Long Unperceived Poems
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Ingenious, sin deceives by taking right
and warping slight, its plumb no longer true,
till what seems good to man in dub’ous light
is clear maligned, askance, to be eschewed.
Subtle departure from divine decrees
occurs near unperceived through loosened bounds
on that which God ordains, by small degrees,
till far from what is written one is found.
Confusing Father's love with that which sates,
or, willful, grants the creature more accord
till our Creator it subordinates,
thus we turn gifts to that which is abhorred.
The heart, with sin infected, beyond cure,
seeks evil with each beat; detests the pure.
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for the 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 3 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Mark Toney
written on 04/30/2022
Lure of mirage
in deranged dunes,
dances in
dandelion rhythm
with oasis dream,
illusion inscribed
in sane sands of time,
sliding continuum
with desiccated travail,
thirst unquenched,
stimulus sensuous,
perpetual.
Dormant despair
usurps harps of hope,
vibrato dissipates
unperceived,
wisdom shroud
unfurls crafty chimera
in life of actuality,
awareness avid,
imbibed.
Stifling shadow
anguished onyx cloud
creeps remorseless,
dissension darkness drips
opaque desolateness
on listless landscape,
mangled in
strife maelstrom,
mind sucked within
hope vortex,
umbrage pervades,
unushered.
Silver spectrum
of lines transient
in acumen cloud,
splits into colors
of radiant reverie
in optimistic prism,
sculpted.
Convoluted canvas,
carapace conjured
for contorted hideous faces,
turning in a trance
into baroque frescos,
flicker of beauty
sparkles sneaky
in conceived smile,
beholder,
the painter.
The tinsel moon you gleamed in cradle of argentine night
On wings of ornate cloud I tried to embrace you
But you ambled through the silky sky I called mine
A turquoise trail you carved in my heart you knew
I could discern my love glow with touch of moondust
At the edge of the departing night thunder clouds surged.
The pale moon you faded in the abyss of dark night
With the flanges of amorphous cloud I distanced you
But you welded with the jagged sky you called yours
You didn’t realize no crystal path you paved to my heart
My insipid love lost unperceived the touch of moondust
As the core of the arriving night thunder clouds wrapped.
MAKING THE MIND (REVERSE)
Make the mind a sea
As waves rise and fall, you’ll be free
Drowning deep in the tormenting water
Searching innate depth for the peace maker
When the tempest breaks your life
In shipwreck on the rough sea of strife
With the perennial hope you’ll again float
If you find and get a place in the divine boat
In the mind’s core of calm essence
Of fathomless sea filled with fluid silence
Rests unperceived in still niche so blissful
The encompassing spirit of the eternal soul
Life will get a rhythm, you’ll see
Like the rolling waves of the vast sea
Join the marine dance of ecstasy, become free
Make the mind a sea
August 24, 2018
Truth, the absolute, and the primordial light,
the supreme celestial creator of the universe,
lasting as the surviving sequins of the remnant radiance,
the perennial pristine essence of the living.
Truth, the ultimate, and the primeval energy,
the undefined driver of the unique universe,
persistent as the imperceptible force,
the perpetual designer of the destiny of the being.
The invisible rays of the enlightening certainty,
travel across the infinite space of realization
with the profound energy spectrum,
meaningfully manifest mutely in the eternal soul.
The ubiquitous vivacity ingrained in things that exist,
gets Illumined by the light of the absolute truth.
Yet each one is a tree in the forest of diversity,
each one is a flower in the garden of plurality.
The truth dissipates dormant and unsensed,
as the unrealized kinship of universal oneness
generates the consuming conflicts of intolerance,
degrade the truthful spirit in stifling strife.
The assailed human affinity decays in the debris of reality,
as the mangled mind loses the true sense of consciousness,
the basic bliss reposed in divine soul remains unperceived,
the anguished life searches for solace in the concept of truth.
The obsessive free-will seemingly dormant,
enwraps the misty mind with an unreal veil,
obscures the destination God would decide,
l’ve to reach for I should at His designed will.
The unseen glow of the omnipresent light
floods my possessed essence unperceived,
for all the free-rule tenets enslave the ego
in the realm of the fantasized self-deception.
As I travel unshackled out of the dark abyss,
on a journey through consciousness layers,
the soul sees the radiance of divine beacon,
illumine the corridor to the abode of peace.
The soul’s astral glow within my deep space
shines with the brilliance of thousand suns,
in my self-searching eternal odyssey I discern
the inner galaxy turning into the living light.
Life then feels the essence of unique being,
the destined construct of divine elements,
filled with the aura of heavenly concentrate
within the trinity of body, mind and soul.
On the enlightened pathway of devout life
the journey to the sanctum of spiritualism,
where consciousness perceiving detachment
takes the soul to the destination of liberation.
My mind wanders free beyond the awareness,
where it distills at serene depth of meditation,
extracts the ecstasy from the focused oneness,
as the soul blooms bliss within still mindfulness.
In a small room that promises a large candor the doors are locked from inside,
not to keep others out, but to let the self get exposed fully. The tiles are cold,
the mirror unforgiving, the light too bright for a reason. Everything unnecessary
is shed without ritual. What remains feels bright and true. Once inside, time
loosens its clutch. The body conducts its routine procedures while the mind drifts
unperceived, longing for the sparkling freshness. The mirror watches without attachment,
reflecting the body exactly as it is, not as it was awhile ago, not what it would be
later. The steam rises like a thick white screen, blurring the edges of the wall tiles
and the mirror. Within the pulsating heat, the body is nameless. It is just
flesh and shape. Then, the valve turns. The stimulating silence that follows
is the most gripping swathing vibration the body feels in the morning. A soft fabric
waiting patiently soaks up without complaint, remembers nothing. If insight has
a fabric, it might be this, pliable and practical, always within reach. As the light is
switched off, the door closes for the room to return to its waiting mode for the next
occupant for makeover.
locked room’s fogged mirror
lets soiled body learn again
how to look anew
Feeling the touch of emotion, the beginning,
finding the meaning of emotion, the end.
As they were superposed at the edge of my twilight time,
my mind started to sink at sunset, unexpressed.
After futile walk in clouded day with maddening crowd,
the meandering garden path I had lost,
searched for a hand to guide and show me the way
to the unknown roads destiny had paved, unwalked.
When the day’s last wind began to blow,
in the wasteland of the past, my shadow lengthened,
falling on the frail footprints buried under time’s dust,
while the roads to the future waited, unperceived.
I traveled through the torrent of the prevailing turmoil,
forgot the bridges left behind for someone burnt them.
I chose a different road and crossed the river ahead
on the bridge you cared to build for me, unpossessed.
The cycles of good times and of bad times,
cross-currents of contrast in skeptic mind’s confusion,
that cleared as the mist of the ancient doubts lifted,
I found the road ahead wasn’t at its dead end, untraveled.
Life’s stories written in time's tome of flowing continuum,
at the end of a sad chapter challenged me with perplexity,
to choose if I’d turn the page or close the book forever,
but I had decided to read on till I reach the end, unperturbed.
At the crossroads of the crowded compromises degrading,
and after silently traversing the loneliness of passion,
following the moonlit path of dreams I sauntered on,
rising from the dust, became a poet of purpose, obsessed.
October 11, 2020
Contest : A Poet's Duty
Sponsor : Beth Evans
President Donald Trump
The voting was done,
and Donald Trump won.
So many are glad,
yet quite a few mad.
Voters have spoken...
fix what is broken,
and wipe the slate clean
though hard it may seem.
Democracy rules
to give us new tools
find creative ways
to better our days.
Oft old status quo
is no way to go.
Outsiders at times
can shape new designs
to better the plight,
and shed brighter light.
Think...Ronald Reagan...
values mistaken...
an outsider too,
despised by a few.
This Hollywood star
met President's bar
at last to become
a great number one.
Yet, Trump, right or wrong
is mocked by the throng;
no credit he wins
by those fake-news spins...
on what he's achieved,
they shape unperceived.
Okay, there are things
that agita brings,
and some just can stand
his tweets out of hand.
He is what he is...
perhaps too much fizz,
but gets the job done
and tells you he won.
Our nation at heart...
and zeal off the chart,
let's give him a break...
in backing, partake.
Unity's needed
peacefulness pleaded.
Let's give him a chance
with a cheerful stance.
November 12, 2016 (revised February 5, 2019)
For Contest, 'President Trump',
Sponsored by Anthony Slausen
The assigned unseen lamp hidden somewhere,
someone kindles for you when you’re made to arrive.
Unperceived, it creates reflective beam of contemplation,
illumines the pathway of your destined journey.
The free will you make as the mental mural of pride,
the lamp makes it ostensibly self-radiant,
enmeshing your soul within the maze of formidable ego,
that designs the deviant road you travel undisciplined.
On the way you pick up some flowers of wilderness,
someone graciously blossoms only for you,
but you think these are epitome of your self-made image,
worthy of affirmative celebration of self-seeking euphoria.
On the way you tread on the trail of anguish thorns,
you think you would pave a new amiable track soon,
and won’t suffer on the stinging journey for long,
but the perpetual torment lingers on.
The disowned lamp then gets extinguished by itself,
in depth of darkness you lose awareness unrestrained.
The willful psyche clings to the sense of disarrayed self,
and gets confined within the bubble of delusion.