A Sufi Graduation

Letters from the past won’t train

The memories to fell the Tree of Knowledge

So I am strained to remember the fellowship

Of more than I could count on

To talk to My Beloved with remembrance.

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Come and talk to me then Wench!

For it has been too long without the utmost importance.

There and here have I been swayed and moved

To fathom this and that merchant

For a carriage on my breast and smelly balance in my soul.

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It is okay for you to sail on the Ocean of tragedy,

Far from the Tempest of shackled likeminded people

With their trendy shoes and open flower pots –

What would you do? Oh Hand that feeds all:

If they all suddenly turned and looked at you?

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Don’t the mentionable men get in the way first

With their posh offices and the adorned frocks.

Their days meet Your glances first

As you satisfy your Science with the Doctor of Lust.

There are only us left by the middle of the post

When the mourning is derived from who ate brown breaded talked about toast.

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There are those who go nowhere and stay together

And there are those who have somewhere to go

Even though they are alone.

Which one You choose is never so satisfied

As when I am the Asker at the end of the day.

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The Swallow greeted the Ocean during midday

While the narrative was stuck at Elevenses

For the Hobbits to find their way past the awkward time

Of brotherly Love. When will you hear what She has to say

About the nature of Nature to repeat some of the unmanly things?

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Thunder is unnatural when You are against me

I would rather face the size of waves perturbed by Dynasties

That have informed me of your Grace over the Ages

And how little I am now that I am formed.

Who created me? I do not know.

I am unknown now that You have found Me.

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The horses race but there is no victory

Because the causal realm is not decided by tape.

The rapture is empty and the perfume of the showgirl haunts

From the bystander on the Road to Hell

Who cannot find contentment in the arms of too many men.

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The Consciousness of the space hero

Is celebrated as a modern sport and trophy holder

Who can verify my experience without Crown

And has seen The Promised Land without downsizing

Too many people to smaller tasks than their allotted time with The

Maker.


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Errors cannot stop the oncoming onslaught

Time will be timid before the might of dark nights

When there is no time for sunny walks

And handsome weather with friends

And tea in the café with good talks:

For this reason God kept Death alone and talked wisely with Friends.

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University was not meant to be after the Saddhu was rejected

By the end of the world Islam who’s labels were not Nike.

The exams were not reductions

And the students were not so welcome

As harrowing voices from strange Doctors

Hearing of things that they had not focused on before.

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The blessings of a century were not enough

To heal the heart of a hungry devotee.

He had gone mistaken that the world was for charity

When he needed help from the powerful and lived with the poor.

Krishna was found speaking strangely to Radha

About his expectations and rhetoric of open door.

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There was an academic dispute in the Rajahs

Their clouds had been parted and there was commotion.

Indra was counselled and the informers were diseased

From contamination with material nature

To learn more about earth

When en route to Evolutionary heights.

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Now that I am down with the depressing Computer

The days and nights are not felt in the greenery.

Motions are so cold in the machinery

Of my darkened nights with hostile light

That speaks of terror and my removal from The Spirit.

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Some men show and some men tell

The one that I am is within.

That is the shutting out of others who dwell

In the heat of the hearty fire of family and friend

While sacrificing riches for the one Friend at the end.

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In the making of the images of self-success

Is the Dream advertised by the ruined landscape

Repeated broken fragments

Slated coloured tropes

Into the tropes of Consciousness that does not speak of Love,

Until I am felt together with my fellow Seeker.

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The young are not like me any longer;

They do not seek like I did –

Until I am with the holding of The Spirit

Who is majestic and most fearful with my Id,

And the cold hard truth of identity parades

When the Industrialists made me empty value of zero.

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Just because I am lonely

Does not mean the Dowsing is over

For the abdomen of a successful seeker

Who has balanced money with want.

The measurements are small and large

By which my appetite is satisfied:

And the model is not known by which to bring Her home again.

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Passion is not so fiery when the options are removed.

The energy is less than exciting when the chance is gone.

But the reason is energetic because of Love

And the Social Media provides ideas

That change the mood and leave me aloof

From wondering what would have happened alone.

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The past is not poetical when the youth is familial

And the innocence of wanting is linked to The Other

And how the motions of desire could meet Sport,

As well as The Feminine

To express something that in time would flower

To meet different growths and unstrange melodies.

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The fear of the loss of the Mother;

Is there anything so potent about that

When the worldliness is speaking of her Greatness

And the tides of travellers do not talk back

About the changes in time to spread her wings

And make her with The Maker and not my Son?

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Mergers and proclamations of ideas not form

Tender the realms to be inconsiderate to drawings

Of the meanderings of minds to waver wagers on weaklings,

When the strength of tried and tested men

Leans on the old hands of Politicians

Who knew of the New to wait until tomorrow.

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Forgotten are the hopes and aspirations

Towns, cities and their nations

Joinery and mergers, thinking better

About how The One could be possible

For the many to be in pursuit of

Before happening to find too many tomorrows.

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The Love that was sweetest was not beckoned.

It arrived when the shores were least trodden on

And the sands of Time were busy with regret from Explorers

Seeking and finding the tortured remains of days and nights

(In the Land of Knights) where The Beloved held strains

To keep the curtains from falling on their last Play.

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Precious used to be the domain of awareness

Where attunement was gross and causal.

Before the subtlest sinews attested to the frostiest welcome

Of Love from the Source and how it was Consciousness,

So that The Spirit was silent and not proclaimed so wisely.

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We live in an Enlightened Age,

When the Computer pre-empts the legal page

And written on our hearts is the nuisance of the Mind

That can our closest ally touch up and find.

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Words were once lament

And the walks in the woods were something well spent

To balance down the Abyss of Knowledge from Saraswati

Sharing with caring what was not so easy.

Freedom and Love sat beside Death and Hope

Such were the tournaments of Elders to decide.

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Deception so cold that the newest thing is a fright

Where the languishing of Knowledge is up all night.

Some things are adrift on the ocean

Where the moon’s cares are half spent on temporary things,

So that blame is an imbecile’s important gathering

To know the journey of Love.

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Olympus deemed that pigeons and crows were fruitful

In their disposition on the earth to denote meaning.

So They fashioned mankind from the past

To be able to govern himself some more.

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The lakes were cold and tormented by icy edges

Where the land did not recognize the contrast.

It was here the Lady once stood with the sword in her hand

In the imagination of the fallen men

Who had deemed to frighten the Self to fancy all.

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The penmanship of the mighty

Was equal to the task of Time

And the oceans were taken to be far away

By the local man at the end of the day.

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A metaphor upon us is not a direction

The win is composed for the navigator

Of a movement that encompasses the Boddhi Tree

When Jesus was ring fenced by sheep.

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The movement is towards the meeting of ignorance

Education is the battleground of definition.

Time and space hollow the honest man for valour

When the news is pumped out each day

For the mentioning from various classes for organization.

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