to a theater near you
or your flat screen: live murders, usually
mass, sometimes children

sorry, no 3D,
for you see, that might be
too graphic, for some

no actors required
for the wild world's the stage
phone cams abound

stick around, for
a double feature, without
leaving your seat

for before the blood dries,
we'll mute the cries, and show you
the next slick slaughter

Over by the wild fields, crossing wired fences
climbing into view, we saw the sandhill cranes
like airplanes, impossibly winged
they weaved in and out of sight
stalking tall amid the grassy screens
prehistorically made and in the green
of murky shallows to wade
warming in the sun, they come
returning every year
and we can feel the air move
in a giant swoop, a flapping wave
breathing heavy winged
we sighed, at their precarious lift off
the feathery snow of sky
alas, the distant birds 
silver streaking by.

There’s a strange cold, appraisal with a straight and steady stare
Which leads a man to wonder, exactly what is happening there,
Leads a man to ponder if it’s even now worthwhile
To persevere with contact with the rudeness and the guile?
It all leaves me apprehensive whilst examining askance
This peculiar reaction to my pleasant, frank advance?

What’s the ****** story here, right up and down the Coast,
Where initial stiff behaviour paints appallingly, the host?
Perhaps there’s cold distain for all the people of the North
Or inadequacy’s pink finger wagging guilty, back and forth?
Perhaps the ****** weather with its constant moody pall
Has afflicted them with gloominess, which could explain it all?

Geographic separation…that’s the answer, I suspect
With the hand of subjugation interfering, if correct?
And the constant ****** hardship and disaster at the mines
With suspicion they’ve been cast adrift to weather their hard times?
And the lack of any sympathy to coalesce at best
In a resultant indifference, now directed at the rest.

But…..
There’s a funny turn of fortune here for after a short while
Indifference turns quite pleasantly towards a welcome smile,
Communication warms to a chortelled stream of fun
And the beaming face indicates an acceptance has begun.
Just as soon as you acquiesce to a personable degree
And identify yourself as being one with them, you see….
The Coasters will embrace you with uncommon earthy grace,
And it’s Identified so easily, by the grin upon your face.

M.
Karamea
Wild West Coast of the South Island of New Zealand.
11 May 2016

Though I age with bodys' warp
Malfeasance in its' ancient walk,
Yeah, though I sag to feel those pains
A spark within this conciousness remains...
Within a fizzing psych, enthrals...
Where birth and death's transition calls...
As I exult with joyous shout
Now having gleaned what it's about...
This BEING...with its' lemon tang
This laughter...as the blackbird sang

Beneath a magic sky of blue
My incandescence glows for you.
M.
16 June 2016

(For darling Janet)

Insanity watched by these eyes far away
Sees the tail wag the dog in a deathly, cruel way,
Sees the Gun Lobby wield such a formidable grip
Holding Nation to ransom and shoot from the hip,
Forcing public opinion to heel and rescind
Any right to renege on the madness infringed…
Orlando, Kileen Sandy Hook and Fort Hood
Killing randomly, callously….not understood!
Little children, students, shoppers and cops
Loud bark of the rimfire till emptied and stops!
A terrible silence, warm stench of the blood
Cold terror emanates out and above…
Madness accelerates, reaching a SCREAM….
While political acolytes adjust…to be seen.

M.
Auckland and the world watching a civilization burn.
13 June 2016

Dear friends , this is an old poem of mine which was composed after I learnt that one of my favourite Hollywood actor Richard Gere had become a Buddhist and believed in Zen Philosophy. So having read about Zen, I composed in a simple format about the same. Hope you like it. Thanks, - Raj.


                    ZEN PHILOSOPHY
With roots buried deep in soils of Ancient India,
And watered by the exotic blend of three different
cultures;
Reflecting the mysticism of India, the pragmatism
of the Confucian mind, and the Taoist’s love of
naturalness and spontaneity,
Buddhism bloomed and blossomed into an exotic
flower called 'Zen Philosophy'!

In 475 AD a pupil of Buddha called Bodhidharma
went to China.
There the Mahayana School of Buddhism mingled
with Chinese Taoism, which evolved into Chan
Philosophy!
'Chan ' derived from the Sanskrit  word 'dhyana',
which meant 'silent meditation',  -
Through which the Buddha attained enlightenment
and salvation!
Later, in 1200 AD this Chan philosophy travelled to
the shores of Japan,
Where 'Chan' got translated to 'Zen' by its many
followers and fans!
ZEN is the art of meditation to achieve inner awakening,
To gain intuitive knowledge, highlighting the inadequacy
of logical reasoning!
It therefore advocates the practice of 'zazen' or 'sitting
meditation',
For acquiring inner awakening through silent
contemplation!

ZEN could be practised in our daily life,
Without entering a hermitage, leaving behind your
family or wife!
'Gain the naturalness of your original true nature',
-  preaches the Zen Teacher through meditation,
'Rather than through mere faith and devotion,
which is contrary to Zen notion.'
'One must awaken to this present moment to feel
this life,
And not waste time in speculations of an Elusive
After-Life’!
The 'Enso' or the ‘circle’, is the Zen symbol which is
often deployed,
Symbolising Enlightenment, Strength, the Universe,
and the Void!
With this 'expression of the moment ' the Zen Philosophy
starts,
And today the ‘Enso’ is also the symbol of Expressionist
Art!
Never ask the Zen Master 'What is Zen, when, or how? ',
For he will always tell you, - 'Zen Is The Instant Now'!
                                                      - Raj Nandy, New Delhi.

on the verge of wilderness
imminent silence*

welcome
the sun stroking
peaks aglow
the thundering falls
mist-kissed rain
the solitude
so rarely reached
too often breached

stillness loosen
untamed words
in the native tongue
before thoughts
unspoken
became yours
mine
ours

to the wild
bear these
cryptic symbols
scrawled on
my halved heart
tokens of longing
succor
for the lost

Dad looked up and stared at me; His blue eyes aging, but still clear.
“Reflection, Son. Reflection. It’s like I’m looking in a mirror.
When I look at you, I see myself, about twenty years ago.
I’m on the final laps of life, you have a few to go.
We don’t communicate so well; It’s hard to tell you how I feel,
But now I’m feeling pretty scared, and I sure hope that Heaven’s real.
I made a list of things I learned; I hope you understand,
If I had done a better job, I’d have been a better man.”

“Go 60, don’t go 80. You’ll still get there way too soon.
Turn the TV off at night, watch the clouds drift past the moon.
Tell your wife and kids you love them; Use every chance to hug them tight.
And listen to the crickets and the tree frogs sing at night.
Life is like a movie; There’s a large supporting cast,
Surround yourself with love and friendship, they’re the only things that last.
Don’t be too ******* others; And give yourself a break,
Maybe, Son, it’s not too late to learn from my mistakes.”

“The doctor thinks the cancer’s back, and there’s nothing he can do.
I guess I understand it, after what I put my body through.
Your Mother and I discussed the end – one of us would be the first.
I can’t bear to talk about it, but watching her die was the worst.
She was a special woman; Now she’s waiting up above.
At least I hope that she is waiting, I know I’ve been hard to love.
I’d much rather she was sitting here, my ashes blowing to the wind.
But if there’s a silver lining, it’s that I’ll be with her again.”

“You kids are what we’ve left this world. You are our legacy.
I hope you got the best of her, and not so much of me.
Look at me as if you see your own reflection in a mirror.
Heed the ever-present warning, ‘Things may be closer than they appear.’
I’m tired, and old. I’ve made mistakes, but I worked hard, and did my best.
When God gives me a final score, I hope the good outweighs the rest.
Reflection, Sons, and Daughter. Reflection is the key.
God give you strength and courage to change - based on what you see.”
PwL 5/18/16

I am cold
Cold and empty
I have emerged from the void
Once again
Into the safety of emptiness
And the comfort of the cold
Hiding behind manic mantras
To ward off madness

You see, I shook the memory tree
In search of inspiration
Stories from the past
To amuse or provoke
But when you shake that cursed tree
Not all the fruit that falls is good
And one memory leads to another
Like a row of terrible dominoes
Leading to long forgotten
And deeply hidden
Traumas

                                     By Phil Roberts