Brief Poems Vol VII: 38



 Dawn's gift ribbons pinken the sky.

 Soon unwrapped is the present

 of the Sun's alllighting presence.

Horses need their nostrils cleaned so that they can breathe. It's hard to do with hooves.
How can pigs scratch their backs..They can't reach them with their feet.
Voiceless lambs bound for slaughter can't say that they have thirst
Dogs given laryngectomies in labs
so that they can't cry their pain
Forest animals.. their homes bulldozed...Where can they go?
The crabapple tree weaves her
fruits for many a day
only to see them drop onto the
pavement and be smashed. But the streetsweeper

gathered them and tossed them into the woods

behind his home.
"Beware of Greeks bearing gifts"
was said of the Trojan horse.
Ignore cats bearing dead mice,
lest they think one approves.
The cheerful lift spirits
Bubblers are doublers.
The high tide recedes
Presents to all he deeds
He will return soon
with 'gifts from the sea'
"Beware of Greeks bearing gifts"
was said of the Trojan horse.
Ignore cats bearing dead mice,
lest they think one approves.
The crabapple tree weaves her
fruits for many a day
only to see them drop onto the
pavement and be smashed.
For the Good Shepherd's pie
no creature did die




In the European Union there is much less


privacy violation by government, phone and internet


corporations. There are more free health care, fewer food ads


and lethal pharmaceutical ads on tv and radio,


lower drug costs, healthier more slender people,


no immoral illegal wars, no prisoner murdering executions,


better animal rights and environment laws.




God bless the eyes of all sentient beings today and always, every way and all ways




There is a grocery store in our neighborhood.  The price of the reusable bags the owners sell is beyond the ability of many.  The store chose to have no plastic bags, only deforesting paper ones which cause more climate change, habitat destruction, drought.


If the owners had environmental consciousness they would stop selling animal flesh and sell the reusable bags at cost. 




The FDA's black box warnings on antidepressants is in regard to their correlation to homicides and suicides. Perhaps antidepressants should be called prodepressants.




Daily newspaper writers, magazine editors, etc. do not have their initials carved into trees as a sign of love, but as a notice that they are guilty of arboricide.




Robert F Kennedy lost his faith for a while after his brother was assassinated, but after pain, faith came slowly dripping in.




 The lambs are shorn before they are shiv'd


Soldier children have died before they have lived




God bless you each way and all ways


God give you a painless path today and always




 The Tibetan monk lay weak on his deathbed. Numberless times his servant the Wind turned his prayer wheel.




To the candle the flame gives entire yet never diminished is his own fire.




 The sun does not set. It is the earth which turns away.  God never rejects mankind. It is humans who reject God


Beach footprints by tidewater erased. Snow footprints
by the sun melted away. Sooner or later God forgives all transgressions.








The Gita states that when the student is ready, the teacher appears.


 We need not seek the sun. He comes to us.






Nearly all the fountain's water falls but some drops are lifted by the evaporator sun  Sooner or later all souls merge in God.\




Faster than God answers when His Name is invoked are His
responses to cries of agony whether silent or sounded.








From their hidden cloisters untimely ripped are oysters


For their flesh or pearls shells thrown away


where there's no moisture








Near the hickory there's skyblue chicory. Beneath the grey cloud cover,
   gold grain fields radiate. Sky and earth reversed




Discarded pieces of a quartered baby lamb are thrown into the lambsquarters


How did the words of the Peaceful Master
become the tirades of warmonger pastors?


The sunset dyed red cloud like Jesus' Turin shroud
rinsed by night of blood in purity shines outloud.


With the most leaks the boat
of democracy best floats




Hurricane Kate forced proud palms to take padnamaskar of the humble ocean.


As the sea everywhere has feet it's not hard for the trees to show devotion.


In World War II, did God select a thorn to remove a thorn?
Churchill the bulldog to remove Hitler the attack dog?


(Neither country was a true democracy. Both leaders were
involved in the bombing of millions of civilians)






He plucked a daisy from her plant and began to tear off
petals one by one..saying 'she loves me she loves me not
she loves me she loves me not she loves me'


but the daisy felt he loved her not






Dick Van Dyke, Sally Jesse Rafael, Wayne Dyer
for a while they lived in cars. Jesus Christ, Buddha,


Krishna.. for a while they lived neath stars.




Classroom teachers reported that


children who watched the 3 Stooges


were hitting others on the playground


like violent unaware scrooges.




The country will be better without


insider traders and insider traitors.






God bless the eyes of all sentient beings today and always, every way and all ways




He's positive about everything..
and so found a reason to be grateful
about insomnia... it prevents












Oysters are coprophagous or waste eaters... and as such are correlated to food poisoning incidents and anaphylactic shock


God is beyond gender. Men and women are equal



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Sa Parang (Ang Bukang-Liwayway Dito, O Doon, Noong Takipsilim) (In Tagalog Language)








Sa Parang

(Ang Bukang-Liwayway Dito, O Doon, Noong Takipsilim)

(In Tagalog Language)


Nag-iisip kung

paano rin gamitin

ang mga tao

Dawn [Haqueian Verse]

Haqueian Verse


Is at hand,

Your woe,

Nuisance will be,


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How dark will it be when it dawns on us

That there is no one left who's right?

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Death of Infatuation

Light and Dark

I've never seen an angel bleed

Till I stood with knife in hand

I've never seen a devil cry

Till I looked once through it's eyes


You were my drug

Long before I acclimated

Long before withdrawal

I needed you to survive


I can feel your eyes on my back

Can't you hear me?

I'm silent on the outside

But screaming on the inside

I'm soul-lost

I can't find who I am anymore


Maybe I'll be fine

Perhaps I will survive

But I just don't know if

I can outlast your memory


If I lose myself in drugs and dreams

Or fly away to places and things

To fill the gap you left behind

Consuming body, soul, and mind


But there is no need

To conjure dreams

When life comes

In such radiant colors


They say Pandora is to blame

Her curiosity brought us pain

And fear of darkness in the night

But there was hope in candle-light


From the dark, a light will shine

Before the day, the night has gone

And now we know it burns so fine

That is why it's called, breaking dawn.


And maybe, just maybe

That which dies gives birth to something new


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Needs a better title


Haqueian Verse


Peeks again,

After an interval,

Bringing the same,



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pink ribbons of light


user img


Each morning the sun's presence
gives of himself as presents
wrapped most days in streaming
pink ribbons of light

-saiom shriver-



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Mary wakes from
her, troubled, uneasy
sleep. She turns and
sees Alice behind her


looking at her. What
are you doing here?
she asks, sitting up,
looking down at the


child. Wanted to be
near you, Alice replies.
You can't come into

my bed, what will


they say if they find
you here? Mary's voice  
rises higher than she

meant. They won’t,


Alice says, no one
knows. They'll miss
you, Mary says, look

for you, and if they come,


what then? The child
sits up, rubs her eyes.
I'll hide, she says. Mary

sighs, lays back on the


bed, looks at the ceiling.
The child lies next to her,
head on her thin shoulder.

You can't do this, Alice.


But I have, the child says.
Your bed's lumpy. If they
find you in here, I’ll lose

my job and God knows


what'll happened then.
There is black spider
creeping along the dull

ceiling, slow movements.


We mustn't tell them,
Alice says. She runs a
small finger along

Mary's arm. You can't


stay here, Mary says,
you must go back to
your own bed before

they find you've gone.


Don't you love me any
more? Alice softly asks,
looking sideways at the

maid beside her. Yes,


of course I do, but this
mustn't happen again.
I'll be gone, then who

will you have to love,


now your mother's ill
and locked up? Alice
frowns and looked at

her hands, small, white,


pink. Mother used to
let me into her bed and
cuddle her. Her pink

fingers join and she


makes. I'm not your
mother, Mary says,
I’m just a maid who

wants keep her job.


Alice looks at her.
You said you'd be my
adopted mother. Mary

looks at her biting a lip.


Yes, I did. She looks
away, at the window
where lights begins

to show. All right,


but you must go back
now, before you're
missed. Can I come

another time? Alice


asks, her bright eyes
gazing. Yes, if I say so,
no creeping into my

bed at night unless


I know, Mary says.
Alice nods her head.
Best get back then,

she says. Be careful.


I will. And if I’m seen,
I’ll say I was sleep
walking, Alice says.

You mustn't lie, Mary


says. Should I tell them
the truth then? Alice asks,
smiling, getting down

from the bed. Be careful,


sleep walk just this once.
The child nods, opens the
door and closes with a

click. Mary gets out of


bed, opens the door, looks
along the dim passage.
The child has now gone.

Silence. Cold morning


air. A hard frost maybe.
What if she's seen? What
then? She shuts the door,

pours cold water from a


white jug into a white bowl.
Morning wash. Hands
into the water and throws

into her face. The coldness


wakes her. Far off a bird
sings. What if she's found
out of bed? What a turn up.

Poor kid. Me another mother


Nearby a church bell rings.

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Of Dawn and Dusk

It’s getting late, she whispered,

as the still and quiet cold crept on toward morning,

growing ever later, yet earlier all at once.

A spark of wonder and confusion comes

at Irony’s secret wonders in paradox, 

working seamless and harmoniously entwined.


The ticking hands of time press on like locomotives,

never looking back, but knowing well from whence they came.

Simple, yellow lines guiding wheels away from home,

to wooded, winding paths and barren, burning plains, 

such that the hands of clocks work wonders in themselves.


A boy yearns to speed the present, yet a man to yield it,

a driver searches for the city, yet wants the road once idle.

Embrace the night, for there lies the miracle that all might have their hope.


The night, it grows later, yet the day begins anew again.