Rising Light of Reason

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Recorded Reading (2:18):

https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/ua9iaid5znusoxe191c0l/Ode-to-Silliness.mp3?rlkey=e084yz96g71dyiuw6vpgopv3j&st=nsspb9xg&dl=0

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Ode to Silliness

O silliness! We clutch our stomachs hard
Wiping tears from every streaming eye,
Waving weak hands before us, so to ward
Away nearer approach ~ then these belie

By pitching yet another ludicrous
And inapt comment out into the ring,
Just when control was coming back to us
We our adulthoods were remembering,

Demeanors regaining some dignity,
Semi hysteria brought into line
By reassumed respectability —
So soon to know another steep decline!

For so it goes in silly company; so go,
Fleeting and far, ones hopes of near reprieve;
Panting requests at least the pace to slow
Commonly short, short, short, short shrift receive

Shorter even than, post-Napolian,
Measured the great Egyptian Sphinx’s nose,
Shorter than whatever’s inside that can
Which with the flour and the sugar goes

You know that guy who’s s’posed to stop the ball?
Shorter than him. Yep. So short that it has
Upon the help of faithful kin to call
Whenever it would like to reach its ~ television antenna…

Shorter than TV shows between the breaks.
You picture what I’m talkin ‘bout? Not tall
By any standards ‘cept the bugs’ and snakes’ ~
You wouldn’t have to train it up a wall

Or prop it up, or buy for it a cane
Or call a mobile nurse or Meals on Wheels
Until it could go out of doors again
(Next week we’ll check again, see how it feels)

~ None of that stuff ~ that’s how completely short
Silly companions have been often known
The importuned recession to abort ~
Yet thinking they had great compassion shown!

No, on deep thought (just try it, you will see)
I think, for the preserve of sanity
(For whate’er worth ones sanity may be)
We should keep very ser’ious company!

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Recorded Reading (1:08):

https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/y0bvd0gzytn10rp0aancg/A-Fail.mp3?rlkey=dxa3aqoeq2g18xqcjei2bqcd5&st=gp919vu3&dl=0

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A Fail

I have been here working
My planet and my brethren for
Seeing their potential,
Seeing through that open door

With, shining bright beyond it,
True human community ~
Which now I have to say
I find unlikelier to be

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Recorded Reading (0:57):

https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/zws2iy4zv63snx14ch2n7/Gave-Direction-Up.mp3?rlkey=rr1ac52c507hl96ri4etjvjq8&st=2xzaswqw&dl=0

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Gave Direction Up

I spoke, and I was heard constructively
In the good spirit of my words’ intent —
No misunderstanding destructively
Obscured the message which they by were meant

Now let me think — what was the difference
Between it and another choice of word
Permits my intended beneficence
By the receiver clearly to be heard?

Remembering, first, humbly ‘twas I asked
That wisdom might descend that word into,
And having done that, after, I relaxed
And let the truth of love come shining through

Perhaps ‘twere my mere feet that pathway trod ~
I gave direction of them up to God

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Recorded Reading (1:17):

https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/3t0irj420qaf88vxio1om/The-Great-Eccentrics.mp3?rlkey=g01c0p73k2f880eah3a8qwi3a&st=dldf6fsj&dl=0

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The Great Eccentrics

Einstein’s wife did all his math
For he had failed the class
When he was back in High School ~
She was a mental lass

And he drank all his life,
Bought from young women of his town,
Human mothers’ milk
He really guzzled that stuff down!

Carl Jung had two wives, each were
The other’s bestest bosom sister ~
Each to the other would defer,
Her household happiness prefer

He smoked every day, and when
He laughed it was so merrily
Folks would walk up from the street
To see what happiness be

Founding Father Franklin bathed
In his birthday suit
At his window every day
He didn’t give a hoot

And Joseph Campbell never watched
A movie or TV
So nothing would disturb
His philosophic reverie

If any of these wise ones tried
To function modern life beside
In our numb automatic day —
Genius would be put away

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There is no recorded reading of this poem because, even after a full device restart followed by a five minute shutdown, the poet’s hacked device refused to upload it.

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Dancers

One sunny morning, walking by
A tiny venue, thought to try
Flamenco dance put on that day
We’d, after all, come out to play
And this seemed just as good a way
As any other might belie

So we two bought the tickets to,
Of all the shows I’ve sat unto,
One of the finest, ‘cut above’
Full unto its brimming of
Beauty, grace and, yes, of love
Grand in every way to view

That theater would barely fit
Fifty people into it,
The flamenco troupe was small
Three dancers, a musician, all ~
But what a show! What vim, what gall
For we fortunate sit!

This was a little family
Which for three generations be
Immersed lifelong in the romance
Of strictly traditional dance
Giving we moderns the chance
To glimpse a vanishing reality

Their patriarch first crossed the stage
In dignity befitting age
Clad well in but a well-cut suit
Striding in tradit’ional boot
Their musician then was mute
And audience sufficient sage

Its own respectful hush maintain
Until he disappeared again
Satisfied that all was well
And then ~ it pleasure is to tell ~
Before the music start to swell
A daughter of exquisite Spain

Calmly walked the curtain from
And, as her theater become
Instaneous beguiled,
To front center stage defiled
Where she simply stood, and smiled,
To see her audience become

Instantly upon its feet
Her femininity to greet
And as this poet well recall
Those lauds surprised the dancer not at all
She knew it had been worth it all
That single smile, serene and sweet…

The music, too, was genuine
From a culture where hath been
Music quite a different thing
Than expectation to it bring
Those whom of softer living sing ~
This voice had Nature’s harshness seen

On land from which its life must force ~
The dreaded blight, the dying horse,
Unforgiving patriarchy
In childhood learned at father’s knee
Which ever be the enemy
Of young love, making that voice hoarse

Its visceral, gutteral cry
Existence brutal to deny,
Flinging in the face of it
One man’s body ~ hardy, fit
Indominatable grit
To carve out an existence by!

After which we see begun
Entrance of the lead dancer, son
Star and hope of family,
Their beautiful tradition be
Preserved fourth generation see ~
Again, mere presence by him won

That hush with which full awe express
An audience performers bless
With true evanescence of
Artists so passionate in love
Their contribution place above
Distraction, danger and duress

And with such dedication burn
That by its practice now they earn
A gravitas belying age
A moving, breathing, living page
Of sacred text upon the stage
By which we watchers glad relearn

The ancient and eternal ways
In which the holy Tantra plays
Among us all, eternally:
The sky welcomes the growing tree
And soil by sprout pierced happily
Each generation next to raise

He, entering, a jacket wore
Which surely must have weighed much more
Than any dancer might endure
While keeping every motion sure
Its each emotion plainly pure ~
He must remove its gems before

Their spectacular sparking
About his lean, dark form will bring
Too much fatigue that form unto
The while its audience well view
Each gesture he will treat them to ~
He must unclip the eagle’s wing!

So, having given us the chance
To savor his magnificence,
He looked around as though to seek
Someone with whom he thought to speak,
Arresting his circular peek
As if by mere coincidence

At sight of a thirteen year old
Sitting by her mother ~ bold,
Protective of her daughter ~ and
Taking his jacket in his hand
Strode before that girl to stand
And laid upon her lap for her to hold

The jacket, which she gladly took
Giving her, after, such a look
His newly shirtsleeved shoulder o’er
As caused the mom to fur’ious glow’r ~
He instant did that child empow’r ~
When, womanly, she turns to look

For he who will her passion be
She’ll know what she desires to see
And that’s more than her mother had
Desired she know, so, hopping mad,
Imperious her daughter baid
On her own lap the jacket needs must be!

I laughed and laughed then, inwardly
That liberated child to see
For everybody has the right
Explore until they find delight
No matter how sadly uptight
Controlling factors be!

For we whom fortune there prefer
Honored by that performance were
Never might we have asked for more
From dancers moving on a floor
For all of Life played out before
Us, deep emotion to incur

Ecstacy, wonder, heartbreak, loss
In graceful graciousness there was
Unrolled in panorama to
Appreciative, wondering view
Such small-paid blessing given to
Those lucky few of us!


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Along with the original works featured on this site, this poet offers a whole little magazine of quotation and commentary along with forwarded essays, articles and poetry, at:

https://substack.com/@anadaksina

Please enjoy!

*****

I heard something very wise when I was young: that in this life our relationships are created to balance karma, to serve and assist, to learn. Once those goals are achieved between two souls the relationship tends to drift apart. The speaker thought that properly executed and interpreted such an event indicates not failure, as we label it, but success.

The trouble comes in that we have created social structures in which love is so circumscribed that it barely manages to exist, and we are expected to maintain any source of it indefinitely by remaining within its limits, which either party may naturally grow away from at any time. Like imprisoning a healthy seedling in a glass box. We have to give reasons for the drifting, the way we used to have to do before no fault divorce. Makes things unnecessarily painful.

I have so been there ~ you are not alone. People advanced in connection with self tend to go through it more than most. The clearer you see yourself, the clearer you see others, and they feel it deeply ~ all their charades stripped away, soul bare. After a while, one look into your silent eyes becomes unendurable to them, and search for blameworthy excuses begins…