Tuesday, September 27, 2016

From my more recent Poetry Blog...

http://onceadrift.blogspot.in/2016/09/speedslow.html


Sunday, July 3, 2016

Morning Epiphany

I had an epiphany
this mornin'.
Was funny,
cause I was thinkin’,
‘Soulmate’ must be
the most misunderstood
word ever...

Cause the Soul ain’t that
hollow space you feel inside you
that you try to fit
another person into.
Ain’t that round hole
you wanna put your
square peg into.

Or is it the other way around?
Too stoned to remember...
Anyway,
like I was sayin’
I had an epiphany
this mornin’
about how the Soul’s
a misunderstood thin’.

The Soul, you see
comes from ol’ Latin’s Sol
-          The Sun
The original ONE
and from its being sole
came the idea
of a oneness
that binds us all
And that
is that idea
that Soul
we call.

T’s not just an idea,
though,
cause,
Ol’ Latin’s Spiros
from whence came
Spirit
is just the Air
that’s everywhere;
the ONE
that all of us share

Ain’t now the picture whole?
Since Spirit’s
another name
for Soul!

So if Soul
is the oneness we share,
like the Spirit
that we also call Air,
Doesn’t that make
all of us
each other’s
Soulmate?

Monday, April 18, 2016

Sometimes

Sometimes
I feel
like the only good
that Good
ever does
is seek out Evil
and do all kinds of evil
to Evil
in the name
of Good.
 

Monday, March 14, 2016

Walled-in

I built walls
to keep people out.
I ended up
closed inside.

Imprisoned thus
in my own devise,
I long
for the world outside.

Artists in the dark...



We are all
unconscious artists;
constantly, tirelessly
recreating an entity
or piece of art
that we inherently identify
with ‘I’
– always trying to better
this ‘I’
according
to our own
or society’s
perception
of the perfect
individual.

These pieces
of art
that are
ourselves
are always
in this process
of never-ending
change
because of the
same striving
that forms
the core
of our being
– survival instinct.

Somehow
we have it
in our psyches
that it is
a limited world
– that not all
of us
are going
to survive it.

And so
we strive;
so we may
survive.

Friday, March 11, 2016

The Silence

I’m rediscovering the silence I was yet to discover before you toddled into my life.

I’m rediscovering it only now,
when I see you stand facing that door –
the Exit sign illuminating that expression on your face –
that one that betrays the intrigue of what you already see
or of what you hope to see
beyond that ominous sign…

The knot that formed
when we held hands
and watched the horizon
as we raced through life
in the certitude of being still knotted together
when we get to that horizon
is not anymore
a knot

And the madness!
The madness that lit up my life
like the great big bang
is now that eerie silence
that may have been
– for a fraction of a moment before that bang –
most deafening!

Why do I fear losing you to the silence
when silence is what I seek to discover?
Is it because I fear my silence
is not your silence;
that since our silences are not bound
together in earth’s womb
like entangled roots of banyan
trees, the silences we seek
may kill 'Us'?

Monday, March 23, 2015

A Fool

He ‘s a fool
He knows not that the ball of flames that lights up his days is the Sun.
He just calls it the Ball of Flames -
His Ball of Flames.

He’s a fool
He thinks that he can will it to do as he wishes; 
that he can will it to burn brighter, 
or hotter, 
and that he can send it to the one he loves.

He’s a fool
He thinks that the one he loves has gone so far away 
that she may not have a ball of flames to light up her way; 
that she may have nothing to brighten her day

He’s a fool
He wills that ball of flames – 
his ball of flames - 
to go to his loved one; 
to be with her as long as she needs it; 
to stay with her if that is her wish. 
Or to send it back to him when she’s had her fill

He’s a fool
He would wait in the darkness that his ball of flames left behind
But the darkness around him shall stay outside
Cause inside his light burns bright from the thought of his loved one bathed in the warmth of his ball of flames.


He’s a fool….

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

The Question


There seems to be an Answer out there that I do not know the Question to.
It just seems so sometimes – As if I were asleep when that particular basic of life was taught to everyone else.
It was a doubt at first, and a tinge exciting – like the anticipation right before opening a long-unopened present that I had left unnoticed.
The seeds that sowed that doubt in me have since given rise to a tree that has forked in directions aplenty.
And whether or not I climb this tree in search of that question, this tree will continue to cut through air at its own pace.
The initial excitement has given way to doubts that niggle, but then the curiosity to know is overwhelming.
While the doubter in me tells me that The Question is a figment of my ever-confusing and misleading – yet vibrant – imagination,
The traveller in me tells me that the bus could leave any moment now,
And that I have to jump on it.
And then there is this kid in me – the one that has shown a lot of grit, determination and maturity in his refusal to vanish despite my body having grown into a man – who keeps pondering what The Question would be about:

Would it be about the grand illusion called life or about the poignant reality of death?
Maybe – as someone just told me – we would, in dying, wake up from life...

Would it be about love – that slippery eel that we seek in spite of the promise of pain?
Maybe it is just lust - with complications...

Would it be about lust – that strong urge of the primitive animal in us that we hide beneath layers or masks of civility and legitimize by calling love?
Maybe it is just love - without complications...

Would it be about pain – that merciless monster that, strangely, seems to live within?
Maybe it is just Karma with a spanking stick...

Would it be about learning itself – most of which we either forget or later wish to unlearn?
Maybe we only think we know what we think we know...

Would it be about the mind or the soul?
Maybe they are both one and the same...

I act like a grownup in spite of my ignorance, 
And tell him that maybe the pursuit of The Question will be futile,
But it will surely be an order parallel to the otherwise random journey that life is.
And maybe many other questions will reveal themselves along the way;
And with some of them, answers.