OLD

i look in the mirror
and feel old
outdated
faded.

i am looking through the lens of fatigue,
a tired body is ill at ease,
not always accurately does its mind perceive.

pulchritude has never been my currency,
the first thing most people see in me-
that which lent validity.

living in a world that places so much value
on physical appearance,
i mastered the art of dis-appearance
learning to hide deep inside;
shrink from severe lack of confidence;
stuff the pain with food
in lieu of alcohol or cocaine.

now, I mature,
a process treated with great contempt,
as if it were manure.

the gift of getting older
is that One gets bolder!
You tend to give
less of a fuck
to the ego
and the others
who think you just plain suck.
Ain’t nobody got the time
for that drama and fuss.

Dark Chocolate

I see You.

You have no clue

what your entity

unleashes

within

me.

Instantaneously,

the heat rises

from underneath.

Familiar stirrings,

deep yearnings,

salivation

follows

thoughts of salvation

in the form of sweet sensations

found in your arms

and between your thighs.

You

the color and smell of darkest chocolate,

the taste of an elegant wine,

the touch and feel of a Man at his prime.

Alas, you have no clue

what it is you do,

how I perceive of you.

Chemistry

“The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.” ― C.G. Jung

A bit of a mystery,

this thing called chemistry:

that inexplicable spark,

ignited from the depths of the loins

or Heart,

where connection starts.

The lean in – 

straight, no chaser –

is a little closer,

paying careful attention.

Two ships stopping,

not wanting to miss anything.

A stirring on the inside,

butterflies,

a yearning to learn

who resides

on that side;

how songs are played

on that life’s stage.

Chemistry,

no rhyme,

no reason-

simply the right season;

a destiny fulfilled

as per God’s Will.

 

 

Give it Away!

Give It away!

For It does not belong to you.

You are but the vessel It flows through.

It chooses you, coming seemingly

out of the blue

to awaken and amuse.

“Give Me away!”

It begs.

I was not meant to remain hidden in your head,

dormant, because you are afraid.

I come from a place that is nothing but pure.

Hence, no need for you to be insecure.”

Advent

A time spent

in deep contemplation,

in preparation

for what God

to the world

sent:

A Love Divine

came from up high

to make fully flesh

The Word;

to demonstrate

prayers are indeed heard

and prophesies fulfilled

as per His time

and perfect will.

Emmanuel-

Hallelujah,

our God dwells

among us all!

Born humbly

in the House of Bread,

He came to save,

to minister,

to transform

the thoughts

the darkness

residing, hiding

in our head,

imploring we chose-

instead-

only Love

only Light

-always

until the end

of our human days.

 

Written all over your Face

It’s written all over your Face

why you occupy

this space,

in this time.

in this body,

in This Moment

in your-story.

There are no accidents-

such is widely evident.

We are,

each one of us,

called forth,

summoned.

Here,

to re-member

what we really are,

to dispel others’ truths

that became our scars.

Here,

to re-call

our shared humanity,

our One Soul.

 

Artist: Pablo Picasso

Joy in Repetition

There is indeed

Joy in Repetition,

in doing it

again and again,

learning to see it

outside and in,

the nuances,

the subtleties-

variations on the

exact

same

theme.

What a pleasure

to be delivered

repeated opportunity

for vision,

to better see

what is true-

what is reality.

Day in,

day out;

year after year,

the same issues

reappear.

They come

looking for resolution,

for final absolution.

There is indeed

Joy in Repetition,

in the single-minded commitment

to always come back home

to Self

so as to be

of greater service

to everyone else.

Each Other’s Keepers,

we truly are.

All of us,

big, bright Shining Stars.

Alas, we often forget

from whence we came.

As such,

we are wont

to play

dangerous, destructive

games-

veering off our path,

so far, one can only laugh.

But sins are forgiven;

therein we’re saved!

The Joy in Repetition,

a clean slate,

yet another chance

to pivot,

to reevaluate,

to atone,

to return Soul to its Home,

to not stray

and become lost in the daily fray.

The Joy in Repetition,

returning to love

repeatedly

and

consciously;

relentlessly changing

the subliminal scripts,

adjusting to one

that is truth,

the more accurate,

gentler

fit.

Great Joy in Repetition,

a lifetime

of exploration-

digging deeper,

going farther,

climbing ever higher.

Over and over

and over

again-

when does it end?

Perhaps,

only

in Heaven.

 

Friday

Whoa!

Another week

has passed

so quick,

so fast

at a pace,

I can’t seem to grasp!

One minute, it is Monday-

the thought: how will I last?

The next minute, Friday,

relief, some time to relax!

Bittersweet is

the end of the week.

Some joy,

some pain.

Many questions

remain:

Did I get

what I was to learn?

Did I summon

enough nerve

to truly serve?

Where did I grow?

Where was maturation slowed?

What parts of me

do I transform and release?

Next breath never guaranteed,

nor is any day of next week.

It’s Friday,

the day to savor

the short respite,

to pivot

and change perspective.

Go in,

give in,

make way and waves;

like a voodoo chile

filled with Light and smiles

play and create-

these are the mandates

of

Fridays.

Prodigal: A Portrait in Words

The middle child,

the second

in a Girl Tribe

made of three;

born into a

matriarchal family.

She has a

distinct,

special pedigree.

A quintessential

Scorpio, She is

often perceived

aloof,

not so easy to know.

One minute,

She herself

to others

shows;

and the next-

poof

off She goes,

traveling into

that sublime mind,

not intending

to be cruel and unkind-

unless betrayed

or played,

then out comes

the devastating hand grenades!

Beware of the Scorpio sting,

her bite

her weapon

to protect

her gentle heart,

her sensitive skin.

A relatively quiet Soul,

this one as Prodigal

privately known-

a familial moniker

for this magical

misunderstood

wanderer.

Many secrets

held tight

under her beautiful exterior.

To unlock,

to enter her interior,

sustained trust,

an absolute must!

Once inside,

much and rich

treasures to find-

fierce loyalty,

staunch integrity,

stunning efficiency,

endless creativity.

So blessed am I

to take this life’s journey

with She,

to walk together

hand in hand,

feet to feet!

 

Sculpture by American-born British sculptor Sir Jacob Epstein.

Poem dedicated to my beloved sister, Prodigal – much love and many thanks!

 

I Am…

I am

as God

created

Me.

The part

that is

Eternity.

The true Me,

not the one

confined to

this body

nor defined by

human imagery

and idolatry.

Rather,

I am free

formless in

my essence;

a Spirit

in

of not

this world-

no beginning

nor end.

Just playing

at it

again

and

again.