~~~~


just google it plain,
see it in Wikipedia,
just that number

613

every number an association.
this one magical, mysterious,
and born to this,
my tradition.

613 commandments in the law

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/613_commandments

but today I come to speak of but one commandment.
first among a peculiar
613

not listed amidst the
thou shalls,
thou shall not,
of which,
many have I transgressed,
many have I blessed.

today,
******* the heels on my fast first
anniversary conclusional,
noticed that I had now
613
followers.

a young man,
from across the oceans,
from New Delhi,
honored me thus,
what a delight,
how easily these god and man-made
geographical boundaries crossed,
my spirits raised.


Follower,
how I detest that word.

I could no more lead than follow.

let us be neutral observers,
let us be recognized sharers,
let us be hand holders,
let us be mutual lovers,
let us be but friends.

root out this
servile attitudinal,
sacrilege word.

I do not celebrate this irony,
but oh yes, oh yes,
I do I understand this election
as a commandment,
a sacred obligation,
not of my asking,
but of my anointing.

The first and foremost poetic law.

write to
levitate and elevate
the human spirit

all the rest is naught.

My desk is cluttered with a million half lived ideas
Stories, Art, Poetry, Books, Work
All forgotten
Burnt from my mind like a lobotomy

Thought strangling and poisoning my ideas
Fear
Fear of what people think, why they think, how they think
Fear of the world’s influence

And then there’s you
Reading, as if the book, the art, the poetry was made with no struggle
Reading as if it appeared like a match striking, the smoke leaving a heavy smell on the air
Reading as if it’s easy to bleed out the deepest of all emotions

Yet looking back I see images forming
Blue oceans lapping at the sandy floor
Tranquil breezes blowing the grass
Stars, shooting through the night sky

Act II
And then there’s the pain, the inevitable pain
Visceral images of torture and inhumanity
******* of the senses

And you realise that this is the story of earth
Earth before and after man
Creativity representing the freedom, the thought
Truth representing the repression, the pain

And that’s why you change
Forever

Music is not played to make sounds
Art is not prepared to paint a picture
Books are not written to tell a story

It’s the silence

The silence after a song is performed
After a grand mural is finished
After a story is told

The silence that causes a pause –
A pause that makes people stop and listen
Listen to the silence, the knowledge, the heartbeat

And then sound
Cheering, adulation, praise
Shattering those tender seconds of utter peacefulness

And that’s why we do it all again