http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=uIgaLH4_T14East
Eastern violin
Lament and longing
Oh
Heart all rent in 2
Inward sunward path
My opiate home of
gold red white & blue
Rich tapestry
Of spiced love in me will
Come & bring me back to you
my
Kin of eastern love .
There was once a young boy
who
had a friend .
Sanguine one
you sing a dirge ,
gave way
to urge ,
you wipe the blood
from blade ,
& pale blue brow ,
from mop wet
bloodied head ,
And all around
the people howl
like animals .
Howl ye Howl ye now :
The king is dead .
His purple raiment
all stained
& soaked with red .
Children
Children are trusting
with a natural tendency
to the good .
They are closer to the source .
When children are abused
psychologically or physically
in formative years
or at an early age
the only thing
they can conclude
Is that life is harsh, cruel
unforgiving and that somehow
they are to blame .
Their only conclusion can be
that they must be prepared
to deal with it
by not feeling
or sometimes acting
in a cruel, harsh or
manipulative way as well .
It takes a unique adult ,
often with help,
to become aware
and reverse that kind of
damage done to the child .
Treat your children kindly.
Show them responsibility.
Teach them discipline,
but also respect for others .
Most importantly
give them love .
Children need the love
of both parents
to learn to love themselves .
Can we really blame
the thief, the murderer,
sociopath, or psychopath ?
Fatima
Fatima
daughter
of the prophet
child and servant
of the creator,
Charitable and kind,
many times a mother ,
sometimes
your bones
are broken.
There are times
you are so frail,
and sad .
We all are made so
at times.
In your prayers
you are strong,
and made whole,
and in them
you live forever .
Rabbi Did You Say
Rabbi ,
did you say
you have spoken
with Messiah ,
and that in time
he will come ,
on Ariel’s passing ,
whose brain
now
but a grape
squeezed ,
to dark ink ,
sweet ruddy wine,
long picked
like a saffron rose
from a stem of thorns?
Did you draw the
crosses in your
prayer book ?
In your recitations,
and your songs,
Illuminate us
with his presence,
righteous
transforming lion
of the creator,
as you tell us
of his footsteps
on the plain and
in the dawn ,
overshadowed
by the dark
blossom
of His bosom’s Love.
He sat on boat edge
as the boatman
with ancient oar
strummed rhythm
on the water .
She waited
on the other shore
Facing west
back turned away
In
fear
of a losing glance
again.
She refrained
from turning
as she flung back a hand
In an eastern direction
in a longing salutation
And the boat
it seemed up so high ,
floating on the air
above the water
as in winged embrace
the angel
held them
both together
and spirited
them away .
It comes
without mercy
from a quiet
and unbiased space.
First numb,
then astounding ,
It is done .
It just is .
No why .
No wherefore.
Final
except for
the reverberations
of the words
and the worms
of unspoken emotion
with only
sometime solace
of children
and of a passing wing.
Orpheus stands
lyre in hand .
He disappears into the trees
on meandering path .
And in a quiet grove
while singing to the birds
& leaves ,
his beating heart
is ripped apart
by frenzied
feline fingers .
His blood
is spilling on to ground ,
as white lilies
drown ,
in the final sweetness
of his song
under arching
weeping willows.
By moonlight
he will walk ,
light as
coloured wings on air ,
back to the riverside
for a final ride
to meet
awaiting love
on the other side .
Hemingway
puts on
his gun metal grey
gloves .
No perplexing
purple today .
Female companions
are gone .
While
pouring
over his Parisian
notes ,
silhouettes in moonlight ,
barrels, and hunting,
begin to preoccupy him .
“Once you’ve hunted
men, nothing quite
compares” he says
as he proceeds
to hunt himself .
PWChaltas 