Perspective

In the blink of God's eye,
galaxies dissolve
and light years pass.
We return to forever
and embrace the ineffable.
Eternity's clock chimes ONE
but doesn't get beyond NOW.
With depth unfathomable
passed time immemorial,
Divinity accomplishes ALL THAT IS
yet remains at rest in infinite stillness.

Inner Travel of a Psychic Transexual
[Wilma Rudolph was my idol in 1960]

This witless witness keeps her fitful fitness
By sprinting long latticed lanes of life
Querying quickness merged with speedy slickness
Yet crossing the line has its price.
Part and parcel in a relay,
Racing round ovals of rebirth.
Heart and hard-sell, play to parlay
Spacing sound in marvel and mirth.
Training by racing against trains of thought,
Making tracks to crack the code.
Tracking and stalking, smacking and walking,
Completing this wordiforous ode.

Being in the Same Movie

In the union in which we commune,
there's only one of us here.
Iterations of separation eventually convince
that there's room to move through neural grooves
in a stretched out elemental sphere
Taking turns in role playing stints.
You are everywoman, an archetype in an allegory
I, but a figment of our amalgamation
Caught by presumin' complete hype of uncertain memory,
until and always we internalize integration

BACK on the ROAD AGAIN!

Swimming in a sea of emotion,
caught in a riptide of sadness.
To resist an irresistable force
is courageous, foolish or madness.
I awaken each day dripping in despair.
Am i nursing World's suffering or my own?
Aching wounds-frame of reference for healing
Melodrama 'til I jump into the Zone.
Like playground hoopster who's got the eye
or a dancer completely in the point.
Unstraying into the periphery of pain,
I'm propelled by the magic of a joint.
Altered consciousness provides a platform
on ebbs and flows of sentimentality
A raft floating along the current,
Crucible for soul learning reality.
good shabbos for the jew in you's

Unmasked Aggression

Psychic Samurai! Words are my weapons;
The mind doing battle with itself.
Competitive spirit on which life depends.
Goals scored recognizing good health.
Striking a balance between living and death.
Homeostasis persevering in process.
Love's function and field determined by breath.
Memory's magic gives learning access.
Managing the moment, conversation as race.
Running the juggle's exhilarating sprint.
Results maintained as cerebral trace.
Soul resolves holes through quick hints
that unity's reality, miraculously linked.
We're dying and continually reborn.
Laughter expels the paradox we drink.
Tears wash the losses we mourn.
Killing and healing at love and war's fair,
A carnival of pleasure and pain.
To shower in power of God's glorious glare,
riding life's wheel in ignorance again.
Words act as swords, blades for mind surgery.
Jokes cut egos with sharp punch lines.
Truth quickly lost to intellectual perjury.
At best our test to be kind.
Kind of good sport, living a game,
A sort of biological mutation,
Body's resort, acceptance and blame
within a Divine simulation

In the Face of Tragedy

Words inadequate to deal with emotion.
Poetry and song barely approximate.
Asymptomatic to attention and devotion.
Strange ways with which we relate.
Animals interact through more primal senses.
Less abstract, hence physically direct.
Eternity operates outside of tenses.
The Void employed so All connect.
Across the ether reality timeless.
Thoughts need not contract to form words.
Love, all pervasive; we're embraced by silence.
Yet suffering's so easy to be absurd.
Is the pain a function or expression of mind?
Precursor or wetnurse for pleasure?
Reward as training to learn to be kind
or just another item we measure?
Words serve as instruments for perceptual record,
lynchpins between mentation and feeling.
Determining factor to one's sense of discord
'til we recall that all our talking is just breathing.

Welcoming the Shekinah at Shabbos

Dear distant lover and self up close,
Does love's sweet addiction pull us to dose
ourselves with each other's familiar vibe,
sharing presence, etherics imbibe?
Desire's push shown in confessions
Sensate perception leaves impressions
If pleasant we wish to repeat
otherwise more than happy to ignore or delete.
Perfection awaits until we remember,
sparking thoughts as consciousness embers.
Breath carries us through the astral surf,
comforted by conversation and mirth.
Is anyone out there? How will I know?
Can I be aware of how much I grow?
Only and ever, experience accrues.
Fate or free will, who's going to choose?

—All poems on this page
by DR. FARB