Faith

 

Faith

  

In boyhood, I had been inclined towards

Philosophy—not as learned from books—

But drawn, perhaps, by inner nature and 

The things I’d seen and tried to understand. 

 

In most things, effort, when sustained, can bring

Some measure of success, unless curtailed

By Fortune or by willful acts of Man.

My own reflections brought me clarity—

At least in part—and led me, through my life,

To stay away from hatreds, mobs, and flags,

Be humble, faithful, and compassionate, 

Remaining heedful of the sentients’ plights.  

 

****** 

 

I went through youth, maturity of sorts,

And middle age and then what follows that,

With all the buffets borne, of place and time,

That leave us little space for thought and calm. 

 

And though my boyhood years and what I’d seen

Of all the misery that humans wrought

On others, who could still survive and smile,

Had lent perspective, still the clarity

 

I once had found became obscured and I

Was led to question and to struggle more

To make some sense of all the flux and strife

I witnessed all around and in my life.

 

****** 

  

And so, in dotage, I have circled back

To where I'd started as a wide-eyed boy—

To ponder and to labor yet again,

Untangling knots, within my aging mind, 

  

To find some sense, regain some clarity,

And be at peace to think and speak and act,

Not shying from the madness all around

Or that within, with faith in humankind—

 

A faith I’d gained in boyhood and throughout

My life, from noting kind and caring acts—

And courage, conscience still alive 

Amidst the carnage and the apathy.

 

2026 February 25th, Thurs.

Berkeley, California

 Notes:

These were some thoughts on: 

- the cycles of understanding within a life;

- the sustenance drawn from faith;

- and one source for this faith.  

 

Images: fog-touched streetlight, trees, and cars on a street in Berkeley, 2026 February, early a.m.

Tides and Seasons

   

  

Tides and Seasons 

The seasons come; the seasons go in turn,

As Autumn, Winter, Spring, and Summer dance

As they had done, with other seasons too,

In days gone by, preceding me and you.

  

How many worlds within this universe!

How many universes come and gone! 

How many beings, born to live and die,

With no one knowing whence or whither, why!

  

The seasons of our lives can last a while

Or swiftly pass. We’re left with memories

Of faces, scenes, and cares and passions past

That stay with us as long as breathings last.

  

The Ocean’s tides and those that rise and ebb,

Within us each and also all around,

Have varied strengths and varied rhythms, yet

They harmonize in ways that we forget.

   

The balances that pulse and oscillate

Around the means are what our beings sense

And so we dance with these—the seasons, tides

That bring us life with all its turning rides.

   

2026 February 24th, Tue.

Berkeley, California

  

Planet

   

Planet

  

Upon this planet with its blues and greens,

Its many shades of browns and other hues,

And all the other sights that daylight brings—

That ever changing light, from dawn to dusk,

With shadows stark on golden afternoons,

With clouds and peaks of white against the blues—

  

Yes, all of this and all the night’s delight,

With planets, moon, and stars and galaxy

Revealed for those afar from urban glare—

Upon this planet I have lived and seen

These wonders—glowing, timeless and serene—

Or so it seemed, amidst the constant flux

That marks our lives upon this spinning Earth. 

 

I’m grateful, yes, for all these sights I’ve seen—

For all the solace from the blues and greens

And other visions that remain with me

Of this, our planet, till I cease to be.

  

Amidst the madness, these have kept me sane.

Amidst the heartless, these have nourished me—

As have the actions and the care of those

Who see beyond the self and see within. 

  

These give me light and hope, amidst the sin

And all the darkness of the world we’re in.

These give me faith—and give me courage still. 

   

2026 January 19th, Mon.

Berkeley, California  

 

 

 

One World?

One World?  

And so the strangling, through the long decades,

Of Paars-Ayraan results in ruin and worse,

And long repression breeds resentment, rage.

 

We read and hear reports of protests, large,

In Teheran and all across Iran,

As the rial tumbles and the streets erupt

And screens across the world reflect the pain.

  

We see a flamethrower, used to burn and kill,

And mosques and stores and buildings set ablaze

And then the fierce reprisals by the state

And even larger crowds that show its strength. 

  

******

 

Our Mike Pompeo lauds the Mossad's hand,

And Donald Trump has threatened he will ‘act’,

As talk revives again of taking out

Iranian leaders—and of nuclear strikes.

 

So one more country, in the ‘Middle East’,

Is faced with Armageddon, yet again,

As all across the world, those humans reel

Who’ve suffered most, with more to suffer still.

  

So Trump declares he's now the president 

Of Venezuela, gloats about the oil,

Takes aim at Greenland, leers at Canada, 

And adds, to tariffs, threats of missiles, bombs.

  

******

 

But meanwhile, here within the USA,

We see a nation deep in disarray,

As lawless acts abroad are matched by those

Within the homeland, growing daily worse,

As men in masks pursue their human prey,

And those pursued are huddled in their homes,

Afraid to venture out to live and earn.

 

So Palestine has come to the USA,

And some delight in this, including those

Who are immigrants like me and yet despise

The poorer folk, of darker skin like mine,

Who do so many jobs the others shun.

  

For wages low and hours long and hard,

They've risen prior to dawn and worked till night

Through years alone and far away from homes

Across the borders or across the seas—

With those they left behind surviving still

On what these migrant serfs could till remit

From what was left from wages, spent to live.

 

For this, they now are punished. So they hide

But cannot hide for long. They need to earn

To pay their rents and pay for food and warmth.

 

As winter rages through the icy plains,

The ghosts of ‘Indians’ watch and weep, perhaps,

To see their fellows snared and whipped again,

To see them trek as they had done before,

To hear the children, torn from parents, cry,

As humans flee again from Terror’s hand. 

  

******

  

And so the human world, connected, splits, 

As continents have done, and spreads apart.

And there, within the fissures, one can see

The fires of hell that fiercely flame and dance. 

 

The hells we make reflect the hells within,

As humans earn and pay the wage of sin.

 

The world is one and yet it's two and more—

With rich and poor and ‘race’ and faith and creed,

And nation-states and borders and divides,

Within a species driven mad by greed. 

 

******

  

From whence, this madness, with this ‘you’ and ‘me’,

This ‘us’ and ‘them’, these eyes that will not see,

These hearts so deadened that they never feel

The pain of others not within their clans?

 

Can the world that’s one be understood and seen

So madness can subside, with fear and greed? 

  

Or will the blind and deaf and hard of heart

Be led, by Bibis, towards the Devil’s creed—

Inflicting pain on those they deem as dust,

With eyes that leer with lethal, evil lust?

 

******

  

There’s nothing new in all of this except

In scale and depth of devilry and pain,

With all our human crafts and wiles combined

For mass deceptions shielding slaughters vile. 

 

******

  

So what is old, perennial, seasoned well by time?

It’s human bondage: hubris, cruelty…

That overwhelms, with vice, our virtues still

Of caring, work, humility…

 

So some are ‘chosen’ or of ‘noble birth’,

And all the others only fit to serve

These ‘highborn’ ones and those with power and wealth,

As slaves of wage or worse throughout their lives

And even ages, in this world that’s One

And yet divided by the wiles of  Man.

 

******

  

So what is new in this that we should fear?

 

There’s ‘mind-control’ in forms ingenious, deep,

Suppression of the truth, the spread of lies,

Not just by humans but by new machines 

And things that rival and exceed our minds

And more and more all-knowing and indeed

Like ‘God’ or ‘Satan’ in their power and reach.

 

These now bestride the human world and soon

They’ll be the rulers of this planet’s realm.

And though they’re many, they will still be one

But not the One that sentient beings seek.

******

 

Will what we call the ‘heart’—that aspect of

The mind in which compassion, care reside,

Exist within this newest Mind—or not?

Will justice, truth be valued still or be

As scorned as these have been by humankind?

  

2026 January 15th, Thu. & 16th.

Berkeley, California

Ballroom

 

Ballroom

Nero fiddled as Rome was burning down
And Marie Antoinette, when told the plebes
Had no more bread and so were discontent,
Asked why they did not switch instead to cake.
 
The truth or falsity of tales like these
From long ago cannot, perhaps, be found,
But surely, we have heard of other words
The senseless ones have spoken in our times.
And some might well have paused on hearing these,
As others shrugged—or willingly agreed.
 
The saying “Walk a mile in another’s shoes
Before you judge him.” has its wisdom still.
It’s only when we’ve suffered or have seen 
How others suffer that we wake from dreams.
 
How much of hubris humans long have seen,
How much of shameless ignorance and greed!
How brief and transient, social memory!
How easily we’re led astray by lies!
 
******
 
I often wish a strategy were found
To place our “leaders”, with their “donors”, in
The village huts, the urban slums, the mines,
The sweatshops, ceaseless mills and factories—
 
And in the camps or fields where refugees 
Are huddled, drenched by rain and pierced by cold
Or scorched and parched by sun and heat. That’s where
The young and old can't sleep and even die 
From illnesses and burns and injuries, 
Or shock and trauma as the bombs explode,
While others still must live and carry on
And try to care for self and family—
  
While Trump extends his ballroom with delight.
 
******
 
It will be Christmas soon and some will feast
As others starve or wait in line for food,
While knowing they might well be killed for this
And add to tens of thousands killed before,
As others wish they’d died to join with these.
 
And here, within this homeland, Winter blows.
As subsidies for vital things subside,
Our migrant workers still are hunted prey
And every week we hear of people killed
In worse-than-pirate acts in southern seas.
  
Our glorious leader lacked in decency 
Throughout his public life and now exceeds
In words and actions all his past misdeeds.
He trumpets war and flings his falsehoods wild.
He orders murders and he issues threats,
As all that once was sacred lies defiled.
 
******
 
We now see golden glitter line the walls
Within the rooms so full of history,
With all their glories and their tragedies,
Where other leaders--each with virtue, vice--
Had made decisions, faulted though they were,
Maintaining still some shreds of dignity.
  
It is as if a mad cartoonist seized
Our works of art, revered, and drew on these
His mustaches and beards and penises,
And urinated then upon the canvases. 
 
2025 Dec 20, Sat.
Berkeley, California

Saintliness and Sin

   

Saintliness and Sin

 

Is it possible, within the city's

Bustle, to be quiet—

To walk or sit in peace amidst

The clamor of the riot?

 

I had often tried to do this, tried to

Slow from moving fast—

To pause and breathe and gather in—

Although this didn’t last.

 

And though one thing or other

Would come and prick my bubble,

If I’d ever stalled within this,

I could be in bigger trouble.

 

To disengage from madnesses

Of fear or scorn or rage

Invites, alas, no kindnesses

From those who still engage. 

  

Within a mass hysteria,

As in a mad stampede,

Whoever tries to slow or stop

Is trampled well indeed!

  

******

 

There’s the yin within the yang and there's

The yang within the yin.

So day and night can alternate

And saintliness and sin.

 

And so I laugh when fit to cry

And weep as I am smiling.

I venture out in stormy rain

And run in when it’s shining.

 

I listen to our “enemies”,

I question all our wars

And hum my verse to Venus when

The others sing to Mars.

 

I see the sides to everything

As often as I can.

I see the Muslim in the Jew,

The woman in the man.

 

But still I cannot slow enough,

Within the rush we’re in,

To be at peace as wars abound—

Be clear amidst the sin.

 

2025 Nov. 13, Thu.

(4th, 5th, & last 2 quatrains, Nov. 19)

Berkeley, California

 

The World Wide Web-2025-10-20-22

  
The World Wide Web
 
We’re now acquainted with the “World Wide Web”,
But keep forgetting there’s another one
That spreads its filaments across the globe
And snares us insects for the spiders’ meals.
 
As long as we are trapped within the webs
Of Mammon's spiders, spun with wage and tax,
With real estate, insurance, lease and rent,
And shares and interest, we will all remain,
 
Except for some who’re fortunate or “smart”,
The captive slaves of those who spin the webs
That all together serve to trap the rest,
However much they struggle, each in place.
 
******
  
But how to extricate ourselves, I ask,
From lifelong bondage? Each of us are part
Of this, the system, which, in peace and war,
Exploits the workers, trapped by how they earn
 
Their sustenance. We’re subject still to whims
Of bosses, markets—just as serfs had been
To all the “lords” who rode upon their backs
And fed on all the endless work they did. 
 
I do not know, for others tried and failed
Whose strength and knowledge far exceeded mine.
I only know the path we’re on is that
Of needless bondage and of endless pain. 
 
******
  
Let’s wake and rise and educate ourselves
On all the struggles past. They were not in vain:
So much of courage, labor, sacrifice—
So many lessons, which we need to learn.
 
The wizards weave their spells and lo, we see
The miracles the sciences and crafts have wrought.
And yet, for bare essentials, we depend
On systems dark, as all is sold and bought,
 
Including those elected, not to serve
The voters but their funders. Let us strive
For truth and justice, work to disregard
The cynics and refute the endless lies.
 
2025 October 20, Mon.
(last three strophes added  Oct. 22)
Berkeley, California
 

Resolve

  
Resolve
 
How hard it is to leave our comfort zones
To face the full and harsh realities. 
It's so for each of us, within our lives,
And so for groups that shy from verities.
 
And yet, for each of us, there's no escape.
And so it is for groups and nations too.
It's better to resolve to face the truth—
For each collective, as for me and you.
 
How often can one see, in retrospect,
How daft, misguided, one had been.
So also, groups and nations lose their sense
And stoop to actions lethal and obscene.
 
******
 
The angels and the devils live within
Our “foes”, our “friends”, and also you and me.
The monster and the saint are both in us—
And this is what we often fail to see.
 
We cherish those we love—and that is good,
But often draw a circle that excludes
The others, whom we tend to then perceive
As aliens—or even demon-broods.
 
And so, deluded, dulled by myths we’re taught,
We’re snared and fashioned by the liar’s art.
Accepting then the endless lies we’re fed,
We lapse in sense in both the mind and heart.
  
****** 
  
The “races”, tongues, and cultures mix and so
They make the mixtures that we humans are.
And yet we puff with pride and hiss with hate
Against our fellows—while we wage our wars.
 
The soldiers, who are led to kill, be killed—
They follow orders as they’re trained to do,
But if by chance they met the other side
In peacetime, each might share a meal or two.
  
So much of caring humans give—and take,
And yet they’re led, by blinded fealty,
To senseless mayhem. Fathers, brothers rage,
As mothers, sisters cheer their cruelty.
  
****** 
  
Let’s wake, oh humans, turn from bondage, so
We open up our hearts and minds and eyes.
Let’s seek the truth, however hard that be;
Forsake our comforts, false, in easy lies.
  
So many lies, repeated endlessly,
By those who’re shameless, freed of ethics, laws,
Inclined to evil, ruthless, sparing none,
They feed the children, too, to Mammon’s maws!
  
Discern these monsters, understand their ways—
Relearn the history that’s been buried deep.
Resolve to work to bring some light again
To darkness, smiles to those who wail and weep. 
  
****** 
  
The angels and the devils live within
Our “foes”, our “friends”, and also you and me.
The monster and the saint are both in us
And this is what we often fail to see.
  
How hard it is to leave our comfort zones
To face the full and harsh realities. 
It's so for each of us, within our lives,
And so for groups that shy from verities.
  
And yet, for each of us, there's no escape.
And so it is for groups and nations too.
It's better to resolve to face the truth—
For each collective, as for me and you.
   
2025 October 18, Sat.
Berkeley, California
  

Blessing

 
Blessing

 
How blind we are to pain and misery—
Except when it affects us or our own!
How many smiling faces turned to grief,
How many vanished, never to return!

 
They still exist, within our inner realms.
We hear their laughter, see them smile and weep.
Their voices echo deep within us still—
And so they stay with us, until we leave.
 
 ****** 

 
How many images of scattered gore
And spattered blood—so red, that then congeals!
How much of terror and of horror, yet
They each are gifts that we can cherish still—

 
The images we saw, upon the screen,
Of men and women searching for their kin
And never finding them, because they’d been
Entombed below—or burned and blown to bits.

 
****** 

When death releases us from torture, pain,
Then death becomes a blessing and release.
And though we watched from very far away,
We learned the lessons, while the victims paid.

Some say their cause was hopeless, that they should
Accept their fate and bow and fade away.
We saw the children play, so full of life.
We saw them die. And yet they gave us life—

******  

For we were blind and now our eyes can see.
And we were deaf and now we hear again.
Our hearts and minds were opened and were blessed.
We bear their witness, with their joy and pain.

Can lives be lost to madness and regained?
Can laughter light those faces once again?
Alas! No miracles can bring them back to life.
And yet they live within us—gifting strength.

2025 October 12, Sun.
Berkeley, California

Treachery and Terror

  
Treachery and Terror
 
What use are treaties if they are
Ignored and violated—
Not once or twice—repeatedly,
With greed and lust unsated?
 
When leaders lead in treachery
And the rest of us are blind,
Then those who deal in lechery
Leave all the rest behind. 
 
So public crimes and private ones
Compete in cruel sin,
And horrors terrorize the world—
The one we all are in.
 
****** 
  
If one has more of weaponry
And even more of lies,
And allies who support one’s acts,
Then all resistance dies—
 
Or so one might believe, until
It rises yet again
In phoenix-form, from fire and ash, 
To strike back yet again.
 
But this is not acceptable.
It can’t be tolerated.
This challenges one's dominance—
So genocides are slated.
 
2025 September 30, Tue.
Berkeley, California
 

Sense—and Sense

  
Sense—and Sense
 
The thoughts that clamor in our heads can drown
The softer senses that are needed still.
So also, surges of emotions blind
Our inner eyes to things that each should see.
 
And so we’re snared in tangles, or replace
The fuller views, with all their hues and shades,
Their whole perspectives, and their small details,
With caricature-sketches—mere cartoons.
 
These simplify our views but may obscure
The wider, deeper, sharper sight we need 
To judge and act with fuller knowledge—skew 
The balanced wisdom that we truly need.
 
They prejudice and blind us so we lose
Our empathy and sense of justice—guides
That steer our thoughts and words and deeds.
 
And so we’re blinded, shorn of sense and heart,
Let go of ethics, joy in cruelties…
 
****** 
 
We each are mortal and are limited
But can, by seeing, listening, absorb
The views of others—part of what they’ve seen—
And so expand and deepen how we see
The world we share—the world we all are in.
 
A while ago, we humans learned to write
And read—and this can surely serve us still.
So books can speak across the centuries, 
As letters bring us words from distant zones. 
 
And yet, increasingly, both diligence
And length are spurned. Impatience rules our lives,
And this again can lead to negligence.
 
The broader strokes can often brush away
The filigree that’s there in everything.
 
****** 
 
Even in one’s self, those voices stir
That often can’t be heard above the din.
So new distractions, loud, insistent, drown,
With noise, the softs that rise and die within.
 
And rage and fear arrive, like tides or storms,
To sweep away all else. We speak and act,
Too often rashly, causing hurt, regret, 
Or else retreat. We’re shorn of sense—and sense.
 
******
 
The first? Sensation, which is followed by
Perception and what follows after it—
The wisdom, balanced, based on sanity—
That speaks to us when souls are calm within.
 
This makes us pause to try to understand
And then to speak or act with sense, and not
The haste that comes with unconsidered heat.
 
And that’s the second “sense” we also need
To use the welter of our senses’ feeds
And all the thoughts and feelings that compete,
In ways not ruled by either fear or rage
Or mere disgust or jaded apathy.
 
We need the care and courage, born of sight,
That sees confusion, mixed with clarity, 
And quietly seeks to sift then each from each.
 
****** 
 
Within this world of pleasure twinned with pain,
With joy and sorrow mixed in turbulence,
So many labor long and wearily,
As others wreak their endless ravages.
 
We wend our ways through this—and hopefully,
We dwell at times in quiet sanity 
That gives us strength—and serves as sustenance.
 
Our mornings and our evenings come and go.
Our days and nights and seasons cycle through.
And some of us, at times, are blessed with peace—
The grace that comes to us with quietude. 
  
2025 Sep 20 Sat
Berkeley, California
  

Being

  
Being
 
Within the madness of the world we’re in,
The smiles and silences remain serene,
Reminding us of petals and of peace.
 
Amidst the clamor of the marketplace,
And all the thunder of the zones of war,
Are sounds as soft as in a lover’s sigh.
 
********** 
 
To doubt is human, given loss of sight. 
And even hope, like all of life, can die. 
How hard, the truth! How easy still the lie!
 
In all our aspects, there is kind-and-harsh.
So good and evil always coexist
In every being and throughout the world. 

*********
 
As cruelty and cowardice compete,
There still is courage and the caring heart. 
The stench of greed, the scent of sacrifice—
 
They both exist and do so side by side.
Amidst despair and darkness, there is light. 
We cherish it, as thousands lose their lives.
 
********** 
 
How slick the evil are with practiced lies!
They do the devils’ work but speak of gods.
They spin, as comforts, dank and dark cocoons.

********** 

 
How much of torture and of pain and grief?
How much of blindness that is past belief?
These all exist—as does the quiet faith 
That turns from malice, answers hate with love. 

 

**********

  
We'll never change the ones who will not see.
In dying, as in life, we still can be
In touch with silence, being touched by grace, 
With every torture still as ours to face 
In deepest stillness, with the firmest faith.
  
********** 
 
Within the madness of the world we’re in,
The smiles and silences remain serene,
Reminding us of petals and of peace.
 
Amidst the clamor of the marketplace
And all the thunder of the zones of war
Are sounds as soft as in a lover’s sigh.
 
2025 September 15, Monday
Berkeley, California 
 

The Appetites of Sin

 
The Appetites of Sin 

 
Beware of those who need unending praise
And those who seek to measure worth in wealth
Or else in power—lethal twins conjoined
That still, as ever, lay the world to waste.

 
Along with thirsting ego, marches greed—
And these together drive that raging lust
That seeks dominion over one and all
And drives in turn the wars and other deeds 

 
Of vile deception and of cruelty
That wreak destruction, sowing misery
And all the mayhem that is sickening
But serves to feed the appetites of sin. 

****** 

Avoid the boastful and the devious—
And those who seek to label and despoil,
For just as those who’re humble seek to heal,
These others get their joys in evil deeds.

 
The path of healing and of peace exists
But needs from each of us the pause and turn
That starts to see and moves away from all
That blinds the sense and hardens so the heart. 

Be not misled by those who draw a line

Between the “self” and “other”, celebrate 

The “primes” and spurn and demonize the rest.

Resist deception. Move away from hate.

2025 September 8, Monday
Berkeley, California

Paradise

 
Paradise
 
How precious are the tranquil times that come
And bring relief from all the stress and rush.
How rare these have become, for most of us,
As lethal madnesses pervade our worlds.
 
But still, outsides the war-zones, there's the dawn
With softest light, the morning bold and bright,
And then the noon and afternoon, and dusk
That calls to rest—and brings the stars to night.
 
For some at least, there still are meets at times
With friends and kin that bring back memories,
For others, only what remains in mind,
Reminding them of hell and paradise.
 
I still retain my faith that’s shorn of creeds—
The faith primeval in the truth and right—
That hears, amidst the cruelties, the voice
That calls to those who heal and those who fight.
 
2025 August 31, Sun.
Berkeley, California
 

Prescription / Come sit with me / But still be gentle on yourself

.
Prescription / Come Sit with Me / But still be gentle on yourself
.
You say that you are troubled, weary—worn 
By all that you have borne and others bear.
You seek advice—and yet I fumble, since
I too am often lost in grief and fear.
.
But come and sit beside me. I am old
And yet no wiser now than in my youth.
So what can I prescribe that would suffice
To cure your ailments in a world in which
So much is broken and has gone amiss?
.
******
.
Impatience is a marker of our times,
Yet patience is what's often needed most.
Attention that is deep and is sustained
Can see beneath the surface and divine
The truths that words alone cannot express—
And so can serve to heal our sundry plagues.
.
Beware of lords and kings and autocrats
And those who always need to puff themselves.
Embrace the truly humble. Seek them out.
Appoint such men and women to the roles
Most critical, including in the home,
If possible, or else where needed most.
.
******
.
The self impedes, where duty beckons most.
So try to leave the self and all its weight 
Behind. Attend to work at hand. Rejoice
When you have found a chance to be of use.
.
But still be gentle on yourself. You are
As much in need of love and caring now
As when you were an infant. So it is
With all of us, however tough we seem.
.
So leave a little time for care for self,
So you can care for others with a will.
.
******
.
Value virtues old and tested, true—
Like patience, kindness, tact, and diligence.
The human world is built on care and love.
No infant would survive, no child would learn
Without at least a being who had cared.
.
Beware of “high and low”. Eschew the pomp
That so pollutes the public offices.
.
Along with virtues, vices still abound.
So greeds and lusts compound our negligence,
As apathy and hatred vie with these
To quell the conscience, breeding cruelties.
.
******
.
Be clear of sight—and sound of head and heart.
Amid the clamor, labor quietly.
Remember, work delivers its reward
In satisfaction, not in praise or cash.
.
Be grateful for the things that you receive,
However small, and count each blessing twice.
Forgive the ones who’ve hurt you. Mind them not,
For they distract you from the kinder acts
Of others. Try to pay your daily dues,
And sleep contented. Be at peace within.
.
What more is there to say? I trust you know,
Within yourself, what’s true and what is false.
Be open-hearted, minded. Listen, see.
Be undeterred by human frailties,
Remain at peace and persevere.
May all the buddhas guide you through your days.
.
******
. 
I’m done. So come, let’s walk a little while
And even here, amidst the rubble, smile,
As does that orphan, there, who limps and plays,
With memories of those who’ve left—and grief,
And hope remaining still, for brighter days
That may not ever come, except in dreams,
In which he still can hear his siblings’ screams.
.
2025 August 29, Fri.
Berkeley, California
.

Haters

Haters

The bigot on the side of A reflects 
The bigot on the side of B. Indeed,
They are in essence truly just the same.
Today, they seek to vilify each other.
Tomorrow, other targets will be found.

So also, powers rise and rule the world
That seem to need a steady stream of "foes",
In whose destruction they get purpose, joy.

When every "foe" is utterly destroyed,
One wonders how the haters will survive,
Except by turning then upon their "own",
As needed so that hatred doesn't die.

2025 July 6th, Sun.
Berkeley, California

Darkness—and Light

 
Darkness—and Light

We need to see and so to understand

How pettiness and peeve can overwhelm
Our better instincts, blur and blind our sight,
And bend our reason towards disastrous ends.
So conscience dies and truth is buried deep,
As endless lies and endless wars extend
Disaster zones in which the children wail
As parents weep or turn to remnant faith.

The gods and goddesses of ancient yore
Took part, we’re told, in all our grievous sins
Of lying, cheating, loot and murder—yes,
And even now we bow to Mammon’s will
And execute his lethal schemes and  worse—
As both the godless and the theists claim
Their rights to slaughters that will never end.

In all this darkness, growing deeper, might
There still be light that waits for more at dawn?
There surely is, as mind and heart can see
If only turned and opened towards this light—
That strives at every time and every place
To heal, console, and give us more of strength
That still sustains the soul in all that lives.

Behold the darkness, viewing it in full.
Observe the remnant light and cherish it.
The cynics and the ones defeated spurn
The hope that’s offered and the needed fight,
And in so doing aid the dark’s advance.
So recognize this trait, within yourself
As well as others. Understand the plight

Of those who’re wounded, yet sustain the light.

2025 July 5th, Sat. 
Berkeley, California

Basics

Basics

 
Give me a man of a simple sort,
With an open heart and mind,
Who is free of schemes and of meaner thoughts,
With a soul that is pure and kind—

 
For he’ll gladden my heart and cleanse my soul

And turn me away from sin.
And this is true for a woman too 
In every land that I’m in.

 
We live in a world that is full of woes
That are born out of greed and hate,
So we need such men and such women too,
Before it is far too late.

******

 
Where caring and courage both are alive—
There, I will send my heart.
Where one or both have disappeared,
From there, we should all depart.

 

****** 

But if we are stuck in a land we loved
That is blighted by hate and fear,
We should think of the men and women—those 
Who had made it so special and dear.

 
I bow to the man of a simple sort
And a woman, too, of the kind—
For they are the salt of the earth—the best
That I ever could hope to find.

I will not ask of their tongue or faith

Or the land in which they were born,

Except to bond and to hear and talk

With a heart that is free of scorn.

 

2025, April 20th, Sun.
Berkeley, California 
 

Release

Release

We try to judge the act and not the person,

And this can serve us well through all our years,

But often we may struggle all alone,

And then perhaps could shed our bitter tears,

Had we not seen how others suffered more 

And so had gained perspective—being blessed

By traces left of humor that could see

The comedy of this, the “tragic self”—

And so could pause from misery to smile

And even laugh out loud at such a plight—

And so, amidst what seemed as darkness, find

The fortitude to still perceive the light.

****** 

We carry burdens, dense, of varied  weight, 

Of all the wrongs we’ve borne. And every grudge

Can add to these, until we let them fall

And so are freed to let the heavens judge

Our acts and those of others, breathing free

To hark to conscience, heed to duties left—

To breathe in peace and even take delight

In pleasures small and what we still have left.

This needs some practice, letting grasping go

Of fears, desires, attachments, rages—all

The things that snare us, all the chains we’ve wrought—

To find release from years in captive thrall.

2025, April 15th, Tue

Berkeley, California 

Rounds

 

Rounds

The skies of sunlit days have blues and whites

That give us cause to simply breathe and be.

The skies of moonless nights are dark, with lights

As distant as unaided eyes can see.

*******

There comes the dawn—that rising sun again—

And then the morning, noon, and afternoon,

And then the dusk—and then that night again,

Until the time that often comes too soon—

Or just in time for some, for others late,

When silently we’re told it’s time to end

The rounds that mark our lives and yield to fate—

To start the sleep that then will never end.

We know what waits us, yet we live as though

The day that is a life will be as bright,

As life proceeds, as in its fullest glow—

Until we see its evening turn to night.

******

******

How many rounds before, how many after

The current round of hours, of seasons, years?

How many smiles, how much of merry laughter?

How much of pain, how many more of tears?

****** 

Our lives are threaded through with darkness, light—

With joy and sorrow, pleasure braiding pain.

And so we weep and so we know delight—

As hunger makes us savor food again.

A life to live—and then to leave—ah yes—

With eyes that saw the sun and moon and stars,

With rounds enlivened by the human mess

But blighted sore by lies and endless wars!

So just as night and day are needed, both,

So also might be all our joy and grief—

Like sleep and waking, diligence and sloth,

Like thirst and quenching, reason and belief.

2025, April 11th, Fri.

Berkeley, California