~Religion~

Heaven or Heathen

18 November 2005
Corpus Christi, Texas

Heart's church tells us how to get to Heaven,
But science tells us how the heavens work,—
¿Why must they live in exclusivity,—
Cannot one mind encompass both domains?

¿Must mechanism mean that beauty's done,—
Or can man's eyes be both divine and clay?
I think to revel in Nature's deep ways,

Delighting in life's wide diversity,
Does not unseat a primal cause unseen,
As Darwin most profoundly religious,

Remained unshaken in his faith and awe,—
So we might stretch our mind to understand,
That knowing how the cog-wheel turns does not,—
Presume directions for the car to wheel.​

 

Small Prayers Answered Are

Thanksgiving 2005
Corpus Christi, Texas

Strange confluence in circle our lives make,
For friends we started out and now remain,
Upon realization passion's dead,
Or, perhaps, obsession was somewhere else,—

Man's focus is on work and its own sake,
For woman family is all germane,
And when that little word love's never said,
¿How can romance ring its resonant bells?

But ashes burnt there's no need now to rake,
Better to dress our swift hoofed fate's long mane,
And upon our new ways carefully tread,
Lest what was past is what future foretells,—

Yet all red heart's turmoil and bitter ache,
Seems just like stormy weather with spring's rain,
Something new fragile bloom should truly dread,
Not autumn with it bright colored pastels,—

So as we move our life beyond heartbreak,
Let us each day walk unbounded joy's reign,
Delight in all things before we are dead,—
Because,—upon this earth we cast our spells.​

 

Pneumonia

6 December 2005
Santo Domingo

Do not disdain life's breath,—even its cough,—
Abrupt & short & halting forced breath's flow,
Drains body of its energy,—draws sweat,
Warm bitter residue of daily pain,

Yet body wracked & weakened by disease,
Can feel more sun's warmth than cold dank dark tomb,
& hear clear breeze rustling wind chimes gaily,
Delighting in an uncomposed refrain,

With willy-hither-nither rhythm free,
¿How can you then find recompense in death,
When motion still allows but rot to play?—
Rejoice in thanks for your short moment's fay.​

 

Winter Doubts

21 December 2005
Corpus Christi, Texas

It's Winter, but it might as well be Spring,
Yellow sunlight floods fresh growing green grass,—
Moist cool that filters through woolen jacket,
Could emanate from melting snow in March,—

Old Texas oaks with semblance of olive,
Soft scrub a passing breeze's underside,
For they have resolutely stood Fall's storms,—

Calm quiet of lone country lane erupts,
Occasionally with speeding truck buzz,
& I parked alongside the road await,—

No great revelation unveiling life,
No grand expectation of soul changing,
No grim duty that I must abide to,—

Just realization that warm moment,
Bathed in bright sun's alluring rays of joy,
Dispels doubts & allows heart to keep Faith,

For all the songbirds have fled further South,
& I can see the sun is low at noon,—
& I know that mortality calls soon.​

 

Perfect

22 December 2005
Corpus Christi, Texas

Here's mind's problem in a nutshell briefly,—
We can recognize gross fault in others,
But can scarce believe it exists in us,—

Self esteem is closed to criticism;
& God forbid we should find ourselves marred,
¿What becomes then of our divinity?

Finding that man is just another beast,
Sits ill with most illusions of our state,
Defies beliefs that man's a special case,—

¿So how can we with flaws abundant live,—
& Knowledge that we're just an animal,
Emotional with logic that oft fails?

By building temples that endure in Faith,
Where heart can worship and often repent,
& Find inner peace so oft eludes mind.​

 

Soul's Treasure

28 December 2006
Sunnyside, New York

¿Where in Christendom is soul's real relic?
¿Does lost Holy Grail still shine effulgent?
¿What deed in our short life consoles red heart,—
That we have lived to fullest measure life?

¿How do we reconcile dark energy,—
Composing most of what we cannot see?
All of our senses insufficiently,—
Proscribe geometries surrounding mind,
That incandescent fade upon day's dawn,—

For in a misty dream we wandered late,
When moon up high illuminated clouds,
With lunacy and wishes mad for flight,—

Relieving us of gravity's hard pull,
To take up life with illusion's delight,—
To leave a few things better than we found,
By caring for that tender garden heart,
That trusted to us for short time was soul.​

 

Quantum Randomness

11 January 2006
Corpus Christi, Texas

¿What have quantum possibilities done?
¿What of choices that ought to or would have?
¿How did that left turn come about to be?
¿Why did stability not repose here?

Our history,—events long ago drove,—
If our body we could just split and halve,—
¿Would our twin better able to foresee,
Life's chosen road while looking cavalier?

Though obstacles and boulders we can hove,
The course of destiny we never faze,—
¿Why this bias in probability,
That always with heart's life does interfere?

At each occasion with a forceful shove,
Casting joy's hopes aside leaving gray haze,
Though throwing dice is much hyperbole,
For all the randomness that appears queer,

¿Who are we arguing with ancient Jove,
& Sneering that His actions all amaze?
When we should give praise for life somberly,
Before luck's draw makes us,—quick disappear.​

 

Early Morning Quatrains

22 February 2006
Corpus Christi, Texas

Each day a petal falls from an old thought,
It's just a drop of life that time has bought,
How little we notice how our rose shrank,—
Until no longer perfume can be sought.

Morn's fog encompasses all with vague gray,
Bright sun dare not break through to start the day,
And soft moist cool does penetrate through bones,—
That soon will lie scattered in ashen fay.

Ancient ritual of early morning,
A hearth of fire to set water boiling,
Nutmeg and coffee into clear roiling,—
Strained into crockery to start mind's day.

In dreams came all new day's events foretold,
Though now on waking,—signs are not so bold,
¿What meaning could those strange symbols all hold?—
But what we make of them in life's struggle​

 

Gone Are The Ona

28 February 2006
Corpus Christi, Texas

A voyage to Tierra del Fuego,
Might Darwin take to find barren landscapes,
Where shaped the forces of an errant land,
With winds of cold and floes of ice man's soul;

Shaman stands up from an extinguished fire,
Walks out a hut of bark into black night,
To chant with moon that flows as reverent,
For Winter's child that waits in womb's caress;

No shepherds come to this Nativity,
No Kings or Emperors bearing fine myrrh,
Only one mystic ascetic prays soft,
That man or woman will live on next day;

Barefoot on frozen earth hard and compact,
The other members of the group huddle,
Finding in each other the warmth of life,
While Shaman incantations linger on;

Ocean's rough call resounds on black rock beach,
Eroding layers of Gaia's old skin,
With briny patience moistening to soft,
Where trilobites encrusted million years;

A revelation that will come some day,
That Earth and Ocean and Sky are but one,
As every priest inside man's soul will tell,—
Awaiting sleep to bring them dreams of birth.​

 

Petroglyphs

4 March 2006
Corpus Christi, Texas

upon cave refuge walls so long ago,
we painted Spirit vision world we saw,
as flickered back and forth our small wick lamp,
shadows reflected bison motion's flow;

in sanguine reds and charcoal blacks we sketch,
heart's feelings while in trepidation's hunt,
sweat mix of movement swift and courage strong,
while near a hearth our young and old await;

from arrow's point blood stained earth's rough brown skin,
surely a sacrifice received well be,
as we of tribe partake in meat and grist,
every last remnant makes our lives resurge;

for bones and fur, entrails and horns all make,
necessity's daily assemblages,
required for life again to life beget,—
a precious gift from Thee to Us,—One-kind.​

 

3 Quatrains on a Theme by Bahaghari

4 March 2006
Corpus Christi, Texas

—1—

Once foul angst inside spewed forth cicatrix,
Crazed wild demon razed soft skin with sharp tricks,—
Now heart knows a Faith heals Soul's yester ills,
Sole recourse: torn rags, thorns and crucifix.

—2—

¿How does soul choose at life's painful crossroads?
One branch left,—the other right: both sore load,
Such a burden heart can barely carry,—
'Til cross path spry hops forth God's little toad.

—3—

quinine bark, so bitter brewed, heals fever,
given to us by a creature meager,
wracked our body with pains and torment foul,
now our soul we baptize in life's river.​

 

Mound Builders

22 March 2006
Corpus Christi, Texas

'We' have a strange obsession with red earth,
To heap up dirt in mounds and ziggurats,
To terrace mountains for our roads and crops,
To pile up stones in pyramids and spires;

And, like termites burrow deep into ground,
To search for gold or uranium ore,
To pump petroleum from shale layers,
To release gas to burn and propel things;

And, in this doing and undoing we,
Build up our monuments complex with script,
In hope that God on high can spy our works,
As our round globe spins 'bout vast universe,—

So one day, aliens with delight,—Will,
Pore over and decipher with insight,
To know on Earth there lived a creature bright,—
Yet still could not discover its deep plight.​

 

Propitious

26 March 2006
Corpus Christi, Texas

Upon a firmament so vast,
We cannot recognize our little heart,
And all the troubles we call life,
Seem distant when projected up on clouds;

Lightning from Heaven often cast,
Reminds us to adorn temples with art,
Lest gods above send us more strife,
We set to work building up more earth mounds;

For hidden in those tombs our past,
Seems something we shall never need to part,
Buried with sharp emerald knife,
Death itself our preservation confounds;

Salt vision fastened tight to mast,
When hopeless we roamed red wine sea less chart,
Sirens singing, piercing,—shrill fife,
Mesmerizing soul with lotus propounds;

Now, hunger's choice, only long fast,
'Til sacrifice be made from heart of hart,
Illusions in our soul run rife,—
Then, mortal we,—can walk on hallowed grounds.​

 

Petras

20 April 2006
Corpus Christi, Texas

A moment's glance and nightingale flew high,
¿Was it the twisting of our eyes startled,
Or branches swaying to a breeze of cool,
That halted her sweet mysteries of song?

In the reflections of the sun's rays bright,
Destiny's shadows played and life addled,
For had we not our motions jerked like fool,
Perhaps sweet melody's joy had been long,—

¿How can we then such magic hold with sight,
This bold and fierce mare never once saddled?
¿For is not Love a Zephyr of wine cool,
That fills red Heart with sounds ringing as gong?​

 

Faith Less

21 April 2006
Corpus Christi, Texas

How difficult it seems to live less Faith,
(OK Juliet, perhaps it's a pun,
But nonetheless question posited.)
¿Is there an instinct for man to seek God?

¿Or, is religion something taught as wraith,
That then becomes a fixture as bright sun,
Reinforced by small acts deposited,
Growing deeper grooves as life's path is trod;

¿But is it necessity for soul to bathe,
In waters crystalline that spirit run,
Or see visions that mind's soul visited,
To feel beneath our soles sanctity's sod?​

 

Never Alone

24 April 2006
Corpus Christi, Texas

It seems a different universe these thoughts,
That written down display once different soul,
In some unknown galaxy's far-off sun,

Radiating alien colored forms,
In frequencies barely perceptible,
Disorienting all our senses felt,
We fell with vertigo through endless time,—

Then one upon blue Earth and its green trails,
Amidst tall junipers creaking with wind,
Or, past cool, clear mountain brook chattering,
We feel yellow sun's rays tanning our skin,

Alone, perhaps, to most eyes that see not,—
Accustomed to their mortal spectral light;
But, always in the company of God.​

 

Asunder

13 May 2006
Corpus Christi, Texas

From these broken twigs heart would make a wand,
To divine and enchant all powers hid,
And in restoration's signs find true peace;

¿Which lightning strike did heart's pointer split down?
Thin green wooden branches so flexible,
Should have withstood life's buffeting shrill winds;

Yet, uninvited came soul's sudden change,
¿What could we do but set a table full?
Upon which we offered all our ripe fruit;

Perhaps from this anointed sacrifice,
Involuntary though its nature was,
Will spring forth new beginnings after storm.​

 

Prayer Mat

14 August 2006
Corpus Christi, Texas

creatures of taste and smell and touch we long,

for a divine encapsulating all,

in alabaster cast,—a form sublime,

beyond our possibilities; yet, man,

a shape that heart can worship; but, not reach,

such longing,—moves us to light spirit flames,

as prayers leave lips parched with sacrifice,

with eyes lifted to heaven blue filled high,

as knees bend gravity to touch brown ground,

ears listen to a pentatonic chant,—

for so we do project our best to God.​

 

No Demons or Angels

17 August 2006
Corpus Christi, Texas

Quixotic misdemeanors we abide,
Releasing with their oddness all our heart,
Strange mixtures of illusions and desires,

We tilt with shifting winds towards windmills tall,
As if our efforts walls would tumble down,
To rubble that Phoenix could rise and fly,

In spheres containing stars in multitudes,
Where possibilities form universe,
So that god-like there is no good or bad,

But harmony that permeates all souls,
Beyond what devil or demon could be,
Past saintliness archangels could fulfill,

To being that exists and sees it all
Abiding black's full night and emptiness,—
Releasing white's full day and energy.​

 

Now Old, They Leave

19 September 2006
Jackson Heights, NY

There are only old women left here now,
Their men have gone or died before their time,
Brass bells in corner churches ring out loud,
Calling the faithful to their souls repent;

For every day inevitable death,
Culls forth a congregation of those left,
To lay in peaceful reverie quite still,
As generations new of immigrants;

Come heed the call of marketplace & work,
To toil & sweat for mammon their new god,
As those that went before in their success,
Abandon their refuge for other worlds.​