Sermon on Sin

An innocent dream came to me.
It shook me as no storm can do.

Technically,
There is no starting point for action.
One can never know oneself in full.
Hence, one can never really trust oneself.

Yet, start we do. That is our existence.
Therefore, sin and redeem are like brothers.
God far away there is a greatest helper.
Redeems a mankind of pettiness.

But, my dear friend, if I may continue


The power of sin is grave.
It can make us in part know us.
And there it stops.
Part knowledge can only be
A part basis for action.

Thus,
Gravest sin offers a costly path to redemption -
Confess.
Confess not to God far away there.
Confess to your fellow god-brute human.


(Corollary : Kill not thy fellow god-brute.)

To a friendly ear

The favourite shop not open,
Walking on - little concerns
left unburdened in the new town -
I noticed a common thing.
A plastic flapped in the wind.

Few flaps later,
I had whatever consolation.

(far better than none)

That some things govern permanent
in the new and the old town
has pathos.

I remember
This same little bob of pathos and
me teary-eyed in the cinemas -

When those scenes urgently showed
that common things in plain view
can be seen joyously dancing
to their scored melody of
governing dynamics.

Rabbi says, "Why create, Just be"

The little boy knew fun in solitude.
Fun was there to be found and made.
Fun flits by today like beauty before greed.
Clean fun soiled by the inescapable grease
oiling the grown man's misaligned creeds.

Just be

The little being's Maa had
set the festive cap then, with few kisses;
and he had played colours with the plants.
Fun was there to be found and made.

The little one with the pristine garden,
the back wall was his friend and adversary,
engaged in heroic matches to boot,
the clothesline a willing prop,
the birds, wind and heavens intently watching
the action.

Gone are the superior ways.
Fun is there still, to be found and made.
Some hope the man can offer
Rebirth little boy someday.

For G

I want to kiss you;

few words go through
these limbs that miss you,
too short too few.


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

Nov-Dec' 11, Toulouse

For G

Chewing fluffy misery,
few small disappointments
stuck in the gut,
forgot today
real happiness is a mouthful away.

When you come happy I become happy.






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


 Nov '11, Tlse

The Menu Pyramid of Universal Themes serves at the bus stop

The Menu Pyramid of Universal Themes
Serves on the house day after day.
Say when did we municipally order
That piece of quiet greenery
under the sprawling city sky.
Or that gorgeous gorge under the sturdy bridge,
everyone's water flowing under
for no one, a theme-ful garden and architecture.
(Or that heating water gurgling
- setting a stage for an anywhich friendship,
minor annoyance befriending helpless laughter -
In some office day after day.)
Here comes the bus ...
There those clever buses with their schedule
and smoke, their people and hurrying,
sits and stands, tips and shouts, falls and grins,
a mini-dictionary repeating every
so often.
Good day Sir !

There by the window
the soft pink flowers have
Made love again last night
along with the bonnets
for the morning commuter.
Served regular closer to home
The beating of my pacemaker,
a theme for hopefully few lifetimes.

On the tv, the veteran matador
is indulging the lively bull
without hubris, but with
much flourish.