Become, and unbecome,
In the altar of love,
Demolish knowledge,
Be a canvas, a sponge,
Let go of need,
Grab hope, for thy beloved,
And thy beloved alone,
Let go of the 'I' and 'you',
Reflect on the non duality,
If you really love,
Do not cheapen the emotion,
Become, and unbecome

There was a river, near  my village home
a perennial silver memory of my childhood
in which my mind  still in hallucinations swims,
a life line once ,no more exists,  because of our sins
alas no one recognized her might,when she was
alive and full, roared  tigress like through ravines.

From above the hills, a girdle of gleaming silver
comely like a village belle on her way to the market,
in that jungle village they never noticed her charm
or the amble through rocky paths and an occasional prance

From the hill roaring aloud she jumped down,
ran through the sand bed in mirth, on  both sides
coconut groves and rice fields performed welcome dance,
but times changed, they daily removed sand in truck loads
as we watched in pain  the river turned to a mere rivulet
one day the river became a myth, a tearful story to tell.

There was a river once for our childhood whims to swim
for beauty in the form of lush green to come, stay near the stream
a river of plenty that we thought was ours  for all the times to come
it's now a distant memory, seems like an unreal  sad dream.

There is a world
beyond the
one
seen on
television screens,
outside the realm
of suicides &
wall to wall 
crimes
where
flocks of
birds are migrating
South in search
of sun &
deer run
across forests
not yet discovered
by anyone  
& though I may
not see it daily it is
this distant world
that saves
me.

Get in a last word, since silence is golden,
then in the end all that is spoken
betrays the honest truths
the value of sharing a meal
sustenance to feel
fulfilled, now that talk is cheap...

Be more profound to take me aback
like a gust of wind through hallowed doors
to the hollows of burial and sage and prayers
where subservience of love
denies the body of its flesh
to please the ephemeral ghosts...

yes, tell me how deep your adoration's lashes
if all the deserts we've traversed
meant as much as the time of my worth
will it bleed--those words for me?
Are your words as bread or food
uplifting in the roots of you?

I am no shepherd nor are you a herd of sheep,
a flock unable to fly without a mind to think
I am just another king like  any like you
the last word at the rabble
a dying flame from the candles drinking wine,
beneath the sky of olives and infinite eyes
here with the stain of un-seeing
in search for a well that will not dry
for a familiar day of kind of rain...


Tell me what's a good word without one
made   by ****** hand of man,
one that is like music / laughter
a celebration's feast
teach me instead,

and please don't preach...

What worth is made when words are bade
like a trader of slaves to whom he's paid,
or a master in his own house at a maid?
Such business is moot in its absolutes,
                 a kiss on the cheek without a word
multiplicitious and astute
obvious in the eyes of company kept
                  brother in the dark I heard wept

A tree in shadows hangs the rotten fruit

Ananke
dangles like most words must do
from the mouth must taste as dung
often done -- invisible daggers to the heart
untruths
then less and less of brotherly caress

nor some kind of familiar can be found
no infinite wonder

the one and only one

You,
whom I have been
preparing to be made new,
to wake from the pain of this blister
these mirages we hunger and run to,
don't speak what I want to know
I already have seen the final show
and words are only words
unheard by the deaf heavens
selective with their ears to cherubs glee
what is found when the One above
or any of the many stars that see
our globe in desert blizzards,

ill regard as plenty as snow
nothing of the kind, or good in kind,
what word equals

the image of everlasting
Oh
just a sip ...?

There are only so many words
in a universe of infinite light
language can be made like jars of clay

simple like breaking (of hearts and day)

if eyes were speaking through our tears
how loud must we shout "Love"
before there's nothing that's enough
to keep us thusly
home not just merely
an EYE to clear / and still, I am
with you                                         here.

Push away the old world words
that once poured into my cup,
I want home to be as heaven is esteemed
take this cup away from me
blood of transcendant poetry...