So, since you ask
the civilization have broken down
and man become tyrants for himself
dissevered and deceived
he share his pitiful confusions
sinks into despair
and in atrociously violence
And what to do?
to keep's your own integrity
to respect the sacredness of life
......
Love, aren’t you the one who lights soul’s fire?
My earthly heart gets cold
but I sustain the shivers boldly.
My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys
and shores of universal life
and play with pebbles of destiny.
In the face of an early morning drizzle,
On a fireside earth-throne,
I sit and summon thoughts.
The firewood, red with the suppressed anger of
Smouldering fire,
Crackles constantly
Amid the paying of wages of serenity.
Thoughts and fascination cringe
My breath now pulsated by the throbs of wanton
......
Away from pesky leeches and from
Broken, sad walls,
I strive towards the centre.
Voices are hidden from fallen, spavined horses,
And echoes draped in robes of
Mutiny fly past.
The centre retains the pith of silence.
Heart-murmurs celebrate the only known
......
Eyelids peel away
Pupils enlarge
Neural synapses open
Air slips in my veins
Blood stream widens
Each cell breathes new energy
My heart beats faster
More expansive
......
from the ground
the ceiling looks so much wider
from the ground
its cracks seem much finer
the paint peels -
minute flags, off-white surrender;
the paint peals -
egg shells of heavy footed plunder...
......
Sitting under the magnolia tree in late summer
The sky is a luminous crackle of varnish on an ancient vase.
I am staring up, staring through a creature’s veins,
innumerable shades of verdant gold
sap rushing into and out of cells,
botanical respiration humming
on just the other side
of sight and sound.
The tree says nothing
and I say nothing.
......
Monotony of days this life is.
I am always in awe from it.
Will it ever be worth anything?
Would it ever change a little bit? ...
Away from pesky leeches and from
Broken, sad walls,
I strive towards the centre.
Voices are hidden from fallen, spavined horses,
And echoes draped in robes of
Mutiny fly past.
The centre retains the pith of silence.
Heart-murmurs celebrate the only known
......
In the face of an early morning drizzle,
On a fireside earth-throne,
I sit and summon thoughts.
The firewood, red with the suppressed anger of
Smouldering fire,
Crackles constantly
Amid the paying of wages of serenity.
Thoughts and fascination cringe
My breath now pulsated by the throbs of wanton
......