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THE POETRY OF
JOHN |
The following is excerpted from
John's book,
The Compass Rose: A Journal
A FOOL
The poor, sweet Beloved
loves me so much,
and keeps trying
to turn me around
and push me inward
into His light,
but I just
dig my heels in
like some stupid donkey
and cry at the moon
like a fool.
EVERYONE WANTS YOU
God, the Self, Beloved,
Great Spirit, Jesus, Mohammed,
Truth, Buddha, Love.
Everyone wants You,
Sweet Mystery,
and everyone has
their different
pet name for You.
LAKSHIMI
I had a dream
about Yudhishtara
and a big, black dog.
About two poems
I wrote him
on the inside
of the petals
of two flowers.
About You
appearing
and kissing me
on the lips
until I fell into You
or nothingness,
I’m not sure which.
It was the best
dream of my life.
...Or my life
is the best life
of that dream.
NO DISTANCE
I have so far to go
yet no distance
at all.
I am traveling
in time
to a place
I cannot possibly
imagine,
yet somehow
am already there.
How much time
does it take
to light a candle?
What can
the moth decide?
ALL THE SEASONS
This life
is like the weather,
and sometimes all the seasons
seem to pass
in a single day;
the coldness of winter
and its pain,
the joy of spring
and its promise,
the lazy warmth of summer,
the sweet melancholy
of fall.
And sometimes all the seasons
seem to jumble up
and pass in almost
a single moment:
spring is frozen
in its tracks by the cold;
a hot summer storm
melts a passage
through the ice;
and among
a litter of dead leaves--
bright, green shoots
magically appear.
BELOVED
All I have to offer
is myself,
and while
I’m nothing
to write home about,
You seem to want me
for some strange reason.
EVERY BEING
Every being
is completely unique
and often
as startling
as a magnolia tree
in full bloom
against
the night sky.
YOUR COATTAILS
Beloved,
I say I want to
hang on to
your coattails...
and then,
after about
twenty feet,
I start complaining:
I’m tired.
My hands hurt.
Can I get down
for a minute?
DOES THE SKY?
Does a bird think
it chose feathers
and wings
and figured out
how to fly?
Does a tree imagine
it grew itself
and can move
its branches
without the wind?
Does a river assume
it flows
of its own accord
and decides
which way to go?
Does the sky
claim its blueness
as its own
and proudly proclaim
its size?
WHAT GOD DOESN’T HAVE (for K.)
God doesn’t have eyes
so He cannot see
except through me.
God doesn’t have ears
so He cannot hear
except through me.
God doesn’t have fingers
so He cannot touch
except through me.
And God doesn’t have lips
so He cannot
kiss you
except through
me.
PERFECT ONE
I saw a child sprawled out
in his baby carriage.
Arms behind his head,
his shining, sweet face
as serene as the sun
on an April morning;
as serene as the Buddha
in all the pictures
I’ve seen,
and I wondered,
what do you
hold in store
for life,
Perfect One?
THIS BRAIN
This brain
is like a beehive
or a small sun
resting on
my shoulders.
WINTER
It is winter,
and the trees
are becoming
more beautiful
each day
as they lose
their bright leaves
and go deeper
and deeper
into silence.
POEM TO A WOMAN
You are
very beautiful
and very powerful.
Dark and sleek,
a panther
waiting,
watching,
from a forest
of desire.
AS BEST I CAN
I don’t seem to be
doing very much.
I thank the Beloved
and try to see
the beauty inside
and out,
and follow love
as best I can,
when I can,
but maybe
it’s enough...
like a teaspoon
of honey
in a cup
of tea.
HOW TO CATCH GOD
I was thinking
about God
and how to catch Her,
and I realized
you can’t catch God
with nets
and sneaky traps,
or fancy gifts
and elaborate words.
The only way
to really catch God
is the same way
you catch a woman:
Tell Her
you love Her
and make sure
it’s true.
IT’S DIFFERENT NOW
Ganesh,
it’s different now.
There are so many
rigid attitudes
and narrow definitions.
If you were
to walk
down the street,
people would
run in their houses
and lock the doors,
instead of pausing
to appreciate
your handsome trunk,
beautiful eyes,
and admirable ears.
A NIGHT OUT
I went out
to a club last night.
There were lots
of people,
music,
drinks and dancing,
but I couldn’t
stay there very long.
The loneliness
was so thick,
you could eat it
with a spoon.
THAT CRAZY BIRD
It must be spring
because I saw
a mourning dove
outside my window.
That crazy bird
was so drunk
with love,
I was surprised
he could stay on
the branch.
HIDDEN AWAY
The Beloved
is hidden away,
and I don’t know why.
Like a fabulous jewel
in the pocket
of the poorest man.
SHE IS BEAUTIFUL
She is beautiful,
but that’s not
the reason
guys are walking
into parked cars
and tripping
over their own feet.
Something more
is shining through.
THE UNIVERSE
I saw
a picture
of the universe
and the splendor
of Him
exploded
in my chest
and for a time,
there were
ten thousand stars
where my heart
used to be.
PRAYERS
I see now,
for the first time,
these poems
are all prayers
written by You
for me.
And when placed
directly in your hands
by Yudhishtara,
You pretend
to be surprised.
And I see now
quite clearly,
they have all,
every one,
been answered.
THE BELOVED’S NAME
When you call out
the Beloved’s name,
the world
stops
for that
split second,
like driving under
a bridge
in the rain.
POEM TO WOMEN
I see a woman,
and I’m sure
I stand there
staring
like an idiot,
but to see
a goddess
walking down
the street,
or drinking
a glass of wine,
has brought
the mightiest
of warriors
to His knees.
UNREAL KINGDOM
This brain
is so desperate
to hold on to
its ridiculous,
unreal,
little kingdom
of false ideas,
petty desires,
and trivial fears,
continuing a battle
that does not
exist...
Just like a child
hunched over
on the floor,
playing so seriously
with his toy soldiers
in a toy war.
YUDHISHTARA
I think Yudhishtara
is like
the booster
on a rocket,
a match
in a pyromaniac’s dream,
or the blasting cap
in an armload
of dynamite.
THE LEAST
I don’t care
what clothes
people wear,
how they
comb their hair,
whether they are
brilliant and rich,
hip and cool,
handsome
or beautiful--
because that is
only the surface.
Because that is
the least
of It.
EVERYTHING
Yudhishtara will tell you,
and tell you
again and again,
you already know
everything
you need to know,
and anyone
who tells you different
wants to deceive you
and make you
a slave.
SURROUNDED
We hide behind
so many moats
and high walls.
Peering out
of tall towers,
assessing
imaginary threats,
while surrounded
by so much
love and beauty
it would
melt our hearts
in bliss.
READY TO LIVE
So many of us
keep getting ready
to live:
If I just had that
I’d be happy.
If I just got there
I’d be peaceful.
Meanwhile,
life is
passing us by
like a freight train.
SARASVATI
Sarasvati
rode home with me
the other night,
at least part way.
She likes the music
or Nusrat Ali Khan
and enjoyed
riding in a car.
I have to say,
She is sweeter
than cherry pie
and more beautiful
than the dawn sky.
BELOVED
I saw a woman
with her child today.
She brushed his hair back
with a look
so full of love,
it stopped me
like a hammer
to the heart.
Do You
love me
that way?
UNANNOUNCED
You have such
a beautiful, open heart,
a party
is going on in there
with lots of music
and dancing,
but I am hoping
just to slip in
unannounced
with a bouquet
of flowers
and this poem
in my hand.
THE GODDESS
I search
the faces
of so many women,
looking for the Goddess,
and sometimes
I find Her,
shining like a diamond
hidden
inside a jewel.
THE BELOVED DOESN’T CARE
The Beloved doesn’t care
if you can
stand on your head
with one hand
tied behind your back,
meditate for five hours,
go to church
every Sunday,
don’t drink wine,
shave you head,
grow a beard,
or wear those
special orange outfits
all the time.
He just wants
a little appreciation.
He just wants
to know
you love Him
a little bit.
(I secretly think
He is lonely.)
FALL IS HERE
It was a long,
hot summer
but now it is over,
and beautiful fall
is here,
with her
bright colors
and winter eyes.
JUST AS SIMPLE
The Beloved
in all His forms
is the basis
of all mythology,
the Holy Grail
of holy grails,
the most fantastic
desire
of all desires,
but also maybe
just as simple
and everyday as:
I feel happy.
I feel peaceful.
Everything is all right.
He loves me.
A CERTAIN ANGLE
Looked at
from a certain angle,
each day
of this life
is richer
than a room full
of gold
and jewels.
BETWEEN
These poems
are just poems
but I pray,
once in awhile,
the Beloved
is looking
out
at you
from between
the lines.
NATURAL
I want to live
this life
the natural way:
like an eagle falling,
like a sun rising,
like a storm brewing,
like the wind traveling,
like a flower blooming,
like a human man
living.
POEM TO MYSELF
You can thank
the Beloved
for anything,
and it can be specific:
your car,
a beautiful day,
a song
on the radio,
any flower at all,
the stars
in the sky,
the wonder
of a woman’s
touch.
A STRIP OF FILM
There really isn’t
much time
because looked at
from the point of view
of eternity,
this life
is a strip of film
that has already
caught on fire.
SHOUTING DISTANCE
Today,
I am within
shouting distance
of the Beloved,
but for some reason
He hasn’t heard me yet,
even though
I keep yelling
and yelling
at Him
across the inland sea
of my own
heart.
EXISTENCE
I used to think
the holy being
brought love
to an unloving
existence,
but now I think
existence is love
and the holy being.
EVERYWHERE
Those bhaktas
are everywhere.
An old man
on the street
said to me,
with a beautiful
light
in his eyes,
“I’m ready to go.
I want to see
my Jesus.”
HEAD OVER HEELS
Beloved,
I am head over heels
in love with You.
I never
thought about it
much before,
but it is true--
I do occasionally
see my heels
whizzing by.
JUST AN HOUR AWAY
I know it’s hard
to understand
from this western
point of view,
but let’s say
you had a dream
or a vision
that Saint Francis
was here.
He has somehow
appeared
just an hour away
and wants you
to come for a visit,
to spend some time
with him.
Would you go?
I ASKED GANESH
I asked Ganesh
what I should do
and He said,
“Just hang in there.”
I told Him,
that’s not very
fancy advice
for a god.
A TRUE LIFE
It’s the opposite
of what I thought
and hard to distinguish.
A true life
has to be
built out of love
like a sand castle
is built
out of sand.
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