I often disregard the fact that people affect me the way they do
whether it be good or bad, I just can't shake the fact that people matter
So I'm really astonished by the fact that good people
or anyone really, are treated badly
Is it that we forget the Golden Rule at a certain age
such as when adolescence hits and our selfishness consumes us
or when things gets so bad that it's depression you can't escape
whatever it maybe, whoever it maybe
don't you think they'd appreciate a little kind-heartedness?
even if it ain't reciprocated,
even if they hate you,
even if they harm you,
look into the core of their soul
and let them know,
how their actions only reflect
how much hurt they have endured
and the fact of the matter is,
that they are loved,
it's ensured
even if they aren't.

"Let us have love and more love, a love that melts all opposition, a love that conquers all foes, a love that sweeps away all barriers, a love that aboundeth in charity, large-heartedness, tolerance, and noble-striving, a love that triumphs over all obstacles, a boundless, resistless, sweeping love. Ah me!

Each one must be a sign of love, a sea of love, a centre of love, a sun of love, a star of love, a haven of love, a pearl of love, a palace of love, a mountain of love, a world of love, a universe of love.

Hast thou love? Then thy power is irresistible.

Hast thou sympathy? Then all the stars will sing thy praise!"

~ 'Abdu'l-Baha, Star of the West, VII:17, 19 January 1917, page 171

What comes
To mind when
I say the word
Beauty?
A model?
An athlete?
A movie star?
What comes
To mind when
You hear the word
Beauty?
The laugh?
The voice?
What comes
To mind when
You see the word
Beauty?
The smile.
The walk.
The eyes.
What comes to mind
When I hear the word
Beauty?
Sweetness.
Intelligence.
Cuteness.
Niceness.
Beauty,­ to me, is neither
Outer nor inner;
It’s both.
My beauty is a book
With chapters titled
Intelligence,
Cuteness,
Niceness,
Sweetness,
Outgoing,
With the final chapter
Of my beauty titled
Warm heartedness.
That’s my beauty…
What’s yours?

Auntie Em is calling….

I was just getting to love my Emerald City
The shiny feel of it, its sweetly diverse demi-monde.
Its shimmering green beauty and tranquil sense of safety.
The heels of my ruby red slippers were well & truly dug in.
But no, the state fair balloon stands before me ******* & ready to go.
A grand exclamation mark in my way if ever there was one.
And Toto for once has gone mute, no chance of a last minute hold up.

"Dorothy, Dorothy, where are you?"

I guess it must have been too fantastical a dream to be true.
A time for goodbyes.
I’m embracing the Lion telling him to always be proud of himself & not to walk unafraid.
The Tin Man’s gentle open heartedness I compliment him on as we both shed tears.
The Scarecrow I kiss and thank for his loyalty & grace under fiery pressure.
With a heavy heart, I climb that first tentative step on the block.  

"We’re sick with worry over you"

I could be angry but the wise words of the mystic ring loudly in my year.
I do need to go back – My Auntie Em is really calling me.
Calling me back to the grey flatlands of home.
Back to the numbness of small town heteronormativity.
Where Twisters rarely every came by to sweep you away and save you.
I could only keep singing ‘Over The Rainbow’ in vain hope.

"Find yourself a place where you won't get into any trouble!

Unlike Dorothy Gale, this Dorothy left Kansas voluntarily
The long yellow brick road finally took me under the rainbow and on to my Emerald City
I no longer pined for home but knew all along that it would call me back one day.
And so here I am, drifting higher & higher away from my adopted home.
Perhaps I need to build a revolving door when I get there to pass through both worlds easily
Or perhaps bring something of the rainbow back to illuminate the grey-lands.
Or perhaps – in reality -  some reconciliation between these worlds is in order.
Perhaps.
It’s time to slip on the ruby red slippers and prepare the way for Kansas.
Yes, this Dorothy has surrendered but
I always had the power to be me, my dear.
I just had to learn it for myself.

August –September 2018

Arm yourselves with shame... Humble heartedness; the gallows of Ego.

All those stares everywhere I go,
Beating and burning the back of my head.
Can you even imagine being me -
“Different”, a minority?
Everything is changing as I am
Finding out what I am made of -
Giving me unending pride and
Hope for the future world -
Inspired by equality for all.
Just look inside my soul and
Know that I am not so bad.
Look at me and understand that
My name has changed and it is
Not the same as when I was born.
Operations will transform me into the
Person I am in my heart and in my mind.
Questions from you are welcomed,
Rudeness, however, can be left at the door.
Send your bitterness and hate away to learn
That not all people are the same.
Understand that I will always love myself and
Violence will never ever be the answer
When all I want is to be accepted.
X marks the spot on our hearts when
You have decided to wholly learn to
Zero out the hate in which our society takes a toll.
Zero out the cold-heartedness and
You will feel better about yourself.
X’s and O’s go to the people
Who love me for simply being me.
Victory unending goes to those who  
Understand and love each other
Through the most difficult times -
Sorrow, hate, crimes, and pain.
Realize that we do not need help,
Quit telling us that we are mentally sick,
Pretty pretty please, with a cherry on top.
Oh, I hope and dream that the day is
Nearing when we are equal in each eye,
Minorities will cease to exist anymore with
Love that is pure and acceptance for all.
Knowing that each of us is not the same
Just simply goes to show that
I will never let you bring me down.
***** is not my name, never ever will it be.
Gender identity is not a choice -
Forgiveness, though, is a choice.
Educate yourself to gain knowledge.
Do not call me “dude” or ”man”,
Call me Unique, not my birth name.
By all means, you don’t have to love me -
All I ask is that you accept me for being me.

We all can love and care about another as much as our heart* will allow; but when the people we love or care about does not feel the same... it  leaves us all alone with the feelings we STILL have for those people.  At a dead end, with no answer or directions on which way to turn.
                         It's always been an ugly truth that our heart's* wanted to hide from.
             Our heart* already knows the pain that it's about to endure... everyone was born with that.
         Our heart's* know instinctively to sense the emotional feelings from the other person or persons involved... whether we know it yet or not...  rejection is soon to come...
   Most people blow off the feeling of their heart* being swallowed by their stomach when something is gonna hurt their emotional state & somehow that percentage of people make it transparent to their every sense for the rest of their lives; Just so they can have control over the way they feel... still ignoring the fact that they're wasting precious time in their life... when they could be using those senses to wait for the right feeling to come along...
    We hurt ourselves even more by denying that feeling from ourselves; over and over again... running into the same thing; the same feeling of being sad, the feeling of broken heartedness, the same emptiness & loneliness.... over and over again, wondering when the cycle will break.
    In the long run though... after running around and receiving all that heartache and love-dump... we eventually end up sitting all alone contemplating... wondering what happened... and finally it dawns on us... we knew something would go wrong before it even ever did, because of that weird feeling our heart had that we'd ignored. Never ignore something that comes to you so naturally... that's what separates the best from the rest.
      ~Fresh off the Cut on~
              ~07/08/14~
        ~From The Mind of...~
            ~Crystal Rose~
  
=the brain----- a heart can't truly sense anything but blood pumping thru... the brain is what links these emotions to our mind and body and makes it feel like we're sick from our attached feelings of attraction being rejected.

Copyright

-Love-
The quintessence of my being ails for the novel; the liberating; the metamorphosing elements of the terrene.
The philosophy of life has always been to search for the sacred truths with the passing of time; tempus.
The answers have been right in front of me.

The concept of finality has been an ailment of my mind; this malady had a paranoia inducing effect on me.
A surfeit of noxious thought can subdue one into nonexistence.
Never, no, rarely should one create a permanent state of tumult within their soul; one must look beyond what they first believe to be true.
-Love-

Without the absolute love, what is one?
The Divine has the Transcendental Power to heal all wounds…
-One must first ask-
The words have been lying here; stewing upon my tongue; awaiting a release for what has seemed to be an eternity.

In my mind the horizon has flashed before my eyes; a vivid vision of the world’s beauty has enraptured me.
Doves gliding off into the sunset; this must be a symbol of all the splendor that lies in store for me.
Enamorment; affinity; affection and all the virtuous elements of humanity have been consolidated in my midst.
They have been compounded before my eyes; a physical form has now been granted.

My heart now has a tangible source for the Elixir of World.
Blinded for but a moment, I departed into an alluring phantasy.
Unsure of where to search for a comrade, I looked to another plane of existence for solace.
There was an explosion of lust for what was once a forbidden dream of the kindest sort.

This dream, it was kind enough to grant me the strength to plow through all the turmoil of a scathing world.
I have given birth to a new feeling; a feeling of hope over the horizon.
How?
By allowing my deepest fears and latent intentions to be cast aside and to fade away into naught.

Earth is a constant melisma of unforeseen occurrence, pain, and heartache but it can also be a beacon for valor, gallant-heartedness, and altruism.
-Delirium is fading away from my consciousness-
My greatest fear has always been to grow and to exceed what I believed to be my true caliber.
Now the day has arrived for me to supersede all trepidation and to transcend the shackles of rigidity.

The storm clouds, they have departed.
The blossoms have begun to bud amongst the tightly packed soil of the terrene.
The sun has arisen from a nocturne of anticipation; this has effloresced into the genesis of a new dawn.
I have emerged from my cocoon and now the world seems so brand new to me.

I am prepared to soar high above the clouds.
I am a dove.
The horizon is mine for the taking.
I am a symbol of love.

From now, until the end of time,
Iridescently Efflorescent.

All those stares everywhere I go,
Beating and burning the back of my head.
Can you even imagine being me -
“Different”, a minority?
Everything is changing as I am
Finding out what I am made of -
Giving me unending pride and
Hope for the future world -
Inspired by equality for all.
Just look inside my soul and
Know that I am not so bad.
Look at me and understand that
My name has changed and it is
Not the same as when I was born.
Operations will transform me into the
Person I am in my heart and in my mind.
Questions from you are welcomed,
Rudeness, however, can be left at the door.
Send your bitterness and hate away to learn
That not all people are the same.
Understand that I will always love myself and
Violence will never ever be the answer
When all I want is to be accepted.
X marks the spot on our hearts when
You have decided to wholly learn to
Zero out the hate in which our society takes a toll.
Zero out the cold-heartedness and
You will feel better about yourself.
X’s and O’s go to the people
Who love me for simply being me.
Victory unending goes to those who  
Understand and love each other
Through the most difficult times -
Sorrow, hate, crimes, and pain.
Realize that we do not need help,
Quit telling us that we are mentally sick,
Pretty pretty please, with a cherry on top.
Oh, I hope and dream that the day is
Nearing when we are equal in each eye,
Minorities will cease to exist anymore with
Love that is pure and acceptance for all.
Knowing that each of us is not the same
Just simply goes to show that
I will never let you bring me down.
***** is not my name, never ever will it be.
Gender identity is not a choice -
Forgiveness, though, is a choice.
Educate yourself to gain knowledge.
Do not call me “dude” or ”man”,
Call me Unique, not my birth name.
By all means, you don’t have to love me -
All I ask is that you accept me for being me.

What's the fear that feeds the ink?

Who holds the censor pen?

Blacking out lines before they're uttered?

It's my dad, calling my mom "dramatic".

It's my mom, hurt in her eyes, saying "how could you". When I didn't mean to, or I didn't know, or I didn't properly gauge her reaction in advance.

It's online misunderstandings, always assuming the worst intentions: that I'm bad, or bigoted

That I'm dumb, uneducated or boring, redundant or mean.

It's previous partners and broken hearts

When what I couldn't give was mistaken with cold-heartedness, or stinginess or uncaring.


The good news

The truly good news

Is that I am non of those things

And I'm watching, as I speak

I'm watching that pen run out of ink

maybe this is what you want
goodmorning to a smile
goodnight to a smile
humming in the heart of someone unfathomable
light hearted and untainted
maybe but only slightly
but just not enough
to feel the rigid edges
to know that they are always there
I dont deserve this
maybe thats it

your light heartedness
my soul merely corrupt and haunted
stained and discolored over and over
the same spots
by my life

my lovely life
that I accept and appreciate
for showing me what I know

a painful world that you never exsisted in is
where I spent my nights as a child

hard heartedness is a terrible way to live
its a prison , a dungeon in the deepest darkness
no one gets to visit, and in the end no one wants to.

The Thames rides high in the city's red wheel!
the indigenous birds of one country are moored no longer
the night is worth its ride, and castrates each reason
to not sell: the freshest cut mind: its only state: its only guest  

Babes milked by dunes, growing giants from their anima palm
low nebulae of sea anklets, by the cooling of patience
by the stored morning of vittalic kin, usherette grasps
shatter spite, at the risk of all peaceful vibrations in humour
where the roads connect to all amor fati, amor fati, Amor fati!
la chimère d’amour; where rhythms are shared by all animals,
unflexed in the skull by denizen skull: the populace melts

So passed the point of brinking-worlds, there are only elements
so no rapier can slice through dream like the scent of day,
and we scream in melodious waves of diving accident;
which brings notions back of extending fire sighs so opaquely,
happiness cherishes the chaotic mirror of booming children
the figureless dance of the last disgrace, which has no pity
and is the travelling word for success against liberty

We are no longer life, or its blushing ripped condescension
only my shadow and yours are the freeing muscle
where man has shattered space into the thousandless voice
of solitudinal stars in the androgyny of light-
hemisphere of binary pleasure; jealous boys and girls drink smoke
we the haphazard twin of darkness and light forget, wilfully
as if destiny is a circular pleasure, of both stomach and sky

By the watering mortars of the watchmen from Soho dancing again
and to this city the agile mouth of a field is awake
where the sad winds entwine with the yeasts of the hare
the smallness of light balancing on your cheek, gargantuan
to everything through the hymns of a car choking, to spirit
two moments transmit all there is, by the third, death emigrates
or it does when we dress each other by the charm of time

I have no idea where this music begins, and perhaps our DNA laughs
as do my fathers, your mothers, in the emergence of reversing gods
the birthing of make-up, the evening day mobbed by innocence
where purity is less magnetic than a sliver of fish, dead in a dog's heart
even that now, même que maintenant, even this now
même ce maintenant, is a better howling blood of choice
where a little fatter and choicer- rage is the sonata of calmness

And much dusk where the glimmer is, the ****** drool of half
heartedness is your soft wolf walking in, the silk of your bating voice
my only vice, and the point of all tantric scent
the murals of our past are now the sculptures of changing grip
like early and significant horses enduring the guilt of eating
all tribes in all ice and fire, the fastest cars cannot beat the tram
the tram and old bust marriages of constant grace

Fundament, infallible, mercurial, wholesome in lie
there being no flea with enough backs to carry us all
no poem in hell can survive without being saliva
too much **** and not enough road makes a dull car of us all
but, there is only one liver waiting on the ground
what is the perfect song to let it breathe? Tonight
you are my attire, and I am yours

We soak the ribbons with massacred blood, we say
to the absolute: no, I choose my partners carefully
I am yours, you are mine, our habitual skin
blowing leviathans training the wind
and chokes as we stroll releasing our hands upon its neck
but let ours fly together and apart, nothing holding the world
in the divinity of wood, your translucent perfume, our body

The dogs have blown into darkness
The moors create hybrids from themselves
Wild garlic ferments in fields of skin
Texas leans into Vertigo’s kiss
An ape is born smelling of you
My sweat is your blue June
Armed only by light.

the moment when you met was rather insignificant
but then someone told you that she liked you
and you realized that – hey – you suddenly liked her too.
and so you expectedly courted her
kissing her at moments that you did with previous girls
telling her old sentences
recycling plainly hidden stories from your childhood:
one showing your good heartedness
one about your embarrassing marching band days (without forgetting to mention your pop-punk band now)
and, of course, the first girlfriend tale that makes you seem vulnerable.
and through these, you reveal things to her that other girls, now decaying in your mind, have known for many many months.

yes you hook up
and the *** is up to par
and there’s some appeal to the overall lack of trying involved.
you date as obligation
and you somehow convince yourself that you love her
because feeling wanted feels so **** pleasant
and her lack of intrusion on the rest of your life is pretty convenient overall.

and out of complacency this love takes hold
or at least solidifies like an algae bloom
and you grow tired for settling
and she gets exhausted from caring
and everything stagnates to a perfect balance.
your blood hardens to plastic
so the your muscles can no longer fight
against the unsettling comfort of the life
you said you’d never lead.

I hear your lyre cries
I hear your grief and sorrow
I hear your love for me.

You refuse to listen as they tell you
That I am too far beneath the surface
Trapped in the clutches of death's flames.

My beautiful minstrel, no longer incandescent
Do you think Apollo would be proud of what you've come to?
You roam around with your lyre of gold,
Yet you have killed your flame for love lost.

I miss the way you enchanted all of Greece with your melodies
You now make the gods and goddesses weep in pity;
You make the flowers wilt and die of sadness,
You make even the sirens wail of broken heartedness as
they drive away the sailors who were once enchanted by them.

Do you see the beautiful might of the songs you sing?

O Orpheus, listen to me when I tell you to stop searching for me:
Do not enter the caves and traverse the darkness once more
A darkness you are not meant to be in,
Darkness you are too precious for.

I hear your lyre cries
I hear your grief and sorrow
I hear your love for me
And I am sorry I could not come back with you...

But listen now, my love
Although you long for me still
I am now the only thing in your world
That your music cannot bring back to life.

Fiery mind
or icy veins
can be a downfall all the same
Cold heartedness
or burning passion
can lead to similar dissatisfaction
As the storm clouds start to form
my blood simmers to lukewarm
all that I was fighting for
doesn't matter anymore
I must disown the love I sworn
for this dysfunctional repertoire

and you know what was, or rather,
what is the most "fun" aspect
of being being mis-diagnosed
as a schizophrenic...
   oh... 12 years ago?
  no one could have told me
i'd be riding a ******* carousel
of the remnants of my ego
into this sort of... "reality check"
prognosis...
   i always sat there in the psychiatric
office,
replying to what books
i was reading...
    making as much of
my ****** courtesy,
thinking... not much...
       inter-sectional feminism?
intra-sectional feminism?
ooh... someone has a fetish
       for Latin prefixes, don' 'eye?
when chemistry became a hard
science but also a quasi-science
of: well... we've done our bit
for the worth of shampoo...
*** yer *** on the benzene ring
unravelling...
   meta! y' sir!
  para! y' sir!
           ortho! y' sir!
  find us... trans!
   y'... you what?!
                                    find us trans!
imagine my astute astoundment,
say... 6 years ago...
being asked: what is reality?
the ontology of ever is,
that is, and every is, that isn't,
and every is that is in-itself?
do i ******* look like god?
well... here are your answers...
   trans-gender "women"
moved in all-female prisons?
arm the female prisoners
with strap-on ******...
         what?!
               it almost seemed like
a waste of time, back then...
   but, now, i guess...
everyone is as... "confused" as i was
back "then"...
to no apparent then
with what is worth a... now...
yeah... i always need a reality check...
like... reality is anything
worth checking, rather than checking-out
off...
         and i understand the gimmick
pundits...
      problem with me:
i have an unnatural will to live,
and a knack at playing
the patient, & happy,
& non-talkative happy camper
of... a... chief bromden...
whatever the hell i said so many
years ago...
  well... **** on me...
what does it matter, now?
- but clearly i never assembled
the grand puzzle of, "reality"
to what has been perfected
to a dysfunction...
seemingly: to begin with...
  most of them?
gen-X single mother households...
me? classical learning:
my mother is my worst enemy...
classical Oedipus-complex...
which means:
   i do not possess the audacity
to... trans...
             sure, i tickled
my fancies with cross-dressing...
had the ***** to walk into
a Butlins ****-fest of a night
out...
   lost my wallet...
but now?!
      chemistry, thank god,
is still a rigid toy of words...
  like... what's north, south,
east or west in Copernican terms?
answer... flat earth...
oh yeah... because that round earth
GPS really helped those
*** tourists in Australia...
drive their ******* car into a lake...
but chemistry is a cul de sac...
unless...
  you translate all that theory
******* back into a fetish for words...
esp. Latin prefix jargon...
physics? covered...
by science fiction...
and the atom bomb... no problem...
spoc' 'as 'is 'ne covered...
no worries...
   ah... but biology?
      there's a realism behind it?
sure... psychiatric realism...
       at times you start to wonder:
why does a psychiatrist
even get a chance to speak...
before a philosopher might employ
the cuddle and a pillow of sedatives?
yeah... so much of cultural darwinism...
has made... reality...
                 in-and-of-itself...
either...
             stealth synthetic beef stakes
and...
    ****** trannies...
   in prisons...
where female prisoners
are not armed with strap-on
******...
           no... no reality here...
n'ah 'um...
                   nada...
         zilch, squid... nuffin'...
no... ****** taqiyya...
                   we all wish to be homophobes...
only...
       going to a gay bar the previous
night... ended up snogging
a south american...
next day?
            went to a birthday party...
the south american
made an inquiry with my gay
cousin...
so i was at the party,
he was at the party...
       i came to the party...
was investigated by the feminist
police about being homophobic...
spotted the south american...
had an intolerable pain in my gut...
apologized to my cousin
hosting the party...
and...                            left...
the gay i could take...
  i was just getting my hots for him
had i enough drinks in me...
but a ******* homophobia
investigation, by a woman...
no...
i rather eat rar herring on beach
in... ******* Southend...
sitting on the pebbles...
wanting to count the number
of grooves of hemorrhoid about
to blush: blue....
yeah... reality...
everyone has a sedative
for that...
it's only that some of us...
do not think... being over-excited
by its speculative nature
of a theoretical physicist
            is all that important!
- so, what do i see?
directionless, and a-chemical...
just by looking at the attachment
groups to a benzene ring...
        but you know...
chemistry is a stable science...
      it couldn't be attacked,
it could only be exploited,
verbally, borrowing from Latin...
  physics is still instact,
although: science fiction,
unless you drop the Oppenheimer
quote...
                 or... talk via
a mobile phone...
                 but?
      not even the fault of Marxism...
although: i should wish that to be,
no?
          cultural darwinism...
     looking too long up
the **** of a monkey...
             and so...
                  in the meantime:
i did enjoy some of ted berrigan
poems...
                 unless of course
i have succumbed to a filter,
where i'm strapped to a pit
of rats that are about to gnaw at me,
and i will never hear
the sort of conversations
backstage at the BAFTAS
         or prior to the Ascot races...
at whatever tier i'm at...
having just picked up...
  a lászló krasznahorkai
   (like the name of the psychiatrist,
dr. szasz... yes: that implies no
SaS or ZaZ... but SHaSH...
  well... unless he wasn't
Magyar to begin with...
     but a geerman! ßaß)....
satantango...
          edition?
        the first english edition,
tuskar rock book
2012...
  oh hell, the book is older than as me...
first appeared in 1985...
but yeah... started reading it...
       to peer into what...
an anti-paragraph novel looks like...
and i thought that people only read
poetry for a light-heartedness...
turns out...
there is a hyper-statement of
prose-claustrophobia...
namely? the anti-paragraph...
then i read something from
the blog of alex preston...
writing in 2014 to his younger self
in 2009 having just secured
a faber & faber publishing deal...

              and all i could think of was...
the merovingian...
who? lambert wilson...
in the film... 5 to 7...
  about an aspiring writer...
                  hey baby hey...
hey second from now here on in:
boo!

                     alex preston
doing the analysis, back in 2014...
http://alexhmpreston.com/a-letter-to-a-young-writer/...
average: x25,000
          accurate figure x11,000...
one baby in hand,
another baby in tow...

the very sensible man...
            and why would anyone
crouch over a screen,
   find enough propensity
to earn a living from... being-bait
of one's on clicking rhythm?

sure... all poetry is but the horror
of an extension of one's
"inability" to shed off adolescence...
either the *******
claustrophobia of prose,
or the anti-paragraph
myopia of some Magyar...

           let's just call this
the medium of the infantile minds...
and call... the serious writer's
medium,
the medium of the book critic,
who finally exclaims:
and of the 20 books on my reading
list for the newspaper...
for the weekend magazine
review section... ?
i probably finished... 1.

pendulum... pendulum!

The factory will devour me
With its hungry mechanical
Guttural, industrial heart

Machine beating out
Perfect plastic product

The metal monstrosity
Pounding out heat
Creating hard heartedness
Beating and feeding on
Human sweat and flesh
Self-sacrifice to fulfill
Your family need
Eight to twelve hours

Life becomes cheap
Ate up by the factory beast

I used to write to wend my way out of the darkness,
to talk myself out of the sadness,
to cure my broken heartedness,
but now I find that

Because you took my heart in your hands
and because you bared and repaired me
I have only joy.

I alone hold the joy of your freckled skin,
I alone know your virtues
and I alone hold your sins.
I alone know your tenderness, your truth,
and I alone have you, and

You, alone, carry my burdens and my vices,
hold my laughter and my care,
and you alone have brought me here.

Bodhisattva
Boundless energy
Eternal Light
Gone beyond all fear

Form is emptiness
Emptiness is form

Buddham saranam gacchami
Dhammam saranam gacchami
Sangham Saranam gacchami

I have come to help all beings
And deep inside
I have the most wondrous heart

I must cultivate Ren
Human heartedness
Virtuosity

Know the male, but keep the female,
Being the universal river-valley,
Being the the universal river-valley,
One has the eternal virtue [te] undivided
And becomes again as a child

They tried to banish me
No No No

Boundless light,
Boundless energy
Ten-thousand eyes
Never tire of seeing

I will return
I must help all sentient beings

In giving
I will receive the greatest gift!

Buddham saranam gachammi
Dhammam saranam gachammi
Sangham saranam gachammi

Love
It's love

Sometimes I turn my head
showing my pain by averting my eyes. Nothing I've
done to deserve this, by how you treat

my old words becoming something static.

Many mistakes made cannot be
mended though I owe myself a smidgen
of humanity. So when these eyes crave a

golden horse for lost carriages and
then lash from dissatisfaction you can soothe
in my silence and disbelief for hole heartedness.


© April 22nd 2014

Love

Inner calm
Loving compassion
Kind-heartedness
Falling and ceasing, not rising

Benevolence toward all beings
Unconditional love
Patience and understanding

The Tao is like water
It nourishes all beings
Like water it is good
It nourishes all
Like water it sinks to the low place
Not claiming credit
Water flows downhill
Non striving

Humility, forgiveness
Peace be with you

Love
Love for all people
In all times and places

Loving nature
Go with nature

In giving we receive

Love

She is playing with fossils and Lego figures
But is then made to play with dolls to convince
The other kids that
She is not a lesbian.
She is 7.
She is forced to pay tax on tampons
Because they are not as essential as,
Say,
Jaffa Cakes.
She is 12.
Now of age, she is promised to the son of a family friend.
Traded like cattle or a crop, but should be grateful that she is wanted.
She is 13.
She is sending nudes to an older boy
Because she has been told that that is the only way
Of showing love and commitment.
She is 14.
She wears a fake wedding band in public
To stop strangers asking her out.
She needs evidence, because her word isn’t enough
She is 15.
She is picking her A Levels
but shies away from Tech, Computing and Physics
because she thinks girls are not taken seriously in those fields.
She is 16.
She learns that strangers shouting and whistling from a van or scaffold
Is a compliment and she should be grateful for the attention.
She is 17.
She is called either ‘one of the lads’ or a ‘****’ for having more male friends than female.
When the word they were looking for is ‘friend’.
She is 18.
She uses earphones as armour
Against men in the gym who insist
On interrupting her session, to show her how to lift the weights ‘properly’.
She is 19.
She is required to wear makeup and heels to work
Because they are the basis of a hard-working employee.
She is 21.
She easily confuses male kind-heartedness with seduction
Because meeting friendly men without an agenda is so unfamiliar to her.
She is 22.
She is asked about family-planning by her employers. She fears that if she speaks out about the discrimination, her contract will be terminated.
She is 23.
She is told the gender pay gap is a myth
When she knows that her male colleagues are paid more for the same work.
She decides to remain quiet.
She is 26.
She is called ‘bossy’ and ‘sassy’
When leading a small team with confidence.
She now notices that those words are specially reserved for women.
She is 28.
She is unmarried and therefore the family joke.
The sponge that has no choice but to absorb
All the comments on her character.
She is 35.
She finds herself pregnant and is unsure whether there will be a job for her if she goes through with the pregnancy.
She is 36.
She decides to become a stay-at-home mother in order to not miss her baby’s growth.
She is called ‘lazy’, ‘backwards’ and ‘a disgrace to feminism’.
She is 37.
She goes back to work and now replaces her partner as the main breadwinner.
She is now a threat to male egos everywhere.
She is 39.
She is overqualified for the job role
But females over a certain age are neither commercially or aesthetically desirable in this industry.
She is 42.
The timeline ends here because
She is tired
After finally realising that
A woman dies soon after she is born.
SHE IS SOMEONE’s daughter
SHE IS SOMEONE’s mother
SHE IS SOMEONE’s sister
SHE IS SOMEONE's grandmother
SHE IS SOMEONE’s girlfriend
SHE IS SOMEONE’s wife
SHE IS. SOMEONE.

Burning like sun, what makes you as sun..
Enthusiasm like yeast, will make your hope to shine..

True beauty will never fade, even when darkness surround..
Let us rise this moment that will ever shine, as tomorrow will never be in our hand..

As whole heartedness, keep the shine of soul..
Let the inner strength fulfill the dream of goal..

Shine your light, as like a candle..
And like a candle, you shine in night..

Let the tone of your music, play with your talent..
And the beauty of yours, shine from within the soul..

Let your light shine, like the lighthouses..
Let your each day shine, with its glorious moments..

What is music?  The heart rendered?  What life
Is to a dream?  The eyes object in rapture?
What is the soul's shell, but a half note hollow
Contained with music?  Art is cold—
Echo, mute repetition, poor traits for nine
Dead muses of memory, a fiction after
The fact, nor can there be a shelf for credence
Without cadence.  And though the painter's eyes
Remember rainbows colour, his hands forget
All, save black and white.  Though the sculptor sees
The vein of nudes within the sparkled rock
That stone, still, looks back with grieving half-
Heartedness.
                         The chambered heart is beating,
The droning gales are sighing, but like the one bird
Who flies three ways— before and after song,
My middling wings pronounce two kingdoms part
Music.  The felt fingers of rain consort with well-
Tempered earthly quays and everywhere there is
There is the bright organic instrument—
And actuality is sidled with dead metaphors.
Music is but purest feeling given air to,
The mind soothed, the spirit seduced and a quell
For ache of heart, music is pure making—
Existence itself, another plain, a well dressed
Traveler, a border with life—
Body and spirit, who hand in hand and each
With each, are bound as wings are paired;
One flyer soaring.

Republican Jesus is not all that keen
on feeding the poor
to tell the truth
food-stamps lead to dependence
don't they,

Republican Jesus winks & nods
at wives on the side
third wives
& trophy wives
oh good luck to you son
on that one,

Republican Jesus hates softness
& gentleness
& just plain kindness
it reeks of communism
& caring
& sharing,

Republican Jesus will **** for Christ,
sleep with his guns,
caress his ammo
his lock, stock & barrel,
tongue bullets
not wafers,

Republican Jesus loves money
loves money a whole bunch
gets excited
over money,
caresses himself
while watching
Lives of the Rich and Famous,

Republican Jesus has a private jet
with gold commode
& caviar,
sips the very best
of everything,
& feels no pain.

Republican Jesus has flipped it all around,
all the love for the destitute,
the feeding of the five thousand,
the humility,
the simple loaves & fishes,

Republican Jesus has the ethics of
a hyena
& the honesty of
the cuckoo bird,
the warm-heartedness
of a hungry great white,
the vision of a mole,
& the promise
of a golden future
built upon the backs
of the less
fortunate.

Republican Jesus is the real deal
isn't he!

Love

Inner calm
Loving compassion
Kind-heartedness
Ceasing and extinction of desires
Neither rising or falling

Benevolence toward all beings
Unconditional love
Patience and understanding

The Tao is like water
It nourishes all beings
Like water it is good
It nourishes all
Like water it sinks to the low place
Not claiming credit
Water flows downhill
Non striving

Humility, forgiveness
Peace be with you

Love
Love for all people
In all times and places

Loving nature
Go with nature

In giving we receive

Love

What is music?  The heart rendered?  What life
Is to a dream?  The eyes object in rapture?
What is the soul's shell, but a half note hollow
Contained with music?  Art is cold—
Echo, mute repetition, poor traits for nine
Dead muses of memory, a fiction after
The fact, nor can there be a shelf for credence
Without cadence.  And though the painter's eyes
Remember rainbows colour, his hands forget
All, save black and white.  Though the sculptor sees
The vein of nudes within the sparkled rock
That stone, still, looks back with grieving half-
Heartedness.
                         The chambered heart is beating,
The droning gales are sighing, but like the one bird
Who flies three ways— before and after song,
My middling wings pronounce two kingdoms part
Music.  The felt fingers of rain consort with well-
Tempered earthly quays and everywhere there is
There is the bright organic instrument—
And actuality is sidled with dead metaphors.
Music is but purest feeling given air to,
The mind soothed, the spirit seduced and a quell
For ache of heart, music is pure making—
Existence itself, another plain, a well dressed
Traveler, a border with life—
Body and spirit, who hand in hand and each
With each, are bound as wings are paired;
One flyer soaring.