Prose, a photo
Poetry, pencil sketch,
                                       in five lines.

We see not with eyes but heart
We hear not with ears but heart
We think not with mind but heart
                                                           ­   Helen Keller,
                                                                                      wise beyond sight.

And we feel not with heart but in the guts.

Dust, dust, infernal dust:
Mocked! Mortality mocked!
Toil, toil, burdensome toil,
procrastinator born.

I don't see, it's still clean.
I don't see, I don't care.
I don't see, just the wind.
Oh no! Now I see,
I cannot unsee, woe is me!

Dust, dust, infernal dust,
with vacuum be gone!
Toil, toil, burdensome toil,
Adam's curse, is there no escape?

I procrastinate
From this hour to the next

Until the sun sets
and I cannot work in the dark
But there is the next Day

I procrastinate
From this day to the next

But there is no end of days, yet
However the need to do
does pass into irrelevance

For is not writing poetry more befits
a soul than house cleaning?!

lies ****

educated to be anything and everything
struggled for real to be only nothing
encouraged to keep believing and fighting
only losers quit and winners strong

fear

fear to know
fear to see
fear of rejection
fear of fear

rejects instead own true crying self
renews empty prideful boasts
life, always fighting, winning's everything
lose or die

so death is the light
life not marred by failures
soul silenced into meaninglessness
suicide a most welcomed relief

one slit ..

t h e
    
            b
                l  
                       o  

                                     o
                                                        
                                                          
                                                                               d

An initial glimpse,
then the secret knowing glances,
then the full stare:
No discomfort, no unease,
nonthreatening,
but in total rest and bliss,
of the most intimate oneness.

You found the one
you unknowingly seek
since the day you’re born.
Eyes penetrating eyes,
naked soul caresses naked soul.
Time ceases, the world dissolves;
It can go on for all eternity.

But tyrannical flesh forcibly
wakes you from your transcendence,
And reminds you of your *******
to the laws of man and nature;
By an act of sheer will,
you forcibly closed the window to your soul;
And returned to being a hardened stranger,
familiar with the hidden pains and agonies of denial.

But the spirit does not lie,
And love cannot be denied,
And the soul demands to be set free,
From the ******* of flesh and man.

Thus it knows this world is not home, and
neither for despair was the glimpse given,
but to reveal and affirm heaven, where
the soul is free and truly loves, in
perfect blissful oneness eternally.

There is a time to Reveal,
There is a time to Conceal.
There is a time to Stand in the Light,
There is a time to Search in the Darkness.

There is a time to Will as we know how,
and to Work with all the Might in our Arms.
There is a time to Yield to the Storms and Floodwaters,
and Surrender to the Thrills and Joys of the Fearsome Whirlwind.

There is a time to be Silent and Distanced,
and be Disciplined by Patience and Perseverance.

But there will be a time when Perfection is Restored,
Forgotten the Impossible Chasm
between the Glimpses and Glances
of the Desire for Oneness
in the Eyes of All Given Us,
And a Chorus of a Myriad upon Myriad of Angels shall Sing,
And Life shall be truly Life.