The
Shamballa Bell
Ancient bell forever tolls
The call of the Kumaras
Its mighty waves roll
Over ancient Gobi seas
Through the farther
Reaches of time…
Crashing furiously through
Remnants of human folly
Upon the shores of lighted hope.
Persistent pattern pushes
The fundamental note
Rides roughshod
Over all the lesser
Trickling sounds
Striking deep as bone
Singing in the songline
To our heart's core
Sweeping Ghengis-like before…
Conformity to the Law.
Hearken to the sound
Sons of the aeons
Your paths now all converge
Aflame upon Mount Meru.
Your generation comes of age
Your retiring elders turn the page
Choose wisely.
Artwork by Keera Pullman 2001
Wind
of the Heart
I listen to the wind of the heart
quietly stirring the branches of thought
rustling the dead leaves of old memories…
arising from a secret country
deep in the nationhood of being
cooling the sweat of labours
upon the burning brow.
It scatters and clears
the dusty tumbleweeds
of undreamt dreams,
curious notions half-baked plans…
sweeping all back to the void.
The wind of the heart
gently whispers
wisdom, love
blowing the flute
of the master musician…
animating
the divine dancer swirling
wild and free, joyous and proud.
The wind of the heart...
listen for the distant strains,
those melodious resonances
like distant ships' horns
over a quiet moonlit sea
hearkening and heartening
on the whiff of a breeze…
calling the weary wanderer
from the far country
back to the home fires.
Alexander's
Prescription
your heart has become
a Gordian Knot
tangled up with time
torn with thorns
it pumps tears not blood
choking you with enough salt
to do Lot proud.
where is the key to your knot?
not on your key ring
because swords are too large.
when you find the right one
and that can take a while
because the looking is in life,
insert through the top of the head
(definitely try this at home)
allowing the keen flashing blade
to rub and spark the fiery chalice
until the bejewelled hilt
gleams and glows
creating your rosy cross
to hang pendant(s) upon
warming with kindling fire
allowing no feral creeper
of suspicion, fear and doubt
to strangle and wrap about
the central beating life
or feed upon the wine divine.
emblazoned upon the steel
ancient letters scriven and driven
along the blade cold:
"to release your fetters, play bold."
Intrude
Upon the Crude
I am going
to kick down
the locked up entrance
to your heart
that ramshackle wooden
excuse for a door
with its rusty lock
and creaky hinges,
chains and padlocks
with which your jailor decided
to enslave you many aeons ago.
then I am going to storm
in to your mouldy cell
with its parsimonious furnishings
and paltry pretences of austerity
its rank straw floor
so malodorous
and yank you out
by your hair.
while I am hosing down
the ugly dirt
upon your pathetic person
I will throw a match
into that stinking den
and destroy with my blazing breath
all that you think is precious,
precocious prat!
if you want to live
in the kingdom
and walk my illumined halls
stop living like a serf
in your dark cave
of ignorance and decay.
J's Bar and Grill
hey!
you the trembling one,
are you cold
or just gripping tenaciously
that which you think sustains?
let it go
so I can give you again
your cup is half full
not half empty
pour it all off
into your thirsty brother's
outstretched mug
and come back
to my bar for a refill
here your cup
becomes a chalice
we are open seven days
twenty four hours
and all drinks are on the house!
(And many 'spirits' are in the house)
weary traveller,
stop shivering
come and warm yourself
beside the hearth.