THE HAPPIEST OLD

The happiest old
have nothing and don’t mind.
The happiest young
are old before their time.
Few these.

The others are behind their years,
suffer thirteen-year-olds’ fears
into their twenties,
and in their forties
have appetite
for sins of twenty.

But not the bite.

 

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PARADISE LOST (AND REGAINED)

In the Beginning.
God walked with Adam in the cool of the day.
Despite hearing the Truth from God’s own mouth,
Adam did not heed him.

Later,
God sent prophets to be his tongues.
Despite hearing the Truth from God’s own prophets,
Adam’s descendants did not heed them.
They imprisoned, stoned or ignored many.

Now, in this New Age,
God has chosen living men
to be His eyes and ears and not His tongue.
Their task is to perceive,
accurately and without prejudice,
all that happens
Here.

What they see is transmitted
to God’s Control Room,
which is beyond our understanding.

Reward and punishment
is now swift and unerring.

Now,
what we see and experience
Here,
in our world,
is entirely appropriate
to what
we are doing
Here
in our world,
and deserve.

 

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OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES AND SUCKLINGS

The pure cry of the uncomplicated child
before it has been trained
in the verbalisations of this world
is the Voice of the Eternal.

Learn from it:
that the way back to God
lies backwards beyond
naming
and identifying
blaming
and mentifying;
that the Tree of Knowledge
shares the One Root
with the Tree of Life
but bears a very different fruit.

Taste the fruit of the Tree of Life:

For except ye be converted
and become as little children
you can by no means enter
the Kingdom of Heaven.

(Gnomonic Verses)

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PURITY

In the dark tabernacle,
a shaft of sunlight
illumines the heart
and shines through
a million years of dust.

Clouds and clouds of swirling
dust
spiralling
through the light
which spills in a golden pool
on damp, grey stone and iron rust.

When the light moves
it does not take the dust there to it.
When the dust slides into darkness,
the light does not pursue it.

Why then does the heart invent
heart bruising burdens to shoulder?
(Why does the heart consent
to the illusion of growing older?)

 

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GREAT MEN

But really you see there weren’t any great at all.
Those may not have stumbled,
heads high, walked tall,
filling the silence where others mumbled.
But words fail
skulls fall.

And before?
Before, they could taste, smell,
see, tell,
bore.
No different from you and me.
This is the way the world comes in
– unless you see the blood spilt
it’s only hearsay.

Greatness.
We have held a glass
over the antics
of a certain class
driven frantic
by thinking that what you cannot see
can in some way still be yours.
We have magnified their lunacy.

If we hold the glass elsewhere,
So long as we have never been there,
we might uncover,
rediscover,
happiness.

You should not wait
to be great.
It’s bad enough you’ve got the wrong direction.
Don’t add an ulcer
to a bad digestion.

 

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HOW MANY ANGELS CAN STAND ON THE POINT OF A PIN

Although the Two Worlds
are so intimately linked,
how is it that they are
completely distinct?

See!
A ten-ton elephant
and a thousand soldiers
reflected in a single mirror!

Why doesn’t the glass shatter
under the weight of such an elephant?
Why does not the frame splinter
beneath the boots of such an army?

 

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11th HOUR, 11th DAY, 11th MONTH

November Rose.
Pink and white and mauve.
Solitary, still,
among the rosemary and late autumnal gorse.

Sea winds have blown.
The first frosts have frozen the short grass.

Spring and summer are memories,
midwinter an echo in reverse.

November Rose for the dying.
November Poppies for the dead,
who cannot sleep
but stream towards new birth;
whose pain outlasts
the bitter Flanders earth.

 

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