1
I see you, ya
I may be finger-punching
my smart phone at the dining table -
but darling, I see you, yeah
We’re seated at the table
you say something
but you think I’m listening to
Taylor Swift on Youtube
True - but hey,
I see ya, I hear you
I hear both of you
I multiply, I multi-task you see

2
I’m walking along the shops
I’m pushing the pram
with my baby inside
and I’m updating status
on the phone too
and getting that download –
but hey, stranger round the corner
I see you, ya, don't ya worry; yeah I see
my baby and I see you
stranger round the corner –
but hey, watch where your going

3
hey - I see you guys, I see you
no doubt all day I sit
in my couch tapping away
on my new supersize phone
but I’m smart hey – I see you guys
I see you my darling at the kitchen –
get me another coffee, will ya
And I see the kids glued to their sets
and little Toby our kitten
curled at my feet – why, thank you
for the coffee;
darling, can you
put a few cans of beer in the fridge –
see? I see ya, yeah…I see you all

You are the book written by the mystic eternal,
in sub atomic particles of each and everything
after transcending the limits of time,
on the wings of the thought in the primordial core,
that witnessed the seeds being sowed in the beginning.

I am entrenched in the inner urge of the spread of everything,
the surge of cosmic mind, all the five elements
the Brahman, most sublime, omnipresent,
at once, inert and omnipotent, a feat one of a kind
the waves of music, the subtle "ÄUM" containing all,
even when the symphony begins, and climbs to the crescendo
when self and the Master, my cosmic significant other,
merge in YOGA, the ocean, the confluence of consciousness.

Dear Algebra Teacher -
stop asking us to find
your X
We can’t help you
if you mess it up

Next time, treat your partner nice
so you don’t have
to bring your personal problems
to class

So stop asking us to find your X;
we don’t know if you’ll ever find her
and we got a feeling your X
is never coming back
and really -  before you ask -
we don’t know Y either

I just stood transfixed, letting her eyes light
the smothered wick in me that needed the oil of love
with  anxious stutter I asked, "Is your name Grace?"
"It really is, you are right there, but pardon me
I am Grace Fallen" I took it as a joke and smiled,
"Dear fallen flower, your grace resurrects my crucified spirit"

I have seen them all, blooms, perfect, fragrant,
the ones that catapult one to momentary bliss
with a wink,  a word that touches somewhere tender
or share love, fresh like butter, that seems gushing from the depth
that not even  expect any kind of reciprocation,
blowing like fragrant  breeze, caressing drooping trees.
Women with such luminance ,bless their ilk
whom one only could think as incarnates
came down  to lift this miserable world
up from the quagmire, the ***** pit  it has fallen
because of the absence of feminine grace in abundance

Gather his things, don't mention his name
I'm afraid he's gone for a burton
Someone saw him go down in flames
He's not coming back that's for certain

There is no time for grieving now
We'll shut him out of our minds
Keep him in our memory though
In the hope of better times

Tomorrow a lad will take his place
Newly trained, freshly faced

We'll tell him everything's fine