original tao Offline

76 Male from Bangkok       102
         

Blog

Tree


Tree


Beyond a soon to see green bucolic view, just

Over the low, swan-shaped hillock, lies a nice

Place to be. Sparrows nestle there in season, and

Crows, eyes closed, clutch barren branches, and

Plea, silently, for winter’s end. Belonging not, to

You nor me or none but itself, its name is tree.


Serving as sentinel o’er muir and dale. Branches

Spreading long, crooked limbs far outward, to

Feast on snow and ice, and sunlight and rain too.


Bent roots twist outward and down, offering support

For the hidden burrows of moles, rabbits and voles

Who, seeking safety, can keep company, away from

Tooth, talon, dog’s bones, and carved lover’s initials.


I haven’t seen tree myself since was but a wee callow

Mite when we moved to Dublin’s glare and gloom and

Raucous blare. Now old, dim memory’s but a faint lane

To follow to see my old tree again, to say but, adieu.

Slipping Between the Silent Guardians of the Heart - reworked again


Slipping Between the Silent Guardians of the Heart


He nods and smiles slightly so the bifocals let him see

What his silent keyboard wants to say, softly, to you.

To you alone, it writes this message of timeless love.


We haven’t as yet met, but doubtless, we surely will.

In this, the narrow spectrum of time that remains to us,

Or in another, as yet to come. You know it, you feel it too!


Two hearts beating alike as one, our beings predestined.

Love’s pulse will be our unerring guide, and when we find

Each other then, we hope it shall be our quiet secret too.


Two destinies inextricably entwined, if it isn’t this kismet’s

Time to claim, we’ll each be damned to suffer lost loves but,

Nonetheless, love each other in every way, forever, helplessly.


You are meant for me and I for you; through long ages of

Searching and the forlorn despairs of love blindly sought

Almost found, to no avail, no matter, our love shall prevail.


That’s a heart’s promise I plan to keep. I sense you nearby,

Perhaps just a glance away. I sense you can you feel me

Here too. I am waiting here to love you with all my heart.

We Perished


We Perished


We refused to listen to the most strident scientific

Warnings, we didn’t think it could possibly happen.

We perished.


We refused to calculate and establish sensible population

Limits which our finite, limited resources could support.

We perished.


We refused to stop burning carbon and expelling methane,

And poisoned our precious, irreplaceable habitats forever.

We perished.


We refused to equitably distribute the wealth which resulted

From the labour of all, and fairly tax all at progressive rates.

We perished.


We refused to stop using harmful technologies who’s by-

Products were everlasting toxic waste poisonous to all life.

We perished.


We refused to stop genetically altering our foods without

Fully understanding the long-term health effects or risks.

We perished.


We refused to attempt any remedial actions to mitigate the largest

Extinction of flora and fauna in our planet’s brief history.

We perished.


We refused to acknowledge the shared, human racial heritage in our

Disparate faiths, waging ever more lethal wars against ourselves.

We perished.


Wanting to be in a Selfish Place


Wanting to be in a Selfish Place


Inequality hurts my heart and makes me cry.

This world where many go without when others

Hold onto more than they’ll need has ever been

Filled with vague promises and lurid, faux facts.


They say sharing can harm the needy because it

Will remove the motivation to succeed from those

That haven’t yet found a way to make it or take it.


They take umbrage at mention of inequality and

Say that sharing what they’ve got isn’t fair reward

For all the hard work, inventiveness and instincts

That created their fulsome legacy of luxuriance.


Often, they castigate the poor for the moral failure

Of not having a created success from opportunities

That proliferate for all to embrace with hard work.


And that those who won’t learn to swim races and

Win, deserve to sink into sad states of ignominy,

Enduring blame for failure to pass life’s basic tests.


I say that those ideas are just attempts to justify greed

And selfishness, and they have nothing to do with the

Lives of caring and sharing that most people hope for.


And that people who need to frame ideas that justify not

Sharing with others, live illusions of happiness underpinned

By fear of losing what they have, and are poor in spirit.


And that people who live in fear of loss don’t live worthy

Lives because, isolated, they, the poorest of the world’s poor,

Will never be enriched by the loving fellowship of sharing.









Weary Me and the Angry Cyclops


Weary Me and the Angry Cyclops


In the baleful glare of Antigonus’ single red eye, sleep

Masquerades as a deep, dark cave that shrouds both

Mystery and truth’s emptiness in a long lost, forgetful fog.


It eludes and tempts, then skips away when just within my

Grasp on soft hooves, soiled and heavy with disappointment.

Leaving weary expectations swollen and pregnant again.


Now uncertain and less than worthy of my father’s noble face.

As the deep roar of the mighty cyclops rings the hills round

The spires of mountain fastness, troubling all with dread and fear.


Once more I go to joust for sleep’s sweet, winged release,

Doubts play upon my mind. Shall I vanquish the one-eyed beast,

Or shall I be trapped outside slumber’s high gates forever?

When Lives Don’t Matter


When Lives Don’t Matter


The lives of the poor don’t matter.

The lives of refugees don’t matter.

The lives of the imprisoned don’t matter.

The lives of combatants don’t matter.

The lives of brown people don’t matter.

The lives of the homeless don’t matter.

The lives of atheists don’t matter.

The lives of old people don’t matter.


I wonder who has been forgotten?

Oh yes, now I remember, it’s you.


Your life doesn’t matter either if

You don’t care for the lives of the aged.


Your life doesn’t matter either if

You don’t care for the lives of nonbelievers.


Your life doesn’t matter either if

You don’t care for the lives of the dispossessed.


Your life doesn’t matter either if

You don’t care for the lives of people of colour.


Your life doesn’t matter either if

You don’t care for the lives of soldiers.


Your life doesn’t matter either if

You don’t care for the lives of the incarcerated.


Your life doesn’t matter either if

You don’t care for the lives of those who must flee.


Your life doesn’t matter either if

You don’t care for the lives of the impoverished.


Your life doesn’t matter either if

You don’t care for anyone who isn’t just like you.

Woodflute


Woodflute


Its lilt heard down below, over to the left.

A solitary player plays long, uncadenced notes.

Wood laden with breath for souls who listen.

A Tale Once Heard in a Dream (an adaptation)


A Tale Once Heard in a Dream (an adaptation)


Each soul slumbers a little while on this, the shadowy side

Of the stream and upon awakening, remembers the living

And the worth of their human life with a smile, as a noble

Tale's moral of meaning, once heard as a gentle precept

Of sentient life’s cultivation, in a soon forgotten dream.