Home
Waking from the wisps of whiteness
Stretch the blue far hills in sun sinking time.
You have tried before to establish a home
Snatched away by the pressing ambitions.
Once, for long counted hours, we called it ours
The neighbour was black who trimmed the hedge
Overcome by this show of kindness
Tea came flowing from frequent cups
Music flowed in irridescent changes
The early morning blueness broke quietly
Meditating into the silence of the harmonies
Snatched away by the pressing ambitions.
Another year and here with no fear we set
Our feet upon the earth and hope
Even with no prospect of succour
Cut off on a far continent
We will somehow prevail but
The mountains stay distant blue and lonely
The valley's green, the air is trembling with nuances of life
The home disappears to a girl's smiles
Snatched away by the pressing ambitions
To each is given a true resting place
One nook and cranny of the world contains
The essential vitamins of peace and good cheer.
It is all green again, the new home transferred
Blue hills, hints of rivers, awakening air
Snatched away by the pressing ambitions.
Meteor trails, follow follow,
On the old blue hills is written
'Our position is south of the moutains
Your course is passing by us
Your home is with the birds.'
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
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Unexpected face
The crisp light of midday, a stillness not here to stay
The evening brings rolling blue murk
The night shows a glimpse of the universe
You cannot rinse the faraway away as quirk
Green of leaf, luxuriant with confident ease
No sounds in the forest sunlight
The stream flows purely clear, reflections sheer
Here in place is life without a blight.
Earth heaped in mounds, obliterating insect sounds
The shape of the nature's face can be changed
But along the slow steam, grass and leaves from a dream
Of cool tranquility show how the mind is guaged.
The colours irridesce finally coalesce
Into the dark of infinity
Climb and jump among the earth works of constant mirth
Feel the touch of reality.
A branch crashes from up aloft into the soft ground
No birds squawk or animals mutter
The tree has cast off a remnant grown old
All without a stutter.
An old branch has crashed across two banks
This life loss was not final, growth is on the limb
A shrill woman's voice amid the dense growth
Echoes her shut offness from within
The heart pines for a soul akin
Malaysia
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Hole into madness
Above the dry scabbed land, far far above,
Return patterns in the sand, there still remains love
Of the leaves for the land, in patterned whirls
The trees grow out from the centering nucleus.
Forced into the earth's face are the straight dry roads
To carry aloft the winged pigeons with their loads
A desperado man scuttles his plane
Along the runway, black scarf waving at others' death.
Beyond the twirlitop hills and the village treasons
A whole state has fallen to the pounding seasons
Of a good five years, for their spirits to show
Smutty black wisps float in the orange purple air.
Far clouds drift into the southern reaches of the inferno
Beyond, too hideous to show, is the sad man's porno
His lewd killing of the earth's soil, plants, animals, peoples.
A grey hole in the clouds leads, disappearing, into greyness.
Flying over Vietnam during the war.
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A walk in the night jungle
To return to the jungle alone and having lost
Your creature comforts, you have to feel your bare
Toleration in the sprawling dark everywhere trees.
To learn your body's earth water, this is the cost.
As the sun goes low, come abroad with me
Come cross the sands swept with tendrils of green
Ascend over fallen trees into the thick growing leaves
Of every shrub, bush, grass, pull them aside, up into the trees.
Already the bright white houses disappear from view
Around you it is all thick green, musty, humid growth
The way is blocked but you can crash through this overgrown path
Climb a tree, see a path big enough for the dog and you.
Wending along the hilltop above the far below stream
Across another thickly profuse hill, beyond more and more
The sky is streaked bright orange, fire yellow, purple.
In the distancing light a crossing of paths, what is your dream?
The dream is of further and deeper into green mystery
This overgrown path among opaque vegetation
Leads excitingly miles, while as far as the horizon
Stretch hills of trees, hills of trees, hills of trees.
A few remnants of a year or a day away are passers-by
But no eye now to watch you on your wandering way
No sound beside the occasional twit of a startled bird
A fleeing rodent, while millions of insects hum shrilly high.
The gathering dusky rich blue, the moon breaking green
In its halo above dark unguent leaves of waving trees
Sweat mixing the body's smells expunges distances
From the swishy leaves while the path stretches over a hill unseen.
Around the curve, beyond a slope, the path goes beckoning
Sheer plunges into distant valleys, far rising slopes
The moon's rays pierce stronger the heavy sweet gloom
You are far removed from man's arrogant reckoning.
The jungle feels the flowing power of walking legs
The rising falling chest has its presence of life
Come to a crossroads in the moonlight and choose
A different way home, what a blue aura the moon spreads!
The trees close in over you and the dog, gone
Is your hegemony of the day, stars announce annihilation
Of limit by their presence from so far outside
The earth world, realise the falseness of man's aplomb.
The dog follows a scent of promise, while you stagger on,
All dark it is, moonlight shows the path to wither away
Luxuriant growth has stolen away your track, you must go back.
Far distant lights urge your seeking steps towards... home.
Malaysia
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Blue for beauty
In the bad times your true friend, only one almost
Has to make you jump into the oblivion of nothing
Leave the little you have, risk all, for what is greater
If it takes a year and more to come, say it was the bad times.
He knew the bad, poverty depression war, looking back I toast
His memory, he saw the upturning luck, months and seasons later
Understood his friend had gone faraway. We shared birth, education
The inbetween that may be different but we are still essentially the same.
Thinking back on a holiday...another new town on a coast
That's strange at dusk, dark mountains along the sky line
Hopes brimming, satisfaction singing to the warm night,
Music and understading with hosts, looking and feeling great.
Able to let it all rip, enjoy, be sated, no need to boast
Of what you might be, can be who you are, depart energetically.
A holiday of tropic sand coasts all new, green and blue with beauty.
It is her we visit in happy times, those fisherwomen shout 'Blue for beauty'
The King's Road, Viti Levu, Fiji Islands
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Sun
The bright white light of understanding dawns in a circle.
From the endless beginning have small adulterations smeared the perfect
comprehension
Of all that passes for time.
A slow leisurely walk produces the facts without an alarm call to the higher spheres.
Quietly and contentedly ambling along the familiar ways produces the strange
feeling all has been known.
These meetings, these situations, are reminders of the uncanny similarity
of everything.
There is no need to gamble on the exchange of love,
For behind all the diffusions created by personality,
Behind the tiny fears blotting out sunlight,
Behind subversions and schemes of idly toying minds,
Is heart.
So there is nothing that can stop you, nothing is dictated.
The clear light of truth shines universally, uninhibited as open sky,
Grey clouds move across this light, diffusing its essential strength,
But diffusing all the same the perpetual source of knowledge, courage,
clarity.
This wisdom is exhibited in trees and flowers, in the smiles of Sunday
promenaders
Beaming with scattered light the wonder they sense under a heavy cloud
of everyday cares.
When you are above in heaven, there is no knowledge of descent,
The commanders of evil have disappeared into the murk of nowhere.
They never existed!
The one true state is the only true state, the remainder is delusion
Harping fears of a mind cut small.
To expand for an embrace of the light of day takes not courage,
but not to be resisted.
The sun does not set but extends its light to other parts,
When the light goes out you have chosen to visit other spheres.
The heaven sent food is a smile on a girl's face.
You realise eventually it is all written on the tender heart.
From The Conjunction of the Sun and Moon
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Moon
The conspiring forces of the moon move growth and also decay
Within the bewitched beams is answer for the sudden changes of a
master's plan.
Awoken with confidence, the personality pauses upon the festival of life
What it is seeking is a tiny ray of correspondence
within the habitual pattern that is suddenly all gone.
The recesses of the mind are drawn out
from the eternal reservoir of hope, and despair.
The inspiration is sword-edged as the knife of truth,
cuts into forms, dissects reasons,
Seeks to impose itself upon raw material life.
Death waits upon the festival to add the reality of the end to the
everchanging present.
It is not we are here for days then gone, nevertheless the phases
are mapped,
The lifes are led in circles, repeating already remembered sequences,
Darting between hope and lack love, reappearing in different guise.
Inspiration comes all unexpected in such homely shapes fled from the mundane
To the higher levels of appreciation within the heart of awe and majesty.
A great temple of wisdom lies still, commanding,
the essential self is stirred by the call of the moon
To reveal its presence, feel its feelings, know its living.
Dashed against a rebuff, hope looms sudden clear in the face.
Doubts vanish in the crystal light of the moon
Pestilences thrive, are reduced to minor disturbances on the visage of time.
Ripples on the water announce in a clerical way the trace of the flow of life.
Moon control of growth leads upwards in spirals, repeating the lessons
Ever more clearly into the stillness of time,
The ending of fixations, the cool encompassing whole.
The shifting cycle of feelings starts to bump you home backwards.
From The Conjunction of the Sun and Moon
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On the way
A station in Uttar Pradesh
On the way to Ganesh Baba Ji.
The new November sunlight
The man dotted with flies
Sprawled out on this
Comfortable wooden bench
Ah!
Feet resting on new rubber shoes
Heels a little sore
The train chugs in
Must be half an hour from now.
The peaceful hum of the chattering
Crowd on the canopy of benches
Trains hissing
Chink of glass of the man
With his brush of reeds
- a good pile of rubbish!
In a minute I shall
Start spilling peanut shells
On the cleared ground
First the poem.
The peanuts a present
From fellow jaundice victim David
San Francisco aspiring saint
A companion on a
Little bit respectable but so calm ashram.
Didn't quite fit in
Asked to go
Disgruntled
Back again on the roads
Of India.
Pack on back
No idea where to go
To Amritsar?
No, go to Delhi
Reach Ambala
Led to dharamsala
The mystery of India
Morning
Glorious
The rising sun
Smoothing the workers
Going to work Punjab.
There he is !
Boliram from Kashmir.
'Ganesh Baba is in Bareilly.'
A message. Divine Providence.
The only man in all India
I wanted to see.
The chuggedy chuggedy train
Is off in half an hour.
Postscript:
The Maharishi waited
Unexpectedly in Bareilly
On to chance
Meeting with American
While journeying
To Darjeeling.
In a remote Bihar village
Hello Ganesh Baba!
From The Sphere of the Moon Goddess
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