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Rhyme
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dogmatic and eristic
prankster trying to trick
enters hypnotic trance
victim of circumstance
now trapped in dreams
where illusion streams
consciousness agitated
light of Self decimated
yet stillness sets us free
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Free verse
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the eristic fundamentalist
strives to impose his view
oblivious to the stark truth
that pulsates beyond mind
aglow in cave of his heart
false is imagined knowing
what matters is becoming
the flame
11-June-2023
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Free verse
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we engage in debate awhile
with the fundamentalistic eristic
he seeks to win and we are here for fun
head and heart lines do not intersect
what is truthful is not convenient
so let the impasse remain
inked with compassion
17-December-2022
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Free verse
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events precipitated
creating a ripple
causing space to sigh
discord replaced harmony
a fissure appeared
requiring healing
specious reasoning
presented by eristic ego
stifled the throb of love
the drama being enacted
impacted not the mindful monk
who never predicts outcomes
who can tell if it is time
to gentle the swaying pendulum
the hermit has no preference
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Free verse
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insistent emphasis
dogmatic views
make for faith
fundamentalistic
specious belief
eristic rigidity
stagnates in a cave
caging spontaneity
seeking without surrender
clinging to scriptures
imprisons the soul
in a mind trap
repeated affirmations
manifest heart’s aspirations
as a conjured epiphany
deepening delusion
sans thought who are we
unfettered and unbound
beyond mental concepts
look for that oh hermit
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Etheree
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“oh hermit, listen to your loving heart
for that is where bliss ignition restarts”
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Blind
to tears
yet unshed,
as also deaf
to the entreaty
of diffidence muted,
clumsy, callous, eristic,
bigot living life in stupor
epitomises primitive man,
accidentally in human body.
Identity manifest here transient;
introspection revealing to us
coordinate at which we are.
If lower cravings attract,
that is where we begin
our self improvement
in soft silence,
contouring
self with
love.
09-December-2020
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Blank verse
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The Widow
Some time, ago a man went climbing an icy mountain on his own, why? I don't what was on his mind maybe he was the type of a man who had no friends because he was eristic and
fed up with his wife, wanted to be alone.
His name, they found ,was Niels Berg, a German civil servant from Saxony and a stickler who did not tolerate misspellings
At the time he went on his journey, he was 38 years old.
Forty years later, he was found and it is interesting to see had
he lived he would have been 78 years old.
We don't know much about him only that he had been married
but his wife had left him since he could not resist correcting
her when she spoke, which made her silent and a soundless woman is a dangerous woman.
His widow, a retired teacher, inherited the bank account that had never been closed and after forty years she came into a considerable amount of money.
Niels, had broken his ankle, but since he was alone it was a death knell, (ask Margaret Mead) he died of frost
When found, under an ice sheet, had a torn rope around his waist
On a stone, he had with a Swiss knife, tried to write a message to his wife and it read like this: “I love you because you are a good cook, he scratched out cook”
He tried again, but his fingers were cold, got as far as “I love you,” then along scratch
And we shall never know what Niels had intended to say.
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Rhyme
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Written: October 05, 2023
___________________________________________________________
Where the paradisiacal angels reside.
A myriad of creatures, ebony and betide
A dinkum dissolute and a discreet divine,
A degree of dexterity, a denizen decline
Amidst the mahatmas and zeitgeist calls,
An indweller quests for lyricism thrall.
A martyrdom route, an incubus chase,
Eristic battles in the realm of grace
A proponent of verity, a wraith of anile,
Sought to indwell the hearts of enamel.
A sip of soma, a savor of seraglio supine,
Agnostic beyond, for the geist did shine.
Destructive metempsychosis, a mortal plight,
Internal battles, seeking inspirational light.
In the realm of the departed, desolate cries
A crybaby tears, but awe-inspiring skies
Departed souls, once heartsick and heartsore,
Find solace in the trust they restore.
For in the internal depths, a spark ignites.
And as the decedents rise, their souls bear flight.
Absolve afreets, the anxiousness abides,
Embrace the beatitude; sublimity resides.
Rawness of a sentimentalist, troubadour song,
The immanence of duende is pantywaist wrong.
In the realm of the spiritual, the snarl of sin,
Is replaced by beatitude, the soul's win.
Spotless and unsullied, cleansed of all pain,
The spiritual journey is the ultimate gain.
They sully the cosmic force with opulence.
Yet, the sunny glow of bliss starts radiance.
A troll in the netherworld, forlornness abounds,
In the cognition of theosophy, the soul rebounds.
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Crown of Sonnets
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Déjà vu tells us life’s an illusion,
being a thought projection of our mind,
stupor being cause of our confusion,
so we flounder about, as though we’re blind.
If time is real, then how do we see,
events and places, where we’ve not yet been?
If with this postulation we agree,
in tranquil silence, the truth we may glean.
Just as blinkers cover a horse’s eyes,
that it should focus in one direction,
let’s take earth life as a school, where soul tries
to ascend by consciousness correction.
This hypothesis suggests, we’re not this.
How may truth be known, till we feel pure bliss?
How may truth be known, till we feel pure bliss,
as sublime joy that does not come and go?
Scriptures affirm that Divine Mother’s kiss
may be graced upon us in stillness slow.
Path any, if we are to transcend thought,
to get to the source, wherefrom life breath flows,
entering silence, becoming self-taught,
we garner wisdom, our true being knows.
Divine magnetism begins to fill form,
which we may call Holy Spirit or chi
and as we are swept away in this storm,
our false ego falls and we clearly see.
Time and space dissolve and all becomes one;
within us glows light, of the central sun.
Within us glows light, of the central sun,
representing the truth transcendental,
known in waking state, when we come undone,
choosing to become mindful and gentle.
Thoughts dualistic make us eristic,
which loosely translated, is the ego
but if we wish to become a mystic,
cravings of lower mind, we must let go.
Made in God’s image, we are living light,
affirmed in the scriptures time and again
and bliss cascades within us day and night,
provided our heart’s cleansed from feral stain.
That we’re in a dream, is our conclusion;
déjà vu tells us life’s an illusion.
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Nothing new in the electrochemistry
It no longer is a scientific mystery
Waves Beta, Alpha, Theta, Delta, Gamma & Epsilon
Descending from buoyant ecstasy to a persona forlorn
Zodiac signs & rainbow colours assigned to chakras renamed
Esoteric yogic techniques, exponents aplenty, all self-proclaimed
Fiery verbal duels, by many an argumentative eristic
Each it seems is the ultimate mystic
Leaving profundity to theorists whose verbosity we acknowledge
What matters is assimilated wisdom, not vicarious knowledge
So we go in within, alone, in meditational stillness, upon a virgin path
Each moment in the time continuum, a holy sabbath
What we seek is expansive consciousness & joy eternal
And what is eternal is obviously not embraceable in the ephemeral
So we chop off perishable egoistic attachments, fear & desire
And straightaway plunge our non-self into the divine fire
How? In unseeking stillness within ... deep within
Where at each moment we anew begin
No conflict, no violence
Effortless stillness, rippleless silence
No agenda, no seeker, no doer
We are still, yet there is a mover
The flow of the Universe within into which we dissolve
Emerging from which we automatically evolve
What do we gain & what do we lose?
Irrelevant, for we are not, yet desirelessly choose
What we lose is our sorrow generating gross contaminant
Gain being ineffable, exalted, joyous divine love enablement
There is no way; our choice itself is the way
Save unendingly effusing love, no rules to obey
Thoughts sublime, words kind, actions benign
Self, Soul & Spirit thus align
Trust the Universe, plunge into its loving stream
We need to wake up now, from our narrow dream
Upon lighting a candle, darkness is instantly expelled
Surrendering to the divine, ignorance is automatically dispelled
And that is all there is to it
Doable if we do & never ever quit
Simpler the truth, it seems the more elusive it is
So perplexed we are by life’s jigsaw quiz
01-November-2020
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Free verse
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Introduction: one of the nice aspects of having an oeuvre as a poet is the ability to see where you have changed over the years. this is such a poem where i can see the step from the eristic with a quiver full of quodlibets to the fruition of a close relationship with God. here is where it begins, there is an addendum below
she believes in lavender moons
wishes upon stars that are galactic in breadth
cherishes the thoughts of turquoise turtle doves
gives credence to an undiscovered planet
whose position in the heavens will birth
age of love and redemption for humans
where raspberry grandmothers
sit in lemon drop rocking chairs
while ruminating in blueberry neopalliums
licorice trees span the meadow
adorned with strawberry flowers
while rainbow-colored grasses wave
in a peppermint breeze
she believes in angels
i do not believe in angels
leaping from many cultures meaning courier
first appearing with the Persians, or was it Sumeria
wings attached to a human body, a piqued imagination
they were believed to be messengers from the gods
also, there was a guardian angel in the mix
where the Annunaki crawled out
a mind riffling the neurons, quarks in creation
Swedenborg or was it Aquinas' hierarchy
Nike, Hermes, Blake, Augustine, Gabriel, Raphael
Isis in wings, the names mix in an elan vital
feeding upon each other
where i have no miracle
no dendrites, no neurons, no synapses
tho i believe that we are beyond cannibalism
not by much, but some distance
credit to humanity
where humanity moves forward
i possess the notion of a Creator
moved to a reflection
deposited by the rains upon the plains
the animal gods could not survive
these narcissistic glimpses
this led to mirrors, statues, and myth
the growing anthropomorphic
deposited on the door
of an evolving consciousness
by some haphazard form of epistasis
so where does that leave this era, this orphan
just another smiling idiot i suppose
trying to make it on a planet
of pharaohs and fidos
i do not understand the thoughts she conveys
sharing a persiflage of shoes and sealing wax
realms of cabbages and kings
where once as a species we removed fleas
to fill the time between sleep and hunting
now coffee and Proust's
depth of any conversation
revealing the patricians are the plebians
in the end, is dust
at the feat of some monument
crumpled with time and neglect
as is love scribbled upon a tree
as i too fill a moment
scribble a napkin with "manumit"
she sits across the table, weaving dreams
connecting thoughts in a voice too gentle
we share coffee
the hardness within stands in awe
that such gentleness exists
had the world such imagination and faith
rather than the hypocrisy of its' institutions
our existence might have taken different paths
doubters such as i would be forced
to cling to brighter visions
we share coffee
i wait for no demise of illusion
or new consciousness
greet death with but a modicum of faith
and that is the reward of this coffee
i leave her with a demitasse of belief
humanity will survive its' mouth
and rectum
because there are those who see
lavender moons, turquoise turtle doves
with such faith, a billion suns become one
where hope dwells
stirs within me feelings
i do not understand
where the shadows within
wait for enlightenment
hope that the world is without end
and arrives soon
which i admit, i seriously doubt will
yet, leave a modicum of faith
wandering in the shadows within
Fergus Falls 97
Addendum: thousands of years before the concept of a soul and an after life Egypt had them. After you died, on your way to your afterlife, you had to travel through the Hall of Maat. The god Anubis weighed your heart. The god Thoth (pictured above) recorded the findings. And the god Ammut stood by and if you did not pass muster....Ammit would consume the heart of the unworthy, preventing the impure soul from being granted immortality and joining Osiris in Aaru....there you have it, reward and punishment. i was never a fan of Carl Jung's Collective Unconscious however folks, there is a good case for it.
for more on Angels, Youtube:
The Hierarchy of Angels: Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones
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