Tag Archive: Krishnamurti


Sage

Never ever rethink a post once it’s out there
unless it is actually needed

You second guessing
You is hilarious

Chagall 2017

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Befell

What is there
after you’ve flown?

Where are you
once you touched down?

Careful there on the ledge,
perhaps you’ll not fly again.

How sad to have flown
for the last time.

When up is down
to fall is to fly.

How joyous to have
flown at all.

I’d have thought
clouds to be harder.

I invert when I fly
for I am the sky.

So inwardly
I fall.

Alight on soft pockets
of air.

Dust
on air.

I pray while
I fall.

The whole planet
is falling.

We spin and we turn and
we tilt and we yaw.

The earth rushes to us
once befallen.

© Chagall ∞

Recyclable

The stars will guide me home one day,
I’ll follow their path until the edge
where the furtive eyes of seers peer
from beyond the eddies of time that spiral
amid the shallows of predawn, in waters
formed succeeding the impetus, immediately and
forever, I’ll be awash in the brine,
soaking, absorbing, adsorbing, and engorging,
until I burgeon and explode
into nebula-cum-universe.

© Chagall ∞

EVO

From atop the altar, a humming sound,
the sweet scent of imminent grace,
morning light imbues stained glass
with timeless palpitation, what is old
is new once, ancient olive wood
balustrades provide steady ascent.

What’s that hovering o’er the assembled?
My soul resonates with the dissonant voicing
of the towering pipe-organ.

Chant, all you chanters.
Mais oui, absolument, chanté!

The good news is that
good news is
Truth.

From here atop the land-mound
I sing to the sun gods,
I reflect light back
To The Others on the land-mounds
Below Me, and They to Those
Below Them and on

We are One upon rich green rope,
buttery young olives.

© Chagall ∞

A Wry Rise

Light will guide me back
To ascension, a view from above,
Lofty gray weightlessness,
Ethereal suspension among birds
Of distinction, marked no longer
By petty ways, now only grand schemes
To return one again to a state of grace,
To engulf my self, to imbibe as well
The liquid of life, thus to hang in the balance,
Neither here nor there as it should be, to be
Either actually is a penchant unchained still linked
To time, once blinded I sensed the fence surrounding
Me so I blinked and clicked my heels, an attempt to awaken,
To rise, to ascend, score a view from above in the lofty gray.

Weightless.

© Chagall ∞

Lesson 1

You told me
the objects about us had
names that marred luminosity
so beware the symbol, embrace the actual.

© Chagall 2016

Quiet

Still here.

I and the air are
still here.

Faint hum,
a seashore … a dynamo
maybe.

Tickles:
inside my head.

A hushed voice speaks
of a hushed voice
who speaks.

I command them both
to shush.

© Chagall 2016

Mantra By Murder

I’ve quieted
my inner voice
by holding its head
underwater

an imaginary pond
there in the darkness
immersed until the bubbles
stop

till bright sun fills
the void to dry
up all the water

evaporates
leaves
no trace
behind

no evidence of voice simply
silence

only
now

Chagall 2016

Rookies

They repeated
No, no thought

Contented, I’d given up
trying to tell them

All things at once
is the same thing

Chagall 2015

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