Of Purple Dreams (inspired by ‘Purple Dreams’ video by Murat Sayginer)

Be bathed in purple.
An eggtimer wheels through the lights.
The God in his element in the sea of being.
The Christ stands with cool and warm.

(Blue and Red make Purple).
At the end of the arcade, the arbour of maidens,
Markers of the Aquarian age
Sits a Buddha.

And so we go inside Him, our kaleidoscopic being.
And find the key, warm or cool, on the Tree of Staghorn.
Here is the Diamond Point of clarity.
If up is out, and down is in,
And an eggtimer marks gravity’s spin,
What would come forth from our imagination?

A slippery fish supplants time, the purple sea churns as
Everything else ‘outside’ spins, and red and blue, cool and warm
Become purple, become mellow, and the Third Eye light comes on
Within an incarnation in the universal age.

Inside my mind is installed the Purple Dream.
The figures of man, stag, keys, and diamond are withdrawn,
The transmission flickers for an instant,
And the Black Hole is driven in.

Grand Universe

You embody all beginnings at the heart of this place
The ever-slow, ever-fast pulsing of creation
From the core exploding outward, and there before the birth
The heaving contractions, the pregnancy, the Source.
You embody all beginnings at the heart of this place.

You know of the nature of this person and place.
Just as the stream ripples outwards, the dream streams
Into view, through an endless opening of beginnings anew.
You know the nature of this ‘worlds upon worlds’ universe,
And you know the nature of this hidden place too.

There you are the thought and the image and the word
And the name and the idea and the dream and the sound
Unheard – til in time’s many movements the manifest is music
Of the sounding of creation in multiple waveforms. Before
There you are the thought and the image and the word.

In this knowing we can imagine the harmony of God
As a voice and a breathing and a speaking of the form
Of the tongue and the dark mouth, cavities – the Void
That is pregnant with fullness, a plenum of ovum.
In this knowing we can imagine the body of God.

The God intersexual and omni and tri and multiple-partnered
The orgasm, the sigh in Love of all beings multiplying
The Void, the heart beating in two chambered harmony
In Love, in Love with any and all, all manner of being.
This God-soaked sexual thronging throe of Life.
30-5-16

Six Stanzas To Satya Sai Baba

In your hair are a hundred
Billion galaxies we know of
in the Expanding Universe

~ ~ ~

In the fringes of thy infinity
Is your halo aura of love
Blue light in the sky above me

~ ~ ~

In your cheeks are the fires
Of a thousand melting volcanoes
Supernovas

~ ~ ~

The rosy glow of a Goddess
Of infinite creation and a God
Of Ultimate Authority

~ ~ ~

As the Cosmos and Cosmic
Are tended in your Consciousness
By the fires of your Heart

~ ~ ~

In me in adoration of you
You are infinitely the part
And whole of me Thou Art

Blue Bird

You are blue you blue bird
Flying over the sea
Your white belly ripples
From its azure sheen

Your wings are warm sunsets
Your fingers aflame
You sail from that giant fireball in the sky
Sitting on the horizon

You sail to me
Standing looking at you on the beach
With my feet in the sand just standing
On the beach looking at you

You are blue you blue bird
The waves ripple you as you swoop
Down before me and sail up again
There on that beach in the sunset

You have touched me with your white belly
A reflection of me multi-coloured on that beach
In the sunset that sinks slowly over the horizon
My eyes on you and you flying before me

In great circles of light
You are blue you blue bird
You bring to me the peace and majesty of the ocean
You bring to me the way you fly free

 

Thanks, It’s A Pleasure To Be Here

I met a young man the other day, who
When he talked didn’t look once in your eye.
He had strange hand gestures as if to say
‘Can I show you over there, or to your
Seat’, his forearm stiff and level as though
A waiter complete with white hand towel, when
All we were talking of was at our feet,
The ginger plants and privet I had cleared.
 
His hand would scoop the air, and his eyes would
Follow, blinking with nervous energy.
A gentle man, my heart went out to him,
Hoping that I could touch with easy words
Warm enough to fill a hollow I sensed
In him, though wishing more I could simply
Give him a hug, or find those eyes to hold
In mine, and reassure him it was safe.
 
And later I pondered why I was so
Affected, and wondering what this man
Could see when his very presence was so
Unrested, his movements feints like he was
Refusing to believe he could just be
Here, and not somehow suggesting that by
Distracting my gaze, somewhere else was by
Far the better object of attention.
 
I know enough to know the battles I
Have won, and to admit that in this young
Man I saw in fact myself, my younger
One. In the general impression of
Memories, what stand out in colour are
The times alone, seedheads of tall grasses
That wave in the sun above my head as
I lay in happiness, sensing the earth.
 
It would seem a paradox otherwise
That interactions with most others were
Mostly a disguise, and the way many
Circumstances happened at random, the
Chance is, I’d surmise, that they were products
Of indirect words, quick furtive glances,
The memories blurred except for moments
When in bright flashes there was clear presence.
 
So when you say to me, ‘I’m glad you’ve come’:
‘Thanks, it’s a pleasure to be here’.
 
Society will wound us in varied
Ways. Over many years I’ve laid down more
Memories, interactive, full colour,
But what are the possibilities please?
I remember kayaking Waiheke
Island, hours on end with a longtime friend.
And we swam in winter on a remote
Rocky beach, crawling out onto the sand.
 
Naked around a driftwood fire I lost
The gift of speech. Atavistic urges
Surged in the meat of my frozen body,
And the fire and the pohutukawa
Trees breathed in me it seemed, and the full moon
Hung so clearly like a ball in the sky.
I felt like I was so fully here, or
At least, other times playing hide and seek.
 
So when you say to me, ‘I’m glad you’ve come’:
‘Thanks, it’s a pleasure to be here’.
 
‘Here’ is our galaxy of a thousand
Million star systems. ‘Here’ is why the Earth
Is a sphere, for no matter how far you
Can go away, really it just brings you
Back here. ‘Here’ is where our ancestors are,
For from the ‘here and now’, ‘there’ is then the
Hereafter, but even though ‘after’, we
Still remain here, never ‘taken’ by death.
 
Why is it so difficult to be here?
Is it because here is eternity
And infinity? What religions of
Doom have promised some celestial bliss,
‘Out of this world and into the next’, so
Never mind this, it’s just a short life, no
Gnosis, no deeper awareness, nothing
Like life’s journey with apotheosis.
 
There are many people who wait in queues
As they might be waiting for death: on pause,
Absent-minded, idling idly, nothing
Happening: except their life, rich around
Them, a story in signs and miracles
Mirroring, the flexibility by
Which if their awareness attended they
Might well abide in heavenly splendour.
 
How welcome it would seem not to be here,
To retreat into or out of this world,
Instead of marrying the eternal
Inner and outer, ensouling the world,
Considering the ‘suchness’ of ‘thisness’.
Discovering from synchronicities,
Sensory aliveness, intimacies,
And all manner of reciprocities,
 
Such that when I say to you, ‘I’m glad I’ve come’,
I can see it is your pleasure to be here.
 
 
6th July 2013