Mountains

MOUNTAINS

Mountains appear before me,
numerous odd shaped entities.
I stand at their base in awe,
filled with wonder.

The air is icy cold,
a portent of what awaits.
In the silence, I can hear myself think.
It is a noisome cacaphony.
All this is drowned out by the presence before me.

I will have to climb alone or get nowhere.
Nobody is there to reach out.
Nobody wants to.
It's a world of get and get more...
I have no ropes or links to help me.

Then I put my foot foward on the cold, jagged rocks.
I search out for soft places to absorb.
I turn back and look, frozen by fear
of the enormity of the task ahead.
I have only taken two steps and don't see,
the fourth man.

I persist and climb for years.
I look back and see that he was tending my cuts
and bruises along the way,
invisibly.

All along...
waiting on the top too.
What a breath-taking view we enjoy.
I am not alone.
No, no more.

'How lovely on the mountains are the feet,
of him who brings good news, announcing peace,
proclaiming news of happiness...'

We still climb,
even if the rock rolls down again.


Jason Dhanapalan
19H05 est.

Apocalypse

APOCALYPSE

I had a dream that the leader's daughter
had an abusive partner.
My discernment has never let me down so far,
nor do I expect it to do so anytime soon.
I see things so I am not surprised.

What I see now is a people who are Godless and Godforsaken.
They are running around as if in an athletics meet.
There is no goal or purpose.
It's a daily route so no surprises expected, no rose smelling.
Forces are gathering with devious intention to begin a great assault,
like never before.
To snuff out the weak and busy.

Thousands of birds fell from the skies and had the scientists
disagreeing with each other for the best explanation.
Don't you know that not one sparrow falls from the sky and 
Him not knowing it?
Beauty silenced and the feathers ruffle in the wind is
a portent of things to come.
Suddenly, without warning and subtly the enemy attacks.
He knows the time!

A flaming sword from the North East will lie all waste
in its path and that time is now on us,
like a sudden downpour and the ground cannot soak up the water
so there is a deluge.
Not like the Mayan calendar but they knew something.

Thousands of fish suddenly dying tells that the time for mercy is no more.
Fish once fed and slaked hunger but now is a sign,
of the starvation and depravity of mind.
It was a slow and steady slide that none troubled over the omens,
to swim upstream.
They would eat each other just as soon for everything else,
unnatural is acceptable.

Its too late for change if reading, it's not instant,
so soon is the parousia in my sight.

Can the blind lead the blind?
They will both be hurt.

The signs are there but can we perceive it?
On our knees.
That's condescending, isn't it?
'Untouchable' in India, not any more?
But right here and now.

Lawyers and the law are killing the nation and there's 
no governance but a semblance of it.

Will a remnant return?
That's a possibility.

God bless ....

Apocalypse means 'eye opening' not end of days.
When the end is nigh, there will be time no more
for opening of eyes.
That's a luxury for now.  

Jason Dhanapalan
8:45pm est

Its Snowing Now

Its Snowing Now

It's snowing now -
what a wonderful sight.
Everywhere I look is covered by a blanket of white
so generously.

Just like the sun that shines on the
just and the unjust
brilliantly.

There's a time coming to burn or freeze
at the extreme.

Kids make angels and really seem to be
with wings indented on the white.
I hear the crunch crunch under my boots
and tread cautiously and sensitively
as if hoping for something ethereal to happen.
Nothing does... except the constant wind blows
the soft flakes upon my cheek
to melt instantly.

Snow over all, just like the blood over all.
The one covers and the other cleanses
with a like generosity of spirit.

But the snow will melt and expose whats under.
There's nothing left when the blood is done.
Red over white or brown is so stark.

I see beauty all around, up in the sky or
down on the ground.
Angelic beings are flitting about.
Who can see them or understand what is to come.
The great battle of the mind has already started
through the ownership of your soul.
By what you hold dear to your heart.

The subtle one is hissing and slithering along happily
and in 'victory' - which is man's pain
for now as is appointed.
Open your eyes!
Fight back... or lose.
That's what is real.

It's snowing now.


Jason Dhanapalan
06H11 est.

The Cock Crows

The Cock Crows

Is like the crunch time -
there's desolation.

Judas would've stayed, his loyalty true,
but the same song was not being sung;
so no harmony.

Strength to go on after the cock crows - 
where shall it come from?
Only the blood flowing and the spittle oozing and the water
running down the side may be the only way.
The thorns and the hammered nails pumps adrenalin.
But its not enough.

There's the need to know and accept that someone precious,
is waiting and awaiting great possibilities.

The cock is dead, a meal in the pot.
There's no more warnings and prophecies of doom.
Its purpose for life ended with tongue sticking out.
The smell of spices linger in the air -
from the pot and through the shroud.

Who can I lean on here?
I was invited as a brother but the shoulder is weak.
The earth tilts at an angle by design and winter follows fall.

The hungry unsated mouth is ever open,
to eat and eat and eat.

Even that precious and rare gem is ...
running away.
Solitude.

Who will come back?
The hurt, the pain the turmoil,
lingers.

For Zahra and the babies

FOR ZAHRA

The life of a fighter snuffed out,
like a candle half-burned.
The radiant smile like a 'Mexican Wave'
plucked at my heart and echoed a tune,
that endeared me to you.

Children are the heritage yet so hated,
'twill leave us all with nothing,
for tomorrow.
Women too, with fruit - have appointments
to slice and dice and pay.
But, whose choice?
The scales, the judgement - GUILTY!

A life lived in pain; hair loss, leg lost.
But greatest pain was 'Et tu?'
reaching up to silence the vibrance
with mens rea convinced.

Animal, beast - you're the fittest...
for now, and time will come when the shoe...
is on the other foot.
Your soul's lost as judgement's sealed,
for murder of the innocents.

Mom, dad... Why?

My bones are rolling in the gravel
and uniting with the dust.
My blood is crying out from the soil.
Whose choice?  Whose choice?

My voice speaks out, louder than ever...
from beyond the grave.
Can anyone hear me singing, gurgling happily?
They once closed their minds and
battened their ears like hatches.

My laughter echoes through the walls.
Hands now cannot be washed,
ever.


Jason Dhanapalan
03H20 EST
11/15/10

Abused Woman

Abused Woman

Abused woman, seems an euphemism -
She runs up the stairs fraught with terror,
from the husband who's quick as a gazelle
and thinks he's as young -
the father of two sons, an airforce pilot and an engineer.

He's been having entrees on the side when the opportunity
presented - there's ever and always 'wins' like the lottery;
which is never but for one or two.
The sated lion now roars and goes in for the kill,
only not knowing what to do but show demented rage
on his face.

No words spoken as time passes in a blur.
The paralysing fear that overcomes her as she hears,
the pounding heart and the rushing blood in her ears.
Her face is red and clammy, like after a good work-out
but this was exertion beyond her age and it wore on her
like a New Yorkers' winter coat.

Instinctively, she picks up a gun - knowing...
its unloaded and points it in defense, hoping
his terror of dying would make him go away.
Somehow he knew that it was not - being the
'dot your i's and cross your t's person.'

He grabbed it and rammed her jaw with the butt as
down to the floor she crumpled in a heap.
Consciousness gained, she was 'read' her rights.
"I beat her in self-defence, as I feared for my life,"
was his defence as off to prison and a life of misery for her,
that awaited.

Who could stand up for her,
but the poet?
In his writings is a tribute to the one needing most love,
but unloved.
Who can love her, this 'poor, pathetic victim?'
Her inner strength is her refuge now.
Coward!  Retribution is coming.

She did everything right but in your eyes,
EVERYTHING was WRONG.

For him, a new mistress 'younger' and 'willing',
promising but a life of uncertainty.


Jason Dhanapalan
9:41 EST
For Abused and hurting women all around the world for I have heard one story too many.

Raca

Raca

I've heard tell that 'raca' is a bad word.
Fools are those who live, knowing that;
the starving are dying,
the empty of soul are withering,
the millstoned necks are drooping -
and doing nothing.

Didn't Cornelius the 'scapegoat' of society,
gain His notice through open hands.
Reaching out is sharing not dreaming;
and living real.

Fools are those who live to hurt, insult and annoy
people whose hearts beat like them.
Nobody likes a steady beep...
There's only one chance,
to live well.

'Ubuntu' says 'I'm OK only if you're OK',
that makes a big difference,
but not here!
Everybody's too busy; but is anyone asking,
what's the whole point?
They've lost the ability to think and reason;
everything is done for them.
Pursuit of the green.

Where does it lead and where will it end?
Raca, raca, raca!
BE NOT!!!


Jason Dhanapalan
20H32 EST