Welcome to T:AP Q Volume 1 Number 2, Page 16

p o e t r y



	Oasis of Peace by Rais Boneza		Under the laden sun, Between the winds of sand That whisper between land and sky Arises the usual thirst, Appears an island of serenity Distant from boiling cities, A land of asylum Coming from oblivion, Helpful and refreshing Where grows the palm tree of peace

	Art by Sumeet Grover		The breaking of the dawn, The rising and ebbing of waves, The blooming of flowers, The emerging clouds, The serene ocean floor, The mountains amidst the storm ... Here, Right here itself art is found, It is found, In the genuine, pure expressions of people like you and me ... Art- The very word empowers my life, as I feel a force, that ever blooms out of myself Art- Unspoken it is, Flashes from moment to moment, As I strive towards, Ever-Higher Goal Art- Which we seek external, Art- Which we search for, Is very much present within us ... Art- Is that force, Manifested every time in our lives, As we are born anew Art- Is that Power, That can cut the density of any adversity, Art- Is that light, That dispels even the darkest of ways Art- Is that feeling That knows no fears, That knows no deadlock, That knows no hindrance... Art- Is that motion, That makes life move ever forward Art- Is that dawn, That breaks beyond victory or defeat Art- Is that breath, Which is endowed with Life as it goes in, And Liberates Like an unperturbed spirit, That continues to perform an eternal dance of fulfillment Art- Is that smile, That reveals the purest form of beauty Art- Is that joy, Which expresses itself as Tears Art is contained in everything, Everything, That moves -- breaks itself, from suffering, pain or darkness, Towards blooming into purity, Towards moving into life Is Art! Above All, For me, Art is the purest expression of life. If we say art is the Liberation of the lesser self, Then I am Art, If we say art is opening up our lives, Then I am Art And if we say, Art and life are same, Then I am a living Art-- My life is a living Art. Such is the essence, That even Buddhism Seeks. All of us, in that sense Are Performing Artists, And there is no other art, That is as moving, As touching, As this-The Highest form of Art!

	Conception by Bernadette Muthien		corner to corner full-eyed poppies wave smiling bollywood heads on delicate necks sending whiffs of inovulation to pulsing orifi under cloudy glare my irises blossom madonnas' hearts as my digits float thru scarred ozone & oiled mantle wildmaned with the wisdom of wireless energy that is you i all & on... immaculate

	Flowers in the Field by Tina Ebay		Gentle tears graced from yesterday's longing A diligent raven haired beauty sure in her footsteps For tomorrow. Breaking the bondage of past fortune To dance in the golden light of eternity's embrace. Memories of artistry, unimaginable without her: Gifts of brilliant dashing and daring beyond compare Poised in everyway she bestowed upon you the Indestructible happiness of Buddhahood in the sun of jiyu.

	We Are the Canaries by Theresa Wolfwood		We are the canaries in the mine shaft of daily fear of a suffocating end that we, the world, even unto the smallest fly, will die snuffed by poison emanating from crazed leaders from profit mad media moguls from the toxic fumes of lies that pour from laboratories of prevarication silken words false images invisible atoms measured into vessels everywhere billboards, expert sources, surveys, sale flyers policy papers from consultants restructured companies, governments whole countries, the miasma of conspiracy so powerful even the very air we breath is threatened. we are the canaries smelling the methane of death and greed we go ahead resolute in our rallies, our meetings, our walks our words, our deeds become a chorus bearing witness against prophecy the deceit of greedy promise we sing even in dark places prisons without light we sing into open skies and empty streets we will sing and sing until our frail lungs exhale our truth that will enclose the busy, the apathetic, the otherwise occupied with golf courses or cruises or the magic of malls and those who have no strength and lack bread and those who hear only bullets and bombs and lack shelter we will sing until they all hear us sing until they lift up and join us sing until we sing the songs together. we will be as a host of golden birds rising from invisible and deep places we will banish the fear we will transform the power of desecration our song will restore the earth and the sun will rise anew to celebrate us on a pure and glistening morning.