O LORD

O Lord why have you forsaken me tonight
I feel estranged
I do not feel right
I’ve eyesight
Yet I do not see thy holy sight
The tide upon Ganges do not rise
Nor fireflies flicker
Or butterflies fly
O Lord why have you forsaken me tonight
I see the far away twinkling stars sparkling with the sparks of
sadness-sunken-sigh
The twilight rekindle the hearts of ember dry
The wise man below the old oak watches thy invisible Eye as the life
passes by below the blue ribbon sky and above the blue-eyed watery bride
Rain falls
Seas rise
Leaves rustle; feathers fly
Birds chirp
Meadow gay green glitter in noon sunlight
The honey-bees gather honey in the honey-hives
Jersey violets pink and blue smile below the red oak pine
While the horses healthy and fine are happily eating fresh rich hay
beside the fields of blueberries rich ripe
Brook trouts big and small are swimming free all day long in the warm
cozy water of Jersey’s rivers, brooks, and ponds
The golden finch with golden beak is carefully feeding off the kind
farmer’s little bird-feed
Atlantic City
Jersey Shore wide scenic fine
Strip-malls
Farmer-markets; skinny dip in the Passaic and Rhine
O my winter’s snow melts inundating the shoreline
The lonely narrow train hides himself inside the more lonely and more
narrow tunnel of no light
Tear trickles down her face pale prominent, full of pride
Remembering the memory with what she rode along with her lover of
poems and sonnets written in paradise
O dear Lord
Why have you forsaken thy mortal insignificant servant tonight
The lonely night make more lonely the lonesome nightingale of mystique
sunrise
A late night moon-ray gently kisses the little tender lips of a lotus
tender tight
A drop of a dew silently drip off the slippery smooth surface of a
sunflower all alone in an unknown strange shade of shy filtered sunlight
O dear God
Why you made me
Why you designed me thus in mud, clay, temporal clime
What’s my purpose
What’s my goal
Why I do not sense any goodness in my inmate imprisoned soul
O how am I to reach my predestined shore
And how am I to tell death to come again before the dust of the dusk
settles upon the rough rugged hooves of the weary-worn cattle home-
bound to home
O I’ve become unbeloved, unkind; cruel and cold
Devilishly bold
I sin with a smile
I scoff at religions and rites
I pray not
I repent not
Neither I laugh
Nor I cry
Only the evil eye beguile me
Only the pleasure in flesh make me rise
O Lord
Leave my flesh
Take my soul

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