POETRY - RHYME
E.E.C. Blanket:
The smotherer of fire, unifier of division,
Resolver of conflicts, in historical revision.
By pooling resources, for equal common goals,
Ancient antagonisms become knowledgeable roles.
Unitary purpose and economic union,
European equality, voice for the minion.
Peace for Ireland now, northern catholic vote,
Only hope for Cyprus, is to board the union boat.
In obstructing Turkish, new expansionist plan,
In guise of protector, of minority clan.
Millennium melter, of iron curtain line,
But the Balkan conflict, is a time ticking mine.
Antiquated doctrine, Serbian nationalism,
Lesson of the past, domineering chauvinism.
For men are brothers, of the human race,
United in life, no matter what the face.
Friday, 30 March 2007
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
Path of Conflict:
Young, isolated, vulnerable and confused.
Estranged, victimized, bewildered and scared.
Eventual necessity, evocation of anger,
To overcome stigma, conflict and foes.
The double-edged sword of duality,
The excitement and pleasure of power.
The arrogance of victory and respect,
The echo of violence and fear.
The saving grace of love and compassion,
Gleaned wisdom from experience gained.
Techniques ancient, studied to instill,
Order serene, triple-body purification
Path of Conflict:
Young, isolated, vulnerable and confused.
Estranged, victimized, bewildered and scared.
Eventual necessity, evocation of anger,
To overcome stigma, conflict and foes.
The double-edged sword of duality,
The excitement and pleasure of power.
The arrogance of victory and respect,
The echo of violence and fear.
The saving grace of love and compassion,
Gleaned wisdom from experience gained.
Techniques ancient, studied to instill,
Order serene, triple-body purification
POETRY – RHYME
Our Quest:
The Quest, our journey, a search for the Grail,
Man’s eternal Odyssey, a find he can not fail.
The Buddhi, the Christos, the vessel our soul,
Of Spirit and Atman, the light of our goal.
From Spirit to Matter, Heaven to Earth,
Olympus to Hades, Valhalla to the hearth.
Descent into experience, evolution of life,
Choice of attainment, glory or strife.
Be King or be beggar, our fate is our creed,
We fare where we leave, our status our steed.
On the stage of our play, our role from the past,
Give lessons of life, to evolve consciousness in cast.
Our Quest
The Quest, our journey, a search for the Grail,
Man’s eternal Odyssey, a find he can not fail.
The Buddhi, the Christos, the vessel our soul,
Of Spirit and Atman, the light of our goal.
From Spirit to Matter, Heaven to Earth,
Olympus to Hades, Valhalla to the hearth.
Descent into experience, evolution of life,
Choice of attainment, glory or strife.
Be King or be beggar, our fate is our creed,
We fare where we leave, our status our steed.
On the stage of our play, our role from the past,
Give lessons of life, to evolve consciousness in cast.
Our Quest:
The Quest, our journey, a search for the Grail,
Man’s eternal Odyssey, a find he can not fail.
The Buddhi, the Christos, the vessel our soul,
Of Spirit and Atman, the light of our goal.
From Spirit to Matter, Heaven to Earth,
Olympus to Hades, Valhalla to the hearth.
Descent into experience, evolution of life,
Choice of attainment, glory or strife.
Be King or be beggar, our fate is our creed,
We fare where we leave, our status our steed.
On the stage of our play, our role from the past,
Give lessons of life, to evolve consciousness in cast.
Our Quest
The Quest, our journey, a search for the Grail,
Man’s eternal Odyssey, a find he can not fail.
The Buddhi, the Christos, the vessel our soul,
Of Spirit and Atman, the light of our goal.
From Spirit to Matter, Heaven to Earth,
Olympus to Hades, Valhalla to the hearth.
Descent into experience, evolution of life,
Choice of attainment, glory or strife.
Be King or be beggar, our fate is our creed,
We fare where we leave, our status our steed.
On the stage of our play, our role from the past,
Give lessons of life, to evolve consciousness in cast.
POETRY – RHYME
Our Quest:
The Quest, our journey, a search for the Grail,
Man’s eternal Odyssey, a find he can not fail.
The Buddhi, the Christos, the vessel our soul,
Of Spirit and Atman, the light of our goal.
From Spirit to Matter, Heaven to Earth,
Olympus to Hades, Valhalla to the hearth.
Descent into experience, evolution of life,
Choice of attainment, glory or strife.
Be King or be beggar, our fate is our creed,
We fare where we leave, our status our steed.
On the stage of our play, our role from the past,
Give lessons of life, to evolve consciousness in cast.
Our Quest:
The Quest, our journey, a search for the Grail,
Man’s eternal Odyssey, a find he can not fail.
The Buddhi, the Christos, the vessel our soul,
Of Spirit and Atman, the light of our goal.
From Spirit to Matter, Heaven to Earth,
Olympus to Hades, Valhalla to the hearth.
Descent into experience, evolution of life,
Choice of attainment, glory or strife.
Be King or be beggar, our fate is our creed,
We fare where we leave, our status our steed.
On the stage of our play, our role from the past,
Give lessons of life, to evolve consciousness in cast.
POETRY – RHYME
It’s Time:
Hear Aphrodite call, awaken Sir Knight,
Arise to ride, to your destiny and fulfillment.
The Quest you have trained for, is at hand,
Now is the time, to ask the reasons why.
For the personal battle, is now the Universal Struggle,
Between the Light and the Dark, the enlightened and the fallen.
Krishna, Buddha, Christos, triple beacons of Light,
A guide to the Cosmos, kaleidoscopic night.
Middle razor path, to eventual attainment,
Of love without wrath, all passions contained.
Anguish and pain, a gift from God,
For to suffer is to learn,
To differentiate and discern,
Unity in material, triple and quad.
It’s Time:
Hear Aphrodite call, awaken Sir Knight,
Arise to ride, to your destiny and fulfillment.
The Quest you have trained for, is at hand,
Now is the time, to ask the reasons why.
For the personal battle, is now the Universal Struggle,
Between the Light and the Dark, the enlightened and the fallen.
Krishna, Buddha, Christos, triple beacons of Light,
A guide to the Cosmos, kaleidoscopic night.
Middle razor path, to eventual attainment,
Of love without wrath, all passions contained.
Anguish and pain, a gift from God,
For to suffer is to learn,
To differentiate and discern,
Unity in material, triple and quad.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
About Time:
Old Blighty, the white cliffs of Dover, Trafalagar Square, Wembley’s twin towers,
The English Channel’s two way directional traffic, line dotted on a clear day.
Well that’s show business folks, progress and redevelopment, adapt or be left behind to stagnate,
Seven to one underdog winners on All Saints Day ’77, against the old but most glamorous adversary,
The new, young & irrepressible, all conquering Docherty Red Devils,
Against the maverick, dotted jeweled, second tier Saints.
The greatest day in Southampton’s history, at the never again to be perennial Wembley Stadium.
Memories, the Dell no longer, oh what fond recollections of performance, war and conflict,
The sixties, those days, that football and music, that freedom.
Well that’s history and here’s reality, for a re-appraisal and a philosophical bearing exercise,
There’s a time for everything and now seems the moment to return to the hearth
And playground of old, to impart some positivity into connections old and new.
Grand parents duties and responsibilities, with such inquisitive niece and nephews,
Indicating an impending summer return, five years feels and sounds about right.
About Time:
Old Blighty, the white cliffs of Dover, Trafalagar Square, Wembley’s twin towers,
The English Channel’s two way directional traffic, line dotted on a clear day.
Well that’s show business folks, progress and redevelopment, adapt or be left behind to stagnate,
Seven to one underdog winners on All Saints Day ’77, against the old but most glamorous adversary,
The new, young & irrepressible, all conquering Docherty Red Devils,
Against the maverick, dotted jeweled, second tier Saints.
The greatest day in Southampton’s history, at the never again to be perennial Wembley Stadium.
Memories, the Dell no longer, oh what fond recollections of performance, war and conflict,
The sixties, those days, that football and music, that freedom.
Well that’s history and here’s reality, for a re-appraisal and a philosophical bearing exercise,
There’s a time for everything and now seems the moment to return to the hearth
And playground of old, to impart some positivity into connections old and new.
Grand parents duties and responsibilities, with such inquisitive niece and nephews,
Indicating an impending summer return, five years feels and sounds about right.
Everyone A Winner:
Sale of the century, all up for grabs,
Privatisation, theft without dabs.
Free market forces, yoke of the day,
Disinformation, sharks in the bay.
Monopoly enterprise, through the back door,
Sold for a pittance, robbing the poor.
Downsizing mania, reducing the cost,
Loyal, skilled workforce, permanently lost.
Resell politics, fortunes for a few,
Total asset stripping, feeding frenzy queue.
N.U.M. demise, solidarity dissolved,
Roller coaster capital, bargains unresolved.
Sale of the century, all up for grabs,
Privatisation, theft without dabs.
Free market forces, yoke of the day,
Disinformation, sharks in the bay.
Monopoly enterprise, through the back door,
Sold for a pittance, robbing the poor.
Downsizing mania, reducing the cost,
Loyal, skilled workforce, permanently lost.
Resell politics, fortunes for a few,
Total asset stripping, feeding frenzy queue.
N.U.M. demise, solidarity dissolved,
Roller coaster capital, bargains unresolved.
POETRY – RHYME
Teenage Teething:
The distractions of youth, are many and vast,
Swirling currents to a ship with no mast.
To sirens we do steer, it seems the right way,
In proof of our manhood, our fears to allay.
If release it does come, we escape with our scars,
Full of anger and hate, our barriers to the stars.
Through mists we do sail, to lights that attract,
Like moths to a flame, unwary travelers to enact.
The dance of maya, our senses to entice,
In heavy chains of passions, our delusions and vice.
In the flame of life, in pain we do burn,
By the fires of experience, thus we do learn.
Teenage Teething:
The distractions of youth, are many and vast,
Swirling currents to a ship with no mast.
To sirens we do steer, it seems the right way,
In proof of our manhood, our fears to allay.
If release it does come, we escape with our scars,
Full of anger and hate, our barriers to the stars.
Through mists we do sail, to lights that attract,
Like moths to a flame, unwary travelers to enact.
The dance of maya, our senses to entice,
In heavy chains of passions, our delusions and vice.
In the flame of life, in pain we do burn,
By the fires of experience, thus we do learn.
POETRY – RHYME
Jealousy
That acid emotion, slave driver to the grave,
The stealer of friends, insidious voice of the knave.
Venal polluter of feelings, dagger in the heart,
Corrupter of morals, swift poisoned dart.
An inciter of hatred, wallowing in self-pity,
With tedious manic behaviour, when unreasonably shitty.
Continual wrecker of bars, destroyer of nations,
Self-wringer of necks, peeper at stations.
Distorter of reality, poisoner of the mind,
Green envies elder sister, with reactions that do bind.
Whispering foe of the noble, dark emotive reaper,
Slanderer of the divine, earth’s perennial keeper.
Jealousy
That acid emotion, slave driver to the grave,
The stealer of friends, insidious voice of the knave.
Venal polluter of feelings, dagger in the heart,
Corrupter of morals, swift poisoned dart.
An inciter of hatred, wallowing in self-pity,
With tedious manic behaviour, when unreasonably shitty.
Continual wrecker of bars, destroyer of nations,
Self-wringer of necks, peeper at stations.
Distorter of reality, poisoner of the mind,
Green envies elder sister, with reactions that do bind.
Whispering foe of the noble, dark emotive reaper,
Slanderer of the divine, earth’s perennial keeper.
POETRY – RHYME
Street Blues:
Raw, young and rejected , confused and in pain,
Tender, damaged and lonely, a victim in the rain.
Innocent eyes a signal, for every gutter street Cain,
Fresh body a target, for all sorts of gain.
Cardboard city drop out, society passes you by,
Invisible amidst the throng, accept for the occasional sigh.
An outlaw’s chance for money, is black and very dry,
Be victim or abuser, insidious or be high.
This life is very callous, no space nor time or light,
For healing of one’s wounds, in the incessant struggle and fight.
So have compassion for our brothers, in their daily fight,
It could be us or our loved ones, for our lives are not so white.
Street Blues:
Raw, young and rejected , confused and in pain,
Tender, damaged and lonely, a victim in the rain.
Innocent eyes a signal, for every gutter street Cain,
Fresh body a target, for all sorts of gain.
Cardboard city drop out, society passes you by,
Invisible amidst the throng, accept for the occasional sigh.
An outlaw’s chance for money, is black and very dry,
Be victim or abuser, insidious or be high.
This life is very callous, no space nor time or light,
For healing of one’s wounds, in the incessant struggle and fight.
So have compassion for our brothers, in their daily fight,
It could be us or our loved ones, for our lives are not so white.
Monday, 26 March 2007
POETRY - RHYME
Aspiration:
Fuel of genius and path to the stars,
Light of the noble and seller of cars.
Cross channel swimmer, midnight lamp burner,
Early morning runner, city slicker earner.
P.H.D. thesis and solitary monk
Peace negotiator and emigration trunk.
Himalayan climber, valiant lifeboat crew,
Ambitious politician and seeker of the true.
Lord’s wicket batsman, junior minister’s brief,
Cup Final player, a night stalking thief.
Rounded white bridesmaid, admittance to the barr,
Fresh raw journalist, a captain’s bridge too far.
Aspiration:
Fuel of genius and path to the stars,
Light of the noble and seller of cars.
Cross channel swimmer, midnight lamp burner,
Early morning runner, city slicker earner.
P.H.D. thesis and solitary monk
Peace negotiator and emigration trunk.
Himalayan climber, valiant lifeboat crew,
Ambitious politician and seeker of the true.
Lord’s wicket batsman, junior minister’s brief,
Cup Final player, a night stalking thief.
Rounded white bridesmaid, admittance to the barr,
Fresh raw journalist, a captain’s bridge too far.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
Greek Eastern Karma:
Turkey, the karma of Alexander, re-appearing ghosts
For the besiegers and destroyers of Troy and Magi.
The enslavers of Greece for centuries of torment,
Of Aphrodite they rape still.
The slow erosion of Classical and Hellenic Greece,
By the celestial barbarian from the east.
Do I perceive a wind of change,
Of it’s effects we must pray.
Greek Eastern Karma:
Turkey, the karma of Alexander, re-appearing ghosts
For the besiegers and destroyers of Troy and Magi.
The enslavers of Greece for centuries of torment,
Of Aphrodite they rape still.
The slow erosion of Classical and Hellenic Greece,
By the celestial barbarian from the east.
Do I perceive a wind of change,
Of it’s effects we must pray.
POETRY – RHYME
A Lesson:
Brothers three, bikers in wood,
Illicit conveyance, hush in the shop.
Hurried exchange, survey if I could,
Imbalanced barter, caught on the hop.
Dare to complain, above reproach,
Second mistake, first stated mine.
Don’t darken the door, of my glittering coach,
Rhetorical retort, to add to my fine.
Of troubles deep, far and wide,
I did enlighten, alone opposed.
Celestial bodies, that turn the tide,
Did not inform, the truth supposed.
What is justice, what is truth,
Speak the latter, negate the first.
Control the passions, not the sleuth,
Pearls of wisdom, in pains nursed.
A Lesson:
Brothers three, bikers in wood,
Illicit conveyance, hush in the shop.
Hurried exchange, survey if I could,
Imbalanced barter, caught on the hop.
Dare to complain, above reproach,
Second mistake, first stated mine.
Don’t darken the door, of my glittering coach,
Rhetorical retort, to add to my fine.
Of troubles deep, far and wide,
I did enlighten, alone opposed.
Celestial bodies, that turn the tide,
Did not inform, the truth supposed.
What is justice, what is truth,
Speak the latter, negate the first.
Control the passions, not the sleuth,
Pearls of wisdom, in pains nursed.
POETRY - SPIRITUAL
Ripe Or Not:
Knowledge, the forbidden fruit, for the uninitiated, the unprepared,
That Gnosis of the hidden, that light within the dark.
The selfish to oblivion, by corruption of morals,
Youthful Dionysian frenzy, in agony and pain, retribution and violence.
Dominion over others, carnal craving and lust,
Lower beacon glowing, voices from the dark.
Tempting vices of excitement, fulfillment of delusions,
A bargain for power, a slave and a pawn.
To appear the master demon, soul dead for ever more.
That Gnosis of the Revelation, Truth, Light and Love,
Selfless compassion to the righteous path.
Knowledge, the sliding slope to Hell,
Or not, who can tell,
Of the finite in pursuit of the infinite.
Ripe Or Not:
Knowledge, the forbidden fruit, for the uninitiated, the unprepared,
That Gnosis of the hidden, that light within the dark.
The selfish to oblivion, by corruption of morals,
Youthful Dionysian frenzy, in agony and pain, retribution and violence.
Dominion over others, carnal craving and lust,
Lower beacon glowing, voices from the dark.
Tempting vices of excitement, fulfillment of delusions,
A bargain for power, a slave and a pawn.
To appear the master demon, soul dead for ever more.
That Gnosis of the Revelation, Truth, Light and Love,
Selfless compassion to the righteous path.
Knowledge, the sliding slope to Hell,
Or not, who can tell,
Of the finite in pursuit of the infinite.
POETRY – RHYME
Our Time:
Saturday afternoon, match of the day,
In the Colliseum, gladiatorial display.
Festival of Dionysus, duel of the fates,
Radiant Ziggy Stardust, god glitter alter states.
Liquid crystal oracle, reality today,
Information technology, dictatorial relay.
Satellite T.V. and global communication,
Loosening of controls, by freedom of information.
Camcorder equestrian, new guardian band,
Big-shot expose, insatiable network demand.
Berlin wall in ruins, fall of the beast,
Re-united Deutsland, central European feast.
Our Time:
Saturday afternoon, match of the day,
In the Colliseum, gladiatorial display.
Festival of Dionysus, duel of the fates,
Radiant Ziggy Stardust, god glitter alter states.
Liquid crystal oracle, reality today,
Information technology, dictatorial relay.
Satellite T.V. and global communication,
Loosening of controls, by freedom of information.
Camcorder equestrian, new guardian band,
Big-shot expose, insatiable network demand.
Berlin wall in ruins, fall of the beast,
Re-united Deutsland, central European feast.
POETRY – RHYME
Ganges Karma:
Mighty mountain karma, flood of the plains,
Fundamental explosions, our mother it pains.
Our brothers who do fight, in the name of religion,
Use the power of God, as an energy pigeon.
This message of power, in chauvinistic dominance,
Is blinded by their passion, in political reliance.
Oblivious to the darkness, of their selfish rage,
They blast all our Spirit, in her web our cage.
Of energy our protection, hence our own good health,
Man’s true inheritance and our natural wealth.
And now comes it swiftly, the annual waters of life,
They do flood but deluge, with misery and strife.
Ganges Karma:
Mighty mountain karma, flood of the plains,
Fundamental explosions, our mother it pains.
Our brothers who do fight, in the name of religion,
Use the power of God, as an energy pigeon.
This message of power, in chauvinistic dominance,
Is blinded by their passion, in political reliance.
Oblivious to the darkness, of their selfish rage,
They blast all our Spirit, in her web our cage.
Of energy our protection, hence our own good health,
Man’s true inheritance and our natural wealth.
And now comes it swiftly, the annual waters of life,
They do flood but deluge, with misery and strife.
POETRY – RHYME
To Awake In Exile:
Moving on a path, freely skipping along,
Young and unfettered, crying I’m free.
Behind me I see, some snakes in a throng
Slowly winding, I declare, you can’t catch me.
In an instant I’m surrounded, inward circle snake,
My arrogant smile has vanished, in terror I awake.
A denizen in exile, with mother alone,
Anachronistic soul, here to atone.
To Awake In Exile:
Moving on a path, freely skipping along,
Young and unfettered, crying I’m free.
Behind me I see, some snakes in a throng
Slowly winding, I declare, you can’t catch me.
In an instant I’m surrounded, inward circle snake,
My arrogant smile has vanished, in terror I awake.
A denizen in exile, with mother alone,
Anachronistic soul, here to atone.
POETRY – RHYME
Scum
That label of retraining, borstal boy blues,
Fear trip routine, hierarchal bully mews,
Eton college format, maroon cap line,
The weak must whisper, whilst the strong do shine.
In their role of power, delegated to rule,
By fear and violence, a license to be cruel.
To the damaged and weak, unusual and strange,
The wardens just smile, desiring no change.
Content in a system, where they are the boss,
People who are different, are considered no loss.
Under this pressure, the weak they do grass,
The one winner revealed, rebel to the brass.
Scum
That label of retraining, borstal boy blues,
Fear trip routine, hierarchal bully mews,
Eton college format, maroon cap line,
The weak must whisper, whilst the strong do shine.
In their role of power, delegated to rule,
By fear and violence, a license to be cruel.
To the damaged and weak, unusual and strange,
The wardens just smile, desiring no change.
Content in a system, where they are the boss,
People who are different, are considered no loss.
Under this pressure, the weak they do grass,
The one winner revealed, rebel to the brass.
POETRY – RHYME
Rainbow Bridge:
Rainbow bridge and the pot of gold,
Where is the door of this myriad path.
It lies within, to he that hath,
Control of desire and his emotions too.
Good mental habits and intentions that are true,
Selfish ambition and the expression of love,
In service to his brother, whilst looking above.
Rainbow Bridge:
Rainbow bridge and the pot of gold,
Where is the door of this myriad path.
It lies within, to he that hath,
Control of desire and his emotions too.
Good mental habits and intentions that are true,
Selfish ambition and the expression of love,
In service to his brother, whilst looking above.
POETRY – RHYME
Dolphin Blue:
My daily dip in the Med, sunset velvet way,
Impressionist live pictorial, golden end of the day.
Mother soft caressing, godly silken bay,
Water warmly healing, invigorating in my play.
Magnetic ethereal web, Gaia electric blue,
Floating on the waves, one with me and you.
Glorious solar sun, charging my body through,
Between our mother and father, I lie in joy so true.
Dolphin Blue:
My daily dip in the Med, sunset velvet way,
Impressionist live pictorial, golden end of the day.
Mother soft caressing, godly silken bay,
Water warmly healing, invigorating in my play.
Magnetic ethereal web, Gaia electric blue,
Floating on the waves, one with me and you.
Glorious solar sun, charging my body through,
Between our mother and father, I lie in joy so true.
POETRY – RHYME
Tribal Warrior:
Saturday morning fever, anticipation of the match,
Getting ready for action, the defending of our patch.
Tooled up for agro, the red & white Saints crew,
Skinhead Westwood bootboys, rabid anti blue.
Waiting for our revenge, for away day battle scars,
Now our turn to waylay, the scum in street and bars.
Pride of team and town, display of bottle and spunk,
Oblivious of the illusion, image of thug and punk.
Fired by speed and booze, addicted to lower animism,
Chanting herd collective, instinctual violent tribalism.
Where boys become men, their fear submerged in power,
Chance for their expression, distorted, base and sour.
Tribal Warrior:
Saturday morning fever, anticipation of the match,
Getting ready for action, the defending of our patch.
Tooled up for agro, the red & white Saints crew,
Skinhead Westwood bootboys, rabid anti blue.
Waiting for our revenge, for away day battle scars,
Now our turn to waylay, the scum in street and bars.
Pride of team and town, display of bottle and spunk,
Oblivious of the illusion, image of thug and punk.
Fired by speed and booze, addicted to lower animism,
Chanting herd collective, instinctual violent tribalism.
Where boys become men, their fear submerged in power,
Chance for their expression, distorted, base and sour.
Saturday, 17 March 2007
POETRY – LOVE
Dadajii
Music was his pleasure, a joyous sound for us all,
His ballad banjo strumming, a dawn chorus call.
A gargantuan hearted teddy bear, sensitive and brave,
An open minded philosopher, in Baba’s mission to souls save.
With a willingness to learn, from students, life and God,
No work for him too lowly, no person too far from Light.
His compassion was overflowing, the nobility of a knight,
In him dogma non-existent, stricture without rod.
He had humour in abundance, in him laughter was a joy,
Infectious to all others, the innocence of a boy.
Self-criticism was a trait, for perfection was his goal,
Adieu to you dear brother, for whom the bell did toll.
Dadajii
Music was his pleasure, a joyous sound for us all,
His ballad banjo strumming, a dawn chorus call.
A gargantuan hearted teddy bear, sensitive and brave,
An open minded philosopher, in Baba’s mission to souls save.
With a willingness to learn, from students, life and God,
No work for him too lowly, no person too far from Light.
His compassion was overflowing, the nobility of a knight,
In him dogma non-existent, stricture without rod.
He had humour in abundance, in him laughter was a joy,
Infectious to all others, the innocence of a boy.
Self-criticism was a trait, for perfection was his goal,
Adieu to you dear brother, for whom the bell did toll.
POETRY – LOVE:
Love
The Energy of this Universe, the healer of men,
Selfless giving service, boundless and infinite devotion.
Undulating and positive vibrations, the light of twinkling stars,
The crimson glowing sunrise, heralding dawn’s sweet singing chorus.
Sunset’s differentiating kaleidoscope, a curtain for celestials bodies,
A mother’s caressing touch, loved one’s enticing smile.
Soft deep eyes of endearment, a hug in depression and loneliness,
A martyr’s courageous defiance, a stand against discrimination and prejudice.
An acarya’s selfless duty, in service to all humanity,
An artist’s soul expression, manifesting for our enjoyment and discernment.
A pilgrim’s awaited journey, now a reality in perseverance,
A craftsman’s studied endeavour, an accomplished social service.
An athlete’s supreme dedication, a budding champion of the future,
A soldier’s death defying bravery, in selfless heroism to save a comrade.
A musician’s harmonic discourse, vibrational holism for us all,
A dancer’s balanced co-ordination, harmony in bodily movement.
Tai chi moving meditation, Taoist energy manipulation,
Yoga spiritual union, of postures, speculation and contemplation.
Springtime courting swans, in graceful union across the lake,
Two lover’s passionate embrace, a macrocosmic union in God’s creation.
Love
The Energy of this Universe, the healer of men,
Selfless giving service, boundless and infinite devotion.
Undulating and positive vibrations, the light of twinkling stars,
The crimson glowing sunrise, heralding dawn’s sweet singing chorus.
Sunset’s differentiating kaleidoscope, a curtain for celestials bodies,
A mother’s caressing touch, loved one’s enticing smile.
Soft deep eyes of endearment, a hug in depression and loneliness,
A martyr’s courageous defiance, a stand against discrimination and prejudice.
An acarya’s selfless duty, in service to all humanity,
An artist’s soul expression, manifesting for our enjoyment and discernment.
A pilgrim’s awaited journey, now a reality in perseverance,
A craftsman’s studied endeavour, an accomplished social service.
An athlete’s supreme dedication, a budding champion of the future,
A soldier’s death defying bravery, in selfless heroism to save a comrade.
A musician’s harmonic discourse, vibrational holism for us all,
A dancer’s balanced co-ordination, harmony in bodily movement.
Tai chi moving meditation, Taoist energy manipulation,
Yoga spiritual union, of postures, speculation and contemplation.
Springtime courting swans, in graceful union across the lake,
Two lover’s passionate embrace, a macrocosmic union in God’s creation.
POETRY
Aphrodite Karma
Cyprus, a lesson in love and peace over conflict,
Evolution to unity, an education in history,
Knight Templars of old, Europe of the future.
Mediterranean strategic key, historic tragedy of Cyprus,
Successively occupying overlords, repressively restrictive mindset.
Golden boys Diaspora, returning son seeds of enlightenment,
New Age technological influx, new generation, internet browsers.
Repressive status quo dissipation, freedom for unified experience,
For Cyprus and the Middle East, the continents and the world.
A symbol of empirical division and past colonial exploitation,
The crossroads of lay lines and continents, cultures and religions,
A sign of hope and progress, the healing of all mankind’s ills,
A thorough education, in all facets of our spiritual evolution,
For the individual and the collective, the historical and the environmental.
Aphrodite Karma
Cyprus, a lesson in love and peace over conflict,
Evolution to unity, an education in history,
Knight Templars of old, Europe of the future.
Mediterranean strategic key, historic tragedy of Cyprus,
Successively occupying overlords, repressively restrictive mindset.
Golden boys Diaspora, returning son seeds of enlightenment,
New Age technological influx, new generation, internet browsers.
Repressive status quo dissipation, freedom for unified experience,
For Cyprus and the Middle East, the continents and the world.
A symbol of empirical division and past colonial exploitation,
The crossroads of lay lines and continents, cultures and religions,
A sign of hope and progress, the healing of all mankind’s ills,
A thorough education, in all facets of our spiritual evolution,
For the individual and the collective, the historical and the environmental.
Sunday, 11 March 2007
POETRY
The Sons of Aphrodite
The tragedy of Cyprus, the Diaspora of the seed,
A mass emigration of the pioneer sons, during modern times,
Who now excel, throughout the distant lands of the world,
New York, London, Melbourne, Johannesburg.
Perhaps the main focus points, of evolving Greek culture,
Successfully expressive, expansive modern day thinkers and traders,
Who contrast their paternal village, homeland agrarian, insular orthodox, closed minded relatives.
The Sons of Aphrodite
The tragedy of Cyprus, the Diaspora of the seed,
A mass emigration of the pioneer sons, during modern times,
Who now excel, throughout the distant lands of the world,
New York, London, Melbourne, Johannesburg.
Perhaps the main focus points, of evolving Greek culture,
Successfully expressive, expansive modern day thinkers and traders,
Who contrast their paternal village, homeland agrarian, insular orthodox, closed minded relatives.
POETRY
Harry
Harry, what a scallywag, a pure and unadulterated hustler,
Never a moment, without looking for an edge, the opportunity to get ahead,
To charm and manipulate any given situation, all to be gently controlled and exploited.
Everybody is in the game, no exceptions, family, loved ones or friends,
All there, to serve the greater good of Harry.
Wasn’t a bad footballer, but never had a chance or the discipline,
To succeed or obtain any notable achievements, doomed to fail.
A likeable rascal, to be kept in his place, a born loser with a smile,
Was in a right state, the last time we met many years ago.
Will we meet again when I return, or is it too late
In the day of the hustler, to find him playing in the sun,
But like so many others before, has fallen by the wayside, lifeless in the gutter
Harry
Harry, what a scallywag, a pure and unadulterated hustler,
Never a moment, without looking for an edge, the opportunity to get ahead,
To charm and manipulate any given situation, all to be gently controlled and exploited.
Everybody is in the game, no exceptions, family, loved ones or friends,
All there, to serve the greater good of Harry.
Wasn’t a bad footballer, but never had a chance or the discipline,
To succeed or obtain any notable achievements, doomed to fail.
A likeable rascal, to be kept in his place, a born loser with a smile,
Was in a right state, the last time we met many years ago.
Will we meet again when I return, or is it too late
In the day of the hustler, to find him playing in the sun,
But like so many others before, has fallen by the wayside, lifeless in the gutter
POETRY - LOVE
Wake Up Call
The afternoon the pendulum rose quartz broke, I knew that it was all finally over,
The symbolic token of our love and friendship, had leapt smashing into two.
Initially sorrowing my heart, but slowly the realization dawned, that it was time now
To finally break off all contact and move on, to the next stage and chapter in my life.
That everything possibly positive, had been achieved by our association,
For any future dalliance would only perpetuate and deepen negative vibrational emotions,
Germinating precipitous blockages, creating future obstacles on our respective journeys.
Wake Up Call
The afternoon the pendulum rose quartz broke, I knew that it was all finally over,
The symbolic token of our love and friendship, had leapt smashing into two.
Initially sorrowing my heart, but slowly the realization dawned, that it was time now
To finally break off all contact and move on, to the next stage and chapter in my life.
That everything possibly positive, had been achieved by our association,
For any future dalliance would only perpetuate and deepen negative vibrational emotions,
Germinating precipitous blockages, creating future obstacles on our respective journeys.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
Bhakti Begging
Is it really true, that bhakti begging is the essence of India,
It certainly seems so most of the time, walking the city streets,
Sitting outside a restaurant, on the beach for a swim or seeking peace,
With the constant perennial tugging of the arm for food, but really money.
They say that even members of the government, show the same humble begging posture,
Deference to the World Bank, UN, NCO’s and the like.
Where eighty per cent of all monies received, evaporates without trace,
To the detriment of the common people, in their plight and struggle for basic survival.
Bhakti is what India has in essence, offered to the world for it’s salvation,
But it seems it’s tarnished expression, is the latter day medium for it’s own survival,
Yet paradoxically, the obstacle for it’s evolution and advancement in the modern world.
Bhakti Begging
Is it really true, that bhakti begging is the essence of India,
It certainly seems so most of the time, walking the city streets,
Sitting outside a restaurant, on the beach for a swim or seeking peace,
With the constant perennial tugging of the arm for food, but really money.
They say that even members of the government, show the same humble begging posture,
Deference to the World Bank, UN, NCO’s and the like.
Where eighty per cent of all monies received, evaporates without trace,
To the detriment of the common people, in their plight and struggle for basic survival.
Bhakti is what India has in essence, offered to the world for it’s salvation,
But it seems it’s tarnished expression, is the latter day medium for it’s own survival,
Yet paradoxically, the obstacle for it’s evolution and advancement in the modern world.
POETRY - SPIRITUAL
Celtic Yin Aroma
Celtic Yin fragrance, permeating my life,
Latent spiritual development, maternal descendant unknown.
Whose avenue I inadvertently adopted, finding resonance with my propensities,
The root I must soon discover, in memory of my dear mother, whose mother
I did not meet, but whose shadow and presence heightens daily.
Being gradually more perceived, in the adoption of my chosen profession,
The common role and family karma now revealed,
Linking us from where, I do not know.
The circle will then be complete, squared, balanced and precipitating harmony.
Celtic Yin Aroma
Celtic Yin fragrance, permeating my life,
Latent spiritual development, maternal descendant unknown.
Whose avenue I inadvertently adopted, finding resonance with my propensities,
The root I must soon discover, in memory of my dear mother, whose mother
I did not meet, but whose shadow and presence heightens daily.
Being gradually more perceived, in the adoption of my chosen profession,
The common role and family karma now revealed,
Linking us from where, I do not know.
The circle will then be complete, squared, balanced and precipitating harmony.
Sunday, 4 March 2007
POETRY - LOVE
While the Iron is Hot
The moment has passed, I have missed my chance,
An opportunity that I had wished for and dreamed of for ages, has now gone.
To remain cool, a restrictive instinct to resist expressing emotion publicly,
Has yet again lost the moment, whose significance I never seem to realize,
Until it is too late, and the enticing warm smiles become exasperated dismissals.
Why does this happen, is it karmic, in that there is a retrospective lesson to learn.
Or is it a saving safety mechanism, orchestrated from myself above
And this shield is guiding me to love, as we blindly search in the dark.
Maybe the cause is pain or the lack of love and I recoil from this emotion I cannot grasp
For sure, it is becoming as strange to myself, as I suspect it has been for sometime to others.
But I suppose, it must again be the ethereal guiding hand, that I wield,
As nothing is coincidence or without significance, testing patience and faith.
While the Iron is Hot
The moment has passed, I have missed my chance,
An opportunity that I had wished for and dreamed of for ages, has now gone.
To remain cool, a restrictive instinct to resist expressing emotion publicly,
Has yet again lost the moment, whose significance I never seem to realize,
Until it is too late, and the enticing warm smiles become exasperated dismissals.
Why does this happen, is it karmic, in that there is a retrospective lesson to learn.
Or is it a saving safety mechanism, orchestrated from myself above
And this shield is guiding me to love, as we blindly search in the dark.
Maybe the cause is pain or the lack of love and I recoil from this emotion I cannot grasp
For sure, it is becoming as strange to myself, as I suspect it has been for sometime to others.
But I suppose, it must again be the ethereal guiding hand, that I wield,
As nothing is coincidence or without significance, testing patience and faith.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
Teens
Young, hollow and numb, instinctively searching for a cause,
The age of tactless impressionism, noise, excitement and the norm.
Even in adversity, the familiar is reassuring and warm, easy to assess,
Rudderless exuberance, without experience or knowledge,
Moving in misty, ever decreasing circles, no bearings or charts.
A Catch 22 conundrum of headless passion, dictating the pace of change,
Or lack of it, depending on our actions or reactions to conflict and pressure.
Teens
Young, hollow and numb, instinctively searching for a cause,
The age of tactless impressionism, noise, excitement and the norm.
Even in adversity, the familiar is reassuring and warm, easy to assess,
Rudderless exuberance, without experience or knowledge,
Moving in misty, ever decreasing circles, no bearings or charts.
A Catch 22 conundrum of headless passion, dictating the pace of change,
Or lack of it, depending on our actions or reactions to conflict and pressure.
Saturday, 3 March 2007
,POETRY - MISCELLANEOUS
Rose Mary
Magnetic beauty, assured eloquence, oozing real class,
That engendered endemic laziness, precipitating selfish and manic behaviour.
A born actress, unrecognized professionally, but incomparable in reality,
To everyone’s detriment around her, for her motives were not pure.
Inherent laziness, dissipating unrecognized talent, in games of control,
A woman, who even beyond her prime, could silence a room by an entrance.
Even in conflict possessed no malice, was never seen to lost her temper,
But a child with deep fears, that at times unbalanced behaviour,
By misreading people’s motives and actions, responding in an over sensitive manner.
A woman of intelligence and education, a free spirit and liberated woman,
Without prejudice and dogma, with blind loyalty to her kin.
But sometimes so stupid and blind, dangerous in blinkered impassioned foolhardiness,
Hypocritical in selfish greed and morality, an egotistical and dictatorial leader.
Emanating from high class, stooping so low without a blink,
Scarred war baby and child, bombings and burnings indelibly printed.
The theatre and boards her profession, a catholic high school education,
A true bohemian by nature, rebellious frolics sowing many seeds.
But of such stunning class, unfathomably marrying the most obnoxious buffoon.
An enigma and paradox, a true Gemini by nature and temperament,
Who did not learn her life’s lessons and balance the opposite poles of her nature.
Rose Mary
Magnetic beauty, assured eloquence, oozing real class,
That engendered endemic laziness, precipitating selfish and manic behaviour.
A born actress, unrecognized professionally, but incomparable in reality,
To everyone’s detriment around her, for her motives were not pure.
Inherent laziness, dissipating unrecognized talent, in games of control,
A woman, who even beyond her prime, could silence a room by an entrance.
Even in conflict possessed no malice, was never seen to lost her temper,
But a child with deep fears, that at times unbalanced behaviour,
By misreading people’s motives and actions, responding in an over sensitive manner.
A woman of intelligence and education, a free spirit and liberated woman,
Without prejudice and dogma, with blind loyalty to her kin.
But sometimes so stupid and blind, dangerous in blinkered impassioned foolhardiness,
Hypocritical in selfish greed and morality, an egotistical and dictatorial leader.
Emanating from high class, stooping so low without a blink,
Scarred war baby and child, bombings and burnings indelibly printed.
The theatre and boards her profession, a catholic high school education,
A true bohemian by nature, rebellious frolics sowing many seeds.
But of such stunning class, unfathomably marrying the most obnoxious buffoon.
An enigma and paradox, a true Gemini by nature and temperament,
Who did not learn her life’s lessons and balance the opposite poles of her nature.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
The Polis Beach Stalker
The Polis beach stalker, direct and intent he parades the seashore,
Spotting his prey lying on the beach, naked breasts browning in the sun.
Then intently he strides in her direction, pausing to squat in the shadow
Obliquely, a few yards upwind, feasting on that unattainable desire.
Intuitively she rises, turns over and destroys his pleasure and pain,
He rises and proceeds on his way, searching for the next victim,
Which he can never enjoy; in tortuous agony he pitifully seeks,
The sight of what he can never have, his desire growing, driving him forth.
As regular as clockwork, he arrives three times daily from his duties,
To fulfill his role, as a man beast amongst the tourist prey.
But yet unaware, that his time has passed, in the winter of his days,
When enjoyment from blossoming wisdom, is the name of the game.
Women despise him, but I feel pity for his pain,
The wasted time, an isolation in pursuit of an illusion.
For with blind selfish desire, this torture could be mine,
A fool on the shore, despised and alone.
The Polis Beach Stalker
The Polis beach stalker, direct and intent he parades the seashore,
Spotting his prey lying on the beach, naked breasts browning in the sun.
Then intently he strides in her direction, pausing to squat in the shadow
Obliquely, a few yards upwind, feasting on that unattainable desire.
Intuitively she rises, turns over and destroys his pleasure and pain,
He rises and proceeds on his way, searching for the next victim,
Which he can never enjoy; in tortuous agony he pitifully seeks,
The sight of what he can never have, his desire growing, driving him forth.
As regular as clockwork, he arrives three times daily from his duties,
To fulfill his role, as a man beast amongst the tourist prey.
But yet unaware, that his time has passed, in the winter of his days,
When enjoyment from blossoming wisdom, is the name of the game.
Women despise him, but I feel pity for his pain,
The wasted time, an isolation in pursuit of an illusion.
For with blind selfish desire, this torture could be mine,
A fool on the shore, despised and alone.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
Or Three
The vicissitudes, crisis’ and experiences, of our sometimes tumultuous and confusing life,
Are they perhaps in fact self-engendered inundations, to balance our constitution and diminish or placate our ego.
To enable us to see beyond, this veil of confusion and illusion,
And move forward to the next stop, on our now collective evolution.
Or Three
The vicissitudes, crisis’ and experiences, of our sometimes tumultuous and confusing life,
Are they perhaps in fact self-engendered inundations, to balance our constitution and diminish or placate our ego.
To enable us to see beyond, this veil of confusion and illusion,
And move forward to the next stop, on our now collective evolution.
POETRY - MISCELLANEOUS
Just a Thought or Two
All women are beautiful, but manifest it in different ways, don’t they.
Some people say that with autumn, comes the ripening of wisdom,
With the ability to clearly see and analyse, the ramifications of one’s behaviour.
But isn’t it strange, that the people who profess, usually quite condescendingly,
Their complete lack of competitiveness, and hence interest in any form of sport,
Are usually the ones it seems, who display the greatest predisposition,
To exhibit this in their personal relationships.
Just a Thought or Two
All women are beautiful, but manifest it in different ways, don’t they.
Some people say that with autumn, comes the ripening of wisdom,
With the ability to clearly see and analyse, the ramifications of one’s behaviour.
But isn’t it strange, that the people who profess, usually quite condescendingly,
Their complete lack of competitiveness, and hence interest in any form of sport,
Are usually the ones it seems, who display the greatest predisposition,
To exhibit this in their personal relationships.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
The Meaning of Life
Just imagine walking, down the road each morning,
And everyone you meet, wishes to wholeheartedly give you something,
Without any expectation of return or reward, but solely for it’s own pleasure.
A whole world, where people’s joy in life is, to give to others,
Where the only competition to be seen, is to the first to give in any meeting or transaction.
What a truly wonderful world it would be, a veritable heaven on earth.
Shall we try, from small acorns do great oak trees grow,
From one ripple, a whole lake can resonate from our actions.
To be a living example, in the pure and simple art of giving,
Perhaps this is the key, that you and I are looking for.
The Meaning of Life
Just imagine walking, down the road each morning,
And everyone you meet, wishes to wholeheartedly give you something,
Without any expectation of return or reward, but solely for it’s own pleasure.
A whole world, where people’s joy in life is, to give to others,
Where the only competition to be seen, is to the first to give in any meeting or transaction.
What a truly wonderful world it would be, a veritable heaven on earth.
Shall we try, from small acorns do great oak trees grow,
From one ripple, a whole lake can resonate from our actions.
To be a living example, in the pure and simple art of giving,
Perhaps this is the key, that you and I are looking for.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
Idyllic Happiness
Idyllic happiness is perhaps an illusion, shattered by the weekend revelers,
The ambience of the rustling leaves, with lapping waves echoing upon the pebbly sand.
The effervescent half moon glow, silhouetting my twin pillar tree guardians,
That nurture and shadow this eco-system, which I share and appreciate so much.
The nimbly scurrying rats, fleeting shadows scaling branches hence and forth,
The silent to and froing owls, hooting companions on many a night.
The perennial Mediterranean cricket chorus, echoing beneath the multi-faceted,
Multi-directional, various hifi’s cacophony, periodically superceded by enforced
Cries and cheers of bravado, amidst eager chopping of our beautiful eucalyptus trees.
But at least it means, the owls flock home to me from the mayhem nearby.
The daytime shift a different cast, lizards cleansing insects from the trees,
Chirpy courting sparrows, lookout group conscious, busy bobbing, feeding and flying.
Circling hawks, hovering kestrels crying heartily, flocked dark crows always close,
And always the ants, little ones, gigantic ones, thin ones, black, red, always busy,
Towing and carrying mountains across the never easy terrain, selflessly wherever there’s a chance,
Of nourishment for the group, dead insects, melon peel, candle wax, food droppings,
Always searching, busy crisscrossing back and forth, everywhere they forage,
One moments relapse and they are there, in the cool box, tent or wherever,
Without fear or worry, onwards for the collective good, an amazing sight,
If somewhat inconvenient at times in meditation, food box or bed.
But where are the fish, which used to swim beneath me in the sea,
Netted and grilled, food for the tourists, trade for the locals, money for the bank.
Idyllic Happiness
Idyllic happiness is perhaps an illusion, shattered by the weekend revelers,
The ambience of the rustling leaves, with lapping waves echoing upon the pebbly sand.
The effervescent half moon glow, silhouetting my twin pillar tree guardians,
That nurture and shadow this eco-system, which I share and appreciate so much.
The nimbly scurrying rats, fleeting shadows scaling branches hence and forth,
The silent to and froing owls, hooting companions on many a night.
The perennial Mediterranean cricket chorus, echoing beneath the multi-faceted,
Multi-directional, various hifi’s cacophony, periodically superceded by enforced
Cries and cheers of bravado, amidst eager chopping of our beautiful eucalyptus trees.
But at least it means, the owls flock home to me from the mayhem nearby.
The daytime shift a different cast, lizards cleansing insects from the trees,
Chirpy courting sparrows, lookout group conscious, busy bobbing, feeding and flying.
Circling hawks, hovering kestrels crying heartily, flocked dark crows always close,
And always the ants, little ones, gigantic ones, thin ones, black, red, always busy,
Towing and carrying mountains across the never easy terrain, selflessly wherever there’s a chance,
Of nourishment for the group, dead insects, melon peel, candle wax, food droppings,
Always searching, busy crisscrossing back and forth, everywhere they forage,
One moments relapse and they are there, in the cool box, tent or wherever,
Without fear or worry, onwards for the collective good, an amazing sight,
If somewhat inconvenient at times in meditation, food box or bed.
But where are the fish, which used to swim beneath me in the sea,
Netted and grilled, food for the tourists, trade for the locals, money for the bank.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
The Old and The New (ships that pass in the night)
Approaching a major crossroads in my life, on the border of the east and the west,
At the golden bay of Aphrodite, constructing my bamboo refuge from the sun.
A passing young Chinaman, commends me on my endeavours and enquires,
About my Tai chi training and practices, the daily pre-dusk dialogues commence.
A student from the oldest city, in perhaps the oldest existing culture of the world,
Studying and waiting for embarkation, to western civilization and culture,
Whose fascination lies in everything new, modern and sophisticated.
Contrasting my own fascination in everything ancient, sublime, esoteric and eastern
We two meet on this, our stepping stone forward, in opposite directions.
A brief pause in our respective journeys, to exchange experiences and ideas,
An interesting interaction that causes me to reflect, on the significance of our separate cultures.
Of past colonial Britain and the modern, ethnic multi-national mix of today,
Mother of the English speaking races, the evolved Indo-European tongue.
A pivotal point and ceiling, in classical European culture and history,
With classical education enabling perspective, appreciation and understanding
Of Indo-European migrations, philosophies, languages, art, literature and religion.
Their histories, conflicts, lessons and resolutions amidst the flaming,
Turbulent evolution, of European civilization and nationhood.
Of traditional China, so ancient and mysterious, colossal and populace,
Steeped in mysticism and wisdom, historically and traditionally, in culture and religion.
Of Confucian codes of conduct, for the vassal and the Emperor, all links in the chain to God.
Kindred sister too Mother India, recipient of Buddhism, martial arts and acupressure.
But the blossomed flower, master exponent and expert teacher of these gifts,
Taoism and energy masters, chi kung and energy healers, feng shui and energy balancers,
Tai chi moving meditation, philosophy in motion,
Five element system, philosophy of China, that is so unique, fine and wise.
But now a sleeping giant dragon, that is yawning and stretching,
As it slowly awakes, from it’s prolonged slumber.
It’s multitudes of people, desperate to join the race of the West, for what I am not sure.
For does anybody on this side know, what they themselves are racing for, I suspect not.
For in the words and wisdom, of the Masters and sages, of ancient China and India,
Lie the answers, resolutions and methods, of redemption from this helter skelter
Of a rat race, to frenetically possess and indulge in, more than everybody else.
This is the paradox for me, escaping the blind pursuit for materialism, looking and moving east,
To meet the flow of people from the east, ignoring their rich inheritance,
Seeking escape from their prison of poverty and restriction, who are equally mystified
At my desertion, of a modern and free England, for an archaic and restrictive old way.
This is of course yin and yang balancing, holistic harmony and globalisation in action.
We can each have our goal and role, individually and collectively to help establish,
Our future inheritance and destiny, unity and fellowship, peace and harmony,
The fifth kingdom in the fourth dimension, living mysteries revealed in Heaven on Earth.
The Old and The New (ships that pass in the night)
Approaching a major crossroads in my life, on the border of the east and the west,
At the golden bay of Aphrodite, constructing my bamboo refuge from the sun.
A passing young Chinaman, commends me on my endeavours and enquires,
About my Tai chi training and practices, the daily pre-dusk dialogues commence.
A student from the oldest city, in perhaps the oldest existing culture of the world,
Studying and waiting for embarkation, to western civilization and culture,
Whose fascination lies in everything new, modern and sophisticated.
Contrasting my own fascination in everything ancient, sublime, esoteric and eastern
We two meet on this, our stepping stone forward, in opposite directions.
A brief pause in our respective journeys, to exchange experiences and ideas,
An interesting interaction that causes me to reflect, on the significance of our separate cultures.
Of past colonial Britain and the modern, ethnic multi-national mix of today,
Mother of the English speaking races, the evolved Indo-European tongue.
A pivotal point and ceiling, in classical European culture and history,
With classical education enabling perspective, appreciation and understanding
Of Indo-European migrations, philosophies, languages, art, literature and religion.
Their histories, conflicts, lessons and resolutions amidst the flaming,
Turbulent evolution, of European civilization and nationhood.
Of traditional China, so ancient and mysterious, colossal and populace,
Steeped in mysticism and wisdom, historically and traditionally, in culture and religion.
Of Confucian codes of conduct, for the vassal and the Emperor, all links in the chain to God.
Kindred sister too Mother India, recipient of Buddhism, martial arts and acupressure.
But the blossomed flower, master exponent and expert teacher of these gifts,
Taoism and energy masters, chi kung and energy healers, feng shui and energy balancers,
Tai chi moving meditation, philosophy in motion,
Five element system, philosophy of China, that is so unique, fine and wise.
But now a sleeping giant dragon, that is yawning and stretching,
As it slowly awakes, from it’s prolonged slumber.
It’s multitudes of people, desperate to join the race of the West, for what I am not sure.
For does anybody on this side know, what they themselves are racing for, I suspect not.
For in the words and wisdom, of the Masters and sages, of ancient China and India,
Lie the answers, resolutions and methods, of redemption from this helter skelter
Of a rat race, to frenetically possess and indulge in, more than everybody else.
This is the paradox for me, escaping the blind pursuit for materialism, looking and moving east,
To meet the flow of people from the east, ignoring their rich inheritance,
Seeking escape from their prison of poverty and restriction, who are equally mystified
At my desertion, of a modern and free England, for an archaic and restrictive old way.
This is of course yin and yang balancing, holistic harmony and globalisation in action.
We can each have our goal and role, individually and collectively to help establish,
Our future inheritance and destiny, unity and fellowship, peace and harmony,
The fifth kingdom in the fourth dimension, living mysteries revealed in Heaven on Earth.
POETRY - PHILSOPHICAL
A Culture of Illusion
The culture of Illusion, familiar to us all,
On TV, videos and movies, plus in newspapers and magazines.
The post 2nd World War prosperity and freedom in America,
Heralded time for reflection and rebellion, in 50’s beatnik rock ’n’ roll.
The hippy flower power and sixties anti-war acid culture,
Heavy metal seventies, and a punk revolution era.
Garage club dance eighties and mesmer techno beat,
The ethnic mix nineties and global ‘World Music’ scene.
Is this a distorting room, of distracting egomaniacal mirrors,
Or a reflection of our collective passage, from darkness into the Light
Of Enlightenment, into a 4th Dimensional Reality.
A Culture of Illusion
The culture of Illusion, familiar to us all,
On TV, videos and movies, plus in newspapers and magazines.
The post 2nd World War prosperity and freedom in America,
Heralded time for reflection and rebellion, in 50’s beatnik rock ’n’ roll.
The hippy flower power and sixties anti-war acid culture,
Heavy metal seventies, and a punk revolution era.
Garage club dance eighties and mesmer techno beat,
The ethnic mix nineties and global ‘World Music’ scene.
Is this a distorting room, of distracting egomaniacal mirrors,
Or a reflection of our collective passage, from darkness into the Light
Of Enlightenment, into a 4th Dimensional Reality.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
Lemmings
Some things never seem to change, despite the lessons of history,
That gleeful mass procession, of men marching off to war,
At the first reverberation, of the pounding drum of impending conflict,
Like lemmings approaching the cliff edge, oblivious of what truly lies beyond.
In cheerful innocence, eagerly excited at the collective prospect,
Of honour and glory to be won, of duty and hardship to endure.
Flags flying, bands playing, pretty young maidens cheering for me,
A man marching to war with his comrades, to defend his loved ones and motherland.
The dreams of a boy, to awaken a man in the hell of war,
The ribbon façade now gone, blitz krieged by man’s ingenuity,
In the mechanisms of death, to be ascertained and avoided.
A nightmare journey to the underworld, a Hades adventure,
Wandering through the labyrinth, in the shadow of the minotaur.
To what end, profit and experience, collective duty and glory,
A karmic debt and sacrifice, for the greater good, or something.
Lemmings
Some things never seem to change, despite the lessons of history,
That gleeful mass procession, of men marching off to war,
At the first reverberation, of the pounding drum of impending conflict,
Like lemmings approaching the cliff edge, oblivious of what truly lies beyond.
In cheerful innocence, eagerly excited at the collective prospect,
Of honour and glory to be won, of duty and hardship to endure.
Flags flying, bands playing, pretty young maidens cheering for me,
A man marching to war with his comrades, to defend his loved ones and motherland.
The dreams of a boy, to awaken a man in the hell of war,
The ribbon façade now gone, blitz krieged by man’s ingenuity,
In the mechanisms of death, to be ascertained and avoided.
A nightmare journey to the underworld, a Hades adventure,
Wandering through the labyrinth, in the shadow of the minotaur.
To what end, profit and experience, collective duty and glory,
A karmic debt and sacrifice, for the greater good, or something.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
Karma & Ego
Continents of countries, with states of numerous cities, towns and villages,
Whose countless proud libraries and bookshops, store multitudes of journals and books
On cultures and philosophies, describing innumerable sages and saints,
Their actions and thoughts, deeds and aphorisms, teachings and meanings,
Biographies and exploits, sagas and trials, wars and sacrifices.
All covering themes and paths, of emancipation and liberation,
From misery and strife, exploitation and war, poverty and pestilence.
With simplistic aphorisms on Truth, in volumes of deep philosophical discourse and debate,
Debating nuances in meaning, about inflections in Truth and Reality.
In summation I humbly say, the cornel is this,
The road to enlightenment, is blocked by our karma and ego.
Karma & Ego
Continents of countries, with states of numerous cities, towns and villages,
Whose countless proud libraries and bookshops, store multitudes of journals and books
On cultures and philosophies, describing innumerable sages and saints,
Their actions and thoughts, deeds and aphorisms, teachings and meanings,
Biographies and exploits, sagas and trials, wars and sacrifices.
All covering themes and paths, of emancipation and liberation,
From misery and strife, exploitation and war, poverty and pestilence.
With simplistic aphorisms on Truth, in volumes of deep philosophical discourse and debate,
Debating nuances in meaning, about inflections in Truth and Reality.
In summation I humbly say, the cornel is this,
The road to enlightenment, is blocked by our karma and ego.
POETRY - POLITICAL
Mr Bush
Have you ever heard of Suez ’56 and the American Intervention Mr. Bush,
If you have not, then I suggest that you analyse your reason for it.
That military intervention, was an act of colonial aggression, that must cease
Upon the threat, of economic sanction and military force, to two of it’s old allies and one new.
This leaves no pretext, for actual military aggression against Iraq,
For the United States, who if it wants to lead the world,
Must learn to inculcate respect by applying wisdom in it’s affairs.
Perhaps by studying masters of old, both political and philosophical,
Please listen to the sounds around you, in differing spheres and on different frequencies.
Do not become a vehicle and focus, for all that is retrograde and negative about man,
But help to unify and hence hasten, our collective evolution.
I am sure that upon reflection, you would not want to be noted in history, along such spectres as Stalin & Hitler.
Or would you ?
Mr Bush
Have you ever heard of Suez ’56 and the American Intervention Mr. Bush,
If you have not, then I suggest that you analyse your reason for it.
That military intervention, was an act of colonial aggression, that must cease
Upon the threat, of economic sanction and military force, to two of it’s old allies and one new.
This leaves no pretext, for actual military aggression against Iraq,
For the United States, who if it wants to lead the world,
Must learn to inculcate respect by applying wisdom in it’s affairs.
Perhaps by studying masters of old, both political and philosophical,
Please listen to the sounds around you, in differing spheres and on different frequencies.
Do not become a vehicle and focus, for all that is retrograde and negative about man,
But help to unify and hence hasten, our collective evolution.
I am sure that upon reflection, you would not want to be noted in history, along such spectres as Stalin & Hitler.
Or would you ?
POETRY - LOVE
Hera & Hermes (Aeneas & Dido)
Two souls drawing closer, in symbiotic evolution,
An education of service and catharsis, together growing upwards in harmony.
Moments of abrupt disharmony, holistic cleansing and wisdom acquisition,
A yin and yang balancing change, of the heart and with the intellect.
Goethe’s Germanic prose and Shakespeare’s Elizabethan verse,
Hahnerman healer and Steiner’s child, Bond warrior and Yeats bard prodigy,
Constantinople rembetica’s daughter and ancient Kitium’s communista’s son.
Born strangers in strange lands, children of revolutionaries,
An intensive education, to facilitate change for the New Millennia.
On Aphrodite’s divided island, an historical symbol of a post colonial legacy,
A crossroads of lay lines and diverse cultures, a meeting place of continents and searching travelers.
Hera & Hermes (Aeneas & Dido)
Two souls drawing closer, in symbiotic evolution,
An education of service and catharsis, together growing upwards in harmony.
Moments of abrupt disharmony, holistic cleansing and wisdom acquisition,
A yin and yang balancing change, of the heart and with the intellect.
Goethe’s Germanic prose and Shakespeare’s Elizabethan verse,
Hahnerman healer and Steiner’s child, Bond warrior and Yeats bard prodigy,
Constantinople rembetica’s daughter and ancient Kitium’s communista’s son.
Born strangers in strange lands, children of revolutionaries,
An intensive education, to facilitate change for the New Millennia.
On Aphrodite’s divided island, an historical symbol of a post colonial legacy,
A crossroads of lay lines and diverse cultures, a meeting place of continents and searching travelers.
POETRY – LOVE
Remembered & Timeless Love
Symbiotic holism, a healing relationship of the stars,
Precipitating negativity, amidst dual homoeopathic cleansing.
Remembered love, drawing and revealing latter day emotions,
Superficial conflict and turmoil, in a higher cause.
The timeless and ceaseless great game, revealing a plan and line of action,
Of balanced, dual emotional catharsis and educational training,
In preparation for a future positive role, in the central Hierarchal Plan.
But time now again, for the parting of the ways.
Remembered & Timeless Love
Symbiotic holism, a healing relationship of the stars,
Precipitating negativity, amidst dual homoeopathic cleansing.
Remembered love, drawing and revealing latter day emotions,
Superficial conflict and turmoil, in a higher cause.
The timeless and ceaseless great game, revealing a plan and line of action,
Of balanced, dual emotional catharsis and educational training,
In preparation for a future positive role, in the central Hierarchal Plan.
But time now again, for the parting of the ways.
POETRY – LOVE
Our Love
My Love for you imprisons me, in the desires off my heart
As your love for me sets me free, from the echoes and reverberations of pain from yesteryear
In this a conflict of purpose, and passions to be resolved
Or evolution and cleansing, in light and love for redemption to be enjoyed
In the overall plan for peace, fraternity and freedom.
Your jealousy warms me in the knowledge that you need me.
Our Love
My Love for you imprisons me, in the desires off my heart
As your love for me sets me free, from the echoes and reverberations of pain from yesteryear
In this a conflict of purpose, and passions to be resolved
Or evolution and cleansing, in light and love for redemption to be enjoyed
In the overall plan for peace, fraternity and freedom.
Your jealousy warms me in the knowledge that you need me.
POETRY – RHYME
The Beast and the Bully (the nature of the animal)
The beast and the bully, has a role in one’s life,
To overcome fear and darkness, in conflict and strife.
To experience destruction, negativity and creatures of the night,
To become strong but compassionate, a warrior of Light.
For destruction without, is destruction within,
And sensuous victory, is where the journey will begin.
To create balance and self-healing, in inner contemplation
Of Truth, enlightenment and total emancipation
Our life is a journey, pre-ordained by our soul,
A page in the dairy, self-awareness our goal.
An act in the drama, of trials and tribulations,
Understanding experience, gleaned wisdom vibrations.
The Beast and the Bully (the nature of the animal)
The beast and the bully, has a role in one’s life,
To overcome fear and darkness, in conflict and strife.
To experience destruction, negativity and creatures of the night,
To become strong but compassionate, a warrior of Light.
For destruction without, is destruction within,
And sensuous victory, is where the journey will begin.
To create balance and self-healing, in inner contemplation
Of Truth, enlightenment and total emancipation
Our life is a journey, pre-ordained by our soul,
A page in the dairy, self-awareness our goal.
An act in the drama, of trials and tribulations,
Understanding experience, gleaned wisdom vibrations.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
The Struggle Why
The struggle for life, our ability to understand & control it more acutely,
Could one day be our epitaph, if something is ever actually
Stimulated enough, to reflect over and cognise our existence.
The perceived point of it, determining one’s objectives & manner of achieving them,
The inclination to which, indicates past events, strengths & deficiencies,
Determining future events & happenings, in which lie possible salvation.
Our chance to change & control our life, by what happens in & about it,
An opportunity indeed, to be total master of every situation & hence our lives,
By learning to truly know thyself, by cultured multi-dimensional analysis.
And now the search begins, or so it appears and now I realise it.
The Struggle Why
The struggle for life, our ability to understand & control it more acutely,
Could one day be our epitaph, if something is ever actually
Stimulated enough, to reflect over and cognise our existence.
The perceived point of it, determining one’s objectives & manner of achieving them,
The inclination to which, indicates past events, strengths & deficiencies,
Determining future events & happenings, in which lie possible salvation.
Our chance to change & control our life, by what happens in & about it,
An opportunity indeed, to be total master of every situation & hence our lives,
By learning to truly know thyself, by cultured multi-dimensional analysis.
And now the search begins, or so it appears and now I realise it.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
Yardstick Blues
Coming home, after so many years to witness change and inertia,
To be an array of light in gloom, is to risk depression and despair.
While to challenge dogma and prejudice, induces ostracization and conflict.
A breath of fresh air say some, an individualistic minority unfortunately,
Who show the realty of the situation, by giving balance and hope.
Yardstick Blues
Coming home, after so many years to witness change and inertia,
To be an array of light in gloom, is to risk depression and despair.
While to challenge dogma and prejudice, induces ostracization and conflict.
A breath of fresh air say some, an individualistic minority unfortunately,
Who show the realty of the situation, by giving balance and hope.
POETRY – PHILOSOPHY
Standing Alone
To be completely honest and true, is a lonely and difficult role indeed,
Where one’s mere presence, is more than enough to create tension and negativity,
Amongst the majority of people, who must be I guess just generally dishonest,
In some form or other, whether by calculated choice or perceived necessity.
For take the easy way out and go with the flow, so as to not to rock the boat,
Are attitudes that make it very difficult, to maintain a true and unwavering position,
Going against the tide, without isolating oneself completely from the general mass,
Which makes this stance, a real test of individual metal and character building.
Standing Alone
To be completely honest and true, is a lonely and difficult role indeed,
Where one’s mere presence, is more than enough to create tension and negativity,
Amongst the majority of people, who must be I guess just generally dishonest,
In some form or other, whether by calculated choice or perceived necessity.
For take the easy way out and go with the flow, so as to not to rock the boat,
Are attitudes that make it very difficult, to maintain a true and unwavering position,
Going against the tide, without isolating oneself completely from the general mass,
Which makes this stance, a real test of individual metal and character building.
POETRY - SPIRITUAL
Tainted Truth
Why is the pure, emblematic personification of Truth,
Always besmirched, in the most despicable and distasteful way.
To the degree that I am inclined to believe, that all such apparent bastions of purity,
Must indeed be the exact opposite, of their declared nature and ambitions.
For all such selfless ones, would indeed suffer their injustices silently,
Dispassionate, untroubled and unswerving, in focus of true reality.
Tainted Truth
Why is the pure, emblematic personification of Truth,
Always besmirched, in the most despicable and distasteful way.
To the degree that I am inclined to believe, that all such apparent bastions of purity,
Must indeed be the exact opposite, of their declared nature and ambitions.
For all such selfless ones, would indeed suffer their injustices silently,
Dispassionate, untroubled and unswerving, in focus of true reality.
POETRY – LOVE
Chrissie
As I sit on a warm Sunday midday winters day, in my colonial style Madras room,
Writing my post Adyar Theosophical experiences, Elton John’s ‘Candle in the Wind’ plays,
Following the Karnataka singing melodies, instantly bringing you to mind and heart.
Oh my dear friend, my best friend from youth, the best man at my wedding,
Why are you not here with me now in Mother India, pursuing the mystics life
We were all inadvertently mimicking, in those heady bygone days.
A real sense of freedom here now man !
But what were we all searching for then my close friend, the love of our mother for sure !
In every conceivable way, without ever coming close to the Truth,
But ever helter skeltering, deeper into darkness and ignorance,
Shadows bouncing off imaginary walls, forever nursing our pain,
Completely unaware of their self-genesis and possible simplistic remedies.
As I was intuitively inspired to write this, I wondered if you were here with me,
That you had possibly been with me frequently, perhaps always.
But then I considered and enquired within, whether you were trapped,
At the location of your tragic illusion of release, that perhaps I can and should help you, That I ought to reflect upon this, in context, the significance and ramifications of it all,
Prior to my protracted prodigal return and perhaps overdue homecoming.
Chrissie
As I sit on a warm Sunday midday winters day, in my colonial style Madras room,
Writing my post Adyar Theosophical experiences, Elton John’s ‘Candle in the Wind’ plays,
Following the Karnataka singing melodies, instantly bringing you to mind and heart.
Oh my dear friend, my best friend from youth, the best man at my wedding,
Why are you not here with me now in Mother India, pursuing the mystics life
We were all inadvertently mimicking, in those heady bygone days.
A real sense of freedom here now man !
But what were we all searching for then my close friend, the love of our mother for sure !
In every conceivable way, without ever coming close to the Truth,
But ever helter skeltering, deeper into darkness and ignorance,
Shadows bouncing off imaginary walls, forever nursing our pain,
Completely unaware of their self-genesis and possible simplistic remedies.
As I was intuitively inspired to write this, I wondered if you were here with me,
That you had possibly been with me frequently, perhaps always.
But then I considered and enquired within, whether you were trapped,
At the location of your tragic illusion of release, that perhaps I can and should help you, That I ought to reflect upon this, in context, the significance and ramifications of it all,
Prior to my protracted prodigal return and perhaps overdue homecoming.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
Culture Shock
Gossip, other people’s opinions about different countries, their customs and cultures.
The test of travel perhaps, is the ability to overcome reactions to culture shock
To be able to understand the people and their culture, by being at one with their life as they live it.
Not to be blind to anomalies and contradictions, but to help with the evolution as they need it.
To educate and improve their existence, in harmony with all of the essentials of their lives, habitat and environment.
For us not to react as individuals, to different ways and practices,
Even though, we may rightly perceive them as handicaps.
But to modify and adapt their behaviour, by educating them
As to the possible benefits, to be gained from other practices.
But first we must understand, the causes and roots of our own dissatisfaction,
As manifested in our emotional or mindful reactions, to our evolutionary experience.
So we must clear and eradicate these, before we can look at the true causes left in the mirror-image,
Enabling us to begin our harmonious work of education, adaptation and modification.
But with the added God given experience, gained from our individual trials and tribulations,
Manifested in crisis and lessons, our purification and enlightenment,
Precipitating greater understanding, of the causes of individual and collective karma,
Educating and equipping us, to joyfully help our brothers and sisters.
Culture Shock
Gossip, other people’s opinions about different countries, their customs and cultures.
The test of travel perhaps, is the ability to overcome reactions to culture shock
To be able to understand the people and their culture, by being at one with their life as they live it.
Not to be blind to anomalies and contradictions, but to help with the evolution as they need it.
To educate and improve their existence, in harmony with all of the essentials of their lives, habitat and environment.
For us not to react as individuals, to different ways and practices,
Even though, we may rightly perceive them as handicaps.
But to modify and adapt their behaviour, by educating them
As to the possible benefits, to be gained from other practices.
But first we must understand, the causes and roots of our own dissatisfaction,
As manifested in our emotional or mindful reactions, to our evolutionary experience.
So we must clear and eradicate these, before we can look at the true causes left in the mirror-image,
Enabling us to begin our harmonious work of education, adaptation and modification.
But with the added God given experience, gained from our individual trials and tribulations,
Manifested in crisis and lessons, our purification and enlightenment,
Precipitating greater understanding, of the causes of individual and collective karma,
Educating and equipping us, to joyfully help our brothers and sisters.
POETRY – PHILOSOPHY
To Be A Woman
As I glimpse a passing beautiful woman, nervously biting her nails,
I wonder why, so nervous, thinking how, in response to what.
The concept and pressure of free expression, the inherent maternal instinct,
With it’s cyclic hormonal demands and the critical feline peer pressure eye.
The wish to be noticed and desired, the expected conformist behaviour,
Even of non-conformist trends, uniform in their exhibition and rebellion.
Does he like me, do I look presentable, am I beautiful, alluring or even sexy,
At least desirable, but why does this one ignore me, he’s different,
But how, gay, occupied or in love, I wonder, I can smile and ask.
I want to be loved and desired, but not manipulated and controlled.
But what is it to be a woman, to be passive is not to be weak,
But all powerful as the retreating sea, which envelopes all in it’s evacuating center,
For competition evokes the male’s animal instinct and hence pressure, to lower the level of consciousness and awareness,
While a beautifully smiling, sweet all pleasing woman, totally disarms a male companion,
With love and affection, engendering selfless love and compassion.
Yin into Yang.
To Be A Woman
As I glimpse a passing beautiful woman, nervously biting her nails,
I wonder why, so nervous, thinking how, in response to what.
The concept and pressure of free expression, the inherent maternal instinct,
With it’s cyclic hormonal demands and the critical feline peer pressure eye.
The wish to be noticed and desired, the expected conformist behaviour,
Even of non-conformist trends, uniform in their exhibition and rebellion.
Does he like me, do I look presentable, am I beautiful, alluring or even sexy,
At least desirable, but why does this one ignore me, he’s different,
But how, gay, occupied or in love, I wonder, I can smile and ask.
I want to be loved and desired, but not manipulated and controlled.
But what is it to be a woman, to be passive is not to be weak,
But all powerful as the retreating sea, which envelopes all in it’s evacuating center,
For competition evokes the male’s animal instinct and hence pressure, to lower the level of consciousness and awareness,
While a beautifully smiling, sweet all pleasing woman, totally disarms a male companion,
With love and affection, engendering selfless love and compassion.
Yin into Yang.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
Yob Culture
Yob culture, is it a new phenomenon, or a perennial aspect of group psychology.
A tendency and predisposition for idle young men, who have little or no chance
Or probably interest, in a creative or sporting activity outlet and who,
For whatever reason, seek and congregate in groups, finding solace, comfort and identity In that animalistic herd instinct, which will one day hopefully transmute,
Into divine selflessness group consciousness, but until then …
Yob Culture
Yob culture, is it a new phenomenon, or a perennial aspect of group psychology.
A tendency and predisposition for idle young men, who have little or no chance
Or probably interest, in a creative or sporting activity outlet and who,
For whatever reason, seek and congregate in groups, finding solace, comfort and identity In that animalistic herd instinct, which will one day hopefully transmute,
Into divine selflessness group consciousness, but until then …
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
It’s Time
Old Blighty, the white cliffs of Dover, Trafalagar Square, Wembley’s twin towers,
The English Channel’s two way directional traffic, line dotted on a clear day.
Well that’s show business folks, progress and redevelopment, adapt or be left behind to stagnate,
Seven to one underdog winners on All Saints Day ’77, against the old but most glamorous adversary,
The new, young & irrepressible, all conquering Docherty Red Devils,
Against the maverick, dotted jeweled, second tier Saints.
The greatest day in Southampton’s history, at the never again to be perennial Wembley Stadium.
Memories, the Dell no longer, oh what fond recollections of performance, war and conflict,
The sixties, those days, that football and music, that freedom.
Well that’s history and here’s reality, for a re-appraisal and a philosophical bearing exercise,
There’s a time for everything and now seems the moment to return to the hearth
And playground of old, to impart some positivity into connections old and new.
Grand parents duties and responsibilities, with such inquisitive niece and nephews,
Indicating an impending summer return, five years feels and sounds about right.
It’s Time
Old Blighty, the white cliffs of Dover, Trafalagar Square, Wembley’s twin towers,
The English Channel’s two way directional traffic, line dotted on a clear day.
Well that’s show business folks, progress and redevelopment, adapt or be left behind to stagnate,
Seven to one underdog winners on All Saints Day ’77, against the old but most glamorous adversary,
The new, young & irrepressible, all conquering Docherty Red Devils,
Against the maverick, dotted jeweled, second tier Saints.
The greatest day in Southampton’s history, at the never again to be perennial Wembley Stadium.
Memories, the Dell no longer, oh what fond recollections of performance, war and conflict,
The sixties, those days, that football and music, that freedom.
Well that’s history and here’s reality, for a re-appraisal and a philosophical bearing exercise,
There’s a time for everything and now seems the moment to return to the hearth
And playground of old, to impart some positivity into connections old and new.
Grand parents duties and responsibilities, with such inquisitive niece and nephews,
Indicating an impending summer return, five years feels and sounds about right.
POETRY – PHILOSOPHY
PRODIGAL RETURN
Is it actually egotistical of me, to conceive and ideate this form of expression,
As a message and lesson, perhaps so, but will anyone care anyway and hence so what.
Well the straight arrow of the truth, is one’s only constant variable
And so forward, ‘en avant’, as my old school motto entreats.
PRODIGAL RETURN
Is it actually egotistical of me, to conceive and ideate this form of expression,
As a message and lesson, perhaps so, but will anyone care anyway and hence so what.
Well the straight arrow of the truth, is one’s only constant variable
And so forward, ‘en avant’, as my old school motto entreats.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
Stopgap
When a stopgap becomes permanent, inbuilt, solid and fixed, is it time for change.
Does it mean that waiting is at an end, at least for a while, I hope.
But to dream the possibility, is in itself an experience.
So why worry, a little niggling doubt, fear or apprehension
Is manifested, as over stimulated cerebral activity, restless wandering focus and expressive tongue.
Stopgap
When a stopgap becomes permanent, inbuilt, solid and fixed, is it time for change.
Does it mean that waiting is at an end, at least for a while, I hope.
But to dream the possibility, is in itself an experience.
So why worry, a little niggling doubt, fear or apprehension
Is manifested, as over stimulated cerebral activity, restless wandering focus and expressive tongue.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
Dionysus Now
As midsummer nears and the searing heat daily increases,
Amidst the sound of the pounding surf, I hear the crescendo rising,
With the calls of increasing bravado, animal male cries and female screams,
The steady increasing tempo, of animal magnetism in bacchanal revelry.
As I lie here packed, ready and waiting for my departure day to arise,
I wonder on the significance of Greek culture, ancient and otherwise.
Of my experiences here in Cyprus, of how they relate and what is really happening,
On what is truly the character, of the Greek or Cypriot of yesteryear and now.
As I hear and feel, the great mother soft caressing, male Greek voice enticingly ask,
The questions of life in mystical rhythm, harmonizing with the perennial surf,
Amidst the whistles and groans, accompanying the gyrating echoes of ecstatic union
Dionysus Now
As midsummer nears and the searing heat daily increases,
Amidst the sound of the pounding surf, I hear the crescendo rising,
With the calls of increasing bravado, animal male cries and female screams,
The steady increasing tempo, of animal magnetism in bacchanal revelry.
As I lie here packed, ready and waiting for my departure day to arise,
I wonder on the significance of Greek culture, ancient and otherwise.
Of my experiences here in Cyprus, of how they relate and what is really happening,
On what is truly the character, of the Greek or Cypriot of yesteryear and now.
As I hear and feel, the great mother soft caressing, male Greek voice enticingly ask,
The questions of life in mystical rhythm, harmonizing with the perennial surf,
Amidst the whistles and groans, accompanying the gyrating echoes of ecstatic union
POETRY
Auroville
What I feel is what I see, a veritable paradise on Earth,
A garden of Eden, germinated and nurtured from dry desert shrub land.
A community of multi-national inhabitants, participating in the creation of a city without nationality,
A place where free expression is encouraged and whose centre is the Matrimandir,
A symbol of the Aurovillian hopes and aspirations,
And also of the Divines answer to man’s inspiration for perfection.
A community that is not just introverted and isolated, separate from the global community,
But endeavouring to consciously connect, interact and communicate,
With all other groups and communities throughout India and the world.
Auroville, conceived as a city at the service of Truth,
Which is all inclusive and constitutes the freedom of the Spirit.
Echoes of ‘The Village’, without the electric cars, uniforms, roaring bubble gum
And of course the numbers, the painless even pleasant dehumanising programmes,
Are of course a total antithesis, of everything that inspired
And contribute to conceiving, precipitating, engendering and forming,
This colossal verdant city, with expression of the soul, in all it’s possible facets.
It’s role and goal, as a haven, example and blue print, for the future development of our questing species
City of Dawn, a conglomerate of very inspiring and significantly named communities,
Such as Fertile, Certitude, Sincerity, Revelation, Transformation and Verity.
Auroville
What I feel is what I see, a veritable paradise on Earth,
A garden of Eden, germinated and nurtured from dry desert shrub land.
A community of multi-national inhabitants, participating in the creation of a city without nationality,
A place where free expression is encouraged and whose centre is the Matrimandir,
A symbol of the Aurovillian hopes and aspirations,
And also of the Divines answer to man’s inspiration for perfection.
A community that is not just introverted and isolated, separate from the global community,
But endeavouring to consciously connect, interact and communicate,
With all other groups and communities throughout India and the world.
Auroville, conceived as a city at the service of Truth,
Which is all inclusive and constitutes the freedom of the Spirit.
Echoes of ‘The Village’, without the electric cars, uniforms, roaring bubble gum
And of course the numbers, the painless even pleasant dehumanising programmes,
Are of course a total antithesis, of everything that inspired
And contribute to conceiving, precipitating, engendering and forming,
This colossal verdant city, with expression of the soul, in all it’s possible facets.
It’s role and goal, as a haven, example and blue print, for the future development of our questing species
City of Dawn, a conglomerate of very inspiring and significantly named communities,
Such as Fertile, Certitude, Sincerity, Revelation, Transformation and Verity.
Friday, 2 March 2007
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
Family Blues
Those fractious moments, why does it happen,
That people once so close genetically & in love,
End up in such deep & diametrically entrenched opposition.
That inevitably germinates traits of behaviour,
Which repeatedly performed, precipitates grid lock scenarios,
That sink & escalate, into destructively negative, nightmarish confrontation.
Frequently witnessed by the innocent & young,
Who are often engulfed by the ensuing ripple,
Whose effect can inflate & degenerate, into anti-social dramatics & violence.
Family Blues
Those fractious moments, why does it happen,
That people once so close genetically & in love,
End up in such deep & diametrically entrenched opposition.
That inevitably germinates traits of behaviour,
Which repeatedly performed, precipitates grid lock scenarios,
That sink & escalate, into destructively negative, nightmarish confrontation.
Frequently witnessed by the innocent & young,
Who are often engulfed by the ensuing ripple,
Whose effect can inflate & degenerate, into anti-social dramatics & violence.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
Phoenix from the Street
Destined to awake in isolation & conflict, a warrior from the cradle without respite,
A fragmented family diaspora son, genetically a foreigner, far from home.
Twin dual cultural antecedents, colonial divisive hotspots of rebellion,
A victim of sociological discrimination, on the street, in the playground & work place.
A recipient of brutish, animalistic violence, in the home by Neanderthal stepfather,
Son to a dictatorial & manipulative mother, a lesson in control & possession.
An individual forced to leadership, by group envy, jealousy & bullying,
A supreme sportsman in every genre, a champion footballer in sixties England.
A natural prodigy chess player, legacy of colonial inheritance,
So body & mind of the first order, in early preparation for survival.
A grammar school boy of excellence, disaffected by teachers & family,
Roots skinhead warrior in tribal hooliganism, an outlet for home anger & frustration.
Denied opportunity for professional vocation, broken hearted by blacklisting victimization,
A home of violence & madness, an early exit the only option.
On the street in hippy Southampton, bustling nautical Dodge City,
Peace & companionship in drugs euphoria, oblivious to pain & self-destruction.
Sex , drugs & rock ‘n’ roll escapism, full on hedonistic excitement
And so the descent into Hades, the neo-underworld continued,
Until one day the brick wall & borstal boy education.
Institutionalised violence on a frenetic, helter skelter regime ride
Fear trip London style instruction, fast, furious & extremely violent,
Only one viable possibility, attack & immediate ascension boss.
A thorough & intense education in survival, street, institution & home,
At an emotional price of anger, frustration, unhappiness & isolation.
With the perspective that violence is the tool & solution to all problems,
In this apparent continual darkness, there have been some beacons of Light,
Like the early love of a cockney guardian, whose accent still echoes through me today.
The later old boat building ex-spook, eastern traveled friend, guardian & guru,
The school football teacher now knighted, fan ,coach & continued friend.
A biker & consort of Hells Angels, hedonistic kamikaze seeker of excitement,
An ‘aufweidersehen pet’ working traveler, construction worker & nightly reveler.
A Stonehenge convoy consort & guardian, companion & elder statesman,
So a wet wintry evening excursion, that ended in a skidding demobilizing hospitalization,
Was a momentary taster glimpse of the reaper, before escaping leap to fractured rest & pause for reflection.
Exactly one year to the day, a roots journey to the land of unknown missing father,
An instant restoration of pride & consequent reunion with unwitting patriarch.
Thus began the road of self-discovery, from a life of subconscious self-destruction,
To one of studious training on all levels, to become a teaching purveyor of Light.
So now all focus is forward, retrospective reflection only for understanding & knowledge.
In the face of adversity, one should be gratified, for the opportunity to acquire
Phoenix from the Street
Destined to awake in isolation & conflict, a warrior from the cradle without respite,
A fragmented family diaspora son, genetically a foreigner, far from home.
Twin dual cultural antecedents, colonial divisive hotspots of rebellion,
A victim of sociological discrimination, on the street, in the playground & work place.
A recipient of brutish, animalistic violence, in the home by Neanderthal stepfather,
Son to a dictatorial & manipulative mother, a lesson in control & possession.
An individual forced to leadership, by group envy, jealousy & bullying,
A supreme sportsman in every genre, a champion footballer in sixties England.
A natural prodigy chess player, legacy of colonial inheritance,
So body & mind of the first order, in early preparation for survival.
A grammar school boy of excellence, disaffected by teachers & family,
Roots skinhead warrior in tribal hooliganism, an outlet for home anger & frustration.
Denied opportunity for professional vocation, broken hearted by blacklisting victimization,
A home of violence & madness, an early exit the only option.
On the street in hippy Southampton, bustling nautical Dodge City,
Peace & companionship in drugs euphoria, oblivious to pain & self-destruction.
Sex , drugs & rock ‘n’ roll escapism, full on hedonistic excitement
And so the descent into Hades, the neo-underworld continued,
Until one day the brick wall & borstal boy education.
Institutionalised violence on a frenetic, helter skelter regime ride
Fear trip London style instruction, fast, furious & extremely violent,
Only one viable possibility, attack & immediate ascension boss.
A thorough & intense education in survival, street, institution & home,
At an emotional price of anger, frustration, unhappiness & isolation.
With the perspective that violence is the tool & solution to all problems,
In this apparent continual darkness, there have been some beacons of Light,
Like the early love of a cockney guardian, whose accent still echoes through me today.
The later old boat building ex-spook, eastern traveled friend, guardian & guru,
The school football teacher now knighted, fan ,coach & continued friend.
A biker & consort of Hells Angels, hedonistic kamikaze seeker of excitement,
An ‘aufweidersehen pet’ working traveler, construction worker & nightly reveler.
A Stonehenge convoy consort & guardian, companion & elder statesman,
So a wet wintry evening excursion, that ended in a skidding demobilizing hospitalization,
Was a momentary taster glimpse of the reaper, before escaping leap to fractured rest & pause for reflection.
Exactly one year to the day, a roots journey to the land of unknown missing father,
An instant restoration of pride & consequent reunion with unwitting patriarch.
Thus began the road of self-discovery, from a life of subconscious self-destruction,
To one of studious training on all levels, to become a teaching purveyor of Light.
So now all focus is forward, retrospective reflection only for understanding & knowledge.
In the face of adversity, one should be gratified, for the opportunity to acquire
POETRY
Rain
Rain, first dripping & all of a sudden darting, from above,
Sustenance for us all, heavens yin to compliment the light,
But it is the sun that I love & not the northern European grey.
Although in the sun of Aphrodite, there is no green,
Or the rich vein & variety, of guardian patriarchal trees,
To be found in this northern, obdurate & belligerent isle.
So with the glorious verdant green, comes the grey
Of the North Atlantic Drift, that brings the rain.
And so, after three weeks residency in August, comes the first drops,
An overcast, constantly drizzling rain, that varies in intensity.
Contrasting the sporadic, intense monsoon downpours of the Middle East,
That create chaos & flood, everywhere within minutes.
But to compensate for this omnipresent rolling veil, that obscures the heavens,
I must endeavour to, constantly enjoy forests of trees.
That bountiful fruit, of this green grey garden of home,
Which I have returned to, after my exile in the desert.
Rain
Rain, first dripping & all of a sudden darting, from above,
Sustenance for us all, heavens yin to compliment the light,
But it is the sun that I love & not the northern European grey.
Although in the sun of Aphrodite, there is no green,
Or the rich vein & variety, of guardian patriarchal trees,
To be found in this northern, obdurate & belligerent isle.
So with the glorious verdant green, comes the grey
Of the North Atlantic Drift, that brings the rain.
And so, after three weeks residency in August, comes the first drops,
An overcast, constantly drizzling rain, that varies in intensity.
Contrasting the sporadic, intense monsoon downpours of the Middle East,
That create chaos & flood, everywhere within minutes.
But to compensate for this omnipresent rolling veil, that obscures the heavens,
I must endeavour to, constantly enjoy forests of trees.
That bountiful fruit, of this green grey garden of home,
Which I have returned to, after my exile in the desert.
POETRY - PHILOSOPHY
United
Seems strange, to be again walking in the match throng,
Feeling that pre-match, collective speculation & anticipation
Of hope & glory, lightheaded joviality & desired revelry.
A cyclic tidal ebb flow, that only the media networks can change.
Especially strange as the flow has altered course & destination,
Since former times, those days of loyalty & battle,
Scoring & cheering, those electric midweek cup replays.
A new ground, European football & Man. United in town,
The tangible air of excitement & expectations, is palpable
In the crowds, of exuberant red & white supporters,
Who overspill out of the crowded pubs, in colourful agitation,
Which intensifies in gusto, as we approach the stadium.
Faces familiar, but time to break off now, not easy but tempting,
The Lemming run to the Coliseum, invoking memories
Of games won & heroes made, territory & respect maintained,
But back to pastures old, a comfortable Sunday pub, bird’s eye view.
United
Seems strange, to be again walking in the match throng,
Feeling that pre-match, collective speculation & anticipation
Of hope & glory, lightheaded joviality & desired revelry.
A cyclic tidal ebb flow, that only the media networks can change.
Especially strange as the flow has altered course & destination,
Since former times, those days of loyalty & battle,
Scoring & cheering, those electric midweek cup replays.
A new ground, European football & Man. United in town,
The tangible air of excitement & expectations, is palpable
In the crowds, of exuberant red & white supporters,
Who overspill out of the crowded pubs, in colourful agitation,
Which intensifies in gusto, as we approach the stadium.
Faces familiar, but time to break off now, not easy but tempting,
The Lemming run to the Coliseum, invoking memories
Of games won & heroes made, territory & respect maintained,
But back to pastures old, a comfortable Sunday pub, bird’s eye view.
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