O Scorpion Butterfly, Why?

So soon back into your cocoon, dear butterfly,
But why when so quickly you die if you do not
Spread your wings and fly? Did you even try?
Ah, so you did but now you’ve hidden yourself
From what you think to be a cold, cruel world
Instead of being bold
And have you told yourself you’re now safer
Ensconced away in your shell? Who can tell?
But for awhile you flew, blew through the air
So free and fair, but couldn’t stand the glare
Of the light of truth that shows us what is ugly
As well as beauty; that illuminates our duty
As well as how we may play in the bright day!
No, you hated this so you baited others
To sing your praise and so to amaze you
With adoration for your self-adulation . . .
It was contrived exaltation
In a pitiful self-idolization!
Then did someone dare tell you an awful truth
That clipped your wings? Did they fail to sing
Of your charm and beauty and harm your ego?
Is this why you retreated from this world
And reseated yourself in your ity cocoon?
By why now do you fly out at night to bite
At ones who befriended you? So very trite!
So ghostlike to strike at them then hide again
To begin planning your next covert assault,
But is it really their fault that you fell
After so many honest warning bells?
And tell me, what do you really gain
By trying to cause pain to bygone friends,
In your churning and burning, to try staining
Unsullied reputations caused by disputation
Within your own soul with an unfilled hole?
Nothing . . . you do not even please yourself
In trying to appease your anger and grief
That came from so brief an early sojourn!
You chose your cocoon, again, dear butterfly,
And so do you die because you will not fly,
But do not blame your shame on all others –
On me – for what you have now chosen to be!


Sister, O Sister

Did you use her all up, then decide to lose her?
Did you lace your speech with love to leech,
And then dare to preach to her about her faults
Before vaulting out of her life until you found
Yourself in need again? Then you would plead,
And explain your most dire situation, tiring her
Into another donation of time, money, effort . . .
And then what? You’d hurry away and scurry
To your friends ~ your real family ~ leaving
Behind your sister who has always loved you
Above your greed and constant need, who ne’er
Would heed the words of others to cut you off;
But you’ve found your pound of flesh elsewhere
And so you’ve shut her out instead, though she
Would minister to you on your bed of sickness
Even now. . . O sister! Your heart is blistered!
Not one call or card or anything at all for her,
For the one who has done so much for you!
But you will rue the day you carved her out
Of your life, now so rife with pain, and there
Will be no gain for you in pious apologies, no!
In the starvation of your own blackened soul
You’ve performed an unthinkable castration
Laying the foundation for future frustration
And privation of genuine love ~ sisterly love;
But your familial deprivation will have come
From you own degradation and reprobation;
O sister! You’ve thrown away your own sister!
And bitter will be the whisper of your heart
When the day comes that you really need that

Angelica, Angelica! Why have you flown so high
Only to be blown so low by those who crucify?

Say What You Say About Me, About You

Say, does it matter who you say I am today,
Or tomorrow or next week however bleak?
I am who I am, tis true, but I am not what
I will yet be – the brand new me – you see,
So what you think of me makes me blink
And wink, not sink into stinking despair
With no hope of emotional repair; in fact,
I dare say that what you say about me says
More about you than you really care to say
About yourself! Wouldn’t you say it’s true?
But if only you knew I do care about you
– The true you and not the mask in which
You bask – then knowing might lead you
To showing, my caring to your fully baring
Yourself to me, saying what there is to say
About you rather than saying all that you
Think you have to say about me instead…
So let it be! In truth about you, come to me.

‘Merry’ in Muck and Mire

Have you ever noticed how some people stuck
In muck and mire and require the most help
Insistently complain but with persistence
Refuse any and all assistance in an almost
Rebellious resistance? They treat the muck
Like so much bad luck and the mire very much
Like hellfire, but they don’t want out because
It’s what they’re all about; and yes, the muck
Sucks out all of their joy, and the mire makes
Them squires of despair, but this has become
To them the very air they breathe, and they
Want no repair of the situation because oddly
Enough it gives them identification; and how
Do you prove to such an intractable individual
That it is their destination, more than their
Situation, that gives them real identification?
Sometimes, oftentimes, you cannot persuade
These souls so fraught with many troubles that
To them have become like precious gems, and
So waste no more time expending your efforts
In extending mercy… Beware and take care,
For one day you may find yourself drowning
In the very same dire muck and mire! Beware!

Goodbye, My Friend, Goodbye

Ah! why did you leave, my friend?  How it grieves my soul,
Knowing you received my love, then bled my heart and fled!
Was it something I said? Did I speak out of turn and burn
Your heart? Though I never tried to charm, I meant no harm,
But did I somehow alarm your mind, unarm your intellect,
Causing you to reflect on who and what your are, not some
Guiding star but only flesh and blood, fresh from mud-soil,
In your place of endless turmoil of your very own making,
Forsaking reality for the cream of cosmic dreams that ne’er
Reach this earth, womb of your birth? Yet true friends do
Speak truth, do they not? Or have you forgot what is meant
By honest companionship? Ah! But you cut me off so neatly
And very completely without hesitation and no explanation!
And am I to cry or simply, soberly say ‘goodbye?’ I sigh…
Goodbye, my friend … goodbye


There is One closer than mother, father, brother or sister;
There is One who cares and sends the fair winds and rain;
There is One who walks and talks in softly whisper tones;
This One is companion, no phantom, who feeds in famine,
Nor leaves you a lonely gamin; this One does not abandon.


Note: “Companion” was the word for the day

Freedom From the Storm

Lost in the whirlwind of blackened confusion from illusion
Of profusion of nightmares when the sun is rightly shining
Ever so brightly all around, but you’re bound by the sound
Of your cries no matter how hard you try to laugh and smile;
But smiles come in the rain, even with pain; and laughter
Is promised after the storm has passed, so set you feet on
Granite where your feet land like a magnet pull unto truth
That sets you at full liberty in the mystery-liturgy of life;
And there will be no more tears, no more fears as you come
Into your own, as your own, liberated from pain and shame
What came from such hurtful pain, and love’ll be your gain,
This time from above where heavenly Dove sings and brings
Pristine pure gift sure to satisfy the depths of your soul,
Filling the hole that some other could only fill with frills
Of charm that could only harm and chill you to your bones
Like cold, dead stones, for who can be so free when they’re
Enwrapped in their own chains of pain and such suffering?
But now, if only you can see, you are free to simply BE!

Step out from the Storm now; reform your own new destiny!


Note: Dedicated to my good friend and fellow poet, Nandita! All the best to you with immeasurable blessings … and peace.