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Carl Gustav Jung

If one does not understand a person, one tends to regard him as a fool.

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There Is This Man Who Does Not Know Where To Go

there is this man who does not know where to go
his wife left him
and his children had already disregarded him

there is this man who does not know anymore how to live
no one cares
about his baldness, his wrinkled skin, his rambling thought
gnarled, whorled,
his arms do not know what to hold
his soul has no anchor
his mind whirls
his hopes all burned
he is ashed
but not gone

people laugh at him and twist their faces at his back
there is still a place for him in the roof of my empathy
he takes shelter here and on this last threshold his fears
at least, are gone momentarily

we shall touch him and we shall watch how he shall quiver

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The Child Who Does Not Recognize His Mother

when his mother comes
he does not utter the word mama
the mother tells him
Me, Mama, and hugs him
but he wrestles her away
he grabs a ball and throws it away
and he chases it
he falls on the ground
and shouts for help

his mother rushes to help him
removes the dirt from his shirt
and calms him down

then the boy utters the word at last
Mama
the mother smiles and kisses him

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One Does Not Know Where It Is

ONE DOES NOT KNOW WHERE IT IS

One does not know where it is
Or what it is
It’s somewhere else something else
But we long for it
We want it to be again
Our youth is part of it
But it’s not just our youth
It’s life so much life as it was
So many people as they were
All that which is not and which we loved when it was
So so much
Our longing for it goes with us everywhere
And in old age I wonder why I am alive still
When so much I loved is not
And will never be as I will never be –again.

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One Does Not Grow Without A Knowing Done

I've been made to distrust.
To protect and not cuddle up.
My approach is to first offend,
Then to take notice...
Who understands,
That wall from behind...
I have chosen to defend.

It is not easy to have an identity,
Some may believe...
Is an ego to please.
I've given up proceeding with an ego,
Long ago.
To me an ego shows,
One who hasn't or refuses to grow.

I've been made to distrust.
To protect and not cuddle up.
From experiences I've had...
By those who stripped me of trust.
And today I am not willing,
To do 'that' so fast!

So 'if' I seem distant,
Uncaring and unconcerned.
Know that I've been in the 'heat'...
And staying away from being burned,
Is a lesson I have learned.
One does not grow without a knowing,
Done of what one learns not to do!

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When A Person Does Not Know What To Do With Himself

WHEN A PERSON DOES NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH HIMSELF

When a person does not know what to do with himself
When a person feels empty
When a person feels everything he had done and everything he can do do is meaningless
When a person is bored
When a person does not know what to do with himself
And wonders why he is on this earth
And how he will endure more of it
When a person does not know what to do with himself
He must do any little thing he can do
To get himself going-
He must wash the dishes or clean the house or take something to eat or take a small walk or read a page
Or do any one of a million or more other small things to get himself going
And once he is going he must somehow go on and on and from this to something else
So that at some point somewhere along the way somehow
He is doing something
Perhaps not that great
But doing something
And in doing something
Perhaps forgetting about himself
A bit
Perhaps.

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When A Person Does Not Know What

When a person does not know what to do with himself
When a person feels empty
When a person feels everything he had done and everything he can do do is meaningless
When a person is bored
When a person does not know what to do with himself
And wonders why he is on this earth
And how he will endure more of it
When a person does not know what to do with himself
He must do any little thing he can do
To get himself going-
He must wash the dishes or clean the house or take something to eat or take a small walk or read a page
Or do any one of a million or more other small things to get himself going
And once he is going he must somehow go on and on and from this to something else
So that at some point somewhere along the way somehow
He is doing something
Perhaps not that great
But doing something
And in doing something
Perhaps forgetting about himself
A bit
Perhaps.

WHAT DO I KNOW? \AND WHO AM I?

What do I know?
And who am I?
The real questions
I cannot answer
They are beyond me.

And I don't think
I have anything to give
Even in beginning to answer them.

Just another human being
Who has come this way
And soon will be gone
Without ever having answered
The real questions.

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For Art Does Not Tolerate Reason

Truly fertile Music, the only kind that will move us, that we shall truly appreciate, will be a Music conducive to Dream, which banishes all reason and analysis. One must not wish first to understand and then to feel. Art does not tolerate Reason. (Albert Camus)

precisely my friend
i have too much of reason's justifications.
bored. fed-up.
drunk. hollow.
emptied.there is this boor.
another boar.
a bore. pestered. gouge out.
this analytical mind
causing so much
chaos in the world
of understanding
feelings.

i cross over the fence
of art.
lying on a hammock.
with a hat on my head.
a little warm sunshine
on my shoulder.
under the coconut trees.
beside a white sandy beach.
i welcome the sun
of feelings.
i breathe the breeze.
i touch the sand
and then i let loose the
grains through
my fingers.

this i like to do today.
just loaf and
dream.

i dream about us.
the two of us
in an island
our moans
music
to my ears.

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Death occurs, it does not exist

Death, as we all know
Marks the termination
Of a life process

It is the climax of a
Natural process
Where a life system takes birth
Grows, matures
And meets end

It only occurs
And has no existence as such

We fear death
As we know we are going to die one day
We fear most
The aftermath of our departure
Than what really is going to happen to us after death

Death takes not even a split of a second
To fructify
But we ponder over that
And its impact
Much much longer

We just need to know
That we cannot escape this ultimate end
And enjoy living as much as we can
In a fair and socially acceptable manner
Without troubling others around

Factually, living itself
Is indeed a preparation for death only
Because you are going to die the way you lived

A matured, well balanced living
Leads to a similar departure
A chasing, hurried living
Leads to a unplanned demise
Leaving behind others to chase and hurry
An ever complaining ways of living
Leads to a death
After which the near and dear ones
Have a lot to complain
A compassionate and considerate living
Leads to a death
Making others be the same with every one
Death is peaceful only
Health conditions may at times
Someone be hospitalised for long
And someone incapacitated
And some others becoming a real burden
All these have nothing to do with dying peacefully
As long the person to die
Remains in peace and comfort
No need to get reminded
That we die each time we breathe out
As we are not sure
Whether or not we are going to
Brathe in immediately after that

Let us live
Strengthening ourselves
With the understanding
That death does not exist
But, it is going to occur
Only once, somewhere, somehow, sometime

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Money Does Not

money does not
make ignorance
an intelligent option!

does not
make one man
better than another!

does not
excuse apathy, hypocrisy,
or greed!

cannot
buy love, salvation,
or dignity!

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Neglect Does Not Encourage Nourishment

What gives you the right to expect respect,
When none from you has been shown or given.
There is a give and take one most learn to tolerate.
Neglect does not encourage nourishment,
For any champion seeking to bloom.
What are you here to offer?

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A Tulip That Does Not Wilt

there is a vine, so green
i put on a vase
of glass, there is water
and pebbles
the vine grows some more
leaves
alive on the filtered light
from the window pane,

there is a red tulip that never
dies there
but also does not
grow,

that plastic one i bought
a year ago,
i do not remember having washed it.

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It Does Not Matter What Schools They Attend

Witness the immaturity.
Soon you will discover...
Wisdom and the aging process,
Do not neccessarily go hand in hand.

Jerks are nurtured to be fools.
And it does not matter what schools they attend.

Those that become wisened in time...
Can be seen anywhere,
Being dragged through mud.
As they are laughed and joked about.

And they are also the ones,
To provide interesting conversations no one ignores.

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The Poem Does Not Know What It Itself Means

The poem does not know what it itself means
It speaks to different needs and connections
Ambiguities are its essence
And questions its heart
When it is read silently
It is not the voice that reads it aloud-

All poems double their difficulties
In waiting for some new understanding
Yet underneath it all
On its surface
The poem is so incredibly clear
No one can mistake it for anything other
Than itself.

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There Was A Poem Even God Could Not Understand

THERE WAS A POEM EVEN GOD COULD NOT UNDERSTAND

There was a poem even God could not understand
It was written by the sufferings of the innocent
It had names of pain inscribed inside its every line
When it was read aloud
The screams sounded down the corridors
Of all the abandoned minds of this forsaken planet
It was such a poem
Such such a poem
Even God the One who knows everything
Even God
Could not understand it.
t.

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Does Not Apply To Them

Sometimes I wonder
if some drivers can read or not
when it comes to parking in a parking lot.
They ignore the one way system,
the entrance and exits signs
when they want to park their posh new cars.
If you point out their mistake,
they become quite indignant
as if that does not apply to them.
They feel they have the right
to do just as they please
and use the exit instead of the entrance
forgetting everyone else
who may have been
in front of them in the queue.

4 November 2009

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The Future Is In Deep Sleep And Does Not Bother....

i look back
(with minor regrets)
a life unedited
asking for some
corrections

i look back again and again
i can do more than this and that
it could have been something else
i could have been someone
more enlightened

i look back
it has become one bad habit for me
until i bump
a wall and it hurts my face
awakens me

it is this present this wall
this soundless pain
this complacency

too much of the past
i know, emaciates the present
on slipping hours
on hands with leaks
on dimming lights
on lazy afternoons and
colder nights

the future in deep sleep
does not bother.

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She Does Not Need Any Praise (Cavatina Sequence)

(after Archibald MacLeish)

The greatest happiness she have given
today to me,
in the ways that together our lives is,
tranquillity
is in each smile, like a hot summer day,
totally free
she does her duty in words and her ways,
she acts unhindered like the sun's rays.

Fresh loaves of bread, lovely food she spreads,
great joy she finds
in her selfless acts that brings happiness,
free like the winds
her feet run while she lights candles, sometimes sings;
one of her kind
my wife is, she does not need any praise
as she loves with an amazing true grace.

[Reference: 'Poem in Prose' by Archibald MacLeish.]

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Even An Old Man Does Not Wish To Read

EVEN AN OLD MAN DOES NOT WISH TO READ

Even an Old Man does not wish to read
An Old Man’s Poetry-
What is the use of bad health litanies
And endless complaints of disappointments?
And wonderings about Waste and Loss
And about Time never to return
And all one has erred in?

An Old Man longs for Beginning again.

An Old man wants what he cannot have
And wishes to be what he cannot be-
And write as if there were new worlds waiting to be found within himself
And great adventures and explorations in writing and writing and writing
An old man longs for freshness deep down things
And dry dry dry is all
Theory
And Grey his life.

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If She Does Not Come Back

I have been waiting for her since my last poem
Maybe she has been delayed by this crazy wind of hopelessness
Snowed in by a false smile of nostalgia
There she is. Wet and frozen with a tired step
Bowed down with regret she is coming back into my life

No, I was wrong
The sigh seller
Is coming back from her midnight shift
On the Square of Lost Love

I will invite her to get wam in
My heart's warm home
Or maybe I will not
My heart is full of trepidation and pain
And I cannot receive her hardship

It is better if I wait
For the one from my last poem
She always comes back
She is my stork and swallow
Return ticket to my life
But what if she does not come back

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It Does Not Have To Be This Way

Every culture tries to control, manipulate, shame, dominate the other culture, the dominate cultures today where the so called inferior cultures of the past, the so called inferiors to day where the dominate cultures of the past in many or most cases, in their region or in their portion of their continent. This is what individuals do to one another. This is how we are habituated on many levels, but it does not have to be this way. Believe in your self, face this tendency of humanity that we need to grow out of, defend your self from this, rise without putting others down. Weed out dysfunctional patterns of relating, of being that you picked up from your family.

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