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

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

Danob-03-দানব-০৩-Demons-03

 
‌দানব

হে হতভাগা প্রজাতি,
নির্লজ, নিষ্ঠুর, বিনাশী,
আতঙ্কের অস্ত্রে, ভয়ের শাস্ত্রে,
নরকের অভিজাত বাসী!

নিজেকে 'মানব' বলেও,
মানবিকতার করেছো ক্ষয়।
গর্বে, ছলনে, দানবের বেশে,
দানবিকতায় পেয়েছো জয়।

******

অশ্লীল, হিংস্র কাজে মেতে,
নিজের স্বার্থের উন্মাদ খোঁজে, 
হয়েছো ক্রমশ অশিব পিশাচ, 
মত্ত, বেদনা-ক্লেশের ভোজে।

বাহিরে-অন্তরে দেখে,
টের পেয়ে, ধ্বংসের রথে,
বিবেকের ডাকখানি শুনে,
ফিরে এসো শান্তির পথে।

সোমবার, ১৪ই অক্টোবর, ২০২৪ খ্রি.
বার্ক্লি, কালিফোর্নিয়া
--------------------------------------------
Demons

We are beings of the rabid species,
Shameless, cruel, destructive,
With weapons of terror and scriptures of fear—
The elites and enforcers of hell!

We may call ourselves 'human' and yet
We have destroyed our own humanity.
With lies and with pride in our monstrous ways,
We have triumphed in monstrosity.
‌
******

In obscene and violent acts,
In the mad pursuit of our “interests”, 
We have turned from humans to demons, 
Drunkenly feasting on suffering and pain.

Looking around, and looking within,
Perched on our chariots of destruction,
Hearing the call of conscience,
Let us turn to the path of peace.

Oct 14 and Nov 21, 2024
Translated from Bengali: Nov 21and 25
Berkeley, California

Danob-01-দানব-০১-Demon-01

  
দানব-০১
 
হে হতভাগা প্রজাতি, 
নির্লজ, নিষ্ঠুর, বিনাশী, 
ব্যথার অস্ত্রে, ভয়ের শাস্ত্রে, 
নরকের জল্লাদ বাসী!
 
নিজেকে 'মানব' বলেও, 
মানবিকতার করেছো ক্ষয়।
গর্বে, ছলনে, দানবের বেশে,
দানবিকতায় পেয়েছো জয়।
 
১৪-১৫ অক্টোবর, ২০২৪ খ্রি.
বার্ক্লি, কালিফোর্নিয়া

------------------------------------------------------

Monster-01 (Google's translation, lightly edited)

   

O wretched species, 

Shameless, cruel, destructive--

With weapons of pain, with scriptures of fear, 

The executioner of hell!

   

While calling yourself 'human', 

You have destroyed humanity.

In pride, in guile, in monster-guise,

You have won by your monstrosity.

   

14-15 October, 2024

Berkeley, California

Mayar Dha~dha-মায়ার ধাঁধা-The Maze of Delusion

 
The truth is that every empire, nation, community, family and individual is capable of great cruelty, as also of great kindness. This has been demonstrated over and over again, and we are seeing it being demonstrated now, all over the world. We still need to speak out and act against the cruelty and to recognize and support the kindness.

However, those who see and feel beyond a narrowing of vision and of heart are always vilified. Those who work for the common good and against scapegoating, demonizing and division are inevitably labeled as foreign agents, traitors, etc. Sadly, it is the same in every country, in every age.

https://www.facebook.com/madhusree.mukerjee/posts/1488465891211160

https://www.facebook.com/arjun.janah/posts/10154561847215950

https://www.facebook.com/andrew.wickham.52/posts/10156083779321562 
-------------------------------------------------------------

There are four sections of verse below:

• মায়ার ধাঁধা
  --in Bengali, in the traditional script;
• Māẏāra Dhām̐dhā
  --a Roman transcription, via http://translate.google.com;
• Mayar Dha~dha
  --a Roman transcription, using the scheme summarized at http://thedailypoet.blogspot.com/2014/02/bharot-xadhin-indias-freedom.html
  and in item 3 at http://thedailypoet.blogspot.com/2017/03/likhbe-xexe-je-writer-at-end.html;
• The Maze of Delusion
  --a very free translation into English.

-------------------------------------------------------------

মায়ার ধাঁধা

আর্য় বলে, ‘ভজ তাদের,
যাদের চামড়া গোরা৷’
এ দেশী বলে, ‘বিদেশী, তুমি
সব মন্দের গোড়া৷’

ওগো মূর্খ, গোণো এবার
পুরোনো পাপের আয়৷
বিরাট পাপী, রাজা হয়ে,
রক্ত চুষে খায়৷

******

কত যে দুঃখ, কত যে কষ্ট,
মায়ার ধাঁধায় পড়ে!
নিজেকে মেরেছ,  নিজেকে নষ্ট
করেছ যুগযুগ ধরে৷

ফিরে চাইলে,  দেখবে সব ই
অকারণে করা৷
এত সৃষ্টির স্বত্ত্বেও, শুধু
বৃথা ভুগে ভুগে মরা৷

শনিবার, ২২ এপ্রিল, ২০১৭ খ্রি
ব্রুক্লিন, নিউয়র্ক
-------------------------------------------------------------

Māẏāra Dhām̐dhā

Ārẏa balē, 'Bhaja tādēra,
yādēra cāmaṛā gōrā'.
Ē dēśī balē, 'Bidēśī, tumi
saba mandēra gōṛā'.

Ōgō mūrkha, gōṇō ēbāra
purōnō pāpēra āẏa.
Birāṭa pāpī, rājā haẏē,
rakta cuṣē khāẏa.

******

Kata yē duḥkha, kata yē kaṣṭa,
māẏāra dhām̐dhāẏa paṛē!
Nijēkē mērēcha, nijēkē naṣṭa
karēcha yugayuga dharē.

Phirē cā'ilē, dēkhabē saba i
akāraṇē karā.
Ēta sr̥ṣṭira sbattbē'ō, śudhu
br̥thā bhugē bhugē marā.

Śanibāra, 22 Ēprila, 2017 Khri
Bruklina, Ni'uẏarka
-------------------------------------------------------------

Mayar Dha~dha

Arjo bo`le, “Bho`jo tader,
jader camr’a gora.”
E dexi bo`le, “Bidexi, tumi
xo`b monder gor’a.”

Ogo murkho, gon’o ebar
purono paper ae.
Birat’ papi, raja hoe,
ro`kto cuxe khae.

******

Ko`to je dukkho, jo`to je ko`xt’o,
mayar dha~dhae por’e!
Nijeke merecho, nijeke no`xt’o
korecho jugjug dhore.

Phire caile, dekhbe xo`b i
okaron’e ko`ra.
E`to srixt’ir xottheo, xudhu
britha bhuge bhuge mo`ra.

Xonibar, 22e Epril, 2017 Khri
Bruklin, Niu Io`rk
-------------------------------------------------------------

The Maze of Delusion

The Arya made us understand
the curse of darker skin.
The patriot “knows” the foreign hand
is planting more of sin.

Oh foolish folk, now sit and count
the wages of your acts.
The greatest sinner now can mount
the throne and tout his “facts”.

******

How much of woe, how much of pain,
from racing through the maze!
We’ve injured self and soul again,
while caught in maya’s daze.

On looking back, we see that all
was done for no good reason.
So deep, this hole in which we fall
yet deeper, every season!

2017, April 22nd, Sat.
(translated May 12th, Sat.)
Brooklyn, New York

-------------------------------------------------------------

 
https://www.facebook.com/madhusree.mukerjee/posts/1488465891211160 

https://www.facebook.com/arjun.janah/posts/10154561847215950

https://www.facebook.com/andrew.wickham.52/posts/10156083779321562
 

We Went to War in the Morning

   
We Went to War in the Morning

We saw the sun was sinking
Towards  our planet’s west.
We were soldiers, tired and seeking
For a place in which to rest.

It was evening, when we struggled
To hide ourselves within
A ditch, all wet and muddy—
And dark—like clinging sin.

We were woken, in the nighttime,
By the crying of a bitch
And then the cries of puppies,
As we hid within the ditch.

We cursed then at those puppies
And at that bitch that cried.
We tried to sleep but couldn’t,
Until that crying died.

We could see, where clouds had parted,
The stars that shone on high.
We saw those stars were shining
And hoped we would not die.

******

We went to war in the morning.
We went to war at dawn.
When the sun had not yet risen,
We'd woken and we’d gone.

We'd left behind the puppies,
We'd left the dying bitch.
We'd heard a stray pup crying,
Who’d fallen in that ditch.

But we were off to battle.
So who had time to spare
For her, that dying mother,
Or could, for puppies, care?
 
And when the day was over—
How many mothers dead?
How many children dying—
Or better killed instead?

We wake, when day is breaking.
In time, we sleep again.
We're born to go to battle,
To give and take of pain.

  

******

We then had followed orders
Or fought like devils might.
We’d lived in death and dying,
In horror and in fright.

We'd seen the sun at noontime,
We’d seen it blazing bright.
We’d seen, through squinting eyelids,
A planet filled with light.

We’d heard the cries, the shrieking.
We’d heard the boom, the roar.
But then there came a silence
That told us what’s in store.

We saw the sun to westward.
We saw it sink and go.
And where we next were going,
By then, we’d come to know.

We’d seen the elders burning.
We’d seen the children burn.
We felt the planet turning
And knew it was our turn.

******

We’d seen the sun arising,
We’d seen the sun on high.
And as that sun was sinking,
We  knew that we would die.

And so, as shadows lengthened
And someone softly cried,
We struggled still to live then,
As one by one we died.

And who would find salvation
And who would end in hell,
That evening, after sunset,
It was hard for us to tell.

We're born, it seems, to suffer.
We're born to die in pain.
We rise, to join the rushing,
Till time to slow again.

We went to war on our planet.
We went to war at dawn.
But when the day had ended,
What planet were we on?

2016 February 1st, Mon. morning
Brooklyn, New York
  

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
  

The Cost

 
The Cost 

We surely need to turn away from that
Which drives us mad by slow degrees – or fast.
But in our times, that turn is hard to make.
The place, for sanity, is often last.

We lose awareness.  So the mind, confused,
Is driven into darkness.  There, it’s lost –
And seeks for light in ways that darken more.
We sin in blindness and we pay the cost.

We act from anger or its kindred causes,
And our discomfort is expressed in ways
That transfer that disturbance to another.
And so is karma wrought, as evil stays.

The one who harms is harmed by what he does,
Although this might not seem to be the case,
For himsa will extract, from each, that price
That’s marked – and which we mortals can’t erase.

We turn from madness, from the rushing mob,
But find that we ourselves are deemed as mad.
No matter.  Though the cost again is high,
It's better paid than that more lethal price.

2015 April 14th, Tue. 12:07 am
Brooklyn, New York

Note: The word himsa is the opposite of ahimsa, the a- prefix in Sanskrit being cognate to that in "amoral", "atheist", "asexual" etc.  The two Sanskrit words may be translated into English as "violence" and "non-violence", respectively.  Both these translations are, however, approximate and incomplete.
   

So Who Can Blame the Drunkard?

    
So Who Can Blame the Drunkard?
  

Gujarat Chief Minister Narendra Modi is also at the 400 year old Lord
Jagannath Temple where he pulled the chariot carrying the deity.
(AP Photo/Ajit Solanki)
Image source:  http://ibnlive.in.com/photogallery/4322-5.html

 
In a world, where life is feeding on other life to live,
We still converse on ethics – and mortal sins forgive.
Some speak of a creator, who set this all in motion.
They even bow to worship, with zeal in their devotion.

But who is this creator, so cruel in intent,
Who sets the seed to growing, to serve as condiment?
The cow will tend her calf with care, but then it will be taken
And butchered in the slaughterhouse – and roasted and partaken.

And even in our species, we see there is predation,
And this has been the basis of empire and of nation.
As asses, camels, oxen are used as beasts of burden,
So also are the billions who happen to be human.

The weight that workers carry is the labor that they do,
In the farm and in the factory – including me and you.
One labors with the muscle and another with the mind.
To the one who reaps the profit, they are drudges of a kind.

The poultry and the cattle may be slaughtered for their meat,
And if, from this, they rebel, they are easy to defeat.
The peasant and the worker, they are harnessed to the wheel,
And when there is rebellion, it is met with fire and steel.

The human mind is devious – in guile, a true exemplar.
And many are the traps it sets for those of us who’re simpler.
The spider nets its prey in webs.  Our predators enmesh us.
We pay the rent and interest, and drive the cycle vicious.

Behold, the great colossus – the juggernaut erected.
Observe its gears and crankshafts, by oil-of-man protected.
It roars and whirrs and grumbles. It moves and yet remains.
It seems that it is living – with labor in its veins.

For the engines to be running, that power the contraption,
The workers must be working, providing thus the traction.
For even the petroleum, to be flowing, needs their work,
And dire is the prognosis, for the ones who try to shirk.

For what had once been local – the landlords and their fiefs,
The herders who were herded, beholden to their chiefs –
Is now transformed to global.  The feeding chains extend
From Zululand to Zurich – and through the nations wend.

So there is no escaping. The tribal lands are torn,
With newer forms of serfdom, in every season, born.
And if there is resistance that slows the flow of cash,
It’s met with machinations that burn the brave to ash.

Who labors in the mineshafts, and is, of toil, relieved?
Who tells a tale that’s honest, and yet is still believed?
Who seeks the path of reason and isn’t robbed of wits?
Who stands against the dollar and isn’t bombed to bits?

The gods that men conceived of are also put to use.
If king and god command it, who dare the twain refuse?
And so it is that Yahweh, who thundered in the wild,
Is called to aid the conquest, and man and earth defiled.

So some may need convincing that there ever was an Eden,
That the god of the commandments was distinct from him called Satan.
For the evil seems intrinsic – and the world is steeped in sin.
So who can blame the drunkard, who seeks to drown in gin?

So do not pray to Krishna, the one of cunning wiles,
And do not dance for Kali, or think that Jesus smiles.
And Allah still is raging, and Shiva is asleep –
With Brahma, he is snoring, in intoxication deep.

2014 September 16th, Tuesday
Brooklyn, New York
   

With Harlot Falsehoods

With Harlot Falsehoods
                                       
When we've walked the road of verity,
Throughout our lives – with all our human faults,
Abstaining from the vices of the lie –
The path of falsehood then cannot be borne.

And when we've been obedient to the call
Of conscience, ever heeding heart's advice,
To disobey is as a living death,
A torture, hell ascended to this earth.

And yet, observe, how in survival's name,
Or merely for ambition, some, with ease,
Can lie throughout their lives and can benumb
Their consciences and hearts for worldly ends.

And slaves, be they in chains of iron or
Of silver, must obey the master's lip.
And those, who quickest shed their scruples, thrive
And do not shy from wielding lie and whip.

So should we martyr minds and bodies for
The quiet voices that we hear within,
Or should we yield to fear or seek to rise
By doing what we see the others do?

The question comes and must be answered, yet
We seek, from this dilemma, some escape.
We all have duties to our selves and kin.
Should mere survival then be viewed as sin?

And yet, those voices, that we've listened to,
Will not be stilled.  They fill our nights and days.
To path of justice, heart and conscience call.
And every step away dismays the soul.

And those, who've wedded selves to truth, cannot
With harlot falsehoods lie a moment long.
And yet, the webs of lies entrap their souls,
And they are found, where they do not belong.

******
   
The ways, that lead to what some call as "god"
And others, "truth", are varied, manifold.
So each may choose to walk upon the way
That's fit for him or her, while harming none.

And all creation, all that's filled with light,
Has source in this.  Compulsion kills the soul.
But even that, which free creation brings,
Is used to slaughter and to dominate.

How many ways have humans engineered,
To make, of others, slaves!  So all, that minds
Have wrought, in innocent ingenuity,
To free us, then is swiftly turned to this.

So farming gave us brigand kings and turned
The freemen into serfs.  And now we see
Computers, mathematics used to serve
As watchdogs on the herds that daily teach.

It will not be.  We shall not be a part
Of evil, though our backs are loaded, bent.
We'll bear our burdens, labor as we've done,
But will not harm our wards or blur our truths.

Our lives have taught us that humility
That those of hubris rarely see till end.
And yet, whatever remnant self-respect
Remains, demands we do not dance to lies.

For how can we fulfill our duties core,
When heart and reason clearly say, "Do this."
And fear and slavery proclaim, "Do that."?
We choose the freeman's path of clarity.

Whatever punishment that brings, we'll bear,
With inmost beings calm, in dignity.
We'll do our work and walk the path of love,
And that will be, for us, reward enough.

stanzas prior to the break written
2013 September 4th, Wed. night
(after being briefed for two days
on the new teacher-evaluation
system in New York City) and
stanzas following the break
added September 5th,Thu.
and September 6th, Fri.,
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn

 Comments below.
  

Egypt's Sin

  
Egypt's Sin

In Giza now, the pavement's stained,
With blood of those who died.
The vultures wheel in Cairo yet
We dare not say they lied --
The ones who did this monstrous thing.
So Saudi "aid" will flow.
The Emirates will also give
But all the world will know
That Egypt has been murdered now.
The Copts will slowly flee,
As innocents will die for naught
And all the world will see.

The blood in Egypt marks the end
Of era that had been.
For even royal heads will roll
To pay for Egypt's sin.

*******

Two wrongs together cannot make
A right, it has been said.
So Morsi slapped up Egypt more
And Sissi shot her dead.
Egyptians, rise!  Do not forgo
What's right, but wake and see.
The ones that murder Islamists
Your murderers will be.
The Islamists are but a ruse
To rise again to power.
The Socialists, they'll wipe out next.
So each will have his hour.

So Hitler did, as Germany,
With new-found pride, applauded.
What happened next is history.
Can Egypt now afford it?

2013 August 19th, Mon., 4:31 am (first section)
(second section added August 20th, Tue. 8:15 am)
Brooklyn, New York

Yet More Advice