Conscience and Choice / No Karma-Phala

 
Conscience and Choice / No Karma-Phala

There is no punishment, reward—
In this life or another.
There is no heaven that awaits
The ones who do what’s right.
There is no hell in which we’ll burn 
For doing what is wrong.

There are no gods with registers
Observing what we do.
There are no records being kept
Of actions good and bad.

******

The predator can kill its prey,
The parasite its host.
No ethics or morality
Constrains our human wars.
There is no nation on this Earth
Whose hands are free of blood. 

The ones with wealth and power make
The laws by which we’re ruled.
Our histories are filled with lies.
The news we get is false. 

******

So is there wrong? And is there right?
And is there good and bad?
There is a conscience—that is heard
Or not—that tells us this.
It channels our capacities
For quiet, inner sight.

It’s empathy and fairness—
That say what’s right and wrong.
And some extend their circles
And others squeeze these tight.

******

We can choose to seek for justice
For others, not just selves.
We can choose to practice kindness
Towards all that lives and feels.
We can listen more to conscience
And do what soothes and heals.

It’s not for fear of punishment
Or hope for some reward
One seeks the path of justice
And keeps an open heart.

****** 

There is a choice for each of us
To make at every time.
At times, the choice is difficult
And pain may well result
From choosing what the conscience
May whisper to the heart.

Do not expect that others 
Will sympathize or help.
We can listen to the others—
But do what conscience says. 

2023 November 30th, Thu.
Berkeley, California

 

Efficient

 
Efficient
 
We’ve learned to be efficient, work at speed—
To squeeze production out of everything,
Including time and people. So it is
That things requiring patience, things unclear
Are things avoided. Who has time for that?
So all that’s muddled or entangled is
Not clarified—as that would take our time—
But left for others—or is left as is.
 
And so we also have no time to hear
What others, troubled, have to say to us—
Or even look, beneath the surfaces
Of people and of things, to try and see
The causes of the problems that arise.
 
So everything is black and white and clear,
And those who see the grays and speak of these
Are shunned. So problems grow, in scope and strength,
And go unrecognized and unaddressed—
Until disasters come—and then we find
Some things or people that can take the blame—
And then we’re done with that, and saunter on.
For some of us, there’s neither guilt nor shame.
 
2022 June 16^th, Thu.
Brooklyn, New York
 

Respect

Respect

You can take me to the water,
but you cannot make me drink.
You can puzzle me with questions,
but you cannot make me think.

When I’m little, I may listen
and I even might obey.
But when I’ve grown in seasons,
I will go my chosen way.

You can give me all your reasons,
you can say what’s right and wrong.
And I’ll listen to your speeches,
but I still might hum my song.

That’s the way of all the beings
who are free to choose and err.
I can learn from all my trials,
if you’ll let me do that, sir.

If you force me to obedience—
to saying you are right,
you will lose what you have conquered
by insistence or by might.
 
For a person, robbed of freedom,
is a person robbed of joy.
I will sulk and be resentful
of the means that you employ.

So tell me what you’re thinking
and then show me the respect
that I need to make decisions.
That is all that I expect.

There is room for compromises,
for yielding and retaining.
If you’re rigid in your thinking,
I’ll be only fit for training.
 
But I also am a person,
with my likes and my concerns.
So I offer you my friendship,
if you’ll let me have my turns.

There are things that I can tell you.
There are things I’d rather not.
If you show that you are open,
you might even learn a lot.

2017 June 25th, Sun.
Brooklyn, New York
  

The Softer Voice

 
The Softer Voice
 
Be it chicken, pig or human, or a fish that swims the seas,
There’s an eye in every being, that’s recording what it sees.
And the record of the ages is a tale of endless woe,
And the promise of the future is of sorrows, even more.
 
And we glorify our species, and we name it “man the wise”,
But our history is bloody, though it’s hidden by our lies –
Horror heaped on horror, through the eons since the flood,
On us humans by us humans, in a world awash in blood…
 
Are we angels, are we devils, are we somewhere in between?
We are surely born of demons, for our actions are obscene.
But in babies as in puppies, and in grasses growing green,
For the eye that knows to see it, there’s the essence soft, serene.
 
There’s the pup that softly whimpers, there’s the little kitten’s mewl.
There’s the girl in class who’s ailing, but who follows still the rule.
There’s the leaf that’s sadly drooping and that soon will die of thirst.
There’s the gentle voice that’s calling, in a world with deafness cursed.
 
Should we go about our business, should we hurry even more?
Should we speed upon the highways, should we shun the byways slow?
There’s that softer voice that’s calling, there’s the silence of the stars.
We can choose to see and listen; we can choose to end the wars.
 
In the stillness of the sunset, in the quiet of the dawn,
In the trusting eyes of children, who were here but now are gone,
We can sense that there’s a heaven, in the midst of all the hells.
For there’s such a thing as healing – and there’s still the love that wells.
  
Forgive the ones who slaughter, forgive the ones who slay.
They know not what they’re doing, as their demons, they obey.
But don’t forget the slaughtered; have them ever in your mind.
As you go about your business, remember to be kind.
 
2014 December 17th, Wed.
Brooklyn, New York