At God's judgment, will we stand tall, free of defect?
If we could, would it be just the aftereffect
of a life lived for self, with pride’s introspect?
What did God ordain with the word, resurrect?
There comes to the soul, a day when we're subject -
to guilt as a sinner, immoral, suspect.
We can put the blame on evil’s misdirect
but our faults we must own in circumspect
bond with the God-head, we no longer reject.
My friend, at the reckoning in Christian prospect,
we'll all fall on our faces in awe and respect
for the Savior, Christ our Lord, grand Architect
who can redeem, empower, thereby perfect
stark lives that once faced death's dark disconnect.
What did God ordain with the word - resurrect?
Change, redirection from the dead, in effect.
When Jesus’ forgiveness for sin we accept
we bow the knee in service and genuflect,
rising to glorious grace as God’s chosen elect.
No matter the subject or topic
tho' it may burn will I ever learn
would it hurt if my lips were to close
as whatever I submit suggest propose
she will be myopic
nay-say gainsay contradict oppose
may as well hold my breath
as every word I utter
receives the kiss of death
and melts in my mouth like butter
should I assert it's what she does it's her wont
'No I don't,' is her depiction
in contentious rebuttal
thereby confirming my conviction
and morning noon and night
she'd like to be I'll also mention
tho' none too subtle
the epicentre of my attention
is it a female thing or only her compulsion
for at the end of the day
it's not the last word she wants
it's the final say
If, as the saying goes,
'There's no smoke without fire,'
is it smarter to ignite a spark
(illumination causation)
than bedamn the dark,
and thereby induce a funeral pyre,
or, better yet, a safer bet,
to avoid gossip and accusations,
find the substantiated fact(s)
(true datum)
before you act
and land in sorry situations?
It's no joke, on soot you'll choke,
yet, on the greener side,
carry the torch for earth non-scorched
but best your light you hide,
(it may be life-transforming)
beneath an unburnt bush,
so as not to incur global warming.
All morning thoughts, to paper, aren’t meant to be,
many are reserved for future time or day.
So some, will rest like leaves fallen from a tree,
thereby to hibernate and slowly decay.
But a few will incline to serve God’s intent,
those whisper to me from deep within my heart.
Oft times its an avenue for me to vent,
but to be God’s witness I’ve been set apart.
There I stood where the smell of ancient oaken trees ran cleanly clear through the time honored wood only to be hung there lithely clinging unto the very breath we could not do anything but hold… as it became to be beholden to none it seemed to be tied to the polarized tenacity of the moss which thereby us clung in comical yet musical strands around the worm ridden bark a foray of bird’s voices were at play as though bells it rung from trunk to leaf to feathery beak again and again beneath the sound of our breathless breathes being trapped as deeply as time alone dared too…and so these hearts our hearts were then flung along this very same path until we two all to soon swelled with passionate wales only be quelled to surrender to the silence surrounding us…our eyes then welled upon swollen lids only to calm again peacefully longing to bathe in those deepest feelings and upon those very wishes each sound filled thought were caught then sprung free to ride the very same wish to a crescendoed volley down into our hearts to rest in and about our smiles that gloriously magical day...
Whether the Indigenous People,
robed in leathers, head dressed in feathers,
who had their own sovereign nations,
wanted it or not,
June 2nd 1924,
U.S. President Calvin Coolidge
condescendingly signed the Snyder Act,
a.k.a., the Indian Citizenship Act, into law,
thereby conferring American citizenship
on American Indians.
He had it backwards,
it was no more than an affront
as, whether the Indigenous People
wanted them or not,
it was American Indians who,
altho' they made no claim to own Mother Earth,
should have conferred American citizenship
on the Paleface People,
who were mere trespassers on tribal territory.
And Woody Guthrie
(1912 – 1967),
another white man,
was not referring
to Native Americans
when he wrote,
'This land is your land.'
You who throw stones
Held so tightly in your hand
Like it is your all
Your pride
Your hands are bloody
Because you are a sinner
You are a sinner, and you throw the first stones
Stones that come in words and pain
Whether you were the ones who shouted total trans death
Or the ones who wish pain
Or the ones who support a militia divided
You thereby mind me as level with the pigs
And it is sad
I pray for you
For my God said love thy neighbor
To you who hate so many minorities
A sad message I unfold
For those who wish to make decisions for my very own body
And those who are so bold
Racists or prejudice, those guilty of misogyny
You yourselves
Are the faulty minority
subtle bliss tingles in toroidal heart
personify is-ness of our being
enlivened spine holds erect energies
the disc of grace at fontanel rotates
steadying thereby our third eye’s blink rate
soles of feet and palms glisten as light dawns
cool heat pervades every cell of our form
though we’re void-centric we cannot deny
heightened delight as our soul so blossoms
being both immanent and transcendent
Truth’s metaphor bemused and confused lost ones,
trapped as yet in labours of thought forms conjured,
thereby failing to cognise flickers in space …
revealing God’s light.
Breath by breath thus, feeling not God’s magnetism,
living by instinct, higher centres dormant,
darkness deepened, engulfing bleeding aura …
ego blamed on fate.
Love’s touch tender stirred the soul, freezing thought flow,
causing ego to recede, enlivening
heart, whence divine bliss mists rose, transmuting form …
into living light.
the first step took a while
which was to choose to be
and in being thereby becoming
a silent nonchalant witness
to ebb and flow of thought
observing maverick mind
akin to a wild horse rebellious
we realised its roots in identity
which we chose to disown
that our soul may be free
the second step was easy
since no doing was involved
for we had melded with space
animating it with pure intent
leaving outcomes to God
as formless awareness
even though aura shone
with bliss rising day by day
soul’s light was barren
being bereft of love
the finale was inevitable
God drew us into His heart
our soul merged in the light
being simply agape love
transmuting feeble form
Handing me his laptop
my older brother Ray says:
“Hey, look at this!”
The screen goes black
so he mutters:
“What'd y'do now?
Here, give it back.”
He fiddles with something.
My back hears his cold hint from the door -
“Just look at the picture,
DON'T touch the screen.”
But…
I’ve walked away without a word,
thereby leaving his put-down
where it belongs
in his lap.
Took me a long time to learn
I don’t have to listen
to arrogance or condescension.
I’ve learned to put down put-downs
with ease.
Why wait for the name-calling like
"Ignoramus!" Just ignore Ray.
I quietly close the door.
Abused by devotion
Broken from belief
She try to flee
From her miserable fate
Yet,
She end upon the same misty road
Thereby,
Rehearsing the same character
On a stage designed by others
Thereby,
Being praised by same audience
Who are the epitome of hypocrisy
Though,
She flawlessly flaunt her talent of being
A person without any own identity
Though,
She silently bear the pain and wrath by
Loving other relentlessly without being loved.
As she wonder the answers for,
"What her deathbed would like be?"
"To whom her earnest prayer will be addressed for?"
She find herself being trapped in an abyss
Where her pleasant memories console her
For the life sacrificed
As her death hail "The new beginning",
"An era that only belongs to her."
Be angry with no man
And you will increase your life span.
Anger works against your conscience
And is a public relations hindrance.
Find out the good in everyone
For it' is in all under the sun.
Admittedly, some do dastardly things,
Often born of their yearnings.
Infect all around you with love,
Thereby building wealth up above.
You'll furthermore win people's hearts;
Yes, a niche in their inward parts!
You sure will suffer mistreatments
But if you bear up under disappointments
You are accepting your business losses
And are on track for reaping grosses!
a September preview
snowberries sunbathing..
a late... peepshow
shades of shadowing fall
sun ,highlights the pampas grass-
rose hips ripening
neath the chestnut tree
flakes of green cover this scene-
autumn blankets me
NOTE:
why hiku ?
HAIKU the ' phonetical&cultural original 'in Japanese'
whereas HIKU
is the English language version(including translations)with similar economy of words without "telling all" thereby to ' show ' (conforming to the key to true imagist poetry),&to avoid 'as'&'to' & the use of past tense verbs (often without verbs,adverbs,adjectives )A verse freed from syllabic constraint within its triplicity of format& inherently enigmatic & still with a caesura and surprise ending
“Does the universe really rehearse,
emotes of heart before penning love’s verse?”
~ quote by poet
It had all makings of a masterpiece,
nuanced right down to the smallest detail
but the flow of symbols brought forth no peace,
to afterglow trailing the comet’s tail,
so fake adornments needed to decrease,
else maze of metaphors would make taste stale.
Soft sounds of silence, sparking like stardust,
bypassed mind and spoke directly to heart,
etching thereon light strobes, love ousting lust,
seeing thereby patterns of old depart,
wooing the void, in time gaining its trust,
that divine consciousness, then inks its art.
How may laboured breathing weave words of love,
when all save man know, grace flows from above?
Related Poems