THE ARTIST

Eye am a messenger striving to be attentive…

The message is my art and,

As the first audience, I stand before its wholeness,

Savoring its content and meaning…

Lost in meditation like one in-front

Of divine presence,

Eye commune with the silent voice

Speaking through the artwork,

Watching, listening, and digesting all.

©2016

ART APPRECIATION

To appreciate an Artwork,

See it as a Temple or Holy Altar,

Approach it with an open mind and soul,

Recollect yourself in-front of the work as

One meditating on the wonders of creation,

Connect with the energy flowing from it and,

Let higher Order unveil the mysteries behind

The creativity…

©2016

ART

Eye link generations

As they come, live, and transcend to ‘eternity’

The spirit dwells and speaks through me,

I am divine…

Dictators confiscate make, crisis make me great,

Religion make me their holy icon, the sage keep me safe,

I live in the soul of them that open the door of their imagination,

I am spiritual, I am physical, and I am bold,

Archaeology search for me,

Them call me treasure,

I am immortal,

I am ART,

©2016

My country is a jungle

A kiss is a bite; a hug is a fight,

A handshake is a bet; our existence is a gamble,

Mr. Eagle dwells atop the rock watching over us,

The eaglets prowl the streets spying on us,

Their vulture friends sing and dance alleluia

Round the rock,

And every Wednesdays they assemble to share the

Milk of the bleeding national cow,

Their weaver bird friends sing their praises

With voices cracked by soured wine of the Eagle king

And his hyena bodyguards,

Their squirrel friends pray for them, eat their food,

And come to the public like Pontus Pilate,

My country is a Jungle

The grass is too rough for the goats: they want fresh fish,

The bone is too hard for the lions; they want milk and honey,

The barking dogs have their tails cut,

The rampaging elephants got their testicles broken,

The parrots have their throat cut,

Yet, Mr. Eagle and his entourage fly round the world

Singing alleluia about this jungle

Where life is sorrow and death is a feast.

©2011

WHERE WE STAND

 

 

In this desert we stand,

Forward is as far as backward

Hope,

That antidote for unseen tomorrow green,

Has become a desolate yesterday dry.

Nothing remains,

but dust and, the wind.                                

© 2001