Nice poems,from an unknown poet named Gordon

Lead me from dreaming to waking.
Lead me from opacity to clarity.
Lead me from the complicated to the simple.
Lead me from the obscure to the obvious.
Lead me from intention to attention.
Lead me from what I'm told I am to what I see I am.
Lead me from confrontation to wide openness.
Lead me to the place I never left,
Where there is peace, and peace
- The Upanishads

*note* an unknown poet..and I love him...his name is Gordon.
-added by danny-
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Men of War

Politicians they are a mess
Every limit they love to transgress
Catawauling, marauding, stalling
So very often - even mauling
Iraq - that's where they left their mark
And then Iran
The same old story spun out of old yarn.
We the subjects toil and toil
To make a living on the soil
And they in their ivory towers
Remain as insipid as Austin Powers.
They shoot, moot, blow their own flute
Blair, Bush and even Mush
As spineless as an infant's tush.
Were they like Red Adair
They would deliver and not just swear
So whoever allows to kill and maim
Has etched his name in the annals of shame.

By Gordon

*note* The gods within us must awaken.. otherwise all we can do is watch each others killing ourselves,as nations against nations,where the individual is nothing,like in this movie,,The red thin line,,..and then the Malenesian aborigines will sing for us the following song...

Wake up people,and realize your true nature...which is unity,love and wisdom...

don't let those aborigines sing it for us .and explain us the meaning....let us sing it now... for we are ONE in spirit,one indeed...as those  aborigines already figured out...what they sing is about unity,the lost sense...that we are ONE!

Thus spokenth the mahayogi.
-added by danny-
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THE ETERNAL QUEST

In the shadows we seek
For a month - a day or a week?
Maybe a lifetime
Perhaps an era that transgresses several timelines
Like jaded footprints on the canvas of time.

If seeking is the prerogative of the weak
Then pray, what were Christ, Buddha and Sai thirsting for - while at their peak?
Praying, sharing and brewing a potion of love and mirth
Certainly not ruing - God's wonderful world
Besmirched as it is with yearning for silver and gold.

We zealously seek blinded by dreams of money and fame
Ignoring the warning signs
That money in due course is no more than an ugly source
Which in turn breeds pride, contempt and remorse.

And fame, just a precursor to shame.
The dying man, the AIDS victim, the Saint
They seek not, want not, fear not
For God has instilled in them a sense of fortitude
That does not abandon them in solitude.

So what makes us content - wealth, tranquility or unassailable health?
Where lies the answer to this eternal query?
Not on Earth nor on Mars nor on Alpha Centauri.
-by Gordon-
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