dancing dissonant rhythms,
those without immunity
but not to death,
those who are fragile
but exposed to totalitarian risk
of polycultural value extinction,
to the cultural collapse of touch
into claustrophobic feeling,
loss of humanity wearing sacred incarnation
sight, sound, felt hope,
empathy,
gratitude,
kindness,
passion,
regenerative
fractal
dialectical-informating composition.
Thank you for curious timeless presence
sparking fires of crackling synapses singing silent fear
to mourn ego's inevitable death
to dualdark becoming Absent,
a regenetic health investment
for Earth-time's future.
Gratitude for creating Muse language
transliterating all self-perpetuating icons of sacred home,
for seeing our belonging
within this eulogy of my not-yet-heard longing,
for intending your in/out breath,
each bicameral heartbeat,
each moment,
each thought,
each bipartisan relationship,
each dipolar value,
toward this elegant
divinely natural
timeless co-arising dynamic freedom
folding and unfolding time's bilateral Earth-functions.
And addiction to anthrocentric dysfunctional dominance
ecobirthing climatic transitions,
internal and external eco-logy confluence
and eu-logies of Earth's double-binding
not future and not past
ego/eco-present
self/other perpetuating consciousness
of bilaterally revolving
Earth's life/purgation spin.