Blank Page Oracle

Blank page, work your wonder!

Pull me from my pondering

Tear the guts from out of me

Make a considered feast of the tales of entrails

Harvest what has long been growing in fertile soul

Each time I come to you

Record what my face does not expose

Make me feel again in subtle strokes

Sift the sediments of my sentiments

Show me who I am

Mirror opaque, I see now your reflection:

Greatly blessed it’s clear you are

Although distracted by thoughts afar

Well-fed, well-clothed, and at ease,

Still you toss upon the seas

Fury drives you from underneath

Lusty blows you wait for sword in sheath

As fighting stirs your blood and spirit

Calmness pleases you once you quit it

You search and seek and never tire

A questing mind fueled by desire

But make up your mind before the night gets late

Goals sharpen your aim and decrease your wait

For as much as you drift and dally and digress

You’d be less lonely further ahead with the rest

The power of the expansion of your mind

Requires the effort of an uphill climb

As you were told let it guide your mind’s fitness:

“Every step takes you closer to Mount Olympus”

Gods and Goddesses know what it means to never die

But you’ve yet to prove eternity beyond a lie

So slow it down and speed the pace

And when you do anticipate

For if you stretch the length of Reason

You’ll make seconds epochs and minutes aeons

And if and when you memorize all your roles

Remember to forget and be your Soul

Without saying much at all

Oh, to be alive
Warm gulp of coffee
Laid back, big comfy office chair
Sound of muzzled ghazals, dampened only by blurry sound quality, with the enduring, endearing broken promises of nostalgia
Writing my self
What events criss-cross to weave the moment?
What sequences of time will now unfold?
For now I’m happy to sit and sip
Sheltered from the tornadoes of world events
Selectively calling upon mystic utterances when it feels nice to try them on
Making invisible the stark reality perceptions
Dipping into the all-pervading hot bath of spiritual hope
I put the foreground of my thoughts, a puny identity, into a photo frame that now I peer into from above
Could I imagine living many other lives just the same?
No, not really- One has been enough
Making each move with the careful real-time deliberation of a person defusing a nuclear bomb
…gets tiring…
But sometimes there is no other way
Every letter typed
Every thought unleashed and then subdued
Better yet, with the superpower of word processing and an artful amnesia- undo undo undo.
Pretending retroactive causality is something I understand
Fitting the word into spaces
Verbs and nouns, nouns and verbs
Barely an adjective-
(Im)precise
But all this to say, I’ve borrowed your time
Collected your attention
Become indebted
Without saying much at all

Power Glass

I venture quiet deeply in all the halls of the beasts,

Plotting all my steps and the position of my feet,

The attitude of my eyes and the spirit underneath,

Determining the future behind my gritted teeth

On the surface you can see me floating placid, peaceful, calm,

Intoxicating slowly like the liquor of the palm,

Aware of all surroundings whatever may become,

I look to meet the master, Napoleon on the farm

My mission stretches backwards, catapulting me through time,

To fossilize the remnants of the essence of “You die,”

I meet every slaver, every tyrant and I’m not afraid to pry,

To understand the machinations of the murderous of mind,

I brandish my sharpest weapon, the simple question, “why?”

And I verify the answers as I look into their eyes

Among the living there is a menace,

Glorification of bad ideas,

The raising of the heinous,

Dictatorial policy.

So I go about my ways of capturing evil in a flask,

Of the millions of grains of sand that I turn into a glass,

The mummified remains of tombs and tombs of power,

I tilt them back and forth with the changing of the hours.