Long Whence Poems
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Like an eagle I soar and spin,
Hover over the skies within;
Searching something hidden for long,
Whence my life, like the Om, prolong;
Incessantly tuning...
A million stars of virtues shine,
With moons of morals intertwine;
Sun of honor never does set,
Entire heart does not seem bright, yet;
Dark spaces still swooning...
Enlightenment awaits the dawn,
Sacred fig trees boringly yawn;
Are Buddhas gone on holidays?
Are aspirations on stargaze?
Refrains from far crooning...
Divine spirit severely shakes,
Interiors, like the earthquakes;
Earth and heaven extend to meet,
Oceans and constellations greet;
Hearts and minds attuning...
21 April 2022
Today I learned that all is naught, and naught is all..
I have been seeking, unconsciously, unaware,
Only to learn that all that I ever wanted to be was a seeker,
Out ward lies but a pale reflection of the magnificent kingdoms that reside within,
And here I was seeking scraps amongst the ruins that the fake outside threw at me,
While the bounty lies untouched, getting duskier, murkier, and fading to be lost forever, without a trace,
With millions of padlocks of ignorant births vying to seal it shut, before my very eyes while I watched impassively mesmerized by the play,
how miserably blind have I been and how deaf,
To the truth hidden in plain sight, and the song of truth hidden in the silence.
How badly I have missed the pacific embrace of my maker, the liberating, exhilarating, peaceful.
Yes I have always had a feeling of being watched by a million eyes, which is spied through the corners of my own, and heard hushed muffled cries felt warm tears being shed every time I fell.
How many bewildering disguises exclusively designed to fool me?
What a fool I have been to think I was a nobody, when there is somebody as badly in need of me, as badly as I am in need of he.
He who cast me out of my perfectitude, into the microcosm of infinitesimallity .
Only to quietly but surely blow me back the way from whence I came,
Like a dry leaf moves so mildly in a breeze as though on its own accord.
His disguises fast wear thin as I see him in all, I shall catch him soon..
For him, I have long sought, he who taught me,
Naught is all and all is naught.
dog makes sounds to be taken out in the morning
i pull my tattered jeans on
that have seen wilder days
and throw a tee on emblazoned with the slogan
'I don't do mornings'....
and out of my suite I climb with dog on leash~
the morning is a bright bold one
the verdant grasses sway under the weight of glistening dew
and I can see our footsteps (pawprints) from
whence we walked
and somehow the thought is reassuring to me~
as if I've lived
shown to have been here until the sun
dries the prints
I take in a deep ion filled breath
and suddenly am filled with a gladness unfamiliar to me
just before getting out of bed
and another thought occurs to me....
I am lucky to be alive.
Met by chance a coincidence
Met by chance a sudden whim by the side of a window isle , speedy montage , a train track
Never to fancy about a becoming, monsieur
Before then too t'was a maiden, a shrew, enjambment and a refrain, clerihew!
A gorgeously red wedding chant, a royal vow, know-how
pomegranate a hue, a blushing knew!
Today, the silky hue was a blackened clue, inconclusive
a garment and arose an eve, and a grievance whence Eden sank in grief!
Fancied about a wall, non , none, never, to belong
a myrtle a suntanned thistle thal home bound, a letter poem, enclosed envelope!
From hothat dekha an early composition
Hothat Dekha | | Voice : Rajib Mahata
In the city of Chicago;
In an inner-city community;
My recall reaches back more than
50 years. My best memory says
that a 19-year-old college student,
very bold and willing to engage, was
Unafraid to be silenced by dark and
demonic encounters.
I share this, not as one who succeeded or
became an expert in anything, much less in
matters of demonic activity. I speak of it
as a puzzle piece that helps me to know from
whence I came and to where I have come. I share
that which might give insight and awareness to others.
In a converted mansion that had become a rehab center
to reach drug addicts, alcoholics, and gang members,
I joined others in hand and heart, the more matured
and seasoned ones. It was there that I learned firsthand
the reality of demons and darkness. I personally experienced
something new and different.
Going in, I felt equipped and had no fear, but before leaving the room,
I had both fear and questions. The leader had assured us that there
was the presence of at least one demon that had to be cast out. Both
the man and the demon were speechless, but the reality of both their presences spoke volumes which rang loud and fearfully throughout my being. There was indeed adequate lighting in the room, but darkness filled the fibers of my being. They looked straight into my eyes, and I looked away. My participation thereafter all but ceased. I do not recall that the demon left the man, but they did not remain in our program of rehabilitation. And I was a changed young man.
092822PS
A sullen
sickness
befallen me
from whence
a darkening
ventured
nigh
and stolen
the sparkling
embodiment
features of
stars
in the
gloaming
of the mundane
hovering misery
of shooting
dead stars
aloft my
head
aches now
fevers the whole
of me afire unceasing
as it spreads and
grasp my soul
this simple
cover
to shield
the chill that
stills my blood
like frost to ice and
flits burning back
to hell's hold
temporal
twas
until the
perspectives
exchanged one
to the other who
now lays its claim
and tortuous
name being
Dante
I wrapped
myself and
snuggling in
hopes to shrug
off this biting cold
that locks its icy grip
on my body and soul
if not for the beating
of my heart that it
reassures me
that soon it
will pass
and end
malady
pursual of
my deepening
doctorless gloom
that will drift a parting
long-awaited since at first
my eyes had closed and will
soon be opening to the
welcoming vision of
her striking ascent
prepare myself
for that cure
is here ...
Aurora.
Our cat's keep us safe from not only rodents of all particular's , but also from the invisible
strange and terrible things that cannot be allowed to take hold or go unchecked.
These unseen terrors stalk the woods , sleep and breed with spiders and lay upon our pillows and mattress's and await that moment when sleep leaves us unguarded .
Then from the abomination of their unholy union ,nightmares and illness to us are then born.
Our feline allies see Those hiding things,
and without pity dispatch them from this realm back from whence they came .
From ancient times Bastet and her kind have been guardian to our unaware yet vulnerable Sleeping souls .
The Feles purr is not just a sound of contentment ‘no it is so much more it's rhythm and frequency locates any threat from their quarry that may lerk invisible for us,
A resounding that resonates in perfect pitch with our own frequency and manifest as calm within us.
These noble creatures are capable of speech you know
but have really nothing to say because unless prompted humans tend only to talk to their cats and never listen back .
I see that guardianship with which their kind humbly lay around us , I feel comfort that comes from their presence.
I smile with appreciation when my cat sits upon or beside me , purring ,guarding ,keeping me safe from those strange and terrible things .
Yup, you red correctly,
this noggin must go
perhaps donated
to the Salvation Army, or Good Will
cuz, said atrophied cranial
horridly styled comfortably numb skull,
the source of immeasurable
beg hot ten woe, from dawn to dusk
nothing boot eve ville
hollow cavity mainly comprised
of wooly webbed weaving waste,
uber sawdust, sans Schuylkill
River effluvium and runoff rotten rill
hence, e'en a think tank
designated as Abby Normal
formerly atop a body named Phil
lip, or Wright winged Orville
one half brotherly duo,
the other sibling Wilbur,
whom both made a mill
yen legends getting airborne their lil
mechanical contraption
atop Kitty Hawk,
North Carolina with bi sic kill
mechanical aptitude,
when born aloft Kill Devil Hill
synonymous making fin hushed
blue prints emulating
flying fish, whose grill
like cartilage backbone
precursor to Evil
Knievel, who soared
on his motorcycle a devil
lush daring stuntman,
whose helmeted crown
full pursestrings muted cavil
ling critics with legitimate enterprise
earning gobs of legal tender,
whence aye aver
his mugshot ought to appear
on common denomination bill
and/or honoring throughout
the entire month of April.
Imagine in crown, an ethereal hole,
a portal linking us to vastness of space,
wherein formless presence, or what we call soul,
brings back to form the outpourings of God’s grace,
manifest as bliss mists that make us feel whole,
rapture sublime holding us in close embrace.
This is the divine flame, intimate to each,
which dear fellow souls, is well within our reach.
Now that we know this, how may we reclaim bliss,
that unending current of which sages speak,
borne as of folklore by Divine Mother’s kiss,
which manifests on plugging energy leak,
whereupon in peace, feeling nothing amiss,
in childlike joy we dance with love cheek to cheek?
The clue dear hearts, is each of us was born free
but later chose to bind soul to our mind tree.
Given that mind’s an instrument for our use,
befriending silence we can rest thoughts at will,
whence flow of soma nectar begins to ooze,
delighting as it begins to overspill
and then music of the spheres becomes our muse,
where the universe moves but our mind is still.
Though the path is easy, it seems difficult,
conditioned to follow a this or that cult.
Not by doing but in undoing we rise,
since the table is laid for bliss readymade,
if we be receptive to offered surprise
allowing oughts that arise to gently fade,
recognising life’s a dream, a web of lies
and nestle in heart, in God’s heavenly glade.
Fixating focus on both the crown and heart,
let us all dear souls, our true life journey start.
THE LOBSTERMAN
Hushed silence as the dawn begins unveil
Faded ribbons of beauty appear ever so pale
Morphing in depth and passionate splendor
Eternal, inspirational gifting of nature
The density of darkness vaporizes to light
As all that was shadowed comes into sight
Casts upon the harbor the soft glow of morn
Life’s daily symphony begins to perform
The dawn draws to life each and every thing
With the rising orb new life does it bring
The soft glow of light, the harbor awakes
Lobstermen appear as the new day breaks
This endless ritual begins always the same
Moonrise and sunrise in eternal refrain
And this day, as in days of decades before
He stands in his row boat and raises his oar
Hunched from the weight of years of hard work
Family and responsibilities never to shirk
He nods as he paddles without saying a word
Brothers in a bond that doesn’t need to be heard
The ache in his body is worse on some days
He goes about his work in a reverent haze
This is all he can do - all that he knows
Lifetimes ago ... twas the life that he chose.
Or maybe to say the life that chose him
To sink or to swim is the lobsterman’s hymn
He was raised on a boat, always in boots
He bleeds it from his pores – it’s inbred in his roots
Leaving the harbor barely breaking a wake
He steers his old vessel into the daybreak
Irrelevant is the cold, the heat or a storm
His performance perpetuates each new day born
His story but a drop in an ocean we don’t see
His dedication and ethic simply humble me
Haunted by hunched image in silhouette as he oars
To his life in the harbor whence it is moored.
October 13, 2017