The King Of Love


The King Of Love

The inner knower
The heart of the soul’s heart,

I argued with the intellectual, the atheist,
The anti-theist, sojourners, governments
Principalities and kings,
I flirted with the debutants of causality,
I settled the dispute
Between Majnun and Layla once and for all,

I was king of the boardwalk and park place,
A master at risk,
A dreamer that dreamed dreams undreamed,
A spellbinder, a cryptic keeper, a slave,
A rattler of runes,

But nothing was settled,
There was no answer –
Everything was just as everything
Ever explained,
Until I was
In less than an instant
By the king of love,
Only then was there the nothing’s
And the everything’s
Nameless name.

Immaculate Mary!


Immaculate Mary!

Who knows where love comes from

Who knows where it goes,

That it’s here is an infinity

That’s it’s there in my heart

That it’s here at all

That it’s the weight the heart can’t barter

That it’s the weight the heart can’t bear

That tickles the intrigues and sweets within me

That makes it a call to me triumphant a lover,

That makes it a, “Here’s my everything”,

And an, I don’t care that I care,

Immaculate Mary!

Our Hearts are on fire!


Listened, Humanity


Listened, Humanity

The puzzle of puzzles
The Zen of Zen
The i-rock, the i-ran
The comedy of errors
The sun in the the sunlight
The science of silence
The moon in the morning
The white dove on the window sill
The star of stars bekoning
The spent that sprang wonderstruck
Due west unsung
The wood enthroned union
And then the cataclysm,
Your native son so desperately burning
For your highest love,
Listened, now, humanity…

Open Door

open door

Open Door

Come to my open door
My open door of love,

When you roar
Let them hear your roar
Plus the roar before,
Before before before before before,

When you climb
Let them climb and climb and climb
And climb and climb and climb,

Come to my open box
My open box of rain
Who cares if the sun shines straight,
If love is all that matters
And nothing else…
Living in spiritual materialism,
In anticipation a few extra universes to interpret
And add fun to…




I’m tired of building the nest egg
Fashioning it
Stylizing it
Centering my universe around it
Bringing shiny objects in
From distant realms to make it sparkle,
Painting it, purchasing it,
Worshiping it,
Giving my life’s blood for it,

Let’s find the joy and magic
Beyond the material plane,
Let’s stop expecting life
To entertain us,
Let’s go give life a run for it’s money,
Let’s show her who’s the boss now,
I call on the wisdom and wonders
All the things we claim are ours.

The Hukam of My Command

golden temple 1

The Hukam of My Command

The pagan’s oblations are pointless,
They worship nature as their deity,
They bow to the wind, air, water and fire,
And call to the ethers,
They conclude that by assuaging the devas
Mother Nature will be kind to them,
But she has her own agenda
And always has,
And is just as likely to devour them,
As to dazzle them with her mercurial beauty,

They flaunt their black robes at black masses,
They cherish sorcery and the occult
And chant incantations to Baal,
They treat the God of Jacob as a concept to be joked about,
They read horoscopes to determine their future
In the stars,
But all of these avenues
Eventually end in misfortune,
And any blessing they perceive to have garnered from their actions
Is fruitless and transitory,

Calling themselves witches and warlocks,
They hate religion and proselytize
Against it,
They deny and defy the progenitor of love,
But they are fakes,
Granting forecasts and wishes for a fee,
Their errors deceive the world
And they deceive themselves in teaching
Their own brand of synthetic freedom to the world,
Mostly they dwell in contradiction
While imagining themselves soothsayers or pioneers,
Rejecting compassion
They focus on varying degrees of emptiness,
And emptiness becomes their only friend,

Hey Romeo!

Who made you judge, jury and executioner?
If you loved them as I love them
Then maybe they would desire my mercy by now,
Instead of having to be deceived again and again
By the pitfalls of sanskaric renegotiation,

When the nectar flows,
The buzzing bee enters the mind,
Then the hurricane of utmost bliss
Cannot be constrained by space and time,

Only with my help and my offer of salvation
Can one perfect the utmost bliss, the absolute,
Mind in its initial and primordial state,

Don’t tarnish it with simplistic judgments,

Instead, convince them that the Master’s foot
Is what crushes mundane existence,
And to obey the Hukam of my command,
And to walk in the ways of my will.