Genesis, redux: In the beginning… Ghazal #133, from Ghazals For The Friend, by Bill Gannett

In the beginning, God was sleeping and heaved a sigh
That breathed me into being with the gasp of my first cry:

I am born as gas! And thus began my cosmic journey-
To suffer all form in time, and from all form in time be free.

Gas is nothing but space, and without boundary;
To establish identity, however, this is a quandary.

I fell in love with dull rock and all its many edges;
I hugged myself intensely down through the ages.

At last, my self-regard wore away to reveal some light;
I became shiny metal- don’t think this advance was slight!

After millions of years, and I had become pure gold,
I longed to reach for the Sun as a puddle of mold.

This was more than brilliant, you see, because as vegetable,
I could breathe and twitch a bit, and become more colorful.

After eons as all kinds of plants, I still longed to move.
As a worm inching about, I found, I had lots to prove.

In short, my life as a reptile was rather cold and snaky:
I never had the slightest regard for my dinner’s plea!

But when I became a fish, I learned how to swim,
Although the deep dark depths of ocean got pretty dim.

At last, after I had become an acrobatic dolphin,
I yearned to get my wings, and began to start flying.

Ages after ages flew by as this and that kind of bird:
I got really tired of basically the same aerial mood.

Then, I began to grunt and discovered animal bliss;
I soon fell in love with my sharp, ferocious kiss.

Ages crawled, then clambered, pranced and raced by;
At last I was a chimpanzee, gesticulating with my cries.

Don’t laugh- I was about to master the syllable:
After many millions of years, I would start to babble!

O happy day, when I first found out about human speech-
I could draw upon all I had learned, and begin to teach.

Darvish, shut your mouth- you’re not quite believable.
Please fall at the feet of the dear Master, most lovable!

 

 

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In this land of “winner takes all,” greed has dominion

In this land of “winner takes all,” greed has dominion
Over all who yearn for the treasure of Mega Millions!

How we worship the virtual triumph of Survivor-
Whose teeth evolve to resemble a saber tooth tiger!

The fantasy of evil plotting against our way of life
Is so real, paranoia has become our greatest strife.

In this last stand of publicly traded democracy,
The War Machine commands more than half the economy.

State-based terrorism will give way to bright compassion,
When We The People give the torch to our self-deception.

We forgot how to bless our work with our own inspired hands,
And Darvish despairs that greed now rules over all the sweet land.

The Sun of Spirit is rising on the world’s horizon,
Spilling bloody roses bright with the Master’s compassion.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Lost cries of ancient song catch in my throat

Lost cries of ancient song catch in my throat,
And take rude birth in the land of my tongue.
Mute syllables of pain gasp to denote
Spirit longing to again become young.

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Ghazal #55 from Ghazals For The Friend, by Bill Gannett

We are crying to our Lord and Master without peer:
All but his long curly hair is small and cheap beer!

We have lit a candle to his blazing presence,
And written many a ghazal about his essence.

We can’t help but sob a big puddle yet again:
Whatever we have to say ruins paper and pen!

We have nothing at all to say that can exalt him;
Our best praise bumps along like a tired hymn.

We must mumble to find a phrase that doesn’t snarl:
It turns out our loving is nothing but a quarrel!

We would shut up and forget all about such love-
If we didn’t think someone else deserved a shove!

To be sure, Darvish is inspired by two-buck chuck;
But we have to say: all but the Beloved bloody sucks!

 

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Darvish Khan Cancels Walkathon, Cites Lack Of Interest

Darvish Khan has canceled the much anticipated Walkathon due to a lack of interest on the part of the primary participants. They have not responded to his communications, and there is a suggestion that the idea was not well received.

News Flash reports that MK has been slandered: he did not, as was reported, solicit funds for personal use as the “Head of the Trust”, but merely as a Trustee. From the Circle of Friends we learn that although he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he managed to pull it out empty, just as the door of public opinion creaked.

A circumstantial case can nonetheless be made for the charge of behavior inappropriate to his position, and because of the long rap sheet of such charges, his future as a Trustee may be in doubt.

 

Notoriously Yours,
Bill Gannett

 

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Rumi quatrain, #1444 Foruzanfar

On the path of prayer, yearn for the One,
And continuously befriend heart-pain.
Courage does not run from separation
And find union, but must become a man.

در راه نیاز فرد باید بودن
پیوسته حریف درد باید بودن
مردی نبود گریختن سوی وصال
در روز فراق مرد باید بودن

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Are We Happy Now? (A riposte to the ether)

“Are We Happy Now” sounds like a refrain of the Jai Ho Club, although I have to confess, I’m not really sure. As to the quandary of how to respond to a Trustee of the AMBPPCT- falsely advertised as the “head of the Trust,” seeking funds through a Facebook account for lovers of Avatar Meher Baba, to get from one coast of America to another while here on holiday, well, I have this to say: rubbish!

But I have a suggestion- a really good one I think, to help resolve the several problems occasioned by this dubious fundraising. And that would be to float the idea of a coast to coast “Walkathon.” Yes, that’s right- an across America video documentary of M. K. and his promoter, K. C., walking from California to South Carolina raising funds, a dollar per mile per pledge, for the Darvish Khan Legal Defense Fund. As some of you may know, poor Darvish Khan has been threatened with lawsuits originating in India for his very big and loud mouth. Enough said about that.

This idea has the additional and superlative benefit of improving M’s English on the long walk to Meher Spiritual Center. His companion is an ace editor and English maven who, by the time they reach South Carolina, will no doubt have properly educated this hapless expert in Marathi-Hinglish. He will be assured of a very warm and appreciative welcome, regardless of what he has to say, because he will at least be understood. Thank you in advance, K. C.!

One last note: it occurs to me that as this pair of happy hikers are walking through Oklahoma, they might find a window of opportunity to receive support from M’s family for all the troubles taken on Darvish Khan’s behalf.

I trust we are all happy now,
Notoriously Yours,
Bill Gannett

 

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Rumi quatrain, #1200 Foruzanfar

I am not full, but have had enough of the good life:
The dust at your door fills me with the Waters of Life.
I have faith in you, and have renounced my own life;
Like a death-loving heretic, I am fed up with life!

من سیر نیم ولی ز سیران سیرم
بر خاک درت ز آب حیوان سیرم
ایمان بتو دارم و ز جان بر گشتم
مانده ملحدان من از جان سیرم

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Rumi quatrain, #13 Foruzanfar

For a lifetime, I have not seen your rose garden-
Nor the vintner’s narcissus eye, coy and drunken.
Such time has past since I last saw your face,
You are now invisible-  like purest devotion!

عمریست ندیده ایم گلزار ترا
وان نرگس پر خمار خمار ترا
پنهان شده ای ز خلق ماننده وفا
دیرست ندیده ایم رخسار ترا

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Rumi quatrain #641, Foruzanfar

What ennobles the mystical concert,
But when departs leaves all loss and waste?
Secretly it comes and goes, ’till we know
The taste for sama is not daf nor flute.

Note: sama= mystical concert
daf= frame drum

آن چیست کازو سماعها را شرفست
وان چیست که چون رفت محل تلفست
می آید و رود نهان تا دانند
کاین ذوق سماعها نه از نای و دفست

 

 

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