Thursday, September 29, 2011

Of beauty, drawn.

I disapprove of the disgusting,
tire of the wasted and overdrawn,
I reprove of the repulsive,
and will ever choose glee over glum.
And I will speak of the wonder,
write missives of true love,
For if I sing of the darkness,
and neglect the light above,
the fiery stars of understanding
in this black night, will never be sung of.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Whether peasant or king

Whether a peasant or a king, 
it will all amount to nothing,
if you don't give more than you receive,
seek justice in everything,
help others to succeed,
and have the courage to believe.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Ready to be mined

It is a mystery and a paradox
whether talents are born, or whether brought,
For a child uneducated, cannot
speak of a statue, from two ugly blocks.
But that same ignorant child, has beauty
inside, hidden within the outer wild,
for minds are deep mines, with gems beyond worth
emeralds, sapphires and rubies gleaming,
concealed behind all the dross and the dirt.
We need skilled prospectors to tap into
that wealth, teachers who will find the gold veins
and share them with the world.  For without help
none of us would survive, let alone reach
into the unknown beyond our eyes.

Where is our skilled prospector, with silver 
in her smile? For diamond kids are waiting,
ready to be mined.

Monday, September 26, 2011

The international eye

The international eye is tunnel-blind,
for if you distract its gaze in one direction
with a pomp and a whirl, or a impolitic expression,
it cannot see more important blights.

So many are hungry for a better life,
why must we fight about such trivial lines?
We are all parents to the world's orphans,
Our children desire comfort in this darksome night.

So I must sing, to all my co-guardians:
We must forgive the past and live in the present,
but remembering the future all the while,
For to solve the global problems, 
we must close our eyes to all these distractions,
and fix our inner sight upon what's right,

To find that best solution, we must
possess an all-encompassing eye.

We must refocus the international eye.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Taking Risks (or, the only gambling I do is with my life)

Calm down, set it all aside
because you must know
that all will be all right.
For even or odd
you will always win the wager,
when you find profit
from everything in life.

A gambler risks nothing
when he places bets
with the Concourse on High.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

A cascade of colors

What is the color of fun?
Is it blue and green,
Like warm days in the sun?
Or maybe white and yellow,
that drives away the mellow?
Or red and orange circles
that lasso life's hurdles?

And what about black and plum?
Are they really so droll and dumb?

Or perhaps it's every color,
each one equally as fun?
For it matters how we paint it,
as every color can be tainted
if we mix in drops of dolor
before we're done.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Frozen before those Words

Sweet intonations resonate in ruby halls,
Reverent praise of the One desired by all,
Before whose steps, the universe unfolds,
Whose Essence is a mystery forever unknown,
As we are only flowers in a wondrous Paradise,
our petals frozen by the power of those Words,
like precious gemstones, perfectly cut icicles,
And we can only melt and pray and intone:
O Thou who art my God! 
O Thou who art my Lord!

This poem is partly inspired by the following quote from the writings of the Bab, which can also be found by following this link

O People of the earth! By the righteousness of the One true God, I am the Maid of Heaven begotten by the Spirit of Bahá, abiding within the Mansion hewn out of a mass of ruby, tender and vibrant; and in this mighty Paradise naught have I ever witnessed save that which proclaimeth the Remembrance of God by extolling the virtues of this Arabian Youth. Verily there is none other God but your Lord, the All-Merciful. Magnify ye, then, His station, for behold, He is poised in the midmost heart of the All-Highest Paradise as the embodiment of the praise of God in the Tabernacle wherein His glorification is intoned. At one time I hear His Voice as He acclaimeth Him Who is the Ever-Living, the Ancient of Days, and at another time as He speaketh of the mystery of His most august Name. And when He intoneth the anthems of the greatness of God all Paradise waileth in its longing to gaze on His Beauty, and when He chanteth words of praise and glorification of God all Paradise becomes motionless like unto ice locked in the heart of a frost-bound mountain. Methinks I visioned Him moving along a straight middle path wherein every paradise was His Own paradise, every heaven His Own heaven, while the whole earth and all that is therein appeared but as a ring upon the finger of His servants. Glorified be God, His Creator, the Lord of everlasting sovereignty. Verily He is none other but the servant of God, the Gate of the Remnant of God your Lord, the Sovereign Truth.  

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

A penultimate day

For today was a penultimate day,
Today, there was no easy synonym,
no casual one word comparisons,
to describe this carnival of feelings,
and perhaps, today was my next to last,
for one can never know our ultimate end,
even if there really is such a thing,
for tomorrow is but a hopeful dream,
and 'tis something we all fail to foresee.

But before I end this play's last scene,
I will offer this lyric, joyfully:
right here, is where I choose to be;
right now, is when I will be free;
right words, is what I'll try to speak;
right choices, is how I will seek.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Formula of all things

I admit my mind tends to melancholia
romanticism, aphorism; metaphor and motif
But what I need today is basic algebra
and all these quadratic equations confound me.

Thus the quandary, born of philosophizing:
is't possible to ever alter our habits of thinking?

For the strong mind seems made more of mettle
than of malleability,
and how soon do comforts of thought become our caging,
our songbirds now jailbirds of our own making,
and we, gazing out behind bars born from stubborn ability, 
the golden keys of truth, just beyond our reach.

But enough of this digression, back to the question:
Is math the path to my mental freeing?
For 'tis nothing but a number, not a rare wonder,
yet there's something so elusive about it,
something so reminiscent of divinity,
For patterns are everywhere, even in our speaking,
and if we can quantify the pattern,
can we find the ultimate matter,
the factor, the sum, the product of all linkings,
will we in truth discover, that not found through any other--
the formula that defines you, the universe, and me:
the formula of all things.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Neither rest nor violent test

I seek no sinecure,
neither do I seek convulsion,
I seek rather spirit cures,
to my life's worst compulsions.

For neither rest, nor violent test,
is my exhortation,
but rather peacefully stressed,
serving all creation.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

A simple consolation

I see only two options:
courage or apprehension
though both do make me anxious--
the latter from not knowing,
the former from comprehension.

But at least with fearlessness,
possibilities are created,
for there's no life without living,
for flowers must open
to catch the Sun's shining,
and we will not find our feet
if they do not walk free,
whether our path leads to glory 
or to debility.

So I will take this step,
and hope for confirming,
whispering to my heart, 
this simple consolation:

My dear, you must
breathe in the world's choosing,
for action causes reaction,
movement into matter.
So be grateful for all
that you've been given--
and may only panic 

be forbidden.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Unrequited love (for everyone)

I'll sing a little song
   for everyone
Of unrequited love
   for everyone
Of chances failed to won
   by everyone
Of hope remaining strong
   for everyone
And with this song I sing
   for everyone
A new life will I bring
   to everyone
Of love without reciprocity
   from anyone
But given generously
   to anyone 
For transformation can only be
   for anyone
through the act of giving love
   to everyone
and not through that received
   from anyone
Renewed by the act of loving.

So hear this song I sing
   my anyone
As my unrequited love
   for everyone
is not really meant to live
   in anyone
but is rather meant for me
   and everyone
for in the love I give
   to everyone
will endless love I receive
   from everyone
for love lives immortally
   in ever the One

Friday, September 16, 2011

Haiku Friday: Children without a home

All these empty stores
the bitter taste of chocolate
children without home


Sitting in a mall
thinking about child labor
where have our hearts gone

Thursday, September 15, 2011

my diamond dream

Once upon a cool September,
I walked within an Autumn breeze,
Born anew with eyes unclouded,
Knowing what it was to Be.

And in that moment of clarity,
I glimpsed a broken glass upon the pavement,
the ones so often seen,
but to me, cut open, full of hoping,
those clear colors were
pure poetry. 

I marveled at the variations
the subtleties previously unseen
I saw Beauty
and felt blessed to live and breathe.

But these days, my heart weeps,
Oppressed by all this weather,
Blinded by all this heat.
Where is my cool September?
Where is my Autumn Breeze?
Why are my smiles,
trained for polite courtesy?

I fear that I have shattered
my new vision, 
so crystalline,
that in my blindness, I will lose
my crystal heart's 
broken peace.

And so I come, and write,
and I cry, and I sing.
And through that tearful melody
I am washed clean.

I remember that the purest metal
is born from the greatest stressing.

And though my hope may feel 
blackened, and dusty
I must take those once-sparkling pieces
and cast them into the fire,
for in those flames, will I refine, 
will I find,
my diamond dream.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

a bit politic, but not partisan

I'm thinking about our leaders,
you know, the ones who speak so well,
and the suffering that stems from these keepers,
when neither greed nor pride is quelled.

For they offer so many sounding promises,
which in the end are grounded in abyss,
and though they separate us into provinces
they neglect the basis of justice:

As we desire leaders who are unselfish,
who love you and not what you can do,
who mercy and equity equally cherish,
and who will only speak what's true,

So, please cease all this meaningless argument,
no matter which party you choose,
we all seek a united parliament,
whose conduct we need not excuse.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

in a world turned inside out

in a world turned inside out
we'll be swimming in cool seas
instead of choking on dusty skies
and all our molten cores will be
somebody else's sunlight

in a world turned inside out
we'll be hearing our heartbeats
instead of staring in each other's eyes
and all our inner sores will be
exposed to a forgiving sight.

in a world turned inside out
where everyone seeks to please
instead of machining their own disguise
and all our foul wars will be
given up, without a fight.

in a world turned inside out-
I wanna sleep there, tonight.

Monday, September 12, 2011

never seen

A rose by any other name
would still seem as sweet.
But would a rose never seen
still seem as saccharine?

But here is the true game,
'tis a dream we cannot meet--
For there never was a rose
that was never truly seen.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

A mighty bunny

Today is the beginning of the end,
and the end of the beginning,
for seventy-two years, on average
is but a hare's breath away,
and soon we will leap into a new scene,
spinning cotton tails and dancing on charmed feet.

But until then, 
if I am to live all these rabbit days on burrowed time,
in a world full of warren & endless littering,
(indeed, the flames of such voracious kindling
matched only by relentless preying),
then I will resolve to be that trickster, 
a bugging bunny or a jack aloping,
fooling the witless hunter
besting the luckless coyote,
or perhaps I'll be that black beast of Monty, 
the bane of Grailing, Gawain, 
and the Python's armory.

For this coney will conquer,
through two sets of incising teeth-  

As I am a Mighty Bunny,
I will not let death hound me.

For ease of reference, as you may have developed an inexplicable notion to watch this scene:


Saturday, September 10, 2011

reflections on an empty hall

If I were to walk in heaven's halls
would my footsteps echo against empty walls?
For so many think that they only know the path
that all others are wrong and will incur mighty wrath.
And such a thought tears my very heart
for we were never ever meant to live apart.
And certainly our Maker is not so exclusive
that the right direction would be so elusive.
Rather, divine power sparks from many a course
and it doesn't matter which outlet you source.
So do not think that one possesses the answer,
neither the other enlightened Masters, forswear,
For God's purpose is to reunite with us all,
to educate our spirits, assist us when we fall.
And so many teachers have been sent our way
to tell of the Love and the needs of the day.
So open your heart and hear the shepherds singing
in our heavenly home, the bells of many ringing.
And we will live and die together as brothers
never alone, but ever helping each other.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Thursday, September 8, 2011

with You

I am so tired
my body
so contorted
such unnatural images
my feet,
swollen, twisted
no longer able
to carry the weight
of my burdens,
and I,
so alone,
so naked, 
so broken,
can do nothing
but rest on the floor
on the cold dusty tile
that surrounds my everything,
and bow my head
and sing:

O my Creator
O my Maker
O my Beloved
O my Protector

Protect me with thy Protection
Love me as thy Beloved
Make me a pure maker
Create in me a new creation,

Then will my pain be stilled
Then will my soul be stirred
Then will the warmth of Thy love heal my joints, untwisted
And I will be clothed in robes of Thy glory.
And I will stand on this earth

I am Thy creature O my God
I am never alone
as long as I am
with You.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

as Love

that overwhelming emotion,
that self-same devotion,
that fervor, enchantment,
that joy

that fondness more than friendship,
that obsession near to worship,
that passion, strong affection,
so coy

and so many words to describe it
this flickering flame so often sung--
 the very best thing about it,
'tis there's no best way about it,
there's no way to tell of it wrong:

for what I sing of today,
and every day, in my way,
is that wonder that is known
as Love.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

a Good night's rest

The eve does swell, as stars do knell,
And we will daily be put to the test,
But all is well, and ends as well,
When we attain our good night's rest.

Monday, September 5, 2011

the look within; the book within

Come, cut me open, pull me apart like a book,
peer right through the flaws of my skin,
browse through my pages, have yet another look,
I want to show you the gems writ within.
First you'll find compassion, born from life's hooks,
tests either gifted or twisted from my sin,
Next there's dedication, a Will few have shook,
to do what needs be done, whether lose or win,
Love there is too, like a sweet refreshing brook,
As are so many a virtue, torrentially flowing therein,
But underneath it all, there's faith in all nooks,
for without Faith, I never will be, nor ever have been.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

freedom from self-doubt

Desiring independence, 
from all self-doubts,
Seeking forgiveness, 
for my old pouts,
Saying good riddance, 
to those inner bouts,
Freed from hindrance,
I'll know no rout.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

The matter of [he]art

Turned thirty-one paces,
running from the start, 
tried to hide my traces,
hoping to stand apart.

But at end of exposition, 
waited the matter of my art,
she was a silent musician,
anxious to play her part.

Discontent with the silence,
with the check and the chart,
she assailed with unseen guidance,
shuffled hesitation in a cart. 

Now through all the troubles,
the poison and the dart,
I'm casting out light bubbles,
catching discarded hearts.

Friday, September 2, 2011

Thursday, September 1, 2011

A Spiral of Fate (And a Tea Date)

If I could know the future,
divine it from a crystal ball
what wounds would I suture? 
what wonders would I appall?

But what if there is no fate,
only what I choose?
How am I assured I will always win, 
and never lose?

And if it's not fate, 
but the options I selected,
what about the wake--
the outcomes unexpected?
for choice conjures consequence,
cause and effect always related,
directed perhaps by providence, 
melodies invisibly orchestrated.

But all of this suggests
that destiny plays throughout.
And if there's no fate but destiny,
I'm not sure what I'm singing about. 

Ah, I am getting dizzy 
from this pointless sophistry,
Tonight, such spirals I can do without.
So, I guess I'll just go brew myself 
a cup of hot tea,
and hope that someday, 
I will figure it out.