Mercy is a poem – ੴ

1A6C5AD6-B7E4-419C-8A73-8395754274D2ੴ ਸਤਿਨਾਮੁ ਕਰਤਾ ਪੁਰਖੁ ਨਿਰਭਉ ਨਿਰਵੈਰੁ ਅਕਾਲ ਮੂਰਤਿ ਅਜੂਨੀ ਸੈਭੰ ਗੁਰਪ੍ਰਸਾਦਿ ॥ ਜਪੁ ॥ ਆਦਿਸਚੁ ਜੁਗਾਦਿਸਚੁ ਹੈਭੀਸਚੁ ਨਾਨਕ ਹੋਸੀਭੀਸਚੁ॥੧॥

Ik Onkar Satnam Karta Purakh Nirbhao Nirvair Akaal Moorat Ajooni Saibhang Gurprasad ॥ Jap ॥ Aadh sach Jugaadh sach Hai bhee sach Nanak hosee bhee sach ॥1॥

Mool Mantra – first composition in the Guru Granth Saheb, repeated over a 100 times through the text of the holy book of the Sikhs


I dedicate this to the sound of a prayer I have heard through out my growing years – not in a forced prayer time way but in a subtle background music way.

Mercy is a poet

patient with the need for practice

keeping music afloat as we learn to absorb

syllable by syllable

discovering faith in every nuance of it’s sound


Mercy is a poem

unfolding itself into an extraordinariness

gaining momentum and fortitude

sensing space, creating largeness

within and without


Mercy is a poet

inhaling admiration

exhaling adoration

inhaling shame

exhaling strength

inhaling solitude

exhaling participation


Mercy is a poem

my grandma muttered in submission every night

the same mantra became gratitude when hummed by my mother

and became a war cry when chanted aloud by my father

remained ever my hopeful guide


Mercy is a poet

that inscribed it’s words into the corners of my children’s existence

nudging into them at corners, resonating them to their roots


Mercy is a poem

that has a hum, lingering like a silent whisper

on the tip of my tongue

affirmations thawing themselves into my heart

 bathing me with relevance

sieving the melody from the noise

Ik Onkar Satnam



NaPoWriMo 2018

base your poem on a sound you have heard

lyric, prayer, phrases, heard aloud over years





1)The stars cannot rearrange themselves in the sky

and I understand why

each twinkling star is our guide to a lost one

a missed position, will lose those left behind

the spirits ascend to a position, form into an arrangement

then twinkle spells into their own milky way

staying elegant in diverse company, staying obvious

in their shine, delightful at every age

defining love and light, unbiased

to size, color or position

So, the stars choose to stay arranged

to give us an obvious faith

in the inevitability of a larger life force

 2)The  clock can’t strike thirteen

since the 12 hour churning of the 2 hands rule us

our days exist as defined by the path of our clock

we proclaim day and night, not by changing skies

morning mists and twilight blues, are but tools

only for spiritual dimensions, or creative gazing

sometimes, rarely serving as a conscious pause

between the creation and the creator

The clock however, is an appendage to our mortality

changing it will be possible, a challenge

to surgical alteration techniques

of behaviours, bodies and constraints

3) The sun can’t rise in the West 

just because it is a universal basic

deciding to rise differently

will be an amusing process, nearly schizophrenic

the Sun looks forward to be reborn, each morn

in that defeat he gives the reason to his moon to show up

in slumber, he courts the ocean beds and coral reefs

bribing the blue underwater to swallow his moon

He rises dutifully, to enrich the planet with his warmth

strategic in nudging the moon into a silent darkness

staying close enough to bring her back, when he tires

he owns the order for our breath, irrelevant therefore

whether he opens his blazing eyes in the east or west

what matters is just the act of being reborn


4) We live in a masquerade

We have not mastered the mysteries of our planet yet

We  continue to question, and regurgitate our answers

Yet our belonging is to horizons

where disruption is a core value

NaPoWriMo 2018

Writing about the impossible and making it happen

mystery of narcissus

1CB5C46B-9A7A-4138-B9F8-DC8344BC23AAIt is a mystery of selfish beauty

physical magic standing alone on a shaking stage

sharing the spectrum, yet unable to engage

Narcissism meant spell bound,  warrants a restudy


Facing narcissism, vanity in all its hype

needs practiced kindness and a collective skill

truth deprived though, our ego mirrors the shattered will

Naked storytelling, propels narcissistic archetypes


Wiring of our anatomy indefinitely evolves

moving through generations, from belonging to control

shifting sands of self hope, an erratic magnetic pole

Puppets to imperfections enslaved, and power enthralled


Sketching narcissism is not a project in black and white

it takes courage to accept the ‘and’

belonging is only the day vision of ghosts we shun

 Loneliness encountering , deserves all the brain and it’s might


Narcissus architects meanwhile, a phantom within us

hypnotizing fear to blackmail self regard

pulsating the throb in our veins, gurgling though blood

Encouraging self esteem, embracing fragility, staring into our own dust


Armor down, let the beating heart dwell

duality wanes real, an excruciating ego and id paradox

hydrating insecurity, locked in Lucifer’s black box

Face thy own nameless,

or every Narcisuss will watch the water spirit to his death


NaPoWriMo 2018

the narcissus



12 little rebellions

00D190A1-51F9-483B-BE70-EBAD4355632C lunch hour,for once be reckless at work,

bring on the new, experience the twerk.

2.take your heart out of it’s hiding safe,

break down the walls, let it chafe.

3.not believing is not really the thrill,

looking inwards tho’ could bring on some chills.

4.confirmation is a trepidation, a fear,

until you decide to push away the facade frontier.

5.worship can indefinitely keep taking sides,

compassion needs permission to become the deity that presides.

6.singing is orphaned when sung to an empty silence,

instead try to encounter your hymns without violence. seduced easily, again, hold to your lovers presence,

you blush brighter when returned to your iridescence. you be adult, sometimes be dumb,

to the timid teenage soul, it is revealing to succumb.

9.allow the kettle to keep the water bubbling with a whistle,

soak in the comfort of that encounter, do not hustle.

10.flames architect new borders and ruins of civilizations,

stop them from their orphaning carnival, don’t give the  new bastions.

11.say no, say yes, say stop , say maybe

maybe your speaking up will stop more war babies.

12. illuminate with your dormant rage, submit to the pain,

impregnate yourself with change, stop finding someone to blame.


NaPoWriMo 2018

rebellion in style or content





living across timezones

DAA0F98B-105E-48C6-A49E-2A13DA961D35When death comes to receive my flesh

Will that death bell give me options?


Will I know how to make that choice?

Central time will be practical, least disruptive

Pacific time will reflect eagerness, a rushed closure

Eastern time could be interesting, night falling sooner

Indian standard time is a wise idea, map my death to my birth


When death comes to receive my flesh

Will my angel sing me a song?

Will I know which song will be best for the journey?

Spiritual beats may be ideal to usher in the truth

Romantic songs will be a good reminder of evenings at home

Jingles may lighten up the atmosphere, helpful for shocked children

Lullaby’s are universally liked, and should be a good way to be out to rest


When death comes to receive my flesh

Will the death wish allow me to pick company?

Will I know who I want to spend the rest of my soul with?

The many who went without permission and sulking still

Them which drifted away too soon and are relishing the light

Those that went with a full life and are happy in their new place

Few that served as catalysts for learning and continue as students


When death comes to receive my flesh

Remind me to ask him to take my soul too

I think silence will be a good change for both


NaPoWriMo 2018

my own

The game of sharing


Sharing is a maze

You are either in or out

There is no in between


You may choose to be a hermit

Sharing from and with the universe

There is no out once you have signed up


You can agree to be a lover

Sharing possibilities of adoration 

There is no fitful sharing of love


You can commit to being a soldier

Sharing death on grieving knees in battlefields 

There is no looking away from that collective destiny


You can live the sibling dream

Sharing ice cream, insecurities, jokes

There is no trading of memories in exchange for personal space


You may like to be religious 

Sharing the vastness with those that see only boundaries

There is no excuse for ignoring the gift of thanks


You can champion voices

Sharing words in infinite passages of speech

There is no reason for fear of questioning


Sharing has just one rule

The rule of not being meek

Sharing is a participative sport

The brilliance of its medals

Is in its essential nature 


Sharing is a map that is marked by 

  • bodies 
  • speech
  • freedom
  • space
  • questions
  • education
  • books
  • civilizations 
  • Allah, Jesus, Buddha, Ram