I wish that it was Christmas time -
in the future when
my son and his new wife
have had their children then,
and they are surrounded
by family -
grandmothers, grandfathers,
including me,
and three thousand miles
has shrunk to none,
and their kids call me grandpa,
and we can have fun,
and the smell of pies is in the air,
and the Christmas tree is blinking -
where it is warm inside,
and the grownups are all drinking,
and to every grandkid sleepy head,
I say sternly, "it's time for bed",
and they argue a priori,
"Grandpa, read us a story!"
a truth may as well be a lie ~ amid words acting a-priori
one goes for the visceral ~ luridly adding guts to be gory
two tries reducing terror ~ adaptation for the montessori
three wants to deny ~ with a false alibi in their inventory
most relevant side of any said story ~ evidence not glory
Living alone
in quantum space
vibrations
dually churn
Hiding behind
a simple rhyme
their essence
undiscerned
Turned into words
exposed at last
where time and
memory join
Feigning the praise
for something they’re not
disparaged
— and purloined
(Villanova University: May, 2024)
A Priori
faith pulls me up again
for every turn away
the turning back begins
like this but darker
flat as an ocean
sleeping above me
then the mirror language
evolves around me
words lost
as they are spoken
instantly forgotten
the infinite unknowing
cloud river threads my mind
I cross from here to there
masked to fit perception
my fabric destiny
billows across the granite ridge
caught between the branches
the thought of floating off
does
softly whispered
the wish to see
graceful turning
the end of me
In loving memory the saga goes,
or so they say when feint reminder culls a piercing interlude.
Remnant of an unfinished sentence,
broken shadow haunt awash with grief,
snapshot at the edge of a well.
Parachute of blinding insight on queue or on song,
paper mache angel deep within.
Verses, scrolls, smudges from that pink enamel claw,
whose back fold clip appearance left one reeling,
like some
tree house dweller rattled by a swooping hawk.
Gimlet sipping voyageur
adrift on ice pack yacht,
in need of solace,
yet wishing it to the bottom of his rusty bucket list.
Fragile human being torn apart,
funeral bound,
that once upon a time surreal biker skirting mountains.
A priori stunt man metaphysically divine on rocky ledge,
dare devil prayer when it suits.
Feat performance activist a sleight of hand jester,
yet despite this vapid mask of dumb amnesia,
he wanders blindfold down
an alpine peak while chasing after dim and distant keepsake
Date posted :31st January 2022
Did time predate matter,
unto itself
Alive A Priori
—wholly indwelt
(Dreamsleep: July, 2021)
“When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”
Kahlil Gibran
Please do not put
too much sugar
in your cup of tea.
Try to live
every moment to the fullest.
None is there to pity. Nothing is free.
Did I know you then?
Did I learn my lesson?
An Important one? A ‘Priori’?
Another dawn will arrive soon.
A promise of a new beginning…
With the pain of hunger and loss.
In a world of the confiscated living.
Did you know me then?
Did you remember something?
Of life and longing?
Please do not rush, anyway...anymore.
Behind every difficulty
Look deeply for a solution
Never think it will be easy.
Sometimes it appears so tricky
To be worthy satisfaction
Behind every difficulty.
Sometimes you try best as can be
Rolling over resolution
Never think it will be easy.
Sometimes you take the task lightly
Without a priori caution
Behind every difficulty.
Sometimes you show little worry
About making a decision
Never think it will be easy.
Sometimes there’s animosity
Which makes assorted division
Behind every difficulty
Never think it will be easy.
***I am reposting this poem as I think it is my finest poetic creation. I feel the imagery of the piece and its 'fabled' characters are cohesive to create a positive environment that reflects the star's light of hope; the 3rd stanza and the poem's final lines provide a natural summation of metaphysical realities that incur from human emotion and suggests that we all come from the same mold and thus we are not the cause of ourselves; 'a theistic natural priori in the belief of God through the poetic endeavour.'
I awoke to find the tall splendor of the world,
in those cosmic canyons,
shearing darkness ----
in the pallet of some ethereal night;
ancient with desire.....
to Illume the thick shadow of hades itself
Not death nor mortal doubt
couldst thou flee from me,
mighty as Aphrodite ----
Shooting thy silver smile
beautiful as heaven's promise!
In your shimmering I see hope,
for the heart which beholds thy majesty
the world could fade,
yet you remain.....
a friendly face if none should be found,
but you.....
that thou Creator dost reveal;
my soul,
ageless as thee
(am spun from the same loom)
A Poet first,
long before the first word
Musings inherent
—crying to be heard
(Dreamsleep: May, 2020)
DISHES OF THE DAY - POETRY
Happiness à priori
Health well done
Peace to the right point
Love at will (á la volonté)... !
Even obvious lines
make sense
Abstract Ingredients,
they give concrete juice ...
The invisible becomes as dense
as the visible ...
Unused rejects,
reused are ...
Discarded
has also its time ...
Having some substance,
It's okay, it's not soup.
of stone ...
All together, it takes
to the cauldron in a water bath!
After cooking
in this soft fire,
cool down, and become
the table....
The poem is ready
al dente, primo canto...
Are you all served ...!?
Mother Yin nurtures a domestic economy
which retains indigenous becoming within nature-spirit
nondual places
Yin,
a concaving womb
for as long as Earth's collective memory
of light and dualdark
may recall.
Patriarch Yang's convexly vertical strengths of hunting,
colonizing,
commodifying
segregating quantitatively deduced values,
are not a priori possible
without primacy
of nondual co-arising
bilaterally horizontal horizons
of yin's dawn with dusk
dualdark matriarchal sacred MoonTimes.
0-Soul
WinWin
in each here and now moment
of living and dying
with focusing bicameral balance
on matriarchy's polyculturing outcomes
easing patriarchy's recent past
of monocultural ego-over-investments,
turning now toward cooperative re-investments in Mother Earth
from which human nature
RNA-derived
to DNA thrive.
STARGAZING
I have seen forever, friend,
Written across dark skies,
In the planets, stars and galaxies
Whose light endlessly abides.
With mind as finger I trace the lines
The length of human history,
Yet, still the lights appear o’er head,
No universe a priori.
What stories might they tell us,
If we could only hear;
The sordid things that happen at night,
The secrets that we fear.
Lovers trapped in passion renewed
And dreams that wet the pillow.
Meteor showers and borealis,
Stolen kisses under the willow.
Many are the stars that shine
Through a punctured dome
And many are the souls they harbour
Who have no other home.
Gazing at the stars above
In cosmic darkness, snug,
Like gravity she draws me in.
I feel her tug, her gentle hug,
Yes, I have seen eternity
Written across dark skies
But never witnessed anything
Like forever in her starry eyes.
4/17/17
In the world of viruses criminatory
Quick Heal is the best category
Which I chose as my advisory
And freely continued my story.
Viruses made my PC dilatory;
Looking into browsers defamatory,
Inserting memory cards accusatory,
Unsafe browsing was dormitory
Hacking my info was depository
And to stop this, there was no jury;
At this juncture came this Hoary.
Quick Heal is the best category;
Quick Heal removed PC’s quarry
And made my PC safest Glory;
All ill things made eliminatory.
Among all it is the best Allegory
And is really a judgement priori.
Bioethicists will claim
the moment when a blob awakes
there's living, breathing, sentient life!
(they're molecules, for heaven's sakes!)
Telemetry and test tube babies,
scientific miracle?
who's to say, and who is right,
a priori or empirical?
We're getting more sophisticated,
bio-engineering's next;
stamping genes with pre-formed coding,
who are we to write the text?
We climb the mountain, ever striving
for the answers, right or wrong;
we'll find upon that far horizon
He's been waiting all along.
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