I've walked and savoured
Seen the magic and ate the food
Sight and hearing may deceive
But taste, fragrance and touch
Directly speaks and to you alone
And by same measure I know
The liars, the blind, and the fools
For their fruits are without taste
Even as plastic fruits are for eyes only

More wicked than *****, that ***** mourns
More evil than Satan, that Satan's justified
Lot, tormented in his soul, rescued
So shall it be the Righteous' lot
The Angel of Darkness shall descend
And ***** sits in Judgement seat

Gun in one hand, bible in the other.
Is not the word a sword?
Why need for a gun too?
Or is it a justification to ****?
The same as a rocket launcher on one shoulder,
and the koran in the other hand.
Or a flag in one hand, and a sword in the other.
The image says justified intimidation.
Fear me, for I have the Authority.
But really, the Authority is only as valid
as there are fools who submit.
And the only true authority is the gun, or sword,
as you certainly know it.
And the flag, or bible, or the koran,
are but for your own conscience.
or cover for your lack thereof.

The bible and the gun:
an oxymoron;
a display of faithlessness,
the defilement of holiness,
a blasphemous act;
affirming the proud fool you are,
that says in its heart, there is no God!

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?

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

from old unchanging darkly grasped
in story unfolding and the yet untold
but ear strays and heart schemes
the old unheard and story unchanging

in a land where four languages are official
a church was named only in three; for the fourth
is the language of a weak and fragile faith
whose edicts are above the law of the land,
and whereof knowing a church's name is temptation
and the tempter the sinner and the tempted sinless;
a rock is evil for stumbling the weak,
and if truth offends the truthsayer dies,
and the thief blameless for the rich flaunts his gold;
thus protected by an unsheathed ****** sword
a faith strengthened with every tempter's death

Only the strong
     can be pierced by the sharp sword of truth
Only the strong
     walk unarmed unafraid into the fire
Only the strong
     carry the weak and shield the hapless
For strong is its own master
     never servant to mere powers

If you need dark to see light
   then you had never seen the light
If you need the grotesque to see beauty
   then in all likelihood you're the grotesque one
If you need death's sting to feel alive
   then you're already dead for life's contemptuous of death
If absence makes heart fonder
   then death's eternal separation
   compels love unto life resurrected

as in clouds so in words
many things seen and read
hiding keys affirming revelations
in the unseen and unspeakable

A traffic jam at 2 am?
My work just done, tired I am.
Is misfortune a thing with me?
A fallacy unknown maybe.

Recalled the time iPhone at max,
An accident my old was cracked.
Or day my rags compelled I splurge,
The day some Prada had to surge.

In Dubai, Grab’s copter went down,
With lover, boyfriend’s stuck in town.
Cold ***** camel ride through night,
Paid Bed’uin gold, or wait till light.

My friends all say I’m blessed and rich,
But life with peace I’ll rather switch.

the yearling roasted on the spit
its drippings crackled the fire
huddled in a smoky closed space
family with a neighbour, or two
bags packed, shoes on, ready to go

the meat carefully carved
its skeleton intact, unbroken
with endives rolled in flatbread
unleavened as we had no time
meal's remains destroyed in the fire

we're ready to leave at any moment
from where we're born and always lived
to a place known only from ancient tales
outside, shrieks and wails, of horror and utter terror
inside, goosebumped, hair standing, we waited, in silence

orchids,
alien and other worldly.

beauty,
bordering the grotesque and bizarre,
strangely exhilarating.

variations,
wild and uninhibited,
even orgiastic,
of a mind, as if,
not of this world;
shapes and sizes,
folds and spirals
colours and colourations.

at times,
more animal or insect,
than flower.

if a rose is Mozart,
an orchid, Stravinsky.

Prayer is like a lottery ticket, but better;
For it's free, but for a mere price of promises:
for eternal gratitude and such — albeit you lie —
you asked freely for prizes: of millions, love, or power

To whom it may concern: the wind, the devil,
the great unknown, whomever, it matters not.
For you have heard and believed it happened;
And only fools will not cry out for more, freely given.

And anyone and everyone can pray, for you —
Each by his own formulation and his own magic.
Chances far improved by numbers and better art.
For the price of asking, artless you too have hope.

But true prayer is not asking, for you have without asking,
And only to be amazed at the depth and wisdom of Love.

It'll speak to you when you wake
Thus I wallow long in bed
Till I hear and duly feed
Then I'll rise and eat the cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
Even at times before bed
Then you're waiting as dawn peeks
To run with no time for cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
But ignore it before bed
In nightmares it'll haunt your sleep
Till you walk and forgo cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
Why study when time for bed
Books are weary but sleep's sweet
Thus you'll eat and keep the cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
If not you'll despise your bed
To roam and ceaselessly seek
For real food and not the cake

A Liar says this and does that.
Cries, "Insult!" at any hint of Truth.
Uses Violence as proof, for surely
only Truth is worthier than Death.

If what you hear
and what you see
are not the same,
what do you believe?

Your Eyes or your Fears?

Hush, Baby, Hush.
Soothing and Pillowy, Lush is Love.
Waters Rush, Rain Pour, Tears Fall.
Sleep, My Baby, Sleep.
For Dreams, Life's Balm, Soothes.

there are questions I can't ask
for I speak a strange tongue
and walk in a land desolate

but they will be answered
as I walk, as they were behind me
in surprising places and unseen light

the burden's easy, the walk's a delight
gladly I bear the gift, precious and life itself

Making a living Wage from the living Word
Inevitably shades, obscures, taints and corrupts
Betrays the apparently living Faith
And exalting the Man than the Word

Balaam refused silver and gold in public
But embraced death's wages in secret
Certainly the labourer deserves his dues
But from his Master and not from fellow labourers

If the lives you saved leave you hungry
But for your whip, perhaps they're yet slaves

The greater the revelation the deeper the mystery
The closer to the light the dimmer and further it is
But compelled and captive, propelled not by will
Accelerating into the void, a star amongst many
Each and all inexorably to be our very own Destiny

Self love is not love but anti-love
Parts are but to be mutually fitted
And imperfections only seeming
Ceasing to be in the perfected whole
But is not if any part seeks its own

Weirdly wonderful caterpillars,
liquefy, transform, and reborn;
Wonderfully beautiful butterflies,
Who taught you how to do that?

Mother Nature, the mother of gaps;
Magical hand hides ignorance,
Misdirects from real question:
Why do we even ask at all?

Curiosity satiated we move on,
Forgetting blindness unremoved.
For if sighted, a new tongue to learn,
Mother Nature, the new alphabet.

ordinary morning, late, bright and clear
weekend, no hurries, lets stay on in bed

in a flash, thunderous roar from above
mountainuous rock crashing, my mind saw

the skies echoed, rumbling in agony
rumbled and rumbled, on and on and on

strange sinister sound, trapped constant droning
UFO? baby superman landed?

rushed outside: no crash, just clouds in clear sky
rumble, rumble, rumble, man-made or what?

thundering, faint and far, near and muffled
none thunderous as the first rock that fell

then it rained: heavy; a soothing warm rush
droning masked, but strangeness etched, and lingered.

May your year be measured
by revelations and not resolutions

May you see your uncountable gifts
than boastfully count meagre goals

May you on uncharted waters walk
than by uncertain stars fearfully chart

And may you in power compelled to fly
than all powers beseeched to comply

Today is the third Day
Even as everyday is Sabbath
When the Son rose, the world
received the promised Ghost

      First of firstfruit blessed
         day after the Seven
         when it was still dark
      And the kingdom came
         day after Seven Sevens
         yet hidden to this day

For a week, Israel wandered
For a week, bread is unleavened
Evening of the Seventh approaches, fast
But time shall divide, till not one is lost

Hidden deep in the galley at sea far from the front
Washing pans and floors and sometimes onions
Never a shot fired at nor its distanced boom heard
Now proudly badged, poor, unemployed, a veteran
Strutting in the town square openly carrying
Seeing fear and respect in mocking eyes
And gratitude in sneering smiles and sarcastic lips
But utter despair and pity to those that truly loved
Now old, lonely, far from those who once cared
Sharing truths on the net when away from Facebook jail
And calling out fake news with evangelistic fervour
But touch Trump, and even jihadists cow before his ferocity

May Putin be crushed and his nuclear threat exposed an empty bluff
May Russians see themselves the true Nazis
And in true need of salvation than Ukrainians ever were
May the shattered save the mighty and the mighty serve the victor

If you're inspired you walk in the sun's light
Why be a mere flickering candle to another
For if the sun's not seen, sight's lacking not light
And even in the darkest night, the moon shines
But truly the consuming sun burns within
seen only with eyes not of flesh
For even the blind in the deepest depths see

A book was given,
but the man cannot read.
Another can read,
but cannot understand.
A book of secrets,
in a plain tongue.
A strange tongue given,
secrets revealed.

Incorrigible hoarder of the useless and perishables
Fridge full of forgotten decay and unfinishing leftovers
A comforting illusion of plenty and unending riches
To which she nibble away, always leaving behind ten percent

Good heavens!
Good Thursday on a Tuesday?
On a week of Good Friday?
But whatever!
The sun has set, Today is here.
We have eaten, and are ready to go.
Shoes on our feet,
House on our backs;
We have no bread, but thats OK.
We are ready to go.

Corgi, walking man, stopped where I sat.
Climbed onto me, and sat in my laps.
Man apologised, but corgi unmoved.
Only after enough scratches, and a goodbye,
did it resumed walking the man.

Surer knowledge by cross examination
of witnesses than belief in imaginations
Will more certainty than mindless chance
Shakespeare was a man rather than monkeys
and Eve than washed up fishes learning to walk

The waters rose, and the flood pours
The Spirit stirs, the Soul cannot but sing
The psalmist’s song, for both souls are one
Moved by the same Spirit.

The greatest enemy is the enemy within
The most evil is one most believed as God
The Shepherd sacrificed sheep, and sheep cheered

How can anything not be what it seems
How can I mean other than what I said
How can eyes see soul, when there is none

An apple can be nothing but an apple
A patriot hugs the flag, a christian waves the bible
And the loser, unarmed, accursed, hangs from a tree

In robes of peace, prosperity and power, reigns evil
In dispersion, despair and death, are its enemies
In friends with cleaned feet are traitorous deceivers

When love grows cold, we buy and sell
For we rather ******* than despair
—the fighting spirit empowering the Beast—
But love waits, in pain, crying silently unseen
No exchange without the mark of the Beast
Driving to desperation and worship
Those who live by their wits and arms
COVID19 will expose who these are

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.

The sixth opened on the sixth
history prophesised, future past

sun and moon eclipsed
heavens and earth shaken
moon bloodied, stars fell
earth ripped apart, time perturbed

graves opened
the dead arose to life
the living buried themselves
immortal died
mortality perished

blood spilled, living marked
wait for the number of Man

we each walk our paths, many did not find theirs
rushing here and there, heeding voices and examples
the company of others comforting but void
and without you becoming the whole is marred

Circling Earth circling Sun
Circling Moon circling Earth
Days cycling within Months
Months cycling within Years
Wheel within wheel within wheel
Sphere within sphere within sphere

And a day is a day in every sphere
Their shadows of which on Earth
As Days, Months, and, Years
Life's inescapable rhythm ingrained
In Man, Beasts, Bugs, and Herbs
But only in Man do we count

In joy and sorrow we feel it passed
Fearful and hopeful all in ignorance
For Time's beyond Man's wisdom
Though they speak, a threefold echo
Each revealing, each foreshadowing
For on Earth as it is in Heaven

Yet Wonderful as it is, it shall pass
We know, for all Earth's given a Sign
A count, an unnatural cycle of Sevens
Of Seven Days, Months, and Years
The Seventh of Each, is a Rest
An Eternal Rest, An Everlasting Peace

Pondering What is Time, the Master of Time
Pointed to the Sabbath, and Ezekiel's Wheels

Robed in angelic white, she rose.
Silent and serene, strange to sight;
Unknown, yet familiar; for my heart burned.
We have loved deeply, we knew each other.
Spirit affirmed; deep called unto deep: Peace.

Up above, into the light, she rose.
Light, a most brilliant white,
Sum of light from every heaven's stars;
Each a soul, at rest, awaiting the rest.
Into the light she rose, white diffusing into light.

Today, I learned, the light is Paradise.

I believe what is true but knows not truth
Instead I feel truth is what I believed
Most believe what they feel, instinctively
But I, without reasons, cannot believe

Alas reasons found on self evidence
As in what is and is not cannot be
Conjectures they are if truly honest
But axioms worked in all mathematics

Is truth then not of reason but of faith?
For does not ear test words as tongue tastes food?
Surely then we do have some means to know
Even so, must not faith be tested true?

For faith is circular: a conviction
Compelled by strength and conviction of will;
A will constrained, by flesh, susceptible
To unknown beings in spiritual realms

But what if this being is God? And faith,
Conviction of the certainty of things,
Holy Spirit’s gift, marking election,
Affirming justification in God.

Truth by two or more witnesses is sure
Do we attest the Holy Spirit true?
A blasphemous thought perhaps, but prophets
Led to lie to kings and shown to be false.

Thus ignorant sages showed assurance
Lies solely in God’s grace, mercy and love
And in his faithfulness to the elect
Declared in Israel again and again

In my search for truth, I was led to faith,
The faithfulness of God, truth’s ultimate rock
His gifts unchanging, irrevocable
And confirms the fear of the Lord is truth

In Trump the idiot sees himself
a winner, strong and smart
making the intelligent cry
and destroying difficulties
with just a word—or a lie—or his fists
now no longer rejects or losers
affirming his beliefs of himself—
the blessed poor for his saviour is come