The Beloved’s Face by Meher Baba, God in human form

Ever since I saw the Beloved’s face,
its lines have etched themselves on my heart.
I still nurse the wound of separation within me —
it has left me broken.

Flowing tresses may be a snare and a net:
those are pagan tresses
whose lure, like the bulbul, has sprung from the head,
bogged in the heart.

When ego is erased, duality disappears:
God’s lover is himself God.
This is the heart’s only home —
the heart in the lover, the lover in the heart.

O Seeker, you make a show of public worship,
then claim your share of desires.
The true lover carries within him, in secret,
the name of God.

Strange are the ways of the enlightened ones.
They weep and laugh in one breath,
scorn on the lip, grace in the heart,
profanity on the tongue, praise in the heart.

Some say God dwells in the temple,
others put him in the mosque.
What do you seek abroad, ignorant one?
Realize, oh Huma, God is within you.


reflecty blue wrinkly

everything is
realpoetik :  the tug
on the water black on
one side white the other makes
the reflecty blue oh, more so
it's 4:50
trees dark muzzle behind it  coasty
bc does photographs real justice
but this 
the dog can see, and
the eu calyptus

©Peter A. Greene 2015

in/spiration @1500mg

sodium sal vation
hands like ashes
sugar all over the table
this shaking is apparently normal
damn the pills damn the
pills damn the pills damn
the pills legs like
cement ; no will
angels sprites and dragons
all  banished from my mind
no one speaks to me
no - one ever did
it's not like
something  just came out
of the wood work it's
more like
that bell will never ring
that bird will never sing

©Peter A. Greene 2015


my facebook friends like
machines, so do i i love
to press their very in viting
 buttons, touching
only with mine eyes the
subtly curved and copy
righted edges of a
square or rect  angle
i   insert  my  con tent
gently , i have learned
not to force  forums  and to

©Peter A. Greene 2015

the bc bud cup
open to all comers, young women old men and everyone
play hockey basketball and curling all at once, the prize
26 pounds of prime
a dank shock to the winning team, they will
treat everyone in the crowd to pizza

the anti - saint pill
sir there is a danger of your
to everything , we must
intervene  before your values
change : not remaining in
constant fear of your
personal life (death is a (great
for someone, somewhere
 take these ancient  salts of sodium (vintage 1947)
and descend , three times a
day ( or  more, prophy
lactically) into this
hell  of  matter

©Peter A. Greene 2015

termite crematorium (for the firewood man)

every night
i put the log in
they burrow deeper, and the fire finds them, and they die.
I sweep their dust up every morning,
with my bare hands,
as befitting.

©Peter A. Greene 2015

       a shaman thing

i want to rename
my savings
account: i was thinking
holdings' or 'transitory' or
perhaps just
ephemeral  it's
funny how debit sounds bad and
sounds good , well
credit sounds good right now the
dog needs bones and
i  must smoke ; it's a

©Peter A. Greene 2015

                                         up there

mohammed pajamas
met jesus bathrobe
they were
chillin over a miniature replica
of the Temple
Mount, drawn straight from
history  it was
adorned with tiny figures
mobile, worshipping
they waited for the other guy but
he never showed

©Peter A. Greene 2015

Post has attachment
Crawl from your rain-drenched caverns
Your minuscule hideaways
Your now moistened hobbit holes.
Take refuge in the green green grass
And beds of clover;
Huddle with brother rock
And sister leaf.
The earth plays road to your solitary foot
As you inch towards safety,
There to bide your time until
Home drains for your return.
2 Photos - View album

Anyone have time in the next couple days to help me workshop and revise a couple of raw poems? 'Twould be very timely and appreciated.
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