Category Archives: my own poetry

The Well Of Remembrance Draws Not From Memory

The well of remembrance draws not from memory, but from the fount of Silence that is creativity. Do you remember, do you forget, the stillness of rose unfolding? Such is how the longing spirit boldly grows. Bolbol, singing from the … Continue reading

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Green grow the rushes O

Green grow the rushes O, how the rose blushes O; but love conceals her face, and her bright red lips O! Print Friendly

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All I know is what I read in the bogus news

All I know is what I read in the bogus news: this world and the next belong to Zionist Jews. The jihadist will survive with bomb sewn in belly, in new-found paradise graced with petroleum jelly. Righteous Hindu will live … Continue reading

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The Prophet smiles at all the warring tribes

The Prophet smiles at all the warring tribes, even though ridiculed by their many jibes. Christ laughs at the crown of thorns on his head: because of Mercy, he has only grace to shed. Majnun cried and cried for his … Continue reading

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“The Fader” reports on Sufism Reoriented’s marble clad petrol domes

Here is the link to a new article on the cheesy spiritual organization called “Sufism Reoriented”. The marble clad petrol domes are back in the news. The fossil fuel halo of this occult and papal organization wants to impress us all with … Continue reading

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Silence Day Ghazal

I, the lost one, find my way to the ocean’s shore, where none can hear my grief above the surf’s roar. I would drown at once the sound of my own thought- I would die now and forever to all … Continue reading

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I raise my glass to the only divine lover

I raise my glass to the only divine lover; I drink to the dregs all the wine he offers. There is no taste I prefer to his presence; my eyes have no light save his effulgence. I have no motion … Continue reading

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Green grows the heart’s longing, vines on fire

Green grows the heart’s longing, vines on fire Breathing your name in love’s ascending gyre. Green grows the longing heart skyward, bright Tongues of flame praising the sweet Word of light. Your name, your bright name is our dawn laughter … Continue reading

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Love spills like blood on the floor

Love spills like blood on the floor as the vigilant snore and snore; the nightmare goes on and on until we scream, “no more, no more.” Print Friendly

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We have opened the door to our heart and let you in

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