Everything changes
and the truth turns away
to protect those little dreams
from the touch of the world
To let them be
as there are meant to be
at peace, complete
in silence
For them to exist
as all of them have,
in the hold of the universe
rotating, revolving
still,
like the stars,
dancing, spinning
turning
laughing
playing,
each in her own place,
in the universe.
Here we are.
Priyanka
26th March 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Mantra
Bless those eyes
Bless that heart
Bless the breathing
Bless the art
Cover those eyes
Cover that heart
Open the breathing
Soften the art.
Stop the coughing
Stop the cheering
Stop the choking
Start the breathing
Soften the stone
It can’t stop seething
with utter cold hardness
with snake-cold kneading
Temper the leather
Temper the wood
Temper the air
which comes in as my food
Remove the bitter
destructive question
Remove the lying
betraying digestion
of how things are.
Beyond the mind
past the inverted
colored reflection
Past the lens
Past the protection
The truth of nature
free of dissection
Let her breathing
come in through the waves
and the shuddering shivering
wind in the trees.
Stop the cold
Stop the machine
Stop the harsh voice
Its only a dream
Let there be sunlight
Let there be motion
Let there be breathing
Through all my devotion
Let there be truth
Let there be freedom
Let there be peace
Like a summer’s hot ocean
With burning gold waves
and the vaporous air
rising softly
to the blistering sun
casting reflections
casting illusions
forgetting reasons
untying nooses.
Living and dying
right under the sea
Carry me to lightness
O let me be free.
Question
I see your words
and see they are true
but for you.
Question now,
question everything,
question the names
you seem to have given.
For as I never knew
You must again not know
As the elements twist,
We must let go,
lest an Unconditioning
become a Reconditioning
In words I play,
a game I don't know,
and in silence I watch
paintings of my life
projected from the eyes
of people I know.
They don't matter,
any more
than raindrops in the leaves.
Looking forward
to the next story,
leaves your eyes unfocused
At a twisted dimension of space and time,
far away, as a dream
is our vision of the future;
Yet those dreams are not
events of the future,
only happening
in the now.
Looking back
Is seeing the fallen leaves
Of a newly blooming tree,
Is the watching of a film
That is playing in the back of our minds
Our only true hint of the way
Of the present, and what is to come.
And yet, is gone.
P.L.Rao
20th April 2009
and see they are true
but for you.
Question now,
question everything,
question the names
you seem to have given.
For as I never knew
You must again not know
As the elements twist,
We must let go,
lest an Unconditioning
become a Reconditioning
In words I play,
a game I don't know,
and in silence I watch
paintings of my life
projected from the eyes
of people I know.
They don't matter,
any more
than raindrops in the leaves.
Looking forward
to the next story,
leaves your eyes unfocused
At a twisted dimension of space and time,
far away, as a dream
is our vision of the future;
Yet those dreams are not
events of the future,
only happening
in the now.
Looking back
Is seeing the fallen leaves
Of a newly blooming tree,
Is the watching of a film
That is playing in the back of our minds
Our only true hint of the way
Of the present, and what is to come.
And yet, is gone.
P.L.Rao
20th April 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Universe
O Yesu
the breathing
in and out
of the layers of atmosphere
the heat the dust,
the cold the damp,
the green the red,
Through our bodies
as if we are a part
of it all
And to know, somehow
that we are.
The vastness of every thought
of every image,
every movement
every sound
flows so swiftly past,
That is barely has time
to leave an echo
behind.
And the pounding of my heart
racing in the beauty,
So many gifts
You have set upon me,
the images cast forth
like the rising Sun
for all to see.
And how much I want
to be the drum
upon which are beat
those eternal rhythms of celestial madness
and fire.
To fly on the waves
of that glorious sea.
To give these images
to the ravaged store
of ink and paper,
Lying in the vast open arms
of age old History. .
O if only you could let me be
a carrier of this legacy,
to walk upon the garden lanes
and trim and water
the growing trees,
which grow so big
and wise and old
whole and complete
and free
and happy.
P.l. Rao
10th April 09
the breathing
in and out
of the layers of atmosphere
the heat the dust,
the cold the damp,
the green the red,
Through our bodies
as if we are a part
of it all
And to know, somehow
that we are.
The vastness of every thought
of every image,
every movement
every sound
flows so swiftly past,
That is barely has time
to leave an echo
behind.
And the pounding of my heart
racing in the beauty,
So many gifts
You have set upon me,
the images cast forth
like the rising Sun
for all to see.
And how much I want
to be the drum
upon which are beat
those eternal rhythms of celestial madness
and fire.
To fly on the waves
of that glorious sea.
To give these images
to the ravaged store
of ink and paper,
Lying in the vast open arms
of age old History. .
O if only you could let me be
a carrier of this legacy,
to walk upon the garden lanes
and trim and water
the growing trees,
which grow so big
and wise and old
whole and complete
and free
and happy.
P.l. Rao
10th April 09
To Get Beyond
You don't have to give.
It will get taken from you
The amount that is gone
will always remain
in the air, like the fog
of a dried up ocean
So breathe
breathe it in,
breathe again, and let it go
to a faraway place
just around the bend
which is waiting
without waiting
for you.
P.L.Rao
15th January 2009
Human
Light! It falls on me
It covers me in truth
But I block it with my hand
And think I cannot see.
I sit on heaven’s lawn
with flowers in my hand
I want to smell the scent of grace
But my sense of smell is gone.
жא☼Ж☼אж
-P.L.Rao
13th April 2006
It covers me in truth
But I block it with my hand
And think I cannot see.
I sit on heaven’s lawn
with flowers in my hand
I want to smell the scent of grace
But my sense of smell is gone.
жא☼Ж☼אж
-P.L.Rao
13th April 2006
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Darkness Sweet
On and on
the waves of the sea
shine and shatter
before they are free
on and on
I'm swallowed under
the breathless merciless
pound of beauty
close my eyes,
the darkness is sweet
silence is sinking
through all that is me.
P.L.Rao
15th January 2009
Sleep
I am so tired
Physically
But that's about all
that's left of me,
except for my heart;
Its still beating wild
and fast and distracted,
like the eyes of a child
Perhaps the exhaustion
is sent to slow down
the flying thoughts
and bring me around-
Back to the constant
thrum of being.
Down to the softness;
calm the seething
Of the fire and the flames
inside the heart.
Burning up names
like the ancient dragon's art.
Folding my wings
I am ready to fly
Death comes slowly
With peace, and a sigh.
Priyanka Rao
12th March '09
Physically
But that's about all
that's left of me,
except for my heart;
Its still beating wild
and fast and distracted,
like the eyes of a child
Perhaps the exhaustion
is sent to slow down
the flying thoughts
and bring me around-
Back to the constant
thrum of being.
Down to the softness;
calm the seething
Of the fire and the flames
inside the heart.
Burning up names
like the ancient dragon's art.
Folding my wings
I am ready to fly
Death comes slowly
With peace, and a sigh.
Priyanka Rao
12th March '09
To be
To be a poet
is to see through the painting
of your eyes
and to hear
through the poetry
of your ears
and to sing the songs
of your heart
Priyanka
January 26th '09
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Flood of the Forest
The trees crash down
upon the others
crawling with creatures
of teeth and feathers
Lightning attacks
like angry sunlight
tearing at the leaves
with ravenous appetite
Insects scuttle
among the chaos
fear and greed
fill their brain mass
The rainwater’s strength
saturates the skin
numbness fills
the bodies within
The wet wood’s pungence
fills frozen nostrils
mixed with the coldness
of the deepest evils
The thunder’s booms
Are buried by rustling
of a thousand leaves
thrashing and shaking
White light glows
upon the air
shadows dueling
everywhere
The trees that shake
among the dead
stand on to challenge
what next the storm bred
Terrible winds
clawed at the branches
hurling them down
as terrible lances
Flying paws
of some powerful creature
drowned by the crash
of a falling trees power
The rushing of leaves
the booming of thunder
the crashing of trees
falling asunder
creaking of trunks
moaning of lumber
howling of wind
shrieking its hunger
Trapped she was
in the flood of the forest
witness was she to war of the bravest . . .
Her prison of trees
lay unheeded
enraptured was she
by this War unabated
Dreadful it was
raging about her
yet in it she saw
terrible beauty alive in the horror
All of those people
dancing in the Sun
who would ever know
when it had begun?
No one would know
when it was won
No one would know
when this epic was done
In a War without hatred
but only fear
In a War that only changes
the soul with an ear.
Escape was estranged
this was the place
death was accepted
on her intoxicated face
But could she leave
this tale untold?
To all the world
would it never unfold?
* * *
Once upon
A winter’s day
Ignorant footsteps
tread light and gay
Unaware
of the terrific past,
When something of interest
was seen as he passed-
Under the ferns
upon the moss
lay a page
runes running across
A knee did bend
a hand reached out
to read the letters
to yet find out . . .
A sudden wind
rushed into the light,
as if a ghost
of that terrible night.
Across the page
A story lived
The Flood of the Forest
was relived.
And finally came
the ending lines
faded
but lasting through all times
‘I’ve used my ink
I’ve done my duty
Tribute has been paid
to this torrent of beauty.’
P.L. Rao
17th October 2006
upon the others
crawling with creatures
of teeth and feathers
Lightning attacks
like angry sunlight
tearing at the leaves
with ravenous appetite
Insects scuttle
among the chaos
fear and greed
fill their brain mass
The rainwater’s strength
saturates the skin
numbness fills
the bodies within
The wet wood’s pungence
fills frozen nostrils
mixed with the coldness
of the deepest evils
The thunder’s booms
Are buried by rustling
of a thousand leaves
thrashing and shaking
White light glows
upon the air
shadows dueling
everywhere
The trees that shake
among the dead
stand on to challenge
what next the storm bred
Terrible winds
clawed at the branches
hurling them down
as terrible lances
Flying paws
of some powerful creature
drowned by the crash
of a falling trees power
The rushing of leaves
the booming of thunder
the crashing of trees
falling asunder
creaking of trunks
moaning of lumber
howling of wind
shrieking its hunger
Trapped she was
in the flood of the forest
witness was she to war of the bravest . . .
Her prison of trees
lay unheeded
enraptured was she
by this War unabated
Dreadful it was
raging about her
yet in it she saw
terrible beauty alive in the horror
All of those people
dancing in the Sun
who would ever know
when it had begun?
No one would know
when it was won
No one would know
when this epic was done
In a War without hatred
but only fear
In a War that only changes
the soul with an ear.
Escape was estranged
this was the place
death was accepted
on her intoxicated face
But could she leave
this tale untold?
To all the world
would it never unfold?
* * *
Once upon
A winter’s day
Ignorant footsteps
tread light and gay
Unaware
of the terrific past,
When something of interest
was seen as he passed-
Under the ferns
upon the moss
lay a page
runes running across
A knee did bend
a hand reached out
to read the letters
to yet find out . . .
A sudden wind
rushed into the light,
as if a ghost
of that terrible night.
Across the page
A story lived
The Flood of the Forest
was relived.
And finally came
the ending lines
faded
but lasting through all times
‘I’ve used my ink
I’ve done my duty
Tribute has been paid
to this torrent of beauty.’
P.L. Rao
17th October 2006
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