Thursday, May 28, 2015


With misery confected,
that state of deep distress,
no hope is resurrected;
the angels won't confess.

Stale become the moments,
hard the heart within,
dry in shining torments;
life no longer sings.

That privilege of being,
immunity of soul,
the grace of inner seeing;
so does the Self unfold.


Thursday, May 7, 2015



Life leads us on with thoughts

and dreams abundant,

Then drags us back to what

this world would be,

Confined in the material and all

we know as physical;

So do we strive for that

which sets us free.

But freedom is yet also

an illusion, a fantasy of something

we perceive, yet all the time it hovers,

as a future, when Now is all that

we can ever be.


Hauntingly the memory
of all we might have been,
poignant and evocative the
dance of heady dreams.

Difficult to separate from
all those hopes and taunts,
riding wings of fantasy;
grief the mind does haunt.

Sudden and destructive
did the impulse rise,
surging in abandonment;
electric, inner fires.

So the moment disappeared,
no chance to linger long,
love did die so slowly;
faint that distant song.

Friday, May 1, 2015

Blind mouths

Blind mouths spew forth
words which cannot see,
devoid of vision distant;
destined never to be free.

Stammering eyes reveal,
in shuttered, false image,
the world as it is not;
deceptive, mind-spillage.

Crippled thoughts spill,
broken, shattered bones,
refusing to find form;
sounding brittle tones.

Bandaged reason sits,
bloodied and forlorn,
madness takes its place;
chaos then is born.