BURNING SAND

We play games with ourselves
the kind that even children do not play
We say we are mature and yet
we keep creating statues of clay

The beliefs we contrive
usually break the skin and bleed
We serve the gods of ill-repute
just like the centuries that we continually feed

The Universe is a woman who wonders
whether the men of her making can love
But she is angry at the prospect
that her creation will give her the shove

Such are the games we play
Fingering each others minds with hate
We jump and skip here and there on burning sand
only to fall into the holes we dug of late

zari alexxanderr-caine 2018

Photo credit: Pinterest , words are mine via SnapSeed

THE DEEPER CRY

What is it that stings so
and makes the perception cringe?
Where in life is there a pit stop
in the caricature race?

So many souls walk about
craving the inquiries that have no answer
They believe that a utopia exists
to break the monotony they fashioned

Endless complexities are invited
by the senses that try to offer claims
that will not assuage the deepest cry
These sobs are not the whimpering of a face

Facing oneself can be a struggle
A necessary desire to listen to spirit
Below the surface of the gig
lies the basic solution of truth

zari alexxxanderr-caine 2018
#blackpoetboy

Photo credit: Pinterest

OUR HANDS

We use them each moment of our lives to accomplish, direct, lead, guide, comfort, hold, create and assist ourselves and others.

Our hands

The people we touch in ways that express how we feel is done by the tactile fashion of our hands. There's even a saying that alludes to the idea of being able to count how many people we are connected to by the fingers on one hand.

Our hands

Instruments of whatever we choose whether it serves us or not. When we reach out it's with our hands on a physical plane. The sensation of touch is crucial to our growth on many levels.

Our hands

Take a look at your hands and ponder on the magic they can be or the weapons they can be also. It's with hands that we bring comfort and affirmation and with the same hands that we clench them into fists.

Our hands

We give and take with them. We point and create with them. We hold and let go with them. We direct and lead with them. But most of all we serve ourselves and others with them.

Bless your hands for the building and the loving and sometimes for the giving of correction. Honour your hands for the power that they have to change the world. The Universe has hands. Yours and mine.

Our hands

© zari alexxanderr-caine 2018

Photo credit: Tumblr

We Owe Nothing Part 4

Presently on earth, there is a deep culture of debt and the crux of this matter is crippling everyone of us. The idea of owing is a broken link set on the premise of greed and abuse of the power of others by those of us who believe that earning is king. How is it serving us this far? Poverty is an engineered ideology sold to the masses by virtue of the insidious device of religion which politics uses to create elitism via egotism and then economics tops this poisoned layer cake with the power to segregate in favour of the scrambling and partitioning of continents, cultures, creeds, language, kingdoms, realms, and ideologies etc.

To this day, debt is used to subjugate large swathes of the world and the gap is growing according to who rules the ideas of owing and repayment. The most hardest working people are the most poverty stricken on earth.

The questions are what is owed? Who is owed? Why is it owed? When was it owed? How was it owed? On this earth, we are swimming in plenty and yet we all think there's less. How come to be rich is easy for some and for others it's near impossible? What does the God we created think on the matter? How is it working for us this far?

I suspect that we can answer this question in many ways and indeed, we have, however, a few won't give way to balance. Does this mean that we give up and let the agendas of the few annihilate the many? I don't think so.

The idea that we owe something to a deity and a system is anathema. We know this deep inside us and yet we allow baseless ideas to pulverise our resolve. This story has and will not end until we all agree that the answer is a universal one steeped in the spiritual reality that we are powerful beyond measure.

I don't process to know everything, however, I am aware that what I am seeing on earth is not healthy. I strongly agree that we have the power to change whatever it is that does not serve us anymore. Growing up means opening to new ways that foster the growth of our species. We are custodians.

I don't know where we got the idea that we are owners. This actually is the crux of the matter.

©zari alexxanderr-caine 2018

Image Credit: Pinterest, words mine

We Owe Nothing Part 3

When all this is stripped back, I am convinced that we will discover the fault lines that our chosen self-oppression was built upon. We will realise that all the pain of the eons that we crafted has not benefited us much. Our evolution has been truncated in ways that we have chosen so as to control others.

When we talk of love, what exactly do we mean? In many of our holy literatures, a sliver of inspiration shines through about what love is and then we ignore it in favour of fear, which is debilitatingly destructive and yet we act from this thought above love.

We are such a bunch of sorry people who meander on earth causing all the mayhem with exacting revenge, requirements, retribution without a get out clause. Most of us are hurt, badly damaged, maligned, rejected, dejected and damned by the ever stringent, inflexible and unethical behaviours of those who think they are better.

And we are all under the same sun!

History has shown us that repetition is the mother of skill. However, this skill is being misused because we all do not agree about what history is consistently opening to us. We are proving ourselves to be the antithesis of what we have crafted.

©zari

Image Credit: Pinterest, words mine

We Owe Nothing Part 2

Where we stand today, religion and it's attending cohorts have us all believing that we owe a moral monster worship, praise and obedience whilst also believing that we have free will. We believe that something went wrong and we all are culpable for it and so we require redemption by the death of a saviour that we flaunt with alacrity.

We contrived a place called hell, heaven, limbo, purgatory, nirvana, and such like to placate ourselves that we are but sorry excuses of beings. The madness intensified when a few of us pushed against all the hubris and then murder became a holy act to save the system. Politics came along and sank its fangs into our collective jugular.

Economics chimes in with its grandest stages of separatist profiling and its bounties held for the powerful elites. Heaven is touted as the reward for poverty on earth while the rich have a ball here. We agreed that all this was ok until some of us awoke to realise that a game was afoot and then the programming starts afresh.

The idea that something is owed and must be paid back with interest is an ideological poison that we keep administering to each other with fetid stupidity and we hurt. But the God we created and believe in demands a payment in forms that contain cringeworthy madness.

What do we owe? Who determines what is owed? How come it's not been paid after all this time? Do we really understand what is owed? Or is it all an illusion we continue to feed?

©zari alexxanderr-caine 2018

Image Credit: Pinterest, words mine

We Owe Nothing Part 1

We live in a world that we have created on perceived fault lines which we are convinced demands our obligation and forced salutation. We strive to repay what we have deemed to be owed.

What this is for we don't know but being the storytelling creators we are, we devised a plan, a play and an ancient story on which to build a system of reward and retribution which is as draconian as we could conjure. We then told each other that this is truth, when in fact it is a bunch of make believe claptrap.

We have agreed that we are debtors of the highest degree. This, we have done by the sheer force of our nature to boast upon ourselves the misshapen mantle of incessant owing. To solidify this myth, we created a God that embodied all the insecurities that we have and attribute to this benevolent being the powers of eternal punishment, psuedo-love, anger, and all the human proclivities to the highest extremes. We subsequently decided to worship this deity with fear and trembling.

We convinced ourselves that illusions are real and made them all up in order to maintain a hold on each other in the shapes of religion, politics and economics. We wrote self-styled holy books to keep the so-called faith and we use the same instruments as weapons to cajole, intimidate and twist each other up. Societies from time immemorial have been built on these fault lines with mild variations.

©zari alexxanderr-caine 2018

 Image Credit: Pinterest, words mine

KINGS and QUEENS

For the formidable heroes
In you and me
We stand tall looking ahead
Knowing something
So deep inside and strong
For this alone, we are the salt of the earth

When the odds come as they often do
We are not afraid by the hands of white and cunning
Because we know that there is gold and silver in our heart and soul beyond what the soil can hold

There's a place in our DNA that speaks a language only you and l recognise
We rise above the systemised conundrum
And see the real us in the mirror
Of kings and queens in regular garb we are
Making kingdoms with every step we take

We defer no longer to powers that refuse to see us
We build together a lineage of responsibility
No more blaming and gaming
We take the fall with pride
This is what real royalty do

For the formidable heroes in you and me
We stand tall looking ahead
Knowing something
So deep inside and strong
For this alone, we are the
salt of the earth
© zari

Photo Credit: Tumblr

#blackpoetboy

This is the poem of which I gave context about yesterday. I am accepting who I am now and basking in the freedom of it. When games lose the lustre and the purpose, of which is contrived, we have the choice to return to Self or sequester ourselves on the shelf of playing the waiting game. In this, I am done. I wasn't aware that I was jaded until a series of little things came to remind me of how 'done' I am with it all. It pays to listen to the little bells that ring in unlikely ways. So here is the culmination of a realised choice. I place it here so that you too may make it your own, when you choose.

HAVE PLAYED ENOUGH

I charmed my way into places
that others failed to gain
My powers were honed in learning
the words to choose and entice

The stage I built was simple
backdropped with elaborate scenes
The best of others fell like apples
as l scooped up what I wanted

Alas, I lived with the anxieties
these apples caused me later
Shiny things can only sparkle until they rust
I got lost in the labyrinth others crafted

Life wasted is a shame to the charmer
Dancing to the music others play
makes the movements contrived
The truth is that my soul didn't care for it

So, I felt the feeling of my true Self
and listened to me reading my lines
I left the play of smoke and mirrors
Finally declaring freely,
"I have played enough!"

©zari alexxanderr-caine 2018
#blackpoetboy

"All the world is a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;" is the phrase that starts the monologue from William Shakespeare's As You Like It, spoken by the melancholy Jacques in Act 2 Scene Vll.

I have long wondered what it meant as a child and when I became aware of the adults around me I began to see the reality of what is called 'The Game' that everyone is playing so as to blend into the play of what seems to be life.

I have been haunted and delighted in equal measure, however, I discovered that I don't really care for it much anymore. As l am remembering who I am and as I am experiencing my spiritual awakening, it's become so vivid to me that authenticity is what excites and slakes my internal thirst.

To play the roles that are thrust on me has been a dire state of faking myself out with make believe notions that society has constructed to turn all of us into paper dolls. How did we get here? I ask myself. The dramas that we create that constantly blights us like frost to a grapevine is not serving us like we care to admit.

I guess that I have reached one of the seven stages of a man's life according to Shakespeare. This is an awakening for me. It's seems to have pushed up from the ground like a seed that cracks open all the way. I am sick and tired of playing the game of deception.

When I came across a quote attributed to the ancient Sufi poet Rumi, it was like a river surged through me and confirmed to me what my soul has been reminding me for such a long time. I heard then but now I listen.

The quote goes, "Half of life is lost charming others. The other half is lost going through anxieties caused by others. Leave this play, you have played enough." I don't know about you but for me this is the Universe saying "Wake up!"

And true to form, my poetry notebook fell open to a fresh page and with pen in hand, I didn't have to wait long until the pen released the words I heard mySelf speak onto the waiting page in fresh ink. It came steadily with a conscious ease that as I read what remained as a poem, I was visibly moved.

It's a declaration of personal independence from the empire of cookie cutter thinking and the pull to play the game whose rules I refuse to abide by. I am tired of the scripts written by others. I am done with the incessant rain of conformity. It's a neverending race to nowhere. I choose to be my unique Self.

Life is all about Self-creation.

I aim to keep my post shorter than I am accustomed to writing and with this in mind I will share the poem that inspired this post tomorrow.

© zari alexxanderr-caine 2018
#blackpoetboy

SCORCHED EARTH

Lightening strikes the dry brush
The air is thirsty
Dead foliage stand as they fall
In a state of dying the forest floor begs
The stripping is coming
Sparks fly against wood, leaf and moss
Golden flames lick the dry season
And fires blaze here and there
Until the forest is ablaze with cleansing
That looks like tragedy
Everything feels the heat of change
The dead burn away
The new awaits its command

Scorched earth

Nature's cleansing ends as the winds
Finish the work of taking away
That which does not serve anymore
Blackened earth lays smouldering
All wildlife know something
New things are on the way
The heavy clouds empty
Sky water saturates the thirsty earth
The bald landscape is waking up
The sound of water is new life

Scorched earth

Our lives are like the arid regions of woodlands
We teem with deadened skin that feels nothing
We try to hide the thirst
And the dryness of old versions of ourselves
Clinging to the convenient but dead
Life strikes the dried places of us
And the raging blast does its work
Nothing is spared but the permanent
Then the rains of freshness fall
Something new begins to appear
Beneath the charred remains
A green sapling rises gently to the surface
New skin grows and feelings emerge

We realise nothing new without the experience of

Scorched earth

©zari alexxanderr-caine 2018
#blackpoetboy

Photo credit: Pinterest

MY WEALTHY SELF

The law of plenty is more
than what can be held in one hand
The law of abundance is surpassed by
no other for it is supernatural

I was born richer
than every idea told in stories
This wealth that carries me
is the love of abundance to the enth degree

Poverty is the contextual field
that proves my prosperity
Living with lack is not my reality
I am the possibility without a doubt

Now I remember the truth about me
The Universe is the organising power
that moves me to accept my wealthy Self
I choose this whole part of me abundantly

©zari alexxanderr-caine 2018
#blackpoetboy