THE METAPHYSICS OF IMAGINATIONS.

I’ve seen the magic hand that makes the sun rise
Touched the mystery that ignites the roar within each wave at sea
And I have pierced through the glassy glare of the concave eye
And saw the gritty poetry of perseverance
As I took a peek through the corridors of paradise
I have found my country –
In the mind of my own making – To challenge providence,
Give me a new parable to tempt the hand of fate;
And the metaphysics of imagination, to help me redefine
And reconcile the enigma of my benediction as a writer,
My destiny, a magical storyteller

Debt is not of money alone but of the psyche and the soul
For I have paid mine to the omen
In the human abyss of fear and I can glean with a smile
All that is human, all too human;
Where litigation presides over the conversations of friends,
Now foes; brothers and sisters, God and country-
I am free from the pre-emptive metaphors
Of a society where avarice is applauded
And the miracle of life becomes dispensable
In moments of tears and treason of the soul –
My new parable is too precious to share them with the world.
Because the universe is watching through the eyes of my foes
Every moment of our failings are noted in heaven
Appealing tones to pray for each other
Before the coming of cyclones, the hurricane, the flood
Before the lava of memory explodes like a volcano
Upon the brow of history

Every Tsunami is a metaphysical shift in the life
Of this unsuspecting earth – Pray that yours is not tragic
But a symphony of the muses of heaven
If your flaws are not visible
Do not point your doubtful eyes at others
In the brief baptism of life, but wear your smile like a blessing
Sharing the sympathies of the misbegotten
Our own dance in the lime light of fortune,
Is only sanctioned by the whim of the gods
The paradox of success awaits us and no star is out of place
In the sphere of the worlds autobiography
What is visible can be invisible in a blink
To make a traitor’s smirk a blessing in disguise

So I challenge myself to stand up again
From the fall of my stars altering the universe
If life is a stage, I shall revel in this moment of silence,
An intermission of sorts;
Waiting for my second act, to celebrate
My final scene of life, flying across the sky
In the solitude of my dreaming.




RHAPSODY IN EXILE
You smile like a spring flower
When you need to show me your second self
You can be ugly when the dark hour
Of debt and frustration overwhelms the poetry of your dreams.
So I leave and thrive on the memory of knowing
That you cared
It is only when I am away that we both
Shower each other with invisible petals
Mesmerized by moments of bliss
As I walk the streets of Newark,
A city frozen in a time warp of blackness
I realize how to live in Exile
Like the memory of me in my own dreams.
There are no eulogies to the past
But imaginary secrets we invent
To create meaning on the morning of rain
There are therefore green days, dry days
Dirty days and days that don’t dry
The rain pours on the neon green, deep green
Dark green, khaki green and forest green landscape.
I am in the green city of the garden state…
Dreaming of ironies that make sense to only the initiated.
I am in the dirty city, deciphering omens
Expecting miracles, contemplating magic
Dispossessing myself of the past…
The hour of reconciliation comes
Shedding ourselves of visible and tangible assets
We are now free at last, to smile, in the face of heaven.