Tag: Spirituality

Animal Kingdom

Posted on by Sree

We are just animals after all, thinking we are free,
drawing lines and boxes to be taken seriously,

thinking we are civil when some rule and some obey,
we create a social order that is not to be betrayed,

but we are just animals after all, of all shapes and sizes,
pretending some are ideal and should be desired,

pretending the lines we’ve drawn are a natural progression
of a cause and effect world where the strong are never threatened,

but we are just animals drawing mazes upon our consciousness,
and there’s no way out when there was no way in
to a concept’s righteous abyss.

I’m gonna walk the lines,

gonna be on time,

I’m gonna make sure every little thing falls in line –

’cause could it be,

that there’s something more

than these man made rules that I abhor?

Like a reflection of the divine

where we think that this is yours and that is mine,

and really it’s all hers and

we’re gonna get what

we deserve.

Adrift

Posted on by Sree

Adrift,

with neither an anchor to port nor the wind to support its sails,

inhaling

is the sole solution for moving forward – giving purpose to movement –

exhaling

seems a betrayal of all that was lost when life kept its promises:

– constant change – what is born must die – what laughs must cry – no experience is a lie, yet all experiences are lies because they are not constant.

Adrift

 – our state whether known or unknown, contentment only coming with the belief that God’s hands will guide us – no God means no home –

either way – what is born must die – what laughs must cry – no experience is a lie, yet all experiences are lies because they are not constant.

The Wisdom of Kings

Posted on by Sree

—

Dreams are the wisdom

       of Kings you see

that can bend the world

       to their likes and dislikes –

we are but servants of desire and need.

   

Corporation fostered fantasies

       we are ready to heed –

for them we will sacrifice,

       toil and fight.

Dreams are the wisdom of kings you see,

   

and they will make you think

       you too can be free.

Reveling in darkness, while

       never knowing the light,

we are but servants of desire and need

   

and of our nature they’ll take

       advantage and feed –

their own desires giving

       strength to their might.

Dreams are the wisdom of kings you see

   

and those kings will pretend to be

       like you and like me,

and we’ll wind their noose around

       our necks real tight –

we are but servants of desire and need.

   

But clinging to love

       the only truth that is pure

we can drop the bonds

       and revel in peace.

Dreams are the wisdom

       of Kings you see –

useless to those in search of the Queen.

—

Ad Libs

Posted on by Sree

—

1, 2, 3, 4 – 1, 2 – 1, 2, 3,

1, 2, 3, 4 – 5, 6 – 7, 8, 9

The pitter patter of my life is like a 9 beat song – pitter patter – well – more like I stomp through it hoping for the best, with head down, and glancing both ways to dodge those 8 beat bangers and 6 beat romantics – knocking into others as I don’t figure into their rhythm – grooving to 9 means you probably can’t jam out with friends, instead you’re careful that this word, this look, this smile expresses this moment in a way that others can understand, and feel natural about, it can look – unperturbed – apathetic – cool to outsiders, but in reality is always one ad lib away from total self-destruction.

—

—

This is a cool 9 beat (at least that’s how I hear it) song written by Rhiannon Giddens and performed by Our Native Daughters

Glory

Posted on by Sree

We scream as we

enter this world

and numb ourselves

to the pain

as we leave it,

yet without limits

we glorify these limbs

as a God

in whose image

we’re painted,

meanwhile,

the bulk of our life

is spent with sagging skin,

fat spilling out

in odd places,

weathered eyes tell the story

of our closest friend

– pain –

the one true love

that is fated.

Manufactured

Posted on by Sree

Hearing the sound of

the trolley’s bell, on Occidental

and Jackson, inspire me

to write some English 101

style prose – where you

go on describing things that

no one cares about as it just

gets in the way of the movement

of the story – because the

sound of that digital horn –

programmed to sound like

an old-fashioned ring that

we would have only heard in

movies – creates a guttural

nostalgia – that is clearly corporate

driven as there weren’t even

trolleys in Seattle when I was

growing up – and I’ll ride

that Trolly and feel like a kid

again until I remember that the

hospital is its and my

primary destination.