Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Moptop Meditation

I close my eyes and feel an energy 
incommensurate with last night’s pizza 
or this morning’s English muffin. 
It’s like nineteen sixty-four is listening 
to real top forty radio and number one 
and two and three are Beatles tunes,
‘I Want to Hold Your Hand,’
‘She Loves You,’ ‘Please Please Me,’
and nothing that one knew before
consisted of such power and such glory
or such nuclear explosion
like those mushroom clouds in photographs
explaining why we practice duck and cover
in event of catastrophic war
but this is rock and roll,
this Shiva Shakti consciousness.
One knows no radio can generate
that burst of pure uncensurable radiance
but yes it’s all incoming waves instead.
They saturate the space around me
and this little lime-green plastic box
is just receiving them and amplifying
all-encompassing collective bliss itself:
“it's such a feeling that my love
I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't hide.”
Call it spirit, being, presence,
Krishna, Christ, this universal love
that makes the body and receives the song
it’s always singing you yourself are love,
"yeah, yeah, yeah!"

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