Ganesha Michael Shapiro
magic is breathing
pulsing in and out
from the watery roots
of your strangler-fig banyan
to the prickly pears that burst
diagonal white-heat lightning
an ancient courting ritual
between steamy stems
and thirsty cacti spines
primal liquid shoots
from within all life
like broken shards of ice
the falling stars came crashing
a billion or so years ago
a billion hungry seeds
gasping...
to be planted in trembling fields
until the westerly winds
filled the dancing skies
impregnating the clouds
and scattering our dream's like rice
upon an ancient flooded land
which forever promises
that Time's multiple selves
shall place all giving hands
upon a thousand terraced shelves
the radiating spiral of the past
is permanantly cast
upon the ivory shifting sands
which catches the light's commands
from invisible spectral bands
to reveal the shadow dancer's plans
nature's familial house of cards
left in tatters
shattered and scarred
until inevitably
we all forgot what truly mattered
a verbal pact was made
never for a minute expecting
that all would suddenly change
the moment we shook the hand
which secretly held the butcher's blade
like echos to be captured
and then released in delight
what lonesome fright
the mind's canyons
are but hollowed out creases
where a single medicine song
from the past decreases
an eternal longing to belong
is the only reason why
the heart's rhythm never ceases
to inspire our fragile flight
into the mystery of mysteries
that evades all sight
until once again
you become a witness
to the drunken and naked rites
the violet colored girl
the violet colored light
the violet light
the violet night
blue is white
yes blue is white
blue is bright white light
and this grass is red
so red that it burns my feet
so bright it assaults the sky
so hot it conquers all my sight
from your heart
violet tears
and screams
so red that they immediately caress
the darkest breath
from your lungs
as the breath from your lungs
gives life to the night
gives life to the moon
gives life to the opal sky
where colored birds
test their flight
nesting colored breasts
and eggs of blue
names of similar places
the missing parts of castles
the blistered feet and hands
of blooming plants
drunken waterfalls in crescents
the essence of kindness grows
Ganesha Michael Shapiro
The power of the word
is getting clearer
breath is the seed form
of the features
constantly appearing in the mirror
belonging to no-one
is belonging to living itself
breathtaking kindness
is consistent and blooming
broken shards of glass
shatter the frame
through which the soul must pass
inspiring a relapse in cognitive dissonance
we dance and make romance
until there is no other fragrance
but our own scent of passionate emptiness
growing in the dirt
rising through the fire
dragging ones heels
behind one’s desire
untie the donkey
kick the mule
frequent the monkey
bless the jewel
give it up to god
give it up to jesus
forget the reasons
why you are too blind to see this
bending your mind
bending through time
bending the light
not too bright
not too colorful
being afraid
I am afraid
I am not frayed
I am I AM
You are the heart that beats in the oven of the soul
You are the bread that rises in the fire of the sun
You are the sound which knows no silence
dance for the secrets are inside you
develop your talents
develop your gifts
break free from the static
create from the ash
create with your fingers
create with your toes
inspire another
that’s how it goes
be another person
be another human
be another dreamer
and you will already know
the water of the season is purer than the snow
the feather of the father is the color of gold
the freemasons honor
was never to be sold
and yet the merchant’s last dollar
was spent on their nose
food is god
god is food
buddha is consciousness
surrounded by good
Ganesha Michael Shapiro
Neither bending nor willing to be bent
I reached out in ecstasy
hoping to find an unknown hand
to hold me tight
God placed her delicately as a flower
in the moistened field
through which I must inevitably pass
on the road leading straight
to the buried roots and burning trunk
of the persistently abused tree of truth
in order to behold the ancient and indigenous soul
about whose rare and ineffable beauty it is commonly said
to be the only spirit ever known
capable of mending a wounded being whole again
how foolish I am to pretend
that I would allow myself to be held
against her lightning colored breasts
with a heart closed so tight
a heart more alike to a fist
that had become frozen in its flight
then to a rose exposed in a moment of full bloom
hidden in the fertile depth of night
I yearned for a rope
a few pieces of broken twine
hair or other enthusiastic fiber
such as milkweed or cedar
that could be grasped
and eventually woven
on the loom of mind
into the star stroked sky
a string that could magically bind
all desire to its fruit
the visionary spirit polarized
became the source of the primal divide
that justified the crimes
committed by fragmented minds
the beautiful wives who weave this thread
are busy braiding the earth
into fragrant loaves of freshly risen bread
that will eventually feed yesterday’s dead
and from ingesting the lustful seeds
the lover’s shall eternally be wed
it contracted and then relaxed
and for a brief second I stumbled
into a flow of love so free
that I could allow a tidal wave of fear
to pour over me without extinguishing the flame
that I had most diligently kept alive
upon my ill-fated descent
into the honey soaked caverns of Hades’ hive
tearing off the scab
to reveal the flesh below
perhaps underneath the wounds
which so many reluctantly bear
is a frozen stare that too many worshippers wear
are you secretly longing to be forgiven
from the unceasing glare
that emanates from vacant eyes
which are buried amidst a polluted sea of repressed sighs
short hair and two dimensional faces
why must tomorrow’s crystal children
struggle to sit still and wait patiently
while passive-aggressive adults
struggle with a visionless fate
and an increasingly distant destiny
to create a featureless and impersonal authority
that will eventually declare
that all magical and mysterious creatures
shall forever disappear and all sparkling creative children
learn to beware of dirt, green grass and brushes dipped in paint
while they sacrificially bear the heaviest of crosses
or realize the drunkard’s dangerous demise
for to be blissfully drenched in the name
one must very quickly learn
to despise one’s own unique disguises
running frequently among wild horses
souls are broken into millions of pieces
infinite sirens are singing to sea-stranded sailors
who are reaching for the end
'twas a fire-fly symphony
of symbols, sounds and sights
that turned his barren head into a verdant field of light
food for thought
must be purchased on shelves of sight
it is food for the night
which is devouring delight
drinking in the blood
of what went wrong and what shall ever be right
once alight this flame
that burns the wit
to its wick’s end
shall never again need give in to fright
or be extinguished by one’s earthly plight
grabbing onto ghosts is a risky business
for those who having grown up in country houses
could not escape the curse of debt and doubt
that haunted their banquet halls and town meetings
until courting the dancer they became the dance
to be bitten and chewed into tiny pieces
miniscule portions of a prison
that are meant to be swallowed in one gigantic gulp
musical notes that bloomed
like roses from the thorny stems of the sun
its setting song composed of violent chords
plucked from the strings of words
like winged birds flashing their incandescent feathers
to be skinned and written upon the flesh
refreshed by the cadence of capricious mice
great are the pastures
wise are the flowers
strong are the toads
humble are the tides
which turn a man into a prince
a greener sun
a darker virgin
a bloodier hand
a dream
a moment
a fragment
a piece of bone
worn down to a point
sharpened by the ground
that held the rose bush in her sweaty palms
Ganesha Michael Shapiro
imagining time and beauty
beyond mind and duty
for when the angels
of the morning song
and the singers of the dawn unite
we shall rejoice in unbroken delight
as darkness gives birth to sight
one begins to have faith and patience
those sons and daughters
who are destined to be called
the bringers of the light
move neither outward
nor inward into fright
they play the broken chords
of wisdom's silent song
to heal the wounded bind
which unties the heart and mind
gestate your love in the darkness
so that you can feel
the harshness of the desert
in which kindness
each day must die anew
like snowflakes in the sun
or the moisture in the morning dew
for this is what it means
to be the living essence
that is always unexpectedly
resurrected upon the floating lips
of a golden lotus flower
have no longing to become one
for within the depth of this fragile heart
her desire is always to be torn apart
so that she can radiate her grace
from within the evanescent faces
and in the eyes of perfumed souls
reflect the fragrant gems
of a past and solitary logos
murder, hatred, and anger
are truly violent weapons
which arise spontaneously
disguised as projections
from a neglected dreamtime
who is being raped and killed
by our humanity's forgetfulness
Ganesha Michael Shapiro
I see my hands as they are
perfect, bending and releasing
aging is antithesis
desiring to drink the potion of immortality
is to fear the inevitability of impermanence
growth is unmeasured
fractal derivatives
dreams
awaken
life’s purpose and meaning
vision
values
virtues
freedom
blessings
darkness is conditioning
fragrant fantasies falling from the moon’s ecstatic mirror
overflowing with love
from the water’s edge
become what you are
a beacon of sound and spirit
hunger for this breath
lift the veil of judgement
now
make-over the dreary countenance of another disheartening day
never underestimate the effect of listening
to silence and surrender to the space between words, thoughts and emotions
you are neither the content nor the container
do not content yourself with giving away your power
growth is violent and non-linear
advancing the serpent’s sleeping ascension into sonic never-land
spinning consciously from all angles
voice
your opinions
vocalize
your dreams and ambitions
dare to not let the sleeping dogs lie too long upon the sheets of paradise
for what is truly yours is not another’s to take away
Ganesha Michael Shapiro
death and rebirth
here underneath the noise
hidden within the aim
the means and the end
of modern civilization’s
destructive and monotone voice
there is one thread
connecting the heart and the head
may we respectfully bow to the dead
that lie scattered like some loose change
carelessly forgotten among our mother earth’s
innumerable pockets
hands reaching into graves
searching for value
amidst the emptiness which remains
becoming slaves to the inescapable
atrocities that have fallen like rain
from a bitter and unrelenting sky
now is the time to rise up
and let free the cries of rage and grief
so deeply repressed
that they are quickly seeping
into the waterways and aquifers
streams, rivers, valleys and forests
innumerable natural fountains
that poured from pristine headwaters
off of mystic inspiring mountains
that are now rapidly becoming
funeral homes and tattoo parlors
in a country where to be free
you must consistently agree
with whatever it is you are forced to see
on the television set
or front pages of a newspaper
or electronic magazine
a rebirth is in store
for all those beings who choose to
die a thousand deaths
rather than be buried alive
by the falling skies
of advertisements and styles
which never quite
settle the eye
or inspire the soul to beauty
a time when the sacredness of time itself
will be remembered
as being more valuable than wealth
or even reputation
when intrinsic goodness
will be perceived as a motivating force
even in commerce and sports
rather than self-interested
greed and petty deeds
that are designed to promote only
scarcity and competition
as this new day dawns
a bone-chilling call will go forth
played upon an instrument
that is in tune with all the creatures
in the woods and on the plains
and carried upon the wind
like ancient songs in a spring time parade
a celebration of life and light
and a return to the earth’s
abundant creativity
will begin to peak through
the luminous cracks
in the pavement and cement
until a numinous reality
is once again born
from the torn fabric
of the Goddess’s broken hem
and served by all
in the name of the One
known as unity, love and faith
that naturally rises like the Sun
within the hearts of men
Ganesha Michael Shapiro
thirteen arrows in the quill
breath is the bow that aims at the sun
unleash the mind from its attachments
as you tighten your grip on this reality
knowing for certain in your heart
that it will eventually all slip away
as water inevitably pours forth
from between clasped hands
nevertheless you pull the thread of the sound current
until it’s absolute tension reveals its readiness
to play the song of the silent passing of time
the arrow’s path is already written in the sky
trying to grow the largest stash of wealth
is among the most worthless of endeavors
since you can never consume the fallen fruits
of those foolish and idealistic monetary pursuits
your belly will become full of desire, hunger and anger
therefore it is significantly better and wiser
to plant a single flower and fill your heart
with the buddha generating fragrance of its colorful nectar
blossoming in the essence of it's longing to be inspired
a richer soul you cannot be
but to be poor in heart
is to be broken in-deed
a drop of rain in the ocean
is filled with everything she needs
but when she falls from the sky
it is heaven’s bleeding mystery
that traveling away from our safety
ensures that we become surrendered
to the wisdom in the seeds
being blown across the desert
and planted in the darkness of the soil
it is through trusting in their feelings
and distinguishing desires from needs
that they once again become for all
the living breathing blessings
which is mother nature's timeless security
the eternal and unchanging memory
that was once alive and blooming in the trees
transforms this hard-earned abundance of diversity
into the sacred inheritance of all living beings
Ganesha Michael Shapiro
the strings that attach the heart to the soul
are beginning to come untied
all sound is heard in silence
as all love is felt in the depths of the soul
bowing one’s head to the earth
the breath of life returns
to her garden in the sun
broken mirrors and pottery
shards from another time and place
caressed her face
as she sheds the skin
of another year around the sun
drunk with laughter and heartbreak
I hear her crying out for love
music to my ears
my body responds
without hesitation or thought
until all the chords are played
no one’s face can ever truly know
the ecstasy of the sun’s rays
upon meeting with the eye
sing the druid’s song
so music can once again
breathe her fragile and fleeting form
this new life is born
in the temple of the heart
drink the prayers of the sages
like wine from the vine of love’s longing
cold flames of truth are melting
the frozen dreams of reason’s drunken violence
grow this fragrant flower
in the garden of your silence
it is within the breeze and shade
of the oldest living trees
that all memory lies hidden
waiting for the flame
that will spark the traveling song
of life’s ever-flowing waters
and renew the barren land
that has been driven to darkness and despair
by unfriendly hands and ignorance of nature’s only law
if you hope for a return to the light hearted days
of innocent play with the brave and shining faces
of twenty and twelve solar knights
who ride upon the circular rays
emanating from Arthur’s holy grave
in the tears of the sun
lies rebellion’s ancient court
if you hunger for the nectar
that frees the soul from all captivity
then do not drink from the forgetful tombs of crazy sorrow
that drive the sweetness of the season
to become fermented like rotten apples
that have fallen to the earth to feed the soil
another dose of the same medicine
that has always been whispered on the winds
of our mother’s gentle and grief stricken voice
Ganesha Michael Shapiro
broken promises I beg of you, let them go
please do not try to hold back this train
it cannot be stopped by
violence, madness or ignorance
only love can stop this train
from falling off the edge
in your heart there blooms
a blue lotus the color of Saturn's rings
like spirals curling around the Sun in perfect harmony
they have frequently drawn your body’s form in the sands of time
do you choose to let the earth draw from your breath
a timeless line of poetry that becomes a blossoming tree
and inevitably drowns the scattered islands of your identity
in the bountiful and blissful sea of your predetermined destiny
the unknown equation is becoming known
the formula for creating one’s fractal reality
is to constantly remember the path of x-to-z
(ecstasy) is swimming in the sea of liquid sustenance
which is the cosmic abundance that we are breathing in and out
eating and drinking light, she embraces us with her open mouth
delicate and graceful your formless form is born again and again
recursive symmetry that never argues or forces its point
but always agrees with the emptiness between
sky and stone, flesh and bone, rock and tree
blessed be this eye-land that can never be bought, sold or traded
I-land, thy-land, my-land, is and will always be our land
it’s time to lend your hand to uphold this sacred plan
that is permanently unstained in its own essence
its destiny is forever unchanged by this name or that name
and yet its true name always remains the same
Turtle Island, Mama Gaia, Mother Earth, Pachamama
all ways of reverently revealing that which contains and sustains us all
