Living on the hurting side of lonesome
Miles past anything called fair
Ain't no need to question my devotion
For the man I love, because all burdens I will bare
Where did you go when I just kissed your lips a few days ago?
Now it seems I'm just wasting time.
A hundred miles of empty road
Worn out heart and lies of gold
Feel like I could just lay down and die
A million miles on the other side of lonesome
Years past any kind of plan
A thousand sleepless nights away from pain and
All I know is I could drink an ocean
of whiskey drenched sorrow if I can't see him again.
I just covered a hundred miles
Think I'll sit here now and drink my fill
Yesterday's gone with the wind and
Tomorrow's on its way again
To bring what it will
I kiss the bottle when I should be kissing him....

Depth of the blue sea,
Is like your love’s metaphor,
One that I yearn for.

The night crept along the sky
As my lady I
Walked through the city park

Eye to eye
Shoulder to shoulder
Our warmth made us bolder

On the bench we embraced
Strangers passing us by
We knew then love was not a lie

City lights in front of us
Suburban madness behind
Her skin sweet and divine

When life approaches
Do not turn your back
For time is merely a crack

Soon we made our way to the river
The wind had ceased to blow
She knew where we needed to go

Her soul mysterious and dark
Left me transfixed evermore
Devotion and trust to the core

How can the way seem so clear at times,
And other's so dark?
Love's riddles sounds a spark

Never let me go
Underneath this dried up willow
The night is young
Let's escape to our pillow's

I am afraid of speaking.
I am afraid of the texture of my voice, and the effect it will have on you.
I don't want to be pressed into the caricature of an angry woman; voice raised in what they call a hysterical display of emotion.
Calm down. Be rational.

Stop being
So
Dramatic.

Well let me tell you something:
I am an angry woman.

Because all I can see is my best friend’s blonde head, coming within an inch of becoming the crushed drywall beneath his fist.
All I can see is the false piety painted on his pastor’s face, asking, “well… did he hit you?”

I see her eyes closed in the darkness, fingers gripped in the sheets he tore off of her body to wake her. She has to hold on to something.
He says, “Show me you're enjoying it.”


Calm down. Be rational.

Like he wasn't gaining access INTO her BODY by FORCE. Like, of course it's her job to lay down and take it. Like it. Lick his lips for the taste of honey, because honey, he told you to.

but it's poison. It enters her bloodstream, weakening her will to resist it.

She looks at her phone, at a text she did not compose herself, or send,
“Hey hot stuff. When you see this, let's have ***.
“If I pretend I didn't write this I'm just playing hard to get.”

Do you get it?

Yeah. I am an angry woman.

Stay calm, dear sister. Be rational.
Rationalize the gaslighting, because the big picture doesn't look beautiful when you hang it above the sofa; and her home was staged to look like a family so that when you look in the window, you don't see that she was a hostage.
You don't see that her son was asleep in the bed when he grabbed her face between his hands and crushed it,
And called it “gently redirecting her gaze.”

From the window, you can't see his body blocking the exit.
You can't see her baby, with his little fingers curled around her *******, begging for comfort.

I will not calm down. And in case you are so damaged by devotion to comfort that you can't see it, it is right to be angry.

It is righteous.

I am angry, and more rational than I have ever been in my entire life- rationally, righteously begging for justice to flow down like rivers.

I am an angry woman.

What is love?
Love is selfless devotion. Love is being who you are with someone else. Love is getting used to being single and learning to be more you.
Love is finding ways to be proud of yourself.

Love will grow in me sideways, a supine pine
sapling, shoveling mountainous glaciers of stone

embedded into my boiling erosions, melting
the anaerobic hot mud into a calmer froth.

We may kiss at the precipice of the abyss
our love has inevitably chewed through itself.  

And I will likely palm our weathers
into a river-swallowing sea

and you will hate me; desert of a future
companion’s ship—can I

swallow my dominance; that devotion
could bloom from this love’s wilderness,

foresting in perennial fullness,
prospering in the shared bed
rock we have carved into orchids.  

At the place where I will bury my bones
in the murderous entrancement of another,

taiga could storm from the soft ring of fire
between twenty interlocked evergreen fingers.

Dear Friends , this is an old poem of mine which was composed after I learnt that Richard Gere, one of my favourite Hollywood actors had become a Buddhist and believed in Zen Philosophy. So having read about Zen I composed this simple verse. Hope you like it. If you like it kindly re-post this poem. Thanks, - Raj.

                      ZEN PHILOSOPHY
With roots buried deep in soils of Ancient India,
And watered by the exotic blend of three different
cultures;
Reflecting the mysticism of India, the pragmatism
of the Confucian mind, and the Taoist’s love of
naturalness and spontaneity,
Buddhism bloomed and blossomed into an exotic
flower called 'Zen Philosophy'!

In 475 AD a pupil of Buddha called Bodhidharma
went to China.
There the Mahayana School of Buddhism mingled
with Chinese Taoism, which evolved into Chan
Philosophy!
'Chan ' derived from the Sanskrit  word 'dhyana',
which meant 'silent meditation',  -
Through which the Buddha attained enlightenment
and salvation!
Later, in 1200 AD this Chan philosophy travelled to
the shores of Japan,
Where 'Chan' got translated to 'Zen' by its many
followers and fans!
ZEN is the art of meditation to achieve inner awakening,
To gain intuitive knowledge, highlighting the inadequacy
of logical reasoning!
It therefore advocates the practice of 'Zazen' or 'sitting
meditation',
For acquiring inner awakening through silent
contemplation!

ZEN could be practiced in our daily life,
Without entering a hermitage, leaving behind your
family or wife!
'Gain the naturalness of your original true nature',
-  preaches the Zen Teacher through meditation,
'Rather than through mere faith and devotion,
which is contrary to Zen notion.'
'One must awaken to this present moment to feel
this life,
And not waste time in speculations of an ‘elusive
After-Life’.
The 'Enso' or the ‘circle’, is the Zen symbol which is
often deployed,
Symbolizing Enlightenment, Strength, the Universe,
and the Void!
With this 'expression of the moment ' the Zen Philosophy
starts,
And today the ‘Enso’ is also the symbol of Expressionist
Art!
Never ask the Zen Master 'What is Zen, When, or How? ' ,
For he will always tell you, - 'Zen Is The Instant Now'!
                                                      - Raj Nandy, New Delhi.

Mahayana in Sanskrit means 'Great Vehicle', and is the largest major tradition of Buddhism existing today. The other branch is called Hinayana, meaning the ‘Lesser Vehicle’.

The Story
by Kamal Nasser
translation by Michael R. Burch

I will tell you a story ...
a story that lived in the dreams of my people,
a story that comes from the world of tents.
It is a story inspired by hunger and embellished by dark nights of terror.
It is the story of my country, a handful of refugees.
Every twenty of them have a pound of flour between them
and a few promises of relief ... gifts and parcels.
It is the story of the suffering ones
who stood waiting in line ten years,
in hunger,
in tears and agony,
in hardship and yearning.
It is a story of a people who were misled,
who were thrown into the mazes of the years.
And yet they stood defiant,
disrobed yet united
as they trudged from the light to their tents:
the revolution of return
into the world of darkness.

Kamal Nasser was a much-admired Palestinian poet and Palestinian Christian, who due to his renowned integrity was known as "The Conscience." He was a member of Jordan's parliament in 1956. He was murdered in 1973 by an Israeli death squad whose most notorious member was future Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak. Barak (born Ehud Brog) later ruled as Israel’s tenth Prime Minister from 1999 to 2001. His adopted Hebrew name Barak means "lightning." As a younger man, Brog/Barak was a member of a secret assassination unit that liquidated Palestinians in Lebanon and the occupied territories. In the 1973 covert mission Operation Spring of Youth in Beirut, which was part of the larger Operation Wrath of God, he disguised himself as a woman in order to assassinate Palestinians. The raid resulted in the deaths of two women, one of them an elderly Italian. Two Lebanese policemen were also killed, along with the poet Kamal Nasser.

Nasser was the PLO's most prominent Christian and he enjoyed "great appeal" in Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq "both as a distinguished poet and likeable personality." He was the “conscience of the Palestinian revolution,” according to Nazih Abul-Nidal, who worked with him on the magazine Filastin al-Thawra. Nasser “had the most democratic outlook of all Palestinian leaders at the time,” he recalls. He respected opposing views, admired the commitment of young people, and was a major recruitment asset for the Palestinian revolution. “That is why he was put high on the hit-list.” The previous year, the Israelis had murdered another renowned Palestinian writer and activist in Beirut, Ghassan Kanafani, by *****-trapping his car. Nasser’s successor, Majed Abu Sharar, was also assassinated by Israelis, in Rome in 1981 while attending a conference in solidarity with the Palestinian people.

Keywords/Tags: Kamal Nasser, Palestinian, Palestine, PLO, Conscience, Ramallah, Christian, religion, poet, Arab, Arabic, Arab Spring, betrayal, conflict, courage, devotion

There once was a young boy of thirteen years,
who loved a girl with blue eyes shining bright;
he was her world and she was his light;
one was complete when the other was near.

With strawberry milkshake faces and linked lollipop hands,
they walked the Pacific beach, overcome with smitten smiles,
enscribing their names in the rusty, copper sand
"A promise," they said, as the ocean kissed the land

"I'll be with you regardless of the miles"


and with this, he gifted her the world, it was sealed,
tragedy approaches slowly, but can't penetrate love's shield.

When the teacher's back was turned, he would pass her notes,
simple poems composed by his heart;
one wrote;

"Roses are red, violets bloom high,
the world won't suffice, let me give you the sky"


At home, her beautiful blue eyes cried.

Under the stars they sat, tender soul mates, two of a few,
he didn't understand, a lost child, confused and bare,
her wig fell into her lap, locks of beautiful blonde hair,
looking into her blue eyes he breathed, "I love you"

and with that sacred declaration, the sky belonged to her
with devotion as sure as the sunrise, warmer than mink fur

Later that month, on one incandescent night,
they sat on the moonlit shores, as the western wind sighed
her head on his shoulder, smiling, closing her big blue eyes,
silhouettes upon the sands, holding each other tight

As she slept, as the nightingales fly,
she dreamed of him, her entire world and sky,
never waking up, though a smile graced her lips
with his poem held snug in her delicate grip

"Roses are red, violets bloom high..."



Now a married man of sixty-four, he dreams by and by,
of the two walking the Pacific beach, overcome with smitten smiles,
her childish laugh resounds like heavenly songs in the sky,
for he was her world and she was his light;

in the sun, her beautiful blue eyes shining bright,
in the stars, her beautiful blue eyes shining bright

You'll be my goddess;
just make me a believer
and I'll worship you.

'Every night, It's like ******* clockwork.'
'What is?'
'You! Turn the lights off. Turn over. Lights on. Get back up. ****. Come back to bed. Turn over. Kick. Get back up. Go to fridge. What the **** are you eating, anyway?'
'Sticks of Pineapple.'
'Sticks of Pineapple? Jesus.'
'What?'
'It's just…weird, that's all.'
'What's weird about it?'
'It's not the done thing, is it?'
'No - biscuits are not the done thing. Crackers and biscuits. Crumb detritus, hazard for all.'
'What else have you got there?'
'Jelly babies.'
'******* woman.'
"They're soft! They're not a bed hazard!'
'You sure you're not pregnant?'
'What was Robert like in bed then? Straight to sleep, was he, old Robert?'
'He was, as a matter of fact.'
'Yeah well. Bully for Robert.'
'Alright, let's not bring Robert into this -'
'Eat this bit of spat out pineapple. Go on. Eat it to show your devotion.'
'I'll punch you in the face, is what I'll do.'
'Eat it. Enjoy it. Swallow it.'
'Has the sleeping pill kicked in yet?'
'I'm getting there.'
(He eats the spat out pineapple.)
'Now got to ******* sleep, ya degenerate.'

Things are so much clearer
I can see right on through
All the misconceptions
And false truths
I know now life will be good
I know now, everything I should
Like I can love myself
And just focus on me
Feels so good not to care
About someone undeserving
Cause I got so much to give
And someone out there
Will truly understand
How much I can care
How much love I have
And the devotion I can share
Cause I'm amazing
And he knew it was true
But unfortunately for him
*He holds no more value

Through emotions that brim,
My devotion is deep,
For every instance that I sleep,
Through,
I am glad we made it through,
Few shattered cell phones,
No broken glasses known,
Few broken dreams I am trying to collect,
Watching golden sunsets,
Not yet,
But I have no regrets,
I traded pain, for highs and lows,
Till the time froze,
This is the life I chose,
Through poetry and prose,
You, my only outlet,
From the outset,
To vent my frustrations,
My guide through strange nations,
And my vague patience,
My stronghold through age races,
Can't escape when my face makes it,
Appear so clear,
My only near and dear,
When I least made sense,
Sorry, When I saw past your every defense,
And my every pretence,

Glass with wine and incense,
Travels with no nonsense,
All this traded for a today,
For which I have nothing to say,
But a better tomorrow,
Not a promise that is hollow,
Don't worry, In time,
I will make your miseries mine,
Beyond a diamond ring,
And everything,
That has a place and time,
No words to define,
God sent, Something so divine,
To share my life,
Empower you with the title of wife,
Beginning to renew,
I understand your point of view,
All the things we have been through,
Ineffable tears that ran through,
The valleys of disappointments
Memories and moments,
And all this,
Against my parents wish

Misplacin’ entitlement,
bannin’ visitation
Crime ridden, broken windows,
lack of education

Survive the death of the soul,
a sole survivin’ nation
Shatterin’ family cores
and forcin’ new displacement

Wanderin’ hand is a force
we simply can’t escape from
Evil is bought and endorsed
through coded conversation

Don’t be afraid to show emotion
when you least expect it
It’s simply proof of your devotion
doubt is intercepted

Minutes turn to hours
as I savor every part of you
Sharin’ in the power
doin’ favors just to start anew

Demons fly to start a feud
Easy just to call a truce
“Betray your excellence and
your defeat will surely follow suit!”

So keep your head up
Don’t you let up ’cause the city beckons
The hourglass has been broken
as hours turn to seconds

Just let it bleed
and cut the ties that are bindin’
Feel the size of the lapse and write
’til your thoughts are unwindin’

Lace your mind with your talent
watch how the synthesis rises
Paint the ink with your truth –
the one that your demon despises

Start your count from eleven, writer
It’s down to the wire
Final hour requires shunnin’
your pain to the fire!

(Crack the hourglass!)
Never take for granted a single minute
(Crack the hourglass!)
Spend your days ascendin’ beyond your limits

(Crack the hourglass!)
Don’t let a single second go to waste
Invest in your expression
Believe in yourself and keep the pace.

Love is something that comes in various forms
A friend, lover, family member, or someone you never met
I want to be able to understand, true feeling, emotion
And still be able to be slightly inhuman, devoid of emotion
I tread through life looking for answers to my infinite questions
It seems what I want is not feasible and yet I continue
My devotion through it all
I’ve lived thus far losing those I love and
I try and keep them alive in my heart
Because life seems so treacherous, and desolate
A bumpy road with forks and one way streets
And I’m reaching out but no one’s there
To save me

I regard my attraction to language as an affair,
as a withstanding relation,
a product of indecorous communication.
This devotion has demanded a life of its own,
accepting my whole as its proxy.
Others won't understand this affinity.
They aren't familiar with the curving lilt of a domestic tongue,
Nor the taste of a verse fermented in the mouths of one's ancestors,
Surely not the stuttering moans of a mother dialect,
Yet the sharp sting of a jagged vernacular,
or the mastery and art behind the articulation of a single utterance.
This discourse developed over time,
I required maturation and growing before my notions aligned.
I felt eager upon observing the pervasive movements of great text
Which delivered a high known greater than ***.
It is true that I contemplated profoundly first,
before committing my desire and will to the whole of verse.
But now that my diction reflects the appeal of great literature and enamoring fiction
I couldn't be more satisfied.

C                         F                C
On this day we share the notion
           Am             F         C
That a Child born long ago,
                G7                        C    
Called us home to live as children;
C                    G7                  F       C
We hear our name, we're not alone.

C                            F          C
Gather round, sit at our table;
                     Am        F               Dm
Stretch your arms increase, expand.
                 G7                            C
Bless our children, bless our parents,
C               G7             F               C
Count our blessings while we can.

G7           C                           F   C
Oh for today we share believing
C            Am             F        Dm
That the Child from long ago,
                G7                          C
Called us home we are the children,
C                G7                   F     C
We heard our names, never alone.

C                       F              C
Gather round, sit at our table,
C                    Am        F               Dm
Stretch your arms, increase, expand;
                   G7                             C        
Bless your children, bless your parents,
C                 G7              F               C
Count your blessings while you can.

C                            F             C
Borne on the promise of a notion,
C         Am           F     Dm
On the promise of a seat;
            G7                       C
By our love and our devotion
C         G7                      F          C
To the Living Son, our Living Feast.

She is a Goddess held upright
In the light.
Her face shines blossoming among the clouds.
The words she speaks are of lyrical proportion.
Her body is a temple of sheer devotion,
One whom I worship. Yearning to protect.
She shines her light upon me,
Revealing the inner working of her mind.
The hieroglyphics and pamphlets deciphered by gentle lips.
Shes not just another girl nor another woman.
Her crown is woven above her brow, easily mistaken as hair.
Her influence knows no bound.
Devouring every inch of my thought.
Her voice is infinite,
Her soul dances as a child knowing the beauty of outside.
She is a Goddess of love, one of infinite wisdom.
Her sighs are one with the wind.
Spreading throughout the whispers of her voice.
Filling my dreams with the lucidity of open eyes.
I close my eyes and see her standing there.
I smile, picturing her soul dance as freely as a child knowing the beauty of being outside.
If only she knew what I saw everytime I looked at her

There seems to be great expectations within us all
Yet never enough content
All the lurking eyes look upon us
Waiting for us to go through torment

People put there faith in others,
Waiting to be touched my the arrow of love and devotion
Relying on others to close the empty space in your soul,
And dedicating yourself to bring them happiness,
But what you get is a cold slap to the face,
And the lost of your own self image.

California Missionary,
crossed the border of my heart
atop the wings of the sunkissed quail
treading tires and
skidding across proud brown bear’s abdomen

California missionary,
sped fast ‘cross Pacific Highway
spreading to us the whispers
of spirits
and the cackling sun gods

California Missionary
abandoned ceramic pots and
Christmas-tree needles
unshaven and never watered
from her shivered trunk bed and

California Missionary
taught the pages of Abraham,
squinting through sunlight and
dreaming of typewriters that
ceased to exist in the broken
Golden State

California Missionary
arrived with garlic and crystal-clear mirrors
steering her mustang clear of
cats with dark complexion
top down, in the state of
tinted sunshine and

California Missionary
left the mountains of bigotry
to tell lies of ancient scripture
that she loathed
so that she could
live
again and

California Missionary
stole the ring on her finger
that promised devotion
from a man of Christ himself
so that
California Missionary
could begin to understand
herself

Loving witness of my demise.
Crucial moment for you to see.
This crushes the feelings that make us cry.
Wish these people would just let me be.
I Unitntentionally push away the ones that mean good.
Ruin the relationships with a liftime of devotion.
Hopelessly thinking of what I could.
Lost sensation feelings and emotion.
This drug it burns it destorys lives.
Seeped into my inner soul and ruined.
Cut through me like the sharpest of knives.
The end in the distance is looming.
Please help build the strength to conquer.
My last chance to make amends.
Must keep pushing or im a goner.
Hear me god I need your help amen.