Very interesting perspective. I've been wondering about cells and their splitting into sister cells, which brings to mind, where does the archetype of "Mother" come in? We can know Jesus through Mary, the first person to hear her Son say, "I thirst" on the cross. What role does she play in our biology? Is it insight or narcissism that makes me think that Mothers can lead the change in the world? It wouldn't be hard to band together as sisters, the wisest (or most immune, or most confident) graciously paving the way. One mother speaks loud and they hear her, then follow. At least someone knows what our purpose can be, raising children with their spirits intact, lessons in biology, visions of creation. Sorry, I had a good day of shoveling, the sun was shining, the snow light and fluffy, very reflective.

However did you get so good..hmmmmm you must be a gift from the Gods!

Love

Tammy,

Yes, I think his poetic words are very romantic. Refreshing...and not syrupy.

Trish~~

Jesk #1:

I agree that the Feminine Nurturing Heart in both men and women can "lead the change" in this world. Thanks for sharing your sunny day in the snow. Our snow melted after a day of quiet and peaceful blanketing.

Trish~~

resonant THOUGHT AND the dwelling PLACE OF RADIANT MINDS

Words waltz
your neuro molecules dance
you pour out trash on hash
hallucinate on mescaline
see unfolding of divine
creation in procreation
and what more, don't ask -
you'll do tango and samba
and waltz in one dance.

Dear Arsenio,

Here's a poem of Langston Hughes. He might have taken a vow. Have you too?

Seems like what drives me crazy
Don't have no effect on you,
So I'm going to keep on at it,
Till it drives you crazy too.

The sub atomic particles that make up the atoms that group together to create the structures that combine to make all the material things in the universe are always and in all ways in a joining, maintaining and then dissapating paisley patterned dance so beautiful that there are no adjectives that can describe it. And yet we see that those who are so aware/enlightened/cosmic-conscious/etc and have the option to perceive this wonder of wonders often argue among themselves instead
of delighting in the precious realization of this most obvious and yet most illusive reality. It makes one wonder!

Dear Arsenio

Most of my reading of poetry has been limited to what I read in my school text.

But, when I open my eyes,
...I see Poetry dissolving in the Air,
paintings drawn in the sky,
...and, on the surface of the lake, ...everyday !

What can I do ...

I see a magic when I look into my son's eyes,
...I see a magic, when, I see kids playing on grass.

...the kids made-up of Molecules - Carbon, Oxygen and ...Hydrogen!

I smell the flowers,
...so much fragrance, essence,
...so ethereal, ...so divine.

..., just made up of about 100% empty space,
...and few energy waves.

And, I say, ...Wah, Wah,
I too am ...just the Same space
...and, same Wave.

...and, even our proportion in same !!
just slight change in symphony and ...tune ...

And, with that background, ...O my dear Arsenio,
...Here is a series of some potentially quite boring Prose/Poetry ...

I see the warm golden sun of winter,
...spread in the garden.

The cherries have bloomed,
...white and pink.

The grass on the mountain,
...has turned green.

The floating clouds,
...the blue sky.

I see a tiny bird, ...fly !

The birds are singing,
...I don't know Why !

The standing tree,
...the shaking leaves and the cool breeze passing by.

I see the palm trees standing,
...the sky utter still.

....

When the sun reflects on water,
...when the breeze passes through the leaves.

I don't know what happens ...

but, ...my heart sings in joy,
I don't know why.

When I see the rays filter through the leaves,
...and dance on the ground.

when I hear bird music,
... the ocean waves sound.

When I touch soft cheeks of my son,
...when I bury my nose into its cushiony soft silk.

I don't know what happens,
...why my heart fills with joy.

When the cool breeze touches my skin,
when I see the glitter in my darling's eyes.

....

My darling,
...so cuddly, so smooth.

So silky, so warm, so liquid, so full of divine juice.

My darling, ...just made-up of Flesh, blood and ...bones

What can I do ...
Shout magic, ...magic, ...magic ...

I see the moon deep in lake,
...forming and scattering as the waves form and move on the surface.

The moon that is Not really there ...

Multicolor Clouds that are just floating vapor ...

Rainbow that is ...really Nowhere,
...yet, it fills my heart with joy,
my limbs with dance,
...my lips with song.

What can I do ...?

The girl on the train,
...her one smile, ...even her just holding still ...

Makes my heart flutter,
...make it liquid, ethereal warm ...

Even when, I close my eyes.

I sink so Deep within,
...that the world loses its place.

...yet, nothing really passes, ...Nothing really change

What can I do ...

magic, magic, ...magic ...

Just few electron, protons, neutrons,
...yes, I too have read, ...Yes, I too am supposed to know.

My son,
...such a beautiful smile,
I see the universe when he opens his mouth,
...his 4 tiny teeth like the most beautiful treasures.

My son,
...just made up of hydrogen, carbon and ...Oxygen.

What can I do ...
I shout, ...Magic, magic, ...this is Sheer Magic !

I hear the music,
...and it feels so divine.

It takes me somewhere deep,
...somewhere divine, ...somewhere within.

Yet, it is just my ear drums, ...beating,
...Yes, ...I too have read !!

So what can I do, ...you say !!!

I too am supposed to be about 100% just empty space, ...Nothing,
....even scientifically, physically, ...You know.

...and, so is supposed to be everything,
just like me in ...different shape.

Yet, I see all these colors,
so many shapes and forms,
...and hear so many sounds,

...so, the magic, magic, ...magic, ...each time I shout !!!

What to do ...

Broken Light:
Work, for the Night is Coming

Black milk of daybreak, we drink it at evening
– Paul Celan, "Deathfugue"

The children were walking to school. The young people were going out to a dance.

The children stepped on a booby trap planted by a soldier. The young people were shredded by the nails of a suicide bomb. They were all blown up, destroyed.

One moment, the force of life animated their biological matter, their brains seethed with billions of electrical impulses, the matrix of consciousness brought the entire universe into being, within them, within each of them, each solitary vessel of knowing.

The next moment, only the matter remained: inert, coagulated, decaying. There was no more knowing, no more being; the universe had come to an end.

Why?

We drink it at midday and morning; we drink it at night

They would have us believe it is because Ishmael warred with Jacob. They would have us believe it is because this or that Divine Will requires it. They would have us believe it is because ethnicity or nationality or religion or some other arbitrary accretion of history and happenstance must override both the innumerable commonalities of all human beings and the radical, irreplaceable uniqueness of each individual.

They would have us believe anything other than the truth: that everyone and everything will die; that all nations, ethnicities, religions and structures will fall away into rubble, into nothingness, and be forgotten; that even the planet itself will be reduced to atoms and melt away, like black milk, into the cold deeps of empty space. And in the face of this truth, nothing matters ultimately but each specific, fleeting instance of individual being, the shape we give to each momentary coalescence of atomic particles into a particular human situation.

That's all we have. That's all there is. That's what we kill when we murder someone. That's what we strangle when we keep them down with our boot on their throat.

We drink and we drink

Is it not time to be done with lies at last? Especially the chief lie now running through the world like a plague, putrescent and vile: that we kill each other and hate each other and drive each other into desperation and fear for any other reason but that we are animals, forms of apes, driven by blind impulses to project our dominance, to strut and bellow and hoard the best goods for ourselves. Or else to lash back at the dominant beast in convulsions of humiliated rage. Or else cravenly to serve the dominant ones, to scurry about them like slaves, picking fleas from their fur, in hopes of procuring a few crumbs for ourselves.

That's the world of power – the "real world," as its flea-picking slaves and strutting dominants like to call it. It's the ape-world, driven by hormonal secretions and chemical mechanics, the endless replication of protein reactions, the unsifted agitations of nerve tissue, issuing their ignorant commands. There's no sense or reason or higher order of thought in it – except for that perversion of consciousness called justification, self-righteousness, which gussies up the breast-beating ape with fine words and grand abstractions.

And so the fine words and breast-beating goes on and on – prosperity, freedom, holiness, security, justice, glory, our people, our homeland, God's will be done, we will prevail.

We shovel a grave in the air where you won't lie too cramped

Beyond the thunder and spectacle of this ape-roaring world is another state of reality, emerging from the murk of our baser functions. There is power here, too, but not the heavy, blood-sodden bulk of dominance. Instead, it's a power of radiance, of awareness, connection, breaking through in snaps of heightened perception, moments of encounter and illumination that lift us from the slime.

It takes ten million forms, could be in anything – a rustle of leaves, the tang of salt, a bending blues note, the sweep of shadows on a tin roof, the catch in a voice, the touch of a hand, a line from Sappho or John Clare. Any particular, specific combination of ever-shifting elements, always unrepeatable in its exact effect and always momentary. Because that's all there is, that's all we have – the moments.

The moments, and their momentary power – a power without the power of resistance, defenseless, provisional, unarmed, imperfect, bold. The ape-world's cycle of war and retribution stands as the image of the world of power; what can serve as the emblem of this other reality? A kiss, perhaps: given to a lover, offered to a friend, bestowed on an enemy – or pressed to the brow of a murdered child.

Both worlds are within us, of course, like two quantum states of reality, awaiting our choice to determine which will be actuated, which will define the very nature of being – individually and in the aggregate, moment by moment. This is our constant task, for as long as the universe exists in the electrics of our brains: to redeem each moment or let it fall. Some moments will be won, many more lost; there is no final victory. There is only the task.

We drink you at morning and midday; we drink you at night

So do we counsel fatalism, a dark, defeated surrender, a retreat into bitter, curdled quietude? Not a whit. We advocate action, positive action, unstinting action, doing the only thing that human beings can do, ever: Try this, try that, try something else again; discard those approaches that don't work, that wreak havoc, that breed death and cruelty; fight against everything that would draw us down again into our own mud; expect no quarter, no lasting comfort, no true security; offer no last word, no eternal truth, but just keep stumbling, falling, careening, backsliding, crawling toward the broken light.

And what is this "broken light"? Nothing more than a metaphor for the patches of understanding – awareness, attention, knowledge, connection – that break through our darkness and stupidity for a moment now and then. A light always fractured, under threat, shifting, found then lost again, always lost. For we are creatures steeped in imperfection, in breakage and mutation, tossed up – very briefly – from the boiling, chaotic crucible of Being, itself a ragged work in progress toward unknown ends, or rather, toward no particular end at all. Why should there be an "answer" in such a reality?

This and this alone is the only "ideology" behind these writings, which try at all times to fight against the compelling but ignorant delusion that any single economic or political or religious system – indeed, any kind of system at all devised by the seething jumble of the human mind – can completely encompass the infinite variegations of existence. What matters is what works – what pulls us from our own darkness as far as possible, for as long as possible. Yet the truth remains that "what works" is always and forever only provisional – what works now, here, might not work there, then. What saves our soul today might make us sick tomorrow.

Thus all we can do is to keep looking, working, trying to clear a little more space for the light, to let it shine on our passions and our confusions, our anger and our hopes, informing and refining them, so that we can see each other better, for a moment – until death shutters all seeing forever.

from www.chris-floyd.com

"Seems like what drives me crazy
Don't have no effect on you,
So I'm going to keep on at it,
Till it drives you crazy too."
~Langston Hughes

Tomas #7

"Can you imagine how many molecules it takes to enable the sublime experience of a kiss?" ~Arsenio
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Suicide's Note
by Langston Hughes

The calm,
Cool face of the river
Asked me for a kiss.

Marvelous story, pete!

To continue the series of Poetry/Prose, O my dear Arsenio.... And, after thousand experiments ...

I still wonder how Hydrogen and Oxygen becomes cool liquid water,
...how the embryo becomes child,
how the seed grows into a Plant.

How the dark soil smells so nice in fragrant rose,
...how exploding atoms look like shinning stars.

How rays passing through vapor becomes beautiful rainbow,
...how it becomes orange on touching the cloud.

I still wonder on, ...the sound of rain drops,
...the songs of birds feel me with me Awe!

...and, yes, Streisand, John, Springsteen too ...

I don't know, ...how just beating of ear drums,
...makes so much music, ...makes so many sounds.

yes, I have hear it Over and ...Over !!!

I feel spellbound,
...when my heart feels sad,
where that sadness was Before ....!

I feel awed,
...when it gets soaked with love.

I wonder,
...at the magic of the dance,
after all, ...it is just movement of feet.

I wonder at Noise,
...I wonder at ...Peace .

I am Emptiness,
...yes, even physically, scientifically ...

I don't understand when the music enter this emptiness,
...how do I feel.

The music bubbling in ...the emptiness,
the light dispersing in the space,
...the fragrance dissolving in the Air.

All the magic of few waves,
...and, I too is just one of them ...

Utter emptiness,
...except this music wave,
...just this movement of dance,
just this fragrant smell ...
...just this sight of smile.

Yes, ...I am utterly Amazed,
...every Moment of the Day !~

~~~~~~~ ... ~~~~~~~~~

"Can you imagine how many molecules it takes to enable the sublime experience of a kiss?"

~Arsenio

*****

Arsenio, I love your poetry.

My imagination is going wild at this moment. When it calms down, you'll find the answer here:

http://www.intentbog.rediffiland.com/

Ref #22 and 23

New IntenBog

Arsenio, sorry. The correct link is:
http://intentbog.rediffiland.com/

******

Anne, thanks for the correction. Could you please advise how to tighten the lines there - to reduce the spacing between them.

******

Tammy, thanks for visiting the new IntentBog. You will find the hot stuff you like, there!

Well .... what an interesting treat! I thought Pete's story was wild and enjoyed it ;-) as much as Arsenio's dancing words, and Sandeep's love songs, and the .com story that Nicevenn shared. et. al. Thanks! ... it does make one wonder or rather ponder.

Love, Char

Entropy eternally,
I know your flow well,
From end to end,
and orbit drawn,
the circle of stellar spheres.

Your poems --
Some lunatic
At work