Selected Poems

Not a Real Poem

Not a poet,
Just speaking my mind,
Emancipating secrets,
Out of their bind.

Thinking out loud,
Coming in words,
Landing in hearts,
Striking chords.

Speaking the truth,
I have no fear,
If cynics complain,
The poems aren’t real.

Not a poet,
Not knowing what to say,
Poems found me,
Along the way.

Not a poem,
But cutting like swords,
Unleashing the truth
With simple words.

The Big Bang

Once before a time,
when uni yet to compose a verse,
causality was just a dream,
longing to immerse.

When non-existence
was the only reality,
and there was no hint
of any duality.

When being
was just an intention,
an explosion of light
unraveled dimensions.

Without further ado
or any forewarn,
the world
was just born.

Universe came into being
from a nil,
an endless sky and galaxies,
stars to fill.

When the clock of time
began to tick,
nothing could disregard
the rule of logic.

When the seed of life
started to grow,
the spark of life
enlightened with a glow.

All the revelations
raised a key question,
an unsolved riddle
begged for suggestion.

What was the purpose
of all the successions?
How a temptation
turned into expressions?

What was the resolve
for making this world?
To make it just
to worship the lord?

What beside love
could be more alluring?
To offer a return
on investment assuring.

If it was not for
the love of making,
what could explain
all the painstaking?

Since love is
the reason for being,
how could we ignore
the love we are seeing?

The unconditional love,
no strings attached,
that by no measure
could ever be matched.

To Whom I Owe the Pleasure

To whom I owe, the pleasure for living,
for who I am, for the share of my being.

Do I owe for lacking faith,
or do I owe for adding wealth?

Do I owe for a thinking mind,
or do I owe for better health?

How do I pay what I owe,
if I don’t even know

what or when pay is due?
God, I wish I just knew.

An old friend once said,
the best quote he ever heard:

"To live happily ever after
owes only love and laughter."

I am proud I don’t owe
not a dime to friends or foe.

But—

how on earth do we not owe
the love and joy that makes us grow?

We all owe to ourselves,
a big heart that reserves,

a corner for our passion,
to ground us in compassion.

To remind us with each beat:
Love and joy are a two-way street.

The only things that we all owe,
the only debt that we must grow,

are love and joy, and nothing else—
for everyone and ourselves.

The land called love

Once a rational mind
sat next to the heart.
It had a puzzle
it couldn’t outsmart.

Mind asked politely,
its puzzling question:
"What is love?"
Waiting for suggestion.

Heart replied
in a gentle tone:
"A good answer
is yet to be known.

In my eyes,
love is a land.
Once you step in,
it’s a quicksand.

You feel thirsty,
you see water.
But it’s a mirage,
don’t bother.

Your hands are tied
with chains of loyalty.
You pay the price,
taxes and royalty.

You’re in a prison
with no bar.
You’re a passenger
in a crazy car.

With a tight blindfold,
it shuts your eyes.
So you cannot see
your fall and demise.

Logic and reason
are long gone.
Ignoring with grace
is the rule of the town."

The mind was baffled,
more questions to ask.
The unsolved puzzle
became an impossible task.

Mind asked: "If love
is like this,
why do so many people
fall under its bliss?

Why should love
be so revered?
Worshipped like a god,
praised and cheered."

Heart replied
in a gentle tone:
"Love’s reputation
is not overblown.

The reason I said
things in this way,
was so you’d grasp
how love can play.

We all know
for us to be here,
love is the reason,
hope over fear.

When love reaches
its highest pike,
a rapture of joy
finally spike.

A new you
will be born.
Creation comes
without a warn.

If you could see
just for a moment,
what true love is,
you’d be its proponent."

My Mistake

I saw my friend a few days past.
He was so upset with the newscast.
The war, politics, and hunger—
he could not take it any longer.

He said: "The world is nothing but a mess.
If there is a God, he should be ashamed of this place.
How can we imagine, he is in charge,
when there is no fairness, no justice at large?"

"People are dying and suffering everywhere."
He was suffocating, gasping for air.

Then I started thinking straight,
If there is a director for our fate.
Why is He letting us live in hell,
when he could solve all problems so well?

Why has he kept heaven so far away,
that the only path there is to pass away?

Then I thought to myself a second time:
If there is a God, what kind do I want?
Do I want a God who gives hope by faith,
or one who delivers all wishes straight?

Do I want him showing my lies to my face,
or the one who conceals my faults with his grace?
Do I want him to prevent all my mistakes,
or let me make them and learn from their stakes?

Do I want a perfect world, fully staged,
or a flawed one to keep me engaged?
Pain and suffering provide me tasks,
a place of work, a job to do, if someone asks.

Do I want a God who answers my praying,
or one ensuring I get my fair sharing?
Would it be fair if he made my wish come true,
while ignoring others for the sake of a few?

Do I want him to elevate me to perfection,
or set the bar and leave me to reflection?

The one who loves me even when I’m flawed,
the one who supports me even when I’m a fraud.
The one who believes in me when I won’t,
the one who trusts in me when I don’t.

Then I realized the world could not be more just,
when anything but cause and effect is bust.
His lack of meddling makes him fair,
when we think about it in despair.

I feel he is here, close and in charge
Even when we feel he is missing at large.