Sunday 30 May 2021

The Order of Words and The Heart of Light

Occurs not 
The transformation negativa
Yet, because
It's still the intellect
Why, this intellect
So strong it be
Remains the truth,
Cunning, persuasive,
Story of who?
The knowing beatitude,
Smiling in freedom
Toward we does it glance

O laughing one,
O laughing one!
I feel taunted
But your space,
Endless in expanse,
Does reach thru me,
It does
Irony, so powerful,
Yet subtle,
A soap bubble like,
Yes, a soap bubble like
If words be broken,
Broken be words,
Then what thru shines?
Shines what does thru?
This vast expanse,
It calls,
Voice with not,
Already here.
Yes, here.
Al ready

Wednesday 26 May 2021

The White-Crowned Sparrow

The bright melodious call
Sat in stark contrast to the
Surprisingly mundane warm greys
The whirlpool of electrostatic
Vibrations tingling the air
With lively song
Remained as always
In clear invisibility
One's penetrating glare and the
Perked ears did entreat strongly
But Nature's want of concession
Remained motionless
In sage-like austerity
As the focus faded softly,
Diffusing gently into the vast arena,
Only the reflection was left—
A translucent memory,
A depthless sheet of wobbling glaze
Standing quiet in feeble fragility
Yet so enduring it be,
Teetering on the edge
Between matter and light
In swift retreat,
The totality of memories were
Left twinkling in crystaline fragments
Like leaves of the aspen,
(Yet devoid of pigment)
Quivering on the verge of disappearance

Falling away, further still,
The specks of shimmering light
Reminded of stars in the
Vastness of space

And at last, the breath
Returned in Life-giving purity
The colours reappeared in 
Their homogeneous delight
Nature's symphony resumed in
Its haunting harmony
And variegated similarity
The inaudible wail
Rang through the cosmos
Sending atoms shivering at the core

Monday 24 May 2021

Children are Whole No.2


The sunlight broke through
The leaves in a fragmented pattern—
The hefty chuckle
Reverberated through the night air—
The question of "Why?" did arise
So piercingly, so suddenly—
"Why all this chaos? Why!?"
Again, the throaty laughter
Ejaculated in vibrations
Through the damp fog—

"Why is this happening?"
The incessant insanity,
The selfish pursuits,
The utter lack of wholeness—
The night was still and silent
Apart from the occasional
Dripping of condensed fog
Collecting on the colourless leaves—
Suddenly, the horrific roar
Of a 10 year old boy
Skidded through the sky
In an elongated stream
Of terror—
The shaken shrubs
Stood numb in disbelief
As their molecular constitutions
Slowly regained equilibrium—
The memory, though, did remain,
As all memories do,
In the cosmic eye,
The Knower of knowing—
"I hear your cry, young lad,
It has been registered, indeed.
You may not have the words,
But your protest is an honest one—
The injustice which prompted
Such violent outrage
Is mirrored in thee
O, young one—

A mirror you are.
Your service is acknowledged.
But heal you must,
For the greater wicked,
Is yet rampant—

Polish your mirror
And shine your reflection
Of all who pass,
So that they may see
Their true selves
Without distortion or blur—
And if the timing is right,
The memory of their childhood
May too arise, clear and undisturbed.
And they will heal and polish..."

Children are Whole No.1


The flame burns clear
With silent intensity,
Diffusing calcified clumps
Into impotent particles—

Sitting, standing, walking;
Here we are,
Smiling in glory,
Light and peace—

The horrible ideas,
Swirl within the mind
Like putrid mustard gas
Intent on harm and war—

The violence concedes not
To interior borders
And naturally the nations
Are their intensified selves—

The Earth is cracking
Like a dried desert floor,
From aeons of strife and pain—

The Cosmic joke
Permeates space
And matter alike,
And infuses ironic
Humour in sin as well—

The wars will only end
When children born free
See the mistakes of their fathers,
The blindness of their mothers—

Tradition is perpetuation,
Liberation is clarity,
The space to see afresh,
Anew, the beauty of people,
The Love and joy of life—

Empowered children,
Unharmed by the grown,
In Love and wisdom,
May emerge Clear.


Tuesday 4 May 2021

Behind the Words - Part 3 of 3: Renewed Life

Renewed life—
Our mountain climb, 
No longer tinged
With acidic melancholy
And regretful dread
Of the state of the world,
But with true liberation—
Humankind as one,
Arisen from the shadows
Of blind strife and futile
Swipes, to the quenching
Abandonment of old rags
And infested slime—

Breathing anew—
Our primordial connection,
Now glowing with Life,
Never looking back
To dead memory
And sorrowful prison,
For this too has ceased
To exist. Its power retracted,
Now pulled and pushed
With the wild winds
On desert floors,
It floats around like 
Holy cloth disintegrating
Slowly into particles
So fine, again to dissolve in the great
Ocean of the cosmos.
A return to homogeneity,
Indeed are all condemned
To do. The inevitable end—
What has always been
And which is Now.


Behind the Words - Part 2 of 3: Love Ends Strife

How then can we fight
Each other with eyes closed
And with uninspired fury,
Engage in endless dispute
And battles of horror and rage?—
With insight, so too
Does anger cease,
For the Self is removed
From the robot of evil,
That which was constructed
By it's own nature and material,
The material of thought,
The material of separation.
The arms do drop
In silent surrender.
The Love, not of words,
Not of direction—a vector!,
But of clarity and peace—
Of clarity and peace.
We embrace as friends,
Our global share—
We laugh with Relief,
The first and last Relief.

Behind the Words - Part 1 of 3: That Which We Are

Even behind a condescending smile
Shines the Truth—
Behind the white or yellow teeth,
Behind a fit of insanity,
The rolling and gurgling brook
Swelling fast with heavy rain—
Then the senses are flooded too,
With premeditated propaganda,
Irresponsible or responsible
In design. The power of this media—
So engrossed we dive,
The instinct, magnetic,
We engage in a world of colours
And sound so bright and real—
The words, oh the words,
Abounding thoughts.
The endless waves
And rain does swallow—
Yet who is swallowed?
Not the victim to be sure,
For he is constructed
From these thoughts.
Like teeth eating teeth,
Quite impossible indeed—
Are we the Truth?
Our bright and shining Self?
The Watcher of the storm,
The Be-er of experience,
The Light of darkness—
Belief too gets flushed away
With thoughts,
As the old paint of uncertainty
Flakes off, revealing boundless
Space and timeless commotion—
How ironic! This Pure Absence
Has never been extinguished.        
How could it, when it is
Not material?

We already know,
This first and last truth,
How could we not?
For we are This,
And This is all.