The Seeker’s Song~

The search for love’s promised certitude brandished a broken heart~
“True Love” lied and languished in Disney Land delusions~
Time’s painful reproach surreptitiously surrendered~

Crumbling creation stirred forgotten forlorn fantasies~
Bleeding from the gaping wound of wanting anything else~
Badly bruised and broken, striped raw of hope’s wanton wish~

Desperately decaying and denying death’s delight~
Reaching, grasping, clawing for the past’s perfect presentation~
Knowing Only a script of memorized, methodical monologues~

All desirous dreams destroyed in faith’s fiery inferno~
Emptied and as hollow as hell’s hidden harmony~
Birthed once again by misery’s mischievous midwife~

The seeker prostrated to the purpose in the pain~
Embraced the dancing demon in the darkness~
Deliciously destroyed by Lover and Beloved~
Simply sighed in sweet surrender~

Copyright © Satprem 2012


The Last Dance~

As the belief systems implode upon themselves, 
as the identities crash to their foundations… I am emptied~

The dark night has, as always, been the creatrix of awakenings~ 
Death has once again birthed a formless form, an energy spin~

I am the ashes upon the altar of the beloved~
I am the chaos which consumates completion~ 
I am the beginning and the end and all that lay between~

The spiral dance thirsts not for completion, 
spins eternity’s web of seeming life and death~ 
Always coming home, always home…all ways, 
even as the trickster comes to sup~

To serve empty eternal promises and presumptive peace~

Offering moments of eruptive rest between the harsh breaths of this mortal majesty~

Divine feminine and Holy masculine, united, bound, bonded, 
joined as one… paired for the last dance…omega.

Nowhere, Now Here to go.. I go, never having left… 
Nothing, No Thing to do, I remain beyond loss and gain~ 

Be… I Am~


Copyright © 2012

Photo Credit goes to Terri Nakamura

The “Other”~

I am me, then there is he~ 
He, who is fragmented, un-whole, dirty~ 
He, who sees only incompletion and regret~ 
He, who hears naught but whispers of lack~

I am me, then there is he~ 
He, the odd one who can’t fit the mold~ 
He, who feels smothered by his own skin~ 
He who’s feet can’t touch the earth~

I am me, then there is he~ 
He, who is small, frail, girlish at best~ 
He, who is shunned, shamed, chosen last~ 
He, who is never enough, enough for me~

I am me, not the other who casts shadows~ 
Day and night shadows come to play~ 
I cannot gaze into my own reflection, 
for I know not the mirror’s depth, 
or the boy I will find within~

I am me , then there is he~

Written age 13

Copyright © Satprem 2012

No More Kings~

Empty boyhood’s piercing treasure, 
Gaping wound flows without measure~

Fatherless well so dank and musty, 
Mother’s apron stained and dusty~

Flying on to spiritual glory, 
buried below a shameful story~

Puzzles locked in many rooms, 
descend in fear to ancient tombs~

Gold plated terror, worn by time, 
Glossed by light to hide the crime~

Oceans of tears to deep to sail, 
become the gull to no avail~

Enlightenment seeks to be the goal, 
oozes through the gaping hole~

Empty life lay in the ashes, 
no eyes to peer through sequin sashes.

Blinded by God’s who’ve lost their throne, 
society’s men are mindless drones~

The blood dance done, the scepter broken, 
whispers heard, where lies are spoken~

Who then will ascend to highest tower, 
claim the throne and sword of power?

Who then will feel the joy this brings, 
no throne, no sword, and no more kings~

Written age 14 whilst reading a lot of Joseph Campbell and Robert Bly at the time~

Copyright © Satprem 2012

Gray Image~

Not satisfied with who you see, 
the mirrored image lies to thee~

Compared in thought your mind projects, 
sifts and strains, retains, rejects~

Computerized and digitized 
original sin is realized~

Guilt creeps in and steals from you, 
your child’s eyes and faith so true~

Wondrous world of innocence, 
dies in right and wrong’s defense~

Purpose lost, you cling and hold, 
reshape your clay to fit the mold~

No longer satisfied with you, 
seek what you deem is right and true~

Your mind projects divinity, 
and buries your humanity~

Imprisoned in a fortress strong, 
gray and dim your child’s song~

Color and light, all but gone and 
death becomes your wishful dawn~

Copyright © Satprem 2012

Contrived Control~

All is a subtle dream-dance of passing forms, yet human eyes perceive only the shape of things~

A deep and dark sadness consumes the heart which yearns for the fantasy of a secure, solid, unchanging creation~

Life’s constant movement dissolves the perceived pleasure of contrived control, as security’s illusion once again steals the light of what is “called” faith.

No luminescence lights the empty, dark and hallowed halls of hope’s false promises and the Universe or God is indifferent to the small and petty seemingly separate self called “I”~

So small and fatally fragmented, the actor’s script of self becomes and his image, ideas, concepts and beliefs wear thin with no audience to applaud a false facade~

Once again he stands naked and alone in a house of mirrors, diligently dancing with self created demons~

Stripped of any identity to prop up an impermanent pattern, he becomes the All which he All Ways was~

Robbed of any hope of stability, he is saturated in the Divine Knowing that he knows not anything, that nothing can truly be known with the mind and that he may quite well be… No-Thing at all~

In that unknowing and all in one deep breath “he” is annihilated and becomes the everything that he always was~

Copyright © Satprem 2012


Searching the finite threads of mortality 
for some meaning or pattern in the 
Infinite’s dance of thoughtless neutrality~

Having climbed the fast inconscient realms 
of supreme ignorance and having fallen 
face down in the web of duality, he finally 
suckles the sweet and pregnant nothingness 
that is here when all else is gone~ 
I Am That I Am!

Every experience, a golden rung on 
the ladder of accension, each a blessing 
above the lie of right and wrong~

The gutter births a king, a saint, a prophet 
who’s heart knows all, who’s mind is empty, 
who’s lips are sealed~

The great pretender glimpses the shadowy 
outlines of his own sweet lie, but trembles not 
in the face of fearful fancy~

For he knows beyond knowing that circles 
are not circles unless complete, through 
the gift of dark ignorance, degredation, 
utter humiliation and annhilation~
I Am That I AM~

Copyright © Satprem 2012