Short Discourses Poems

least not
there are subconscious discourses 
O! God The King of the Worlds
Your peace is veiled

definitely
the heart get overthrown
and the mind keep on wandering

and the tale of sorrow
is still drifting afloat
...

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IT’S NOT ABOUT HORSES
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS



There Is a Truism That to a Few Is Known
Search Deep the Archives Were it Is Sown

"AIN"T A HOSS THAT  CAN'T BE RODE
 AIN"T NO MAN THAT CAN"T BE THO ED "

Fools Will Proceed with Mundane Discourses
Never Are Aware That it's Not about Horses...

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spiritual discourses
address lower mind
offering not flavour
of bliss magnetism 
that ignites our form

therefore silence
is the best teacher 
requiring release of
ownership of thought
thus exhuming ego

awareness animated
poised in the void
entwined with existence 
breaks the mirror
invoking Holy Spirit...

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I am tongue tied
by the ice man,
idea man.

Tongue tied
while I doubt and he
wins bets,
knows everything,

Makes up theories that
become facts.
It takes no work 
to gain an education,

He invents 
an education and
knows how
his bare ideas will 

make him rich.
I shut up.
He discourses 
when the insiders hear him....

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Persuasive orators deliver
fiery discourses
messages rendered meaningless
for what can be said or heard
when no one listens

Generations of fertile minds
now give rise to contempt
disillusioned by empty words
poisoned with empty promises

Like parasites
unbalanced minds distort truth
destroying all hope for reconciliation
democrats, the party of genocide...

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It so happens that when the eyes cry
    the memories fall like petals of time...
    Impetuous at this hour, discourses
     the silence.
        Oracles of aged papers,
       become thoughts and fly the most
        noble winds carrying ultimatums ...
         Maybe time remembers
        that is the right time to
        stop a little
        dye all the moments
        and throughout the universe, 
        stop all the torments ......

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Son, let your mouth strangle silence - 
The silence that breeds pushovers
For profitless is the burden of a caged tongue
When spikes in thy bottom doth lodge. 

Son, let not the bubbling discourses,
Of the raucous raconteurs
In cold blood, butcher your hardihood 
For rhetoric is just but the flailing of the tongue. 

And, Remember, O son, the ways of the wise;
That gold lies snug in potted jaws,
And a little chatter cocktailed in a little hush,
Make amity in the depths of humanity....

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