I haven't posted, guess it's the right time ;-)

[Guest guest]

Yes Arvind, husbands/wives/children/close friends/family are the most

efficient/proficient to snap us out of Bliss, the question is how

long does it take to return. More often then not, after a good cry,

and/or a mere 'noticing' that I am 'outed' so to speak, is enough to

notice my body in bliss or not. ;-) just my experience,

however, 'yours' may not have the same mileage. ;-)

 

 

 

DAYBREAK

 

 

The blue hours rolled me off his tongue

into my morning skin,

still pulsating from some unknown ecstasy

I must be the whore of the universe,

sleeping with all the world's Lovers,

I am awakened, stretching all cat-like,

I notice my breathing sounds like a purr,

my heart-engine is accelerating, racing

I am

glowing in a golden

Mona Lisa-like smile.

 

 

 

ROLLED, SHINING AND TATTOOED

 

 

The empty mirror's reflection chases me,

cobwebbed memories stir inside lost

horizons in my mind, having traversed

lands near and far, having come down from

Arunachala, where books of all shapes and sizes

fell with heavy thuds and ovations,

flowing now like a placid cool river in my

arteries and veins, like an unpolished marble block

I am giving life to an alabaster statue

--light shines through--

Isis and Sehkmet fall from my black kohl-rimmed eyes.

 

I am rolled in papyrus,

written in Sat-Chit-Ananda

I will tattoo your symbols above my left breast

or on my pubic bone,

I am growing feathers

from my pores and soon the vultures inside

will resemble me,

will pick clean the last marrow,

empty.

 

 

 

THE GAP

 

In the context of global warming, in flames of War,

and countries held in abeyance from proliferating war machines

of nuclear proportions,

in a world full of anger and fear,

where killing is the answer to a prayer of winning,

where death is the likelihood of ethnic cleansing and

sending one to hell on earth for being an 'infidel' or 'sinner'

please tell me

who is the one who can turn back the suffering of humanity

dying in the throes of hunger or Aids, or living in poverty

either

self-inflicted or living as the 7th generation,

unable to walk away and out into the light,

a distance of monumental and smaller distortions

mind, bones, unbending

to a reality that includes spiritual Being,

real and of utmost consequence in

becoming heart-felt and heaven-scent wafting

to an inner reality, the truth, the whole truth, sweet like

mild and honey, manna from heaven,

the living consciousness of the One and Only God,

 

I am just a poet, with nothing but these words to embrace

You and love You, ever close in my heart,

I can not Touch or see You,

though

perhaps if you can feel me, these words from my

bleeding fingertips, I shall have traveled far enough...

 

 

 

ROSE

 

I am a rose,

held in unknown hands,

torn between two Lovers,

one is unrequited

I am gasping for air

like a pale fish out of water

never knowing the wetness of my petals,

glistening in the wonder and

melancholy of angels,

bewildered,

I am a wildflower,

 

my other Lover is a song

I have yet to sing

basking in sunlight,

like Basho's frog,

we jump

we splah

we taste saltwater

Flies,

enraptured in the colour Amber,

now released

in an ancient pond.

 

Love Light,

Ana