Kali Yuga

Restless is the Earth tonight
wind blustered days
unsettling psyche...
rain squall sprays sweep
my window wild and forlorn...
as upstairs
single mother with newly born
shrieks her heart, so cruelly torn...
"don’t leave me, don’t do this to me...
I’ll do anything, don’t hang up..."
while other Earth inmates
serving out out sentences
hear, with sympathetic ear
through their private hells
endured in lifeless flats
that have become cells...
while a world away
weary Rwanda slides
desperately macheted
into the bloody soil
of dark African days...
and global industry infinite
relentless marches
on dwindling resources finite
whilst arteries
of the Mother of the World
run black with their poison
run off, with her heart...
Listless is the Mother tonight,
as a third world starves,
their rainforests carved,
prospects daily halved...
While first world
lumbers obesely
headlong through
Macdonalds' bars
browsing shopping malls
sit idly in luxury cars
in choking traffic
dumbly hypnotised
by TV materialism
pornographic imperialism
littered planet of plastic
polluted
by disposable desire
condom/syringe
flotsam and jetsam
at highwater mark...
the lowest ebb
in a world so stark.

Makara

imminent world
waiting
revealed in rotation
toward sunrise
unfolded gold blazes bold
on silent dawn
awakening
dewey petalled buds
unfolding salutations
to their solar hero
while
crocodile
upon the Nile
bears daybreak witness
in radiant moments...
Makara plays
his daily drama
of deepest darkness
meeting greatest light...
Father sun bares
our Mother’s naked orb
as she dons his dazzling robe.
Revealer and revealed,
their union sealed...
while deep inside her womb
the seeds of Sons
wait to be born.

Flight of the Falcon

perched and poised I sit
aside the valley steep
where the world drops out
beneath my wondering feet…
in contemplation I weep alone,
and ask the Muse
if she's home,
and in an instant
a rush of wind
races
past my face...
fast and furious
the
peregrine plummets
whirring winged
precision
hurtled from on high
like a thunderbolt
from the cobalt sky
my feather messenger
and soul decision
dives the giddy valley deep
below so fallow,
swooping upon fretful prey
beak and talon tears away
felonious shadows
clinging the ancient crags.

Fires of Hephaestos

Vulcan
harnesses electric fire...
flames in the furnace,
fanned and focussed
to a hissing
incandescence...
a galaxy of sparks,
by the soundless breath
of Brahma's bellows...
atoms flee
before the onslaught
of thunder upon the anvil
re-emerge anew,
transformed and liberated...
survivors of the stormy blast,
progenitors of a new State.

Stillpoint 

poised…
in dark dunes
by brother buddha
and a windless
waste of sea
keeping quiet
dawn vigil
after the endless grinding
of the mighty nightly
mill crushing
these soul seeds…
ponder the point
still in the heart
drips a spiritous brew
thirsting the Coming One…
drunk I glimpsed 
landscapes of liberated
sons of god
faces aflame
scattered vast like stars
across blazing plains
lit by the light
of a thousand suns
bright with the promise
of destiny  

Journey

My Lord Shipwright
applies the blowtorch
to the underside
of my barnacled hull,
encrusted accumulations from 
my vessel’s many voyages…
sanding me back, laying me bare
for anti-foul and new paint
I sit cradled
upon the slipway
contemplating
a fresh sojourn
to the New World
with solar eye and Polaris
guiding
from the ponderosa of empty sky
the tillerman ploughs the trackless waters
and pulls his sails in tight
laying over and heeling
through the great mind of time
Kala Hamsa
soaring high and wheeling
o’er the turquoise brine…

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