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Maya
From the windows of mine earthly existence, I view this illusion of reality.
In vain has been my persistence, in a harsh world to find serenity.
Often does this mind of mine, torment my soul like a turbulent ocean.
In spite of its youthful vigor, my system crashes, reduced to debris, in
exhaustion.
There is but only an iota of solace, in watching a deluge of tulips in bloom.
Happiness, where art thou? Come to mine heart and redeem me from this
eternal gloom.
Love is but a fantasy wandering haphazardly in the mind of an optimist.
The 'joy of living' is an eyewash for a fool who no longer wants to be a
realist.
Mercilessly strike the whiplashes of life, taking away the moment, leaving
only strife.
Wake me up O Divine one, from this ghastly nightmare,
into a reality of clear blue skies, where life is fair.
Where prayers get answers and peace is in plenty,
Where awakenings are commonplace and conflicts are scanty.
Murder By Rhyme
The moon shone over the Westons' house like a torchlight from the heavens.
The wind whistled but a sensitive ear could hear the cry of a raven.
There were three cars outside, and six people at the party,
Linda and Jack Weston, Mary and Jim Evans and Jill McCarty.
The men had Scotch on the rocks, the women had shandy,
Said Jill with a joyless smile, I would have preferred Brandy.
The tension was thick and the voices were low. The talk proceeded
to corporate politics and the firing of Chairman Oslo.
'It isn't fair on him' said Mary. 'Good men are so few.
Sack the poor guy and what one earth will he do!”
'Well, that makes you chairman,' said Jim to Jack. 'You were Oslo's great
adversary. Good for you he got the sack.'
Next dessert was served with biscuits on a tray.
Jill thought that the dessert was bland and as always she had
something unpalatable to say.
There was evil in the air and cyanide in a cup.
Thanks to the work of a fiend, Jack never got up.
The cops came early and examined the place.
Jack lay in the settee. There was froth all over his face.
The inspector questioned them all, one by one. About Jack's enemies all
said that there were none.
'Yes, we were Jack's colleagues.' said John and Jim. 'At no point were
either of us ever jealous of him.'
'Its true that Jack was my high school sweetheart.' Recalled a shocked
Mary.
'I am over it now. I am not responsible for his fate.'
'We were neighbors once, but little of his activities I knew.'
Jill went on to say,
'He may not have had enemies, but friends he had few.'
The inspector turned to Linda. 'Ma'am, its your turn.'
To everyone's amazement, Linda's eyes began to burn.
'I loved the man. I loved his brain. I searched for a conscience, but it was all
in vain. Money was all he cared for. Power he always wanted.
Friends loved ones and foes were all the same.
He took them all for granted.
It was me, inspector, who put the cyanide in the cup.
Tolerating this devil became unbearable. I know that my game is up.'
Zen And A Stormy Night
Driving through a thunderstorm, suddenly getting off in the rain,
I can't recall being here before but I shalln't be here again.
I feel the water drip off my head. I hear the gusty winds scream.
On other days I would be safe home, sipping coffee with whipped cream.
Distant cries from the wood I hear, bring thumps to my heart.
While imaginary beasts I fear, there is no denying, tonight's a work of art.
Is there ever joy in security? This I sincerely doubt.
These thickets stretch into eternity. Into them my soul reaches out.
The jiving leaves, the singing rain, the hush of the breeze, all a musical
symphony.
This strong temptation from which I refrain, guides my mind to harmony.
This beauty tells me to linger here, ignore my daily chores.
Feels like the meditation I did on my lawn, several decades before.
I'd rather be here than any place else, ogling at these dark clouds.
Disgust for the mundane clouds me, raising the usual doubts.
My conditioned mind prods me on to join the rat race.
Society often reminds me that it is a reality I must face.
We are taught to sit and plan for a future, only God knows when.
I wish it would dawn into everyone, how little she knows of Zen.
Meditations Of An Eagle
This breeze is gentle, my wings taut, my mind is completely aware of this
buoyant harmony.
Rectangular shapes I see below, created by man, for reasons beyond me.
This glorious sun contrasts this serene blue sky, on which the Lord
doodles upon with shades of white.
On the earth, man's geometric patterns contrast with nature's own, creating
a spectacular sight.
The wind is strong now and as I look down I see large black crisscrossing
serpents.
On their backs, move square bugs in straight lines, emitting black ugly
smog.
Lush green meadows, I suddenly pass with no human in the vicinity, for a
change.
Pecking on the grass are grazing cows, some pure white, some with
specks of brown.
Hills appear in close proximity, I streamline my body to move further into
the heavens.
The white toupee of the hills did fool me, for it is warm. Grateful am I for
the spring season!
Down below flow a green ocean of pines, on either side of this gorgeous
valley.
A mountain goat, probably lost solemnly walks his way quietly.
There is suddenly a noise of water against stone. It gets louder
Then I see it, from the cliff as it falls down on the rocks below, the pearly
white water.
Soaring below I go, my body responding reflexively to this parched beak I
had ignored until now.
I hit the water, feeling the shock.
Refreshed I rise as a large branch beckons me.
It is time for an overdue rest.
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