the beauty of tenderness

in the midst of all this arguing
about who is right and who is wrong
is one who stands silent
with head bowed
and hands softly open

as the raging storm
lashes everything it touches
does this one remain peacefully still
refusing all invitations to drama

the beauty of tenderness
is easily forgotten
yet, like a fragrant flower
alone in the forest,
it captivates the heart
and reminds us
of our true nature

once i saw my true face
i could no longer fight
i laid down my arms
and walked away
as tears of love
rained down
upon a parched earth

there is no solution but love.




the face in the mirror

i have looked in the mirror
and seen many faces
i have seen fear and love
anguish and regret
joy and celebration
staring back from some unknown place

i have seen the flicker of time passing
in those eyes
stared wildly as creatures, gods,
archetypes, rise and fall
like wild snake waves writhing
in a petulant sea

i realized once
that you can never see yourself
as you are
that what we see, that vision we stare at
each morning and each evening
the one we glimpse
in shop windows as we pass
is not us
it is our ghost, our shadow
a reflection and a projection,
but not us

there is no point looking for your self
in the mirror
all you will see is
the time bound
and you are so much more than that….

to know your true face you must look beyond
what this world offers you
see through the veil
beyond the ephemeral
and find what is real.

if you were here

if you were to sit here beside me
i do believe we might fall into some deep reverie
and you would, even for a moment,
see the beauty and depth
of your life
it might be that
you would fall in love
with yourself and the world
for the first time

we could fall together
beyond time and space
into the eternal
and be washed clean
be unchained of these forms
and dissolve into the ocean
and remember our true ecstatic nature

and when we returned to this place
just sitting here
it would be as innocence and joy
without heavy heart
and fearful mind
but with cheeky grin
and lightness of touch

ah! what a joyful moment that would be.

Photo by NASA on Unsplash

the greatest poem never seen

imagine that the greatest works of art
have never been seen
by anyone beyond the artist

that poem you wrote and never showed anyone
the story that stayed in your head
or the song you played for no one but god

these are the unsung heroes of life

not everything has to be seen
and shared
sold and scrutinized

there was a film i saw recently
of a poet who lived a regular life
his daily poems were just an expression
of life
he was not seeking fame or fortune
or striving to be read
in fact his book of poems
was destroyed by the dog
and no one had read them

some art exists for its own sake
it is all consciousness expressing itself
through form
and it doesn’t care abut fame or readership

i have often said
some of my best songs have never
been heard by anyone.

utterly unique

each of us manifested by the grace of god
yes, divine intelligence
chose you
and of all the billions and billions of humans
who have been before you
there has never been one like you
each nuance you carry
and anything that you may not like
about yourself
is fine with god

ah! if only we could accept ourselves
as god accepts us

your perfection is in your uniqueness
not in what you do
you are already perfect
before you do anything

all you need to do is radiate your inner perfection.

Existentialists Only Need Apply

Only those who dare to look inside
At the void
And those who, by choice or fate or life’s misfortune,
Fall to the very bottom of all meaning,
Need apply

Only those who have become tired and sickened
By the endless flapping around on the surface of the deep dark lake
And, thirsty for something real,
Have chosen to drown themselves
In the mystery and confusion
Are welcome

Let the flappers flap
And let the divers
And the drowners
The searchers and the seekers
Let the disillusioned and the broken
For they are the ones who give life its meaning
And its art
And its depth.

If you are prepared to dive, and keep on diving,
Eventually you will discover the pearl.


creativity is an impulse not a choice

even if it draws no money
or no-one even sees it
if it brings no fame
or even if it brings misery
serve it anyway.
creativity, your art,
is an impulse sent by the divine
it is the divine impulse itself
manifesting into consciousness
for the sheer joy of it. 
no other reason is necessary.

true art is not a choice
but a necessity,
a demand, and to not serve it
might be the worst thing
you ever did.

so i say, ‘turn it all into art…
all the pain, the joy
the suffering, the anger
and even the fear.
let it all become the raw material
of your creativity.’

that is the only true prayer necessary
and that is how we serve the divine.
Kavi in the Old Town

like you i know nothing

like you i have no idea where i came from

like you i have grown used to this

like you i have no idea where i’m going

when its all over

all we can really do is try and enjoy the experience while we are here

but let me make it clear

none of us actually know

what the fuck is going on.

kavi says, “i am convinced that the more i admit

that i know nothing

the more life reveals its secrets to me.”



richer than money

your heart 
is the only wealth
that really matters

a rich man
with a cold heart
is a poor man
with money

but a poor man
with a warm heart
is rich

we cannot live
by money alone
yet it consumes us all

the artist who longs to paint
the musician who must play
and the writer scribbling in the cafe
all compromised by this monster
called necessity

‘i saw a youtube video about a guy who 
had come out of prison after doing time for drugs.
he couldn’t get back into society, couldn’t get an apartment 
or a job and was shunned by people.
So he said ‘fuck it,’ and decided to live in a tent and play his guitar, 
get whatever money he could from busking
and just do what he loves…his music.’

i have a lot of respect for that guy.