One day, let's go against the current—let's be different.
Let's break this silence and find our words again.
The world is bound by its rules and laws,a cage of its own design,
So let's deny them all,
And free ourselves from the relentless clamor of everyday life.

One dawn, let's wake and be transformed.
The world won't stop if we rise late,it's true,
But we take too long to shed our rigidity.
And in that time,how many innocent children lose their homes!
How many young hearts surrender their hope,
How many fresh lives are wasted,needlessly!

Perhaps we lack the power to change it all,
Perhaps we have little to give.
But instead of enduring in silence,
Let us choose to be different.
Let us choose to despise the beast in our world,
And let us learn,fiercely, to love again.

~entirely for irina~

in search of perfect cleanliness,
the flowering scented sense,
aura of perfect cleanliness
we write, return, close the book, and
then question our imperfections not fully
soluble, so we lift life's newly soiled loads,
and with detergent pen, erase the old stains,
for the new day's chores, begin and end,
again and again, then again,
this cycling, circling is never fully reversed
our ***** laundry, in poetry, cleansing,
but we bitter bite our own mocking laughs,
for after this poem,
comes ten thousand more
and time, with words more precious
than newly mined gold,
from the land where east meets west,
demands without surcease,
endless re and repolishing,

so by sunlight's glittering
dawn's arrival, we are momentarily healed.
but never ever more fully revealed,
and once more, in next's poem
dawn,
our own re~
cycling never ceases

“It is myth that God questions us. God is Pure Consciousness, reflecting mistakes & well doing. God guides the Soul’s evolution. We face Him-Her when free from garb. To stand ***** is to know that we learnt our lessons, completed our soul contract with Divinity, graduating onto next rung, into a progressive mission or completely merge into Oneness.” GhairoDanielsQuotes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Death is a best friend
she visits often to dissolve old cells
tweak dioxyribonucleic acids  
carrying silver sword and bamboo pipe
to draw breath, pointing to moon
caped in indigo velvet with hood
her whispers are silent breath on
white linen pillow

I invite her to sit on my bed
she admires an octagonal quilt red
removing her cape, accepting offering
of camomile tea, her eyes smiling hollows  hyena, warrior, eagle, dung beetle
all at once, elegantly slow she settles
closer, ******* my ears, cold breezes
ripple down my legs

With sidelong glance she asks :
“So what is your claim to fame ?”
I reply : “I know not a name. Fame is
a shadowy flame, an orange-purple
one flickering to become lame.
All the same, I claim to be the highest
version of what Source intended
nothing more, nothing less.
This is free fame, oxygenated.
That is my game, if insane, let it not
be a shame, or a blame.”
Smiling, she asks next : “How have
you helped fellow humans ?”  

I reply : “With Pluto Sun squared as
a dominant in my Chart, I undertook to
integrate escaping gloom into Light for
Self and others. As God granted Ketu
long periods of rulership over my form
I pulped Self in backwaters, where
angels fear to tread, to be a Presence
for fellow humans.”

Her hollow eyes with high cheekbones
move closer to my face. Sipping from floral teacup, fingers spindly, she asks :
“How ***** will your spine be before
THE ALL ?”
I reply : “Not as ***** as when I practiced kundalini and hatha yoga, though I detect
zero regrets, bereft of debts, slate clean
as an uncooked bean.”

Laughing, she replies that Divinity
will be pleased with my use of poetics
whispering : “Know that your spine will
revert to 21 years when I draw your
breath into mine, to gently carry to
Divine. You will sway on your way
into a ringlet bay of rosy everlasting days.
17 more good cheer years, hear my Dear.”

I watch quick footsteps across the
garden path. A thoughtform follows
slender caped back : “My claim to fame
is to be what ****** desires me to be  
~ Co-Creator of my own destiny.”

Next time Death visits, I will word it this way.

______

*[new poetic form: L&N : Letters & Numbers]

Frankly 7 pots
8 billion odd.. people
gulped by a few banks

They saw her weave
a cross of a martyr's belief
ochre deep strong yet meek
a heart who raises
the dead from sleep
In vain beneath
the falling rain
with a quill dipped in blood
and a word full of peace.

Much better,
Once old enough to lift split alder
To grandfather’s truck bed,
We were taught to retreat
To deeper woods,
Sit hanging over mossy log,
To wipe with fresh plucked leaf.
But beware the nettle
And devil’s club.

does the darjeeling settle at the poem bottom,
drifting, dropping to the base, falling from
the letters above,  struggling to defy gravity,

how would you know, into my tummy go
30+ ounces of caribbean dark aromatic
coffee, tinged with mocha forming
skim milk, ccs, recorded and ordered
for final disbursement

both darjeeling and I, have r~aged older,
my poetry advances in a different track,
the tea will be drained, and the poet
regardless of position let new ones
puddle, hudle sating the cup bottom m,
awaiting further instructions, most likely
drain dying riverdrops, almagamating,
ready to shower the seekers nearby,

DIMASH THE SHEPHERD
(Story of One Sky Conclusion)

I am
Shepherd
Cloaking myself
In God’s soft simplicity
My tasks complete
Songs sung
Light shone
Souls ignited

Each day seven wheels
Revolved their full degrees
Now the Awakening
know that Love is the Strike
of Light on the sleep
of a hundred thousand
years of wrenching knots

I return to You
to dissolve again
in your gentle
Ecstasy of knowing
Yourself as Voice

Each of Your atoms
in a chant or falsetto
resonated in freedom’s
True radiant White

How you ached to know
if You could go further
than planets not yet discovered
You did through each of my
Harmonic breathes

Now I’m done to
cuddle frolicking lambs
and hold my staff
as heaven’s drumstick
It will beat the
silent space between
Resonating genes

You are well pleased
Our art of evolution
continues to vibrate
in every fingertip
each sea-sponge and
Sand grain

Refreshed I will descend
then ascend again
as You instruct
to expose muted layers
My F-sharps alchemising
wolves with nightingales

I bow to You
As I hood !


©GhairoDanielsPoetry2022

SIMPLY YEATS

My verse under Yeats’ carved door
             he merrily chuckled at white
             envelope, sketched butterfly
said he preferred to receive
verses this way rather
than reading them across
post-modern websites

                             a languid phantom

He invited me to an idyllic tea
we savoured small
cheese squares, crumbly
scones watching a squirrel
chomp a cheerful chestnut
                          LOST AND FOUND

          What word can describe
              fleeting images, dreams of poets graduated, yet living on ?
          
                           V A C A N T

….a vacancy that awaits a letter
        wandering ethereal
a word manifesting __on old desk
        a Lover expecting his
Beloved with cherries and hat

                   a shadow across
                   poetic spaces
                   Yeats, gone
                   ye  t, HERE

                       ~~~

It is here at the point where no life exists
where shadows lurk and life is made
while Creation does nothing but watch itself
in a hole that never ends

Ether dances and joke at beginnings of dust
as we bring to life that which longs to smell
misty dew, try luck and fate on stages of illusion

Here we eat pomegranates in custard
apple skin, breathing in salty spice from
pink peas in tunnels of horns
here throats are channels of finality
columns of joy in hope

Here silence is the loveliest sound
sights contest to bloom on trees of golden chandeliers and flimsy nightgowns after
dinner mints

At this point of open fluid blueness
sightless serpents mingle with  lights down
their spines
bracken love is made then broken like
crockery on a shelf overburdened with fear

At the beyond orange magic exists in
hair without roots, round and round
in bones without marrow, mouth to tail
as God puts together noses and arses
makes granite curves with candy floss fingers

Here man is woman, woman man
goddesses in curls and red sequined
slippers witness Tarzan at work eating
pineapple with prickles, tongue to tongue

Here a point becomes the only space
space falls into time, time into circles
numbers into letters, letters into nothingness
while black Persian cats cavort on blankets
of faith

At the beyond things jump and don’t move
spring by standing still, guitar notes run
along in blessed focus, locked in flights
of danger

Here you fall and fall, scream a soundless scream ~ blond lashes in a teacup filled
with **** and *****, where a flame is
not a straw to hang on

At the beyond it is so !