Busy and exhausted by our daily chores,
We take rest in each other's arms each night.
Though sometimes, rashly, we settle our scores,
Our shared bed makes our psychic burdens light.
Like a boat, we sail in this sea of ours;
Herein, we passionately conjugate.
We bathe in cool, collegial showers
And transcend the Hades of humdrum hate.
Our bed is our shrine wherein we are gods;
Here we balance between joy and sadness.
Here-from, we surmount maddening odds;
Cleaving all glooms, existence brings gladness.
Does this shared bed align our souls as one,
Or trap two strangers when the day is done?
Mysteriousness and sacredness
Wished words, universes, wanted new lives
Serial lives, never-ending infinity of desire
I need this life, I want this life, in my heart
I want to do it, the mystery, and the real light
The only one, the living sacredness of life
Here is not a tale of the mysterious kind
In the human world, this is just a movie of the fantasy mind
This is the secret of life, just believe me, oh life
I know the truth. I know that. The fantasy is real life
We are just living in our minds. Collectively, this is sick blind
Yes. We are blind. Open your wings, and just fly, and fly
In the space, in the sky, and find your new life in heaven
Heaven is the true world, not just a religious desire
Jesus said, “In my Father’s house are many rooms.”
“This is the reality. All the words are true”, Satan said
Heavens. Universes. And Mysteriousness Sacredness is
The atmospheres of those planets
This is the reality
Everybody is a saint
If will arrive there
Sacredness is in love,
Love is in pain.
Pain is the breath of Love.
J-oyful
A-crostic
M-essage
E-mploys
S-acredness
J-ust
O-pening
Y-our
C-losed
E-yes
Topic: Birthday of poet James Joyce (February 02)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Before we go to bed we vegetate
No need for teacher but a compost heap.
And as we vegetate, we drift to sleep
While in our dreams our little mind debates
But mostly we’re unknowing in this dark
Where God himself may manifest at will.
His dazzling darkness makes our souls be still
And wait for strikes by living ,glowing spark.
But in the morning ,we come back to strife
Take up our work and suffer every stroke.
From sapling to the oldest,strongest oak
Each must choose again its proper life
Every look we cast at others strikes
Reflects and shows us what we have become
And when there is no movement, we are done
Our mind and heart have chosen what they like.
So in our end we vegetate again
And no more rise to labour in the day
We fertilise the fields passed on our way
We show the end of woman and of man.
A daily round becomes our life and death.
We live because we’re breathed by sacredness
When Christ was born
when souls were saved
is it that date
I meditate!
A trampoline of hesitate
all up and down
acoustics rate
consumerism runs irate!
The children whisper
"don't be late"
It's still the please zone
in rebate!
As rhyme to rhyme
configurate
the need for joy within
ones state!
So sorry, I commiserate
go out and just
do celebrate
we're fools for action's remonstrate!
and still commune . . . . and complicate!
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