Friday, May 29, 2015

The Pain of being a Victim

The pain of being a victim is like a thousand needles that stab at the heart daily and even late at night.  At the time one should find rest, the thoughts swirling around in the mind keeps a tired body wide awake.  This perpetual cycle of restlessness is like an unrelenting mosquito with unfinished business.

It really hurts because I know that there is no difference other than what is on the outside and over what I have no control, I am being made to suffer.  This time old problem of society needs confrontation if ever it is to end.  I have always fought for what is right and I have always challenged what is wrong and that is how everyone ought to be.  That is an wholesome being who blesses society.  Of late, as I have begun graying a little more, I see that the will to stand is still there but the drive is a little dulled.

Thankfully, there are people in this world who still care, those who still have concern.  They regalvanize me with new intent and purpose.  Who is better? When the French desired an egalitarian society, it came after a lot of pain and suffering.  Many countries in the world are still struggling with issues of race and class.  Xenophobia is the scourge of the planet because no one owns anything. My friend is an undertaker and I constantly ask him the rhetorical question "Did any of them take anything with them?"  Hoping for a different answer each time, I am not pleasantly surprised when he says: "No, not yet."  Everything that I have been taught in my Christian education tells me just that.  Everybody is transitioning and the world is in a perpetual state of transition.  The only thing constant is change and it is inevitable.  Nobody's status in life is going to be forever the same.  It can be worse, or it can be better.  In this modern age of the internet, one can shape the collective conscience of the public.  The only thing that will endure is that which is founded upon the truth.

Liars shall not see the kingdom of heaven - Lies tries to subvert the truth but like a geyser, the truth can never be contained.  It will out for that is its nature. Call it what you will - Karma, divine retribution or what goes around comes around, there is a right way to live well.  In Africa, they call it Ubuntu which essentially is "I am OK if you are OK."  In the narcissistic and material driven society in which we live, the saying could be "I'm OK but I don't care if you're OK, further; 'leave me alone'".  We don't want to be touched or affected beyond what's close to our noses.  Only the collective conscience and power of the net can galvanize people together and give them purpose in life.  Life lived without purpose is not life well lived.  So, while we may be far physically or different uniquely, we are brothers and sisters on this rock floating in space.  Let our hearts and consciences live again as we gain perspective.  There is more to life than just me.

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Because I Love You

Because I Love You
I knew the first time I beheld your smile
I knew the first time I heard you laugh
I knew the first time I heard you commune
with the Most High,
that we were meant to be together.

What a road its been.
More ups than down I surmise
but I'm glad that we're together 
weathering those storms and 
strengthened by it.

I think of those lost and forget when
I see my blessings before me.
Its not a forlorn existence but 
a meaningful overflow,
that together we've brought into being.

Decades may pass, but the memories 
are fresh, like yesterday.
How can I live without you.  I can't.

I'm sure I would die not knowing what to do.
'Cos you're my sextant when my 
fossil fire dies.
My water in the desert.
Sparkling diamonds in the grass
after the snow raising my spirit.

Everyone is not abundantly blessed as I am
to have someone as you.

As you celebrate this milestone, I am here
and glad to have you with me
on the road oft' traveled.  Ne'er alone 'cos
I love you ever and 
always. 

Together, we'll leave a legacy
and our footprints.
That's who we are.


Jason Dhanapalan
Your loving husband
Nancy's Birthday
01/31/----
Happy Birthday, now and always

Sunday, September 29, 2013

Falling Boy

Falling Boy
Falling boy is the irony
Falling boy fell down
Falling boy made me smile
Falling boy smiles.

Falling boy has emotion, 
Falling boy has courage.
Falling boy is lonely,
Falling boy will please.

Falling boy needs love,
Falling boy has love
for others.
Falling boy is wise,
thinking on his feet.

Falling boy is loved 
but can't know it for the noise
inside his head grabs and controls
his mind.

Falling boy needs to be still
and then, 
Falling boy will understand.
The peace he craves,
he already has.

9/29/13
9:51est

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Tea Party Town - On the Bombings in Boston

Tea Party Town

 
 
I had always admired the Bostonians.
 
Who in my neighborhood didn't wish for their shoes,
 
a glorious, heaven sent Christmas present?
 
 
Who in history at elementary, middle or high school,
 
can forget the Tea Party?
 
We laughed and giggled at their ingenuity and their
 
resilience.
 
Challenge to the crown a fate that held certain death.
 
Like Scott Key, they held fast to that hope of freedom,
 
without letting go, they tasted it - after the blood;
 
to rise again in the morning.
 
 
Diabolos from Chechnya plotted and planned,
 
eating Bostonian meat, stealing and hoping it's forgotten.
 
Twice they heard, as nails and steel balls flew out.
 
Blood dripped on the street as sweating bodies tiredly run on.
 
 
Now, the Bostonians are angry again with purpose.
 
They will triumph once again and exult in victory.
 
O' Bostonians, when all learns of your spirit and resolve,
 
none will try to hurt you again.
 
What a mistake they made.
 
Twice.
 
Freedom shall reign,
 
again.
 
 
A long overdue tribute to the resilience and spirit of the people of the city of Boston.
5/5/2013
5:02pm est.

Monday, December 17, 2012

Friday after Nine

Friday after Nine
 
Friday after nine, a day we'll ne'er forget.
A hushed silence descended on the nation.
Little angels, their lights forever snuffed out.
 
Weep with me brother, sister, mom and dad.
In my confusion, I can't cry.
I don't know what to do.
I can't do nothin' for the questions, they ...
Swirl my head dizzy.
 
Too soon, too soon a time to go,
into that gleaming light.
We ascend with laughter, reunited
with our Creator.
 
Little beings and tall beings, misty beings
dash around and around, ensconced in
peace, joy and aware that no weight is
carried here.
 
Oh grim reaper, your victory where?
Newtown, nation be consoled, his future's
written.
Your tears are gathered up in His hands
for a memorial.
 
I mourn now, we mourn, his love descends
embracing everyone, closely.
Can you hear his heart beat?
A soft, almost muffled sound that's sure.
 
Wicked king in the dust, where is your power?
A little angel cannot be silenced, they speak
more loudly... from beyond the grave.
They are playing a fun game now, as they
hold little hands and go round and round in circles.
Little smiles potent, on little beaming faces, their song
echoes in the air.
 
Sleep little ones, play a while
no one can hurt you now.
 
 
 
12/17
21H18
Beaufort, NC
A tribute and in memory of those who tragically lost their lives in Newtown, Connecticut.
 
 


Saturday, March 24, 2012

The boy who would die

THE BOY WHO WOULD DIE

This short story is now available though Amazon Kindle.  This contains the updated and edited version.  Per Amazon eBook rules, I could not have a copy here.

Thanks for visiting my blog.  Please send me your thoughts and comments.

Friday, March 18, 2011

EARTHQUAKE

EARTHQUAKE

The plates shook with a heave and a sigh,
not in restful manner,
but like a phleghmatic old lady coughing,
giving up her last breath.
Like a rug shook from under and rippling still.

The waters heaved and rolled, angry at this
sudden, rude interruption of cocky bravado.
The energy began building and shot outwards
like Tell's arrow or Zeus' thunderbolt.

The people cowered in fear and began to hide
and even run.
As the waters approached, some fools watched.
Everything was given a tumble dry wet
indiscriminately.

The clean streets and meticulous lawns and heated buildings
were no more.
I thirst, was the cry.
Where's my baby?
Where's my husband, wife?

Unannounced, in the middle of the night,
who watches over you?

The death cloud is rising.
It's moving this way or that.
Everybody fears.
Are these the signs?

Fear not, I am with you.


Jason Dhanapalan
13H50 est
3.18.11

For the people of Japan, Chile, Haiti and everywhere else.