With the ever present danger of annihilation of the species looming over the heads of the human race, it’s good to consider from time to time the larger picture, being that this is a warring universe and as negativity runs rampant, so too is there an opposing positive wave of influence not to mention a third, neutral force, which is in fact the pure, unadulterated Divine Spirit of Itself. Man’s inescapable destiny leads to an unfoldment of consciousness which eventually places him, or Soul, rather, in the neutral camp. Why the neutral camp? Because God of Itself does not involve Itself in human affairs, It’s concern is Soul, the eternal part of us that survives physical death, and Soul’s eventual return home to Heaven or the Ocean of Love and Mercy from whence It came. Soul continues to unfold like a beautiful flower into an ever more Godlike and purified being, eventually taking Its place among the ranks of the spiritual hierachy, (as opposed to living a merely selfish existence and “taking life for all it’s worth”). In the meantime, human beings fight it out to the bitter end, time and again, leaving a trail of waste and destruction behind them / us. It should be noted, that there are beings of a higher order that assist the human race from destroying itself, and so, along with the best efforts of fhe more enligtened Souls on the planet today, we have this particular safety net, which is a good thing to remember.

One of the seeming paradoxes we confront as we unfold is the understanding that as much as we may be averse to particular Souls we may meet and have karma to resolve with, the actual key to doing so is to forgive these primitive types their destructive behaviour. This is the only way it seems, we can be free of further rounds of karma with them. Having been involved with a bunch of particularly nasty types I can share that this has been a very challenging and difficult episode in my life. Wanting on the one hand to wish complete destruction on them, while on the other, remembering that they too are Soul, has been and is, as challenging a challenge as any I’ve had to undergo, at least while my family’s hell continues and there is the red-hot emotion of immediate experience at hand.

I wanted to dedicate the following poems to such people, as there are many on the planet today, who apparently appear to be tumbling out of the pipeline at a quickened pace, reincarnating and sowing seeds of destruction as is the wont of young Souls who have the consciousness of little more than animals and have no regard for anything but their own agenda. I have tried to understand this headspace in the following poems.

Song of Praise (The Parasite)

O’ Lord, your benevolence precedes Thee;
Always taking the most,
Sucking blood from the host –
O’ to ride on the back of a flea!

Dear Heart, your abundance flows endlessly;
Never far from the source,
On the dog’s neck of course –
O’ to ride on the back of a flea!

O’ Fate, that opened my eyes to see;
It’s the parasite’s life,
Far from all strife –
O’ to ride on the back of a flea!

O’ Hark, the bells do chime for me;
When that beast is dead,
I’ll still be in the red –
O’ to ride on the back of a flea!

I’m Just a Gun for Hire

I’m angry for a reason, got paid a handsome fee;
To bring you down to ground, the rest I’ll do for free.

The molotovs are ready, pyro in the boot,
You’ll watch that mother burn, I’ll take away the loot!

I’m just a gun for hire, it’s not my place to ask;
You want the job get’s done, I’ll take ‘em all to task!

I’ll tell ‘em that they’re wrong, I’ll tell ‘em that I’m right,
I’ll use their words against them, just to pick a fight.

And should they dare to try to stop me in my way,
Should they ask me why, I’ll surely make them pay!

I’ve got no brain, I’ve got no sense, I’ve got no love at all;
You’re the one I’m told to hate, and I’m the one to make you fall…

I’m just a gun for hire, someone who trades in fear;
I’ll do your dirty work, and then I’ll disappear!

They Shot an Eagle

They shot an eagle, hung it out to dry;
Plucked out its feathers and lined their beds,
Cut off its claws and adorned their heads –
They shot an eagle, hung it out to dry.

They shot an eagle, took its life away;
Pulled off its wings to try on for size,
Flapped and flapped but they never did rise –
They shot an eagle, took its life away.

They shot an eagle and laughed as it died;
Gouged out its eyes and fried ‘em in ghee.
They ate the eyes but they never did see –
They shot an eagle and laughed as it died.

They shot an eagle and sliced it in two;
Ate what they could, fed the rest to the pigs,
Danced and danced and threw up between swigs –
They shot an eagle and sliced it in two.

They shot an eagle, took it out of the sky;
They did everything that they possibly could,
They did everything but they never understood…
They shot an eagle, took it out of the sky!

the ultimate goal
of the spiritual seeker,
is not the gaining
of knowledge but the
understanding of truth

Truth

Truth is not some precious book
Gathering dust up on the shelf;
Warranting only an occasional look,
No matter what you tell yourself.

Truth is the boundless source of Life,
Of everything that is or aspires to be;
From the chains that bind you to strife
To the key in the end that sets you free.

Truth is the Breath of Life Itself
That God breathed into Soul, and said; ‘Live!’
And every man’s one true wealth,
Sustaining all who’ve leant to give.

Truth does not apply to some
Or exist in part outside the whole;
But like the beat proceeds from the drum,
So truth proceeds from the heart of Soul.

Truth is the golden thread beyond time
That binds the earth and the heavens above.
And ever more and more sublime,
For those who learn the ways of love!

Very cold and early winter weather down under…

Old Father Winter

Old Father Winter, bundle on his back;
Slowly shakes his head, taking up the slack.
Rime on his moustache, cankers on his toes –
Leaves a trail of dread everywhere he goes.

Old Father Winter, at last your work’s begun;
You’ve slept away the year, now here comes the fun.
Your hunger now awakened stalks the weary earth,
Consuming all before you, for everything you’re worth.

Old Father Winter, with tricks beyond compare;
What once was full of hope, is now beyond repair.
Until the turning of the sun you stand so bright and tall,
Then all at once the charm is gone, you bow the knee and fall.

Old Father Winter, there is a price to pay;
Rushing headlong in your pride, your cloak has turned to grey.
Your raiment once resplendent white, has one more task in stead;
To wake the sleeping earth and slake the thirsty dead!

Old Father Winter, that one of countless years,
Turns his back and walks away then slowly disappears.
The earth it stirs the birds they sing trees they yawn and stretch their limbs,
The child is born and wonders then, how life was lost and found again?

I shall keep my heart
among the stars where none
shall hunt it out

Salt

Bitter on my tongue, sour the taste
The hand once dealt, gone to waste.
But sweet the gain of time’s defeat
And tender the rest for tired feet.

The salt of the earth and the salt of the sea
Is the taste on my tongue and the taste on my knees;
The salt I have left is the salt I will give
To love as you love and live as you live!

The taste of defeat, the taste of tears,
The nectar of Soul, the fruit of years;
All the provision I need ever make,
When there’s nothing to lose, there’s nothing at stake.

Sour on my tongue, bitter the taste
The hand once dealt has gone to waste.
But sweet the gain as time departs,
And tender the rest for weary hearts.

The salt of the earth and the salt of the sea,
Is the taste on my tongue and the taste on my knees;
The salt I have left is the salt I will give
To love as you love and live as you live!

The taste of humility, the taste of tears,
The nectar of Soul, the fruit of years;
All the provision you need ever make…
When there’s nothing to lose, there’s nothing at stake.

I have posted this before minus one verse, but I like the lilt of the rhythm. Something akin to a sea shanty, sung perhaps by a Nick Cave.

Old Galilee

How I long for my home
on the edge of the sea,
Among the cats on the docks
of old Galilee.
Whatever possessed me
in that old shantytown,
To come all this way
only to drown?

Overboard, overboard,
it’s overboard we’ll go,
The flood tide it rises
and the wind it does blow;
Neither captain, nor bosun
nor galley of slaves,
Can save us this time
from our watery graves!

For land-lubbing rats
the choice is but stark,
To hide from the beasts
that lurk in the dark;
What wouldn’t I give
for such sweet torment,
To escape the slow dance
of that long slow descent?

Overboard, overboard,
it’s overboard we’ll go,
For the flood tide it rises
and the wind it does blow.
Now the captain and the bosun
and the galley of slaves,
Can no longer save us
from our watery graves…

Now my mind it does beg,
and bargain and scrape,
I’m sick to my stomach,
and there’s just no escape.
I once dreamed of clover
but I woke up in fear,
Now it soon will be over
as the end it draws near.

Overboard, overboard,
it’s overboard we’ll go,
The flood tide it rises
and the wind it does blow;
Neither captain, nor bosun
nor galley of slaves,
Can save us this time
from our watery graves!

the Word transforms
the doubtful seeker into
the incandescent
lover of God