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 
 

No Verses

 
No Verses
.
So many verses written—scribbled, typed,
And posted, sent to others far away.
So many more that come at times to mind—
From where—and wherefore—who can truly say?
.
Adrift upon the stream, we near the sea
And hear, afar, the waves that crash and roar.
We sense the dark—the endless, waiting deep.
No verses there—or minds—for evermore.
.
******
.
The dawn that once brought hope now brings despair
As tens of thousands die—or wish they could—
As those who live are filled with grief and pain—
And most, who witness, now have understood
.
That evil often triumphs, laying waste
To all that’s good and precious: tenderness
And quietude—and love and due respect—
As Mammon grins and profits from duress. 
.
****** 
.
How many are the ones who've died in waves,
As lands were conquered or were laid to waste, 
As guns and bombs replaced the clubs and swords,
And Greed and Fear infected all with haste?
.
I hear the children laugh; I hear them weep.
I hear the dying, burned and blasted, moan.
I fear departure, leaving those I know
To fend for selves, with others, or alone.
.
****** 
.
But who among us chooses time or place
To enter or to exit from the stage
On which we walk and act and say our words—
And then depart—at ripe or tender age?
.
The dusk, descending, whispers now of night,
And I will venture out, beneath the stars,
To breathe and try to find a passing peace,
As all around delight in distant wars.
.
****** 
.
So many verses written—scribbled, typed,
And posted, sent to others far away.
So many more that come at times to mind—
From where—and wherefore—who can truly say?
.
Adrift upon the stream, we near the sea
And hear, afar, the waves that crash and roar.
We sense the dark—the endless, waiting deep.
No verses there—or minds—for evermore.
.
2024 October 3rd & 5th.
Berkeley, California
.

Sin

Sin

Lead us not into temptation
And deliver us from evil.
Amen.

We blame a class, a race or other group—
There are professions that are often blamed.
But it’s the nature of the human beast
That’s still the culprit for the mischief done.

For every virtue, every angel-trait,
We’ll find a vice, a sort of devil’s taint,
That mars the soul within a human or
Perhaps within all beings sentient.
 
If we had only virtues, then perhaps
We might be far too boring.  Light and shade
And vice and virtue, good and evil are,
Like yin and yang, in constant interplay.

So some might say that vice gives virtue place,
As hunger gives to plainest food its taste.
Without the sins that sinners multiply,
Could even saints be duly recognized?
 
And what, to me, is virtue could be seen
As vice to one whose values are reversed.
And yet, there still are basics that appear
To be the common ground on which we stand.

So save for prophetesses such as Ayn,
You’ll rarely find that people disagree
That selfish actions lead to evil ends,
While love and caring make for brighter lives.

For this, we might invoke a spirit that
Is root and essence of what’s seen as good,
And all that’s evil might be then ascribed
To visions clouded—or to a spirit dread.

But others might look back at what we were
When we were closer in our lives to apes
But rose and flourished from that sharing which
We still perceive as good—which touches hearts.

So "good", to them, is that which served us well
In eons past, when mind and body formed
To suit the circumstances then—for though
The times have changed, we still remain the same.

I will not enter into these debates.
I’ll only say that instincts old and deep
Respond to kindness—and that meanness brings
Yet other, meaner instincts into play.

To strive to be as supermen is fraught
With danger. We are always what we are.
We should be cognizant of what’s within
And seek a balance that sustains us all.

For when that balance is disturbed, we see
The sorrow that is not of earth or air
Or water, but is made by acts of men
And leads to yet more sorrows, turn on turn.

The earthquakes and the storms and floods may leave,
But fires rage and droughts and famines come.
Yet all of these, by men and all, are borne
With lesser pain than monstrous deeds of Man.

A fire may burn a forest down and yet
It leaves a part of it—and then with time
That forest lives again. What Man has touched
With devil's hands, no heaven can restore.

Be watchful then. Remove yourself from that
Which leads to conflicts with your inner god,
Who then is either silenced, leaving sin
To flourish, or cries out in pain within.

The ones, who cannot silence conscience, live
With ceaseless war within themselves, unless
They speak and act to change what often is
Impossible when others shrug and sin.
 
It wasn’t Adam or his partner, Eve,
Or a serpent leading both of them astray.
It’s we, who look to God to salve our sins,
Forgetting god and devil are within.

We lose our way and cannot find the path.
We lose our reason and we close our hearts.
It later seems that we were not awake
And so committed acts we shouldn't have.

The heart expands with kindness and with love,
Which spread like blessings when they’re acted on.
The heart contracts with meanness and with hate
And all our words and deeds of violence.

It’s difficult, within the fire, to be
As cool of temper as we’d like to be.
It’s hard, when we are stressed and desperate,
To be as kind and patient as we should.

So what are we to do?  Perhaps it’s best
To move away from all that meanness breeds—
To distance selves from where it’s fear and greed
That drive the engines of economies.

Although that’s easier said than done, to see
The source of evil, of disturbance, is
To step away from it, towards that calm
That gives us time and space to see and love.

We come like water and like wind we go.
So said Khayyam, Fitzgerald’s paraphrase
Purports.  If we should pray, perhaps we need
To ask for courage and for innocence.

So let us then release the things, to which
We hold, that rob us of our clarity.
That freedom might be difficult to reach,
Until we see we’re sullied by our vice.

There’s anger, greed and hate and jealousy.
And each of these, and even pride, has place
Within the workings of the mind that lives,
But each of these can lead us into sin.

For sin is not the thought that comes and goes
Or even stays awhile.  For thoughts may rise
And feelings too.  It’s when they’re nurtured and
They’re acted on that sin is birthed and born.

So let us heed what Buddhas past have said
To free ourselves of what some others call
The burden that we carry of our sins.
Let’s set it down and go upon our way.

We recognize a thought, a feeling and
We see, perhaps, its provenance as well.
We watch its rise and then we watch its ebb.
We do not ask that it should go or dwell.

We do not fear the feeling that we have,
And even fear, we know, has time and place.
We come like water, and we go like wind.
Forgive us, for we know that we have sinned.

And knowing this, we then might lose, perhaps,
Our hubris and might also find the strength
To heal from wounds that others might inflict,
Forgiving them, in our humility.

Lead us not into temptation
And deliver us from evil.
Amen.

2015 September 3rd, Thu., 2:30 am
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York
  

On Human Nature

On Human Nature  (Draft)
  
  

Human Evolution
http://philosophicaldisquisitions.blogspot.com/2011/10/is-there-connection-between-human.html

If we would praise our species’ virtues, then
we can’t be silent on its vices.  Those
who’re blind to one or other might portray
the human race as one of angels or
of devils—yet the truth is in between.

We’ve made our gods in human likeness and
our demons too are modeled on ourselves.
Perhaps these are in all that lives, and yet
we see them clearest in our closest tribe—
the one that’s human, touched by grace and sin.

We even die for others. So do ants.
But humans can transcend the bounds of kin
and even species—much as dogs might do.
We’re not unique—and yet this quality
of sacrifice of self’s a sainted thing.

And yet we murder, pillage, torture, rape—
as other species do, except we’ve moved
to make these things our hallmarks. We will kill
for no good reason, using devilish means.
We’ve laid to waste a planet, with a shrug.

So—gods or devils?  Sainted angels or
a demon's spawn of scoundrels? We are both.
Though surely what’s in us must be, in part,
in other species too, our qualities
of evil, unrestrained, are perilous.

It’s said that humans reason. Yet our hearts
are swayed too easily by passions and
our heads are addled by assumptions false.
We rarely question those we follow, as
we move in mobs and ape our conquerors.

And yet our human nature still remains
the thing we have to work with. That is all.
No theory that exalts a class or race
above another or assigns it blame
will hold if we inspect its basic claims.

And those who say that we should educate,
uplift the masses—they forget that they
are often as misled or more than those
they seek to “raise”.  Let other beings be.
Look to yourself, if you would dare to see.
 
2015 August 19th, Wed., 10:55 pm
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York 
    

Fun
http://authordebliv.authorsxpress.com/2012/06/01/human-nature-life-connection/