The all attractive mighty-
Blue-skinned idol deity,
Grasping all suffer and misery
Call himself The Hari.
Even a leaf can symbol a devotee
Being natkhatlal is what Maiyaa worry;
His existence is an endless rath,
Knowledge is what defines Jagannath.
The Lotus-Eyed he is-
Lord of Love whom we wish,
Charioteer to Arjuna
Raas and Kanhaiyya,
Together we say-
Hari! hari!

Long ago now (if ever), once upon a dream,
I was saved by a deity – lovely, serene.
Circumstances were dire, I am telling the truth:
I was down under water, caught in vines, couldn’t move.
It reached out to me, then, from the depths underneath,
Pulled me up to the surface; I struggled to breathe.

With a song it has lulled me,
Of my safety assured me.

Years by, haven’t once I remembered the vision.
Not until our sudden (or fated?) collision.
When I look in your eyes of warm hazel, I hear
Softest voice from the memory – ethereal, dear.
Are you possibly someone I’ve once only seen,
Long ago now (if ever), once upon a dream?

a large hand from outer space
descended to the Earth's surface
and with a finger and thumb,

grabs me by the belt at the seat
of my pants,

hoisting me straight up like
a fish out of water for
viewing with a great
concern...

He turns my tinyness toward Him
and looks me eye to eye, frowning
in disapproval—

"I dunno, maybe You should
just,
                 toss me away??"

His face then smiled a little,
and with a sigh ,

i was gently lowered
back down...

"Intervention"
©2007-2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved

I am the sunflower that
grows in your garden,
and worships you like the sun

This is my compilation of choice
This is where I hear God's voice
Wrapped in eloquent grace,
Punctuated with tearful praise
User manual or admonishment
Hope and encouragement
Stories of enemies and friends
- where battles end
in the end.

This is my anthology of choice
This is where I hear God's voice
Soft like the call of a lover
Earnest like the tears of a running Father
Substituting justice with forgiveness
Love Joy Peace and Patience

This is my anthology,
my compendium of choice
This is where I hear God's voice
This is where I hear words collide with joy
This is where words can fly

This is where you'll hear God's voice.

You see, my God is a poet.

If your lips are dry, let me moisten them with the sweet fragrance of my lips. When your soul is empty, let me fill it with the fruits of my love so you can moan in ecstasy. Let me whisper in your mouth and it shall melt like honey. A kiss of mine can satisfy the wishes of a Master like you. Tell me how to please you, Lord. Come and swim like a fish into the ocean of my love. Let us melt into each other, let me wound you with everlasting pleasure. God shall be our kingdom and you my only Master.

The sun sempiternal shepherds its flock life-longly. Repetition be its brother, night be its foe. As regurgitation fumes, funneling heinous broth of decay and hostility, the tedium drips ashore, clenching its claws, raising the congregation of lunatics hellwards and in a moment of inseparable divisionism, bursts out loud, hardening the ground with desecration. Outbegotten and throughbrought, the once ****** ******* feral sons to the demented deity all above and none below, in turning, swirling and the ever-prying agony, facilitate themselves a house atop a hill. After the cacophony concludes, The Fool finds himself standing, thrice woven, wolfmeadow thrown, fistlike tenacity hit, once beholden to each beast of coppered glow. Up he reaches, but finding nought and disillusioned with disinterest he breaks down in acid tears and horrid shrieks for mercy. The inward calibre reciprocates and bursts out a tubular noise of contradiction. In all still-standing, the Queen, she of the all-overseeing, turns to The Fool and parlours him a wisdom: "I am unto you as a universe is unto itself. I am within you as this earth is within me. I am you and you I shall stay. And when you at once turn dust-wards, I shall, bereft but forthlooking, beget you again." Aghast with sudden agonising fragility and from the cosmic incantation a ghost arisen, The Fool in all his momentarily found glory and happiness conjectures himself a vessel to venture upon. What he once missed he now resides in. He found it and now he rejoices. To Youth, at long once and at once forever.