The progeny of who sires
A sea's storm-rageful
Overturn of it.
Partakes in whose misfortune
A carefree sailing.
Wall of rock does hit.
Partakes in, not he, this perverse
An unnatural abhorrence
For the true, the good, the grandly fair.
Feigns, from this time's place absence!
The Riddle
We live separate lives: one when we’re awake, which is
the one in which the devil partakes and to whom we pay our dues,
and the other is when we’re asleep, where we pray God to rest
our souls in peaceful bliss, as we exit reality and enter dreamland
or vice versa, depending on one’s beliefs, superstitions, or perspective.
And while in the latter, I conjured up myself eating in a soup kitchen
when I overheard one person say to another, in a convincing, intellectual way,
“Don’t feed ‘em too much, or else they’ll get fat and lazy,
but the chickens, let ‘em get fat: that’ll make for a better broth.”
Naturally, fat, lazy, farm-raised chickens make for a better broth,
and so I looked at my reflection in the window and conjectured
that it couldn’t be me they were referring to in this establishment.
And that was the gist of what I could remember when I awoke, but I
could hear the devil laughing because I didn’t understand the riddle.
From the words of my beloved partner---He spoke I inked
She’s a clutch player who excels under pressure
She’s Johnny on the spot with tenacious resolve,
one who is extremely creative
An innovative marvel
For example...
Surprisingly adept to any endeavors
in which she partakes and is quite vivacious,
A zany sense of humor...
with a touch of sassy and with a tangy edge
She’s a multifaceted dynamo...
with an energetic verve, tenacious
and at times pugnacious
She can be a little too verbose
At times the hostess with the mostes
What shall it mean, when gods immortal war?
No guns shall fire, no cannons shall they roar.
And yet, the Earth itself partakes of horror.
The rhythms of the Earth shall make no tune,
Asunder shall its structures fall to ruin,
Unleashed, shall chaos crawl upon us soon.
We must of needs be greater than our fears,
More strong than what adversity appears.
As the breeze and trees tango dance,
both oblivious to our glance,
from a distance our heart partakes
of their shared love and so awakes
soul from stupor, ego induced,
by caress of bliss beats seduced,
thus this moment in time we stole,
makes our presence joyful and whole.
My dishwasher is mine; It serves me well.
It makes glassware beam high with prisms of delight: forks sing praises minus grit between their prongs.
It combats the scorched blues: its low bass humming swirls like a river enroute to calm and cleanse.
Though, I am overburdened by platters and grime piled high, I will not be stressed out: My appliance rocks; it leaves no trace of last night's culinary disaster.
It restores impeccable order to the platters that seat our daily bread: it partakes of salt and rinse aid; its rejuvenation.
Surely, there will always be a place for its sleekness in my abode: and my polished nails will take it for granted always.
As the blade searches for the life of me,
The torment glides the blade with certainty,
Deeper the journey as my body writhe,
The pain lingers as I'm denied relief,
Suspicion mingles with the bloodied juice,
The greediness of data drowns and mutes,
Deliverer plunge to my conviction,
Released of a wretched disposition,
Partakes in the regime of the soulless,
Contorted body claim to Earthiness,
Life teems, trilled sound, grass greenery, central,
city's heart beats onward, minus a soul.
Had all of it, all I forfeit, help me,
Your will is what will, now, let me be free ...
Like the laughing lavender sky,
Reckless as the dark night who aches,
Breathing gentle who makes hearts sigh.
Blessing away silence, so shy
And, dewlike mist never forsakes,
Like the laughing lavender sky,
Shadows in the mind won’t comply,
Beneath moonlit smiles, thunder quakes
Breathing gentle who makes hearts sigh.
Grace abides to never deny,
Twilight wonder calms, never fakes,
Like the laughing lavender sky,
Gentling hearts, love shall soon reply,
Beyond the night, stardust partakes,
Breathing gentle who makes hearts sigh.
Does the heart really know why?
Or is this the way for mistakes?
Like the laughing lavender sky,
Breathing gentle who makes hearts sigh.
someone asked and so we revealed
112 meditations that heart be healed
essentially there are three categories
to these beautiful meditation stories
and as of inclination we can so choose
stillness resonating as of soul’s muse
the first part deals with divine energy
bringing head and heart into synergy
that kundalini, chi or Holy Spirit may rise
bliss in permanence being offered prize
wherein we imbibe wisdom from heaven
through and within in-form chakras seven
the next sections urge us to choose silence
we rest in awareness sans thought violence
becoming empty within, our ego recedes
residual will we hold onto, doership concedes
nonchalant to outcomes, free from desire
fears too disappear and our soul is all afire
in the third level, we completely disappear
sense of separation ends, we feel God appear
we behold our true Self as God’s living light
ineffable peace in within, gift of clear sight
bilocating between crystallised form and space
each breath we take partakes of God’s grace
Real Self; innermost essence; true consciousness;
Part of the being that partakes of divinity; bottomless;
survives the death of the material physique,
Continuing its existence even after death makes it weak;
Placed within beings by the very almighty,
Like the flowerness of a flower or the sweetness of honey;
It's the breath; it’s the life; it's an eternal entity;
Conscience and consciousness; it's a form of divinity;
It's one of those in the heavens and earth,
The reality that inclines into our physical birth;
The atma that is part of the param atma,
It's heavenly, angelic, celestial, ethereal,
Sacred, blessed, holy, and supernatural;
It's with this that we live and have our being,
And enjoy our earthly, till from here, fleeing...!!!
28 June 2023
A Soul is Divine Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mohan Chutani
Shavuos, a holiday with two different faces
One in an uncultivated desert
The other on a cultivated farm...
On Shavuos itself Jews soar to the highest of heights
But this poem's about the run-up, pre-flight
For it's all about how well you prepare
that determines the outcome when you get there
God whisked Israel from Egypt to Sinai in 45 days
Then gave them the Torah without undue delay
One face of Shavuos is therefore called 'Weeks'
Jews count seven of them, then on Sinai God speaks...
The Festival of First Fruits takes five years to evolve
For the first three, there's no touching a tree
In the fourth year, that fruit tree is holy
In the fifth year, in Jerusalem, Israel partakes, finally
What is the reason for these two different faces
God didn't tell us, He left us no traces
But I think there's a lesson: We reap what we sow
~ The longer we anticipate, the more we grow
there is no path
what is, is a fusion
of energy bandwidths
both invisible and manifest
wherein as both part and whole
presence partakes of elixir offered
feeling the contrast of both pain and joy
nonchalant in the vibrant void of no-thingness
02-December-2022
I loathe the mere thought
of creatures so slothful and rude
as to steal their life's portion from others.
Ticks, tapeworms, leeches, and mosquitoes -
each I despise for their moral failings.
Yet, it is I who partakes of animal and plant;
I've never asked them nor any fungus for permission
to steal at least a part or even kill them
so that I could grow.
At least the tick leaves its victims alive,
and doesn't pretend it is nobler than it is
while I, haughty hypocrite,
hardly even consider my parasitism.
*Image of Popular DJ Avicii (cutting himself & bled out)
AUDIO: from the film Gladiator, "Now We Are Free"
"Sometimes in life, we're just not cut out for it, hoping people see the point," by Poet
Soma Sonnet: Posthumous Soliloquy
As the blade search for the life of me,
The pain glides the blade with certainty,
Deeper the journey as my body writhe,
The agony lingers as I am denied relief,
~~now, let me be free
Thoughts mingle with the blood juice,
The wealth of data drowns and mutes,
Deliverer plunge to my conviction,
Released of a wretched disposition,
~~now, let me be free
Partakes in the realm of the soulless,
Contorted body claim to Earthiness,
Life teems, trilled sound, grassy green, central,
city's heart beats onward, minus a soul.
~~now, let me be free
Had all of it, all I forfeit, help me,
Your will is thy will now, let me be free
2022 August 17
Soma Sonnet: Posthumous Soliloquy
*1st Place*
Inner conflict
~~Unseeking Seeker: Judged 2022 August 20
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