The Creator's Poetry

THIRTY YEARS IN BROOKLYN

2007-11-11T22:15:00.000-08:00

The Vietnam war a dying ember
Much bitter taste, the souls
whose bodies have come to waste
The hippies flower power,
children come to bloom
New York, New York
The bosom,
five Boroughs suckles her breast
In Brooklyn, I have come to rest

One highlight of my past
September 16, 1974 stood fast
Arriving here from the Reggae land
This City gave new birth to my purpose
Mayor Abe Beame succeeded John Lindsay
Each with a new amended concession
The City transit fare, thence 25 cents
Free rides on holidays - Sundays
With transfer, whisks you across town

Aroma from Nathan's hot dogs
Filled the D train cabs from Still Well Avenue
Five miles stretch of boardwalk - beaches
Filled with pleasure - seeking people
Riding the Cyclone and Ferris wheel
Water balloons pop under pressure
From spewing water gun surprises
Memories, sweet memories
The chili on crusted hot dog buns

New worlds open with summer sessions
Pratt Institute, and New York University?
Summer ends, fall leaves blow wantonly
Adorning major Highway and street
With Prospect Park shedding
Its lush green glory - now becoming gloomy

Her Botanical garden prepares
She lays in Seasonal slumber
Fall frost gives way to winter snow
Above her sleeping bed

With the browning of the Season
Hiss with azure manganese sky
Cloak in winter garb - of icicle needles
Shielding naked bare bark trees
Reflected lights dancing day and night along their spines
The golden hued city - comes alive!
Brooklyn, New Yorkers - business as usual, continuously

TRENCH TOWN REMINISCE ©2005

2006-05-07T20:10:00.000-07:00

South West of Kingston - Trench Town!
I love to reminisce
Thinking of the life once lived,
Now memories frozen in thought
Where, some warriors, the rough tough,
Rude Boys and Girls graves now lay –
The souls who could have lived, to -
Fulfill their destined role
Blinded by infantile darkness –
Fashioned without hope
They could see no further, than,
A poverty stricken dulled world

Memories linger still –
Carved deep and etched within
The innocent, through no fault, of theirs
Gunned down in their - prime
Or hungry starved children cried,
Groans from severe hunger pain
Much be the disdain from upper strata
In society – Suffrage within a lesser cast
Fertile were our peoples’ mind, having not
The wherewithal - comes to maturity
Counted that for something –
We’d plot a path in life,
Deep in our rustic, multi - cultural ways

I sometimes think, and then wonder,
How swiftly our years have passed
Having sat to ponder, under the gwangue trees
Or up high, between some ackee tree branch,
Where the cool breeze blow
Sheared the soft winds passed,
That whistled among the leaves
There, where the orange red, cluster –
Closed fruit swayed -
Became fit to open, then to pick

Like a hand full of carbon nuggets –
Gems, scattered throughout our turf
Polished beyond our darkened will
Through faith some Rudies have seen the light
Risen through slums suppression -
Spiritual attainment in sight
With consciousness gleaned, molded to substance
As diamond in the rough
Larger than Religion, bigger than life’s oppression
The is ness of all things, cause and effect –
Overcoming adversities - Principles Universal,
All class casts and creed have come to reap –
Gleaning of our virtues and culture - at will
Trench Town! Trench Town! Trench Town!
O how, I love to reminisce - your praise

MORTALS MANSION 10/2/05

2006-05-07T20:09:00.000-07:00

Descended - standing, encased in my mansion walls
The day, I, Soul's great fall - Stranger I've become
Not being able to travel to and from
Neither the inner nor outer universe
That's the day I, soul - chained to become mortal man

Nothing seems to be the same of former time
When I knew no bounds or ends
Omnipresence, Omniscience and omnipotence - my will
Gone were the Is'ness days
Truth and Love to give - were my forte
Now, I move about encased in human shell
With five senses and faculties to co-ordinate
I learn to manipulate this course matter world
Having much to do in time-
Gaining earthly knowledge and wealth

A wonderer I've become these days
Tainted with the five passion seeds
Of : vanity, anger, lust, attachment and greed
Trying to regain blessings in isolation
Drink in loneliness - joy through human understanding
This tainted role, I began to play - manipulating - hording
My fellow beings, creatures, minerals, and plant life too
Ranting, raving, and causing destruction
Creating - deceptive delusion in my path

At the closing end of days - when all works are done
Old and feeble I've become-
Gazing through the windows of my mansion walls
At my exploitation stacks - of all earthly hoarded wealth
The five passions have helped me gain
I realized, I can't exchange them then - neither for Truth nor Love
Not one earthly thing has I to show - Off kindness I've done
Wretched man that I've become - having to do it all over again
I'd thirst this time for Love

THE HOUSE IN WHICH WE DWELL 6-5-05

2006-05-07T20:05:00.000-07:00

The House in which we dwell, so well
As visitors passing through, you see
It is souls, precious gift from God
Given to us so freely without penalty
From God, the Creator of this spark
Gives room on board for souls who seek to come aboard,
And sought out their heavy load,
While gaining experiences

The Creator of these sparks
Builds mansion with spiritual bare hands
It fitted them well with all the fine necessities
Glamour and all its precious amenities
The brain and the five senses as the main frame,
To explain all abstract Nouns
Of Wisdom and Great Philosophies
With hands and feet to move about
And with eyes then ears and mouth,
And all other body parts to lend a great support
With senses to co-ordinate through wisdom
With knowledge, we expedite growth
We move about
While gaining experiences

And through the years as marines we sail
The Earth and soar throughout its vast
Uncharted Universe-
While some of us walk about like Penguins
Plop, plop; plopping on thin granite rocks
Others soar; glide and float about as eagles
Flying on thin air, gathering experiences

We tell tales of long ago
Through History we have left behind
This links us to our every day-
While we work, sleep, eat; have fun or play
With drubs of dreams, we create philosophies
Spins webs of Religions coupled with human discussions,
We plot and make our way
Improving minds and making new concessions

There is only one aim in life and that we try to define
But few will find the true reality and sail the cosmic sea of time,
Breaking the barriers and go behind
Where mortal man will never trod nor touch
For nothing in this vast universe
Can ever match with worth
The joys and visions there,
Where we, souls have been before
Crossing borders often times so willing,
Sometimes unknown

It is an understanding mortal man
Brain will never understand
What is in its scheme of things!
In scope, they shall see with five senses
In wisdom gained are only with there minds;
Hands and feet to mull and prod about endlessly
Cycles upon cycles, they keep transforming back again.
Beginning at the beginning not knowing-
They are re-starting something they know ever so long ago.

The chosen few will understand the quick pace in which they are flowing
Hastening through the span of time
To reach their destination and to earn the gift they left so long ago,
To embark upon their human journey
We are all family traveling in groups
Learning much to our amazement from the discontented one
Whom we seldom understand

How do we case the span of time?
Chasing philosophies endless atrocities
Religion and religious rights keep on unfolding
Conforming themselves to earthly ideas burning
Deep down in the heart of men consuming
Brimstone and fire not knowing that what they speak of,
Are our past actions unfolding sweet memories that were controlling!

What manner of man is this? They come calling...
Just because they found a gifted one who was willing
To trust the daring blazing fire wrapped up in His bones
What hard time endure just to be honest deep inside
And let this world know what he's enduring-
He took few others of his gifted friends
Men and women whom drifted and go about
Following in His shadow helping to enlighten
Whosoever will, may come and be a part of the team
Who vaguely remember a time of long so long ago

What tragedy that have come to mortal men
Who make a mockery of the universal plan, playing God?
First he pretends that he is doing God a favor...
Trying to save something they think is lost
But could never have been,
Lost soul of which I am speaking of
Could never have been
In the predicament men find himself to be
Playing God is nothing but a copout, for God does not need mortals help
The only way man can truly help, is to empty himself...
Of himself and just simply (be)
Then, the Creator of this great universe may find grace
And favor in his eyes and uses him as a channel sacrifice

To be used of God thence is not even using mortal man
God will be using the reaction of himself at will
The spark which he induces and places it in a house,
The mansions of souls on earth... The brain thence,
The senses and all its body parts are only tools souls engage.
So why then, the secondary wants to become the first?
For soul alone will endure its journey home, again
Gathering its experiences and long moved on
While body, mind, hands and feet; brain and all its
Faculties will not be needed anymore and will dissolve in oblivion
From whence it came until time permits its use again
To host some new visitors, souls again - and again

* Dedicated to Inner Spirits so pure.