Invisible Love

A glimmer of love in the darkest heart
Of the violent man who has never been loved
or has received it but not recognised it
Violent, always with the wounded hearts

The pain, a shadow in pitch dark
That comes from
not believing in the love
Of sieving out only the wrongs
and blinding out the tenderness

What human fatality is this?
That walls us up from the obvious love
of the breath that goes in and out
the heart that beats incessantly
the grain that merges with our flesh
the thought that flickers in our mind
We do none of it
And yet we think; no, we believe
That we do all of it
And this is the human predicament
that blinds us
from the obvious love

The sweet hum of creation

Why would it be revealed to me
The one who dwells in the gross
Soaked in desires of success all day
A base seeker who works more than she contemplates 

The hum, a delicate flower
The softest turn of a woman's waist
The tiniest string of an instrument
The delicate whisper of the mother divine

Revealed only to the one who becomes that fine
Soft cradling in the sensitivity of the heart
Quiet listening in the pulsating silence 
The one like air, who can slowly
delicately push aside the veil of the Beloved
to reveal her shy beauty 
till she roars through my being

Fear

The sinister darkness that lurks behind thought
Its weapon, the very water of you it clenches 
The sticky darkness that divides multifold
Tentacles masquerading as common traits

The greed you feel is not your ambition, no sir
Covetousness wrapped in faux freedom of desire
Wanting to eat, engulf, possess-deep in your depths
The very tentacles of fear, distorted even more
of disappearing if there is nothing possessed

The envy you feel is not inspiration, no sir
Pangs in your heart & chest 
Masquerading as fuel to 'do' in the world
The very tentacles of fear, separating you from all
Violence in its mildest hues
though not mild at all, within you.

Pride of Compassion

Watch the swell of pride

that bursts through your chest

a penny worth offering

you gloat your compassion

A high-nose wad to a scrawny boy

The dogs glutton leftovers you toss

delighted pity for the unfortunate friend

a badge of sympathy vulgarly flashed

Watch the bird that nests and feeds
the hatchling till flight
simply, unheeding of return
striving as is needed

no compassion, no frills

Watch the dog that follows you

eats what you offer it

lives and dies for you
with you

no compassion, no frills

Now look at you

The pride you take

In feeling sorry for another

In sharing a wad, some grub

Just because it is rare

doesn't make it valuable

It is a quiet accepting, allowing

compassion is

a soft inclusion 

a silent sorrow

tears of love

and a sliver of gratitude.

Struggle of Defiance

The caustic burn of defiance
Springing an ugly hood
at the whisper of disagreeable
of unworthy, of unpalatable
perverse victim of convenience.

The chains of righteousness
envelop me so
chest filled with burning breath
afraid to breathe out
afraid to let it go
it fills and fills my chest feud and fire.

The righteousness is an argument
a debate one can win
A victory coated loss
Thats what defiance brings

The numbness of acceptance
yearning for unfeeling, unheeding
flow through muddy waters a turquoise fish
untouched, un-needing
dry, unaffected by the waters
or wet, accepting of the waters
either would provide solace
to my tormented soul.

Envious of the stars that are gone
And yet their light burns through
They hold no burden of life
In the glory of death they shine

It's not the misery of things
Nor of questionable ways
The pain of unquenchable thirst
The ache of unending hunger
Frozen paralysis of compulsion
Of the hustle of life and bustle of folk
Smile and smile and accept in grace
Till the pain is comfortable.
Till the ache is home.

Illusory

The twitch of a finger, the gleam of an eye

The shadows that threaten to materialize

A rumble of fear that swallows all thought

The pulse just short of bursting forth.

The conviction that shakes three worlds of lore

That conviction is seeming in most, true only in two folk

One who has seen all there is to be seen

One who sees only that which he wants to see

The latter a madman, the former a hermit.

The madman I see right before me

I see through his eyes, I see in his mind

The conviction of the offering

The conviction that god thrilled at death

That god if cared of your thoughts on him

That which struck down the disagreeing

That god indeed fragile is it not?

Imagined traits, smeared on the pure.

Heavens with buxom angels and hells of fire.

What if heavens had fire and hells had angels?

Is it not that fire purifies and angels corrupt?

When imagination runs wild the sun is the moon

Being alive would be a curse and death a relieving boon

He paused to allow a bustling crowd

Soothened his rapid heart, whispering false solace

He turned his fear to anger at the folk

Mindless tales of anger that had been told

Mindless anger that helped him stay bold

Finger edgy, a quick prayer, the click of a button

Excruciating pain, a scream that stopped before it escaped

He was torn from himself, torn from what he had known

He was left with anger, seething anger

No angels, no heaven, no beauty shall ever be seen

Consumed in anger and alas

The reason for his anger, he would now never know.