Wednesday, September 10, 2014


They wanted me to bind my arms, bind my legs.

They wanted me to cover my ears, blindfold my eyes.

Now they want me to tie my tongue.

As if that would obliterate my mind.

For the words of a soul is forever endearing.

As the Book bears witness to this simple cry.

A sleeping slave would always dream.

As the words of Gibran once said.

And once he awakes and opens his eyes.

Comprehending freedom in a world gone mad.

The tyrant's hand of suppression reveals.

The truth it tries to hide, in desperation so sad.

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Ponder Assunder

The mind, restless and infinite,
Screaming and silent.
Waiting for the doors to be unlocked,
Waiting for surrender.

Fire burns, Water cools
Within the vessel of flesh and blood
Earth shakes, Air soothes
Asleep half the age, awake for none.

Let me let go,
Let me release my hold.
On the material reality, of insanity
From a sun that's too cold.

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

The Broken Porcelain Puppet


The leaves have fallen, again

And yet the season does not change.

You are not a masked actor,

As we are led to believe, again and again.


Nothing. That's what we are. Nothing.

And yet that makes it Everything.

If we still find a difference between Life and Death,

Oh what an hilarious thing.

Thursday, July 4, 2013

Pondering in the Clown shop

When is introspection truly possible? What is this Nirvana or Enlightenment we hear about? What is the true message behind the Holy Quran and the other scriptures? What did Prophet Muhamed (Sallahlaahi Alai Wassallum), The Buhdha, Christ and all the other harbingers of the message of love and compassion know that we did not?
Introspection happens within. When we pray. When we meditate or do yoga. Or when we just simply breathe deeply, being in the hear and now. And the truth is simple. It’s love. God is love. We all felt it more than once in our lives, yet did not believe or realize.
Spending even five minutes on your own each day, simply breathing and emptying your mind, without resisting any thought, just relaxing can be a first step. Or a Muslim could do our prayers, a Hindu could do the same, whatever speaks to your soul. Because it is the same voice, it is the same higher power. It is the same love we all share.

Wednesday, July 3, 2013


Heaven can be a place,
Far away, never to be reached in health,
A road built by pessimist blinding
Far far away, lost until perhaps death.

Faithless, raving and craving
Like demons, devouring ourselves,
Help seem a dream, fading and fleeting
Far away, perhaps until ashes in hell

Once the eyes we once saw closed
Opens the sight within you, like a flood gate that flows,
It’s like light, exploding so slowly, a night flower,
Far far away we thought, oh we thought so wrong

I felt Him before, since the day I was born
Never knew for what it was, shrouded with masks made of glass and straw,
Far away not, but inside us the Truth lay,
It’s Love. He is always here. And always was.