sentient

we have come so far from who we are
we forget

we are animals
we have bodies
we have instincts

heart breathing
there is an energy field
between us

a connection without words
without thought
without consciousness

chatGPT and AI
and scrolling touch screens
with profiles and newsfeeds

cannot replace
the power of
our sentience

i extend my robotic arms
so far out
they disconnect from torso

now i return to
the land by the hills
fertile with senses our ancestors had eons ago

to know how to whisper
to the trees
to the clouds
to the sun and the moon
to the horses
to the ground beneath our feet

they were grounded
in their humanity

we have traveled so far in journey
in the name of “progress”

we travel without a destination
lost in tracks in circles

it is time to return home
i return home to me

-dabetswe natasha-

turmeric

turmeric stains my fingernails
yellow

feeling mellow
sorrow

below the chest
naivete infests

breath rests
then i remember
curcumin heals

so i marinate myself in turmeric
like so many of the burmese cooking

i listen to sappy love songs
and be consumed

a loo poem

The weight of the world
is heavy in the guts

These middle of the night awakenings
to visit the lavatories
to purge only in the dark

They are speaking

I am a canvas – a medium
for the ghosts of the voiceless
for the shadows of the phantoms
to express and expel into the world

They are just speaking

Because we all have a story to tell
We all are part of our history
We all have author-ity

Even silent dark has a story to tell.

w.

i went to the jewelers today with
thirteen watches in a bag
and one on my wrist

two at home sitting in their compartments
one at Rangoon time
the other at Pacific time

one needed to strap more tightly
and become mine
twelve needed resurrections
with change of batteries

they all run out of charge at some point
they all run out of time, until
i remember the stories behind each one of them
and bring them back to life

it is the end of a horrid year
the end of an abyss

the new year begs for new times
i beg for a new heartbeat, kept
in synchrony to quantum time

i give my hand to the memories kept
and the moments that will become

in time
with them…

Love in the time of revolution – 21

night and day
green and red

and the color purple
and the breath during twilight

the spikes that connect us all
from death to life

we are neither.
we are both.

because we come together
across the divide
our hearts meet

it is love that will win in this revolution.

mountain lion

we are so separate from nature
where we come from

we have become machines

you see, i am a double leo
I am not too far from the kitty cat in my house
and the wild things lurking

one domesticated
the other exiled from its habitat

even nature has become
convict and refugee

i hope I can say
i have at least broken away
from this prison

Life is a really short dream

life is a really short dream
light like petals in the wind
and so condensed
like pollens packed in anthers
waiting for the burst and breeze
waiting for the birds and bees

waiting for the wild things
to come out and play

life is really a wild dream

Inspired by a quote from the movie “She Was Like a Wild Chrysanthemum” (野菊の如き君なりき, 1955) directed by Kinoshita Keisuke

delusional kings

he rules over an empty state
corpses laid down
to pay homage to his greed

empty homes
bodies imprisoned
banked for their organs and courage
when

banks lay empty
cashed out by distrust
and

bankruptcy of the souls
of those who sell dirt
for… for… for what? who knows.

perhaps they too want
all this mayhem to end
they too want peace

only the delusions set us
on each bank of the river
and the revolution
has a rabid currency
water flows, it moves
even in the stillness
there are streams beneath

peace only comes to those
that ride with the tide
not those that settle on silt
on a kingdom found in dirt

peace only comes to those
who live in truth.

our shades of grey

we are in the grey
i was going to say
it isn’t colorful

and yet, isn’t grey a color, too?

it is a shade that has depth
from silvery sheen
to charcoal murkiness

my salt and pepper hair
you love
the hues under covers
you hide

we can even have our own flag
in shades of grey

we can have our own fifty shades of grey
or not

we can simply ink words in grey
dream in grey
heart in grey
speak in grey
be silent in grey

we are in the grey
and i want to say
i will stay

the skies mirrored

things fall apart
skies are breaking

the world collapses

———————————

the world embraces

skies are opening
things rise unbound