Monday, 30 September 2013


Grand symphony of life, music of the spheres,
Unfolds like Shiva's dance, stamping on my breast;
Aware, one feels a martial drumming beat, and hears
Joyful rhythm that cheers the heart, and I am blest.
His footprints leave a lesson on my book of time,
They make a mark on my inconscient wall,
To learn from, so that soul may swiftly climb,
To conquer life's mysterious enigmatic All.
I ascend on eagle's wings into the great unknown,
Lord Shiva steers my flight through bliss and pain,
In this paradoxical way I'm stretched and grown,
Yet his merciful bliss soon soothes my nervous pain.
Let's give thanks and praise for Lord Shiva's cosmic dance,
Grounding arrogant ego into chalky powdered dust,
It's predetermined, nothing is left to random chance,
It's choreographed, infinitely wise, precise and just.

Friday, 27 September 2013


My Poetry Collections' Mastering Music Walks The Sunlit Sea' One Hundred Sonnets for Awakening, 'Long Poems For Awakening' and 'Myrobalan of the Magi' are all available on and Amazon UK



On the tree of life every leaf calls his Name,

When they bow gracefully from green to gold. 

They obey His will when e'er they fall to earth,

To greet next budding Spring for a fresh rebirth.

So 'tis with our human kind, much the very same,

We leave this vale of tears when we grow old,

To be reborn again for yet another lifetime's turn,

Unless blest Self Realisation, in this life we earn.

A woodsman went to cut down a mango tree,

A passing Sage called out in sudden peal of rage,

"Don't axe this fruitful tree, you'll cause her awful pain,

Let her rest in peace in Gods sunshine and His rain.

Then I think, my blessed son, you'll soon agree,

'Tis kinder to spare her life and let her fruit to be".


Wednesday, 25 September 2013



Enrobed in scarlet, a brilliant blazing bird,
With eagle’s strength, the child of sacred fire,
She sounds a cry, that’s forever heard
When consumed in Self-lit flames, she does aspire
From the funeral pyre, to show the world
Herself, reborn from death! Mankind she shall inspire.

In ancient time this wonder did inspire
Heliopolis, where flew this fabled bird,
To reach the Sun, lamp light of our shadow world,
And immolating in his mystic fire,
Her Being rose from ashes to aspire
To know New Life, such tales we've heard.

When this Egyptian legend was first heard,
The daring thought was one that did inspire
Each soul, that now had right to so aspire,
And follow the lead set by this courageous bird.
If self dares to die upon the sacrificial fire,
Pure Self will emerge as victor of this world.

This paragon is an emblem for our world,
Proclaiming news, that everywhere is heard,
Setting the wooden minds of men on fire,
The deathless spirit mocks at death to inspire!
Thanks to the valour of this wondrous bird,
The Soul of man, can to an after-life aspire.

So people of all lands can after all aspire
To reach the peak of hope in a worried world,
And pursue the flight of virtue like this bird.
So sound the golden bugle and be heard!
Men should know such transformation can inspire
To be born again in sacred sacramental fire.

The petty self is scorched in conscious fire,
And from ashes, the Self does once again aspire,
To such new birth, and the hearts of men inspire,
And transform their dismal dreary world.
Joy again, can everywhere be heard,
All thanks to thee, oh most excelling bird!

By wondrous art she does inspire our world,
It’s vital we aspire to what’s been heard,
Arise from sacred fire, dear Phoenix bird!

Tuesday, 24 September 2013



There’s a huge loom of Time, in duration;
Born of Infinity, from a consummation
With Life, which has never been void of time,
While Sun and Moon as shuttle upward climb.

By weaving to and fro as night and day,
A splendid pageant of coloured display,
Strung on the warp and weft of cosmic unity.
The back of this embroidered tapestry

Is monochrome, derived from that formless One.
It’s face is multihued, radiant as the Sun,
Its tones reflected from archetypal light,
All magically absorbed, an equalled sight.

Only what’s permitted by an unseen hand,
Appears as this moving panoramic band;
A rainbow painting of the whole wide world,
Brushed vertically: each single thread is whirled

Without the dimmest dint of dull duality;
Bright Light, unique to Self, sheer Reality!
Coated with golden fleece and angel wool,
Dyed in the deepest vat of Destiny’s pool.

So does this sacred cloth, woven in Love,
Quarrel with its weaver who reigns above?
Wrapped in his Joseph cloak at rainbows’s end,
Eternal pilgrim ever loves his Mighty Friend!

Monday, 23 September 2013


The Corona Sonnet, the crown of sonnets, is a sequence of 15 sonnets. The first line of each is the last line of the one before. The last sonnet is all the first lines of the preceding 14. This particular sequence covers the salient points in Ramana Maharshi's teaching.
All beings yearn to be happy, always;
Happiness without a tinge of sorrow,
To enjoy a life of carefree days,
Taking no burden of thought for tomorrow.
When restless mind's at peace in deep sleep,
What glimpse of worry, grief or despair?
So happiness lies therein, buried down deep.
How to find this treasure, awake, aware?
Ask the question, who am I, and from where?
That's the essential means of the holy task,
Ending ego's 'me' and 'my', that's there.
No pleasure endures in things of this Earth,
Enquire within, who basks behind our mask?
To regain that Selfhood we lost at birth.

To regain that Selfhood we lost at birth,
First consider well the cinema screen,
To understand that, gains merit and worth.
On the screen there appears a tense drama,
The film begins and we enjoy the show.
Fire, flood, sex, death, a vast panorama;
The screen's unchanging, but the film's a shadow.
The simile teaches, strange as it may be,
That both seer and seen make up the mind.
On Consciousness as screen, all action's based.
To know that is true, is the clue to be free,
A guiding beacon that's so rare to find.
That's the Sage wisdom by which we are graced.

That's the Sage wisdom by which we are graced,
We're taught the silver screen as a metaphor.
Seated in theatre stalls, now we are placed,
To proceed with clarity and enquire some more.
The bright theatre lamp is the light supreme,
Illuminating both actors and the scene.
We see stage and the play only by light,
Yet when action ends, the lamp remains bright.
Just as woven cloth and its colour white
Are never, ever perceived as apart,
So when mind and light both unite,
They form ego, knotted and bound in the heart.
Of all that we've ever learned since birth,
That's the high wisdom proclaimed on Earth.

That's the high wisdom proclaimed on Earth,
How to make mind to merge in its source?
Only by enquiring with all of one's force,
The central question regarding its birth,
The ultimate scrutiny of 'Who Am I'?
As thoughts froth forth like waves on the ocean,
They'll all be slain by such introspection,
Unveiling the Self, the lost inward eye.
Pearls lay buried on the deep ocean floor,
Attracting divers to search for this goal.
Holding their breath they plunge to the core
Of the ocean bed, for the pearl oyster's soul.
To gain this gem in the heart's sacred place,
Just seek for the source where mind is based.

Just seek for the source where mind is based.
You travel alone on a mystery train;
By this metaphor we're comfortably placed,
To travel by providence free from pain.
So put all your heavy luggage on the rack,
Only a fool carries it on his head!
Be glad, accept the predestined track,
Rest quietly, safe at home on your bed!
Surrender in joyful jubilation!
Surrender utterly to God's almighty will,
Surrender with total resignation,
Surrender knowing all will be well,
Surrender whole heartedly with one accord,
Take safe refuge in the all loving Lord!

Take safe refuge in the all loving Lord!
For life's a dream and sleeping dreams are short,
The waking dream is long; both stem from thought.
The Real is beyond both this waking and sleep.
The sword of enquiry slays dream states deep,
So reaching their substratum, numinous,
The state of pure consciousness, Self luminous!
Blissfully aware, yet awake in sleep.
As the cockerel crows ready to sup,
At the roseate dawn of first morning light,
Awareness pours into the near empty cup,
Granting a moment's taste of Self insight.
This light is the eye that forever sees,
Who can be known by enquiring 'who frees?'

Who can be known by enquiring 'who frees?'
The Master who lives in the cave of the heart,
Not separate from one's Self, being the start,
Of the final search from bond to release.
The Sage appears when the soul is ready,
With strong gaze of grace he says 'be aware
That God and his wisdom are already there!'
He acts as a brake to make the mind steady,
While mercy flows freely in sunshine and air,
Hindered only by our being unready.
If you come to him, meekly with an empty cup,
His grace is then bound to fill it up.
The Master's glance is the grace of the Lord,
He cuts you free with his mighty sword.

He cuts you free with his mighty sword,
To guide you surely, on the upward way
To Self Realisation, your real birthday!
Consummation of 'That' the Sage's word,
Is 'rest in the Self,' which is always heard.
In him, place great trust and affirm, say yea
As certainty! Our Real Self blazes away,
Ever surrendered to the almighty Lord,
Revealing great peace for Realisation's sake,
Renouncing belief that a rope is a snake.
The seeker surely becomes 'the great find',
His own blissful being, the summit in kind,
This great Teaching eternally frees,
One with the Self, as the Absolute sees.

One with the Self, as the Absolute sees,
He answers all our prayers and our pleas;
We must first enter that dear sacred part,
Not the fleshy pump that throbs on the left,
But the sacred core: by being skilful and deft,
We find that on the right; is the real Heart!
By harnessing breath, being adept and bright,
We dive with great skill and all of our might,.
There dwelling in depths of our true Heart's cave,
Lives the shining 'Unity' blazing as Self,
Pulsation of I-I, where all shadows cease.
So fixing gaze there, finally, off we stave,
Perverted, wandering, demonic mind elf,
Returning to 'Self', our birthright of peace.

Returning to 'Self', our birthright of peace,
Is knowing that all this vile body performs
Was predestined before it ever took form.
So from stress, despair and fretting, pray cease!
Our freedom dwells in our natural State,
Renouncing the 'I Am The Doer' notion,
Detached from fruit of form's puppet motion,
Yet grace can avert even predestined fate!
Be like a skilled actor on this stage of strife!
Play with goodwill the part you've been given,
No matter how strangely you find you are driven,
Knowing who, truly you are, in this life.
Until fate pulls down the final curtain,
Know you're Self not body, know that is certain!

Know you're Self not body, know that is certain!
In this Realisation, there's no cause to leave home,
You can strive in the city, there's no need to roam.
To change style of life would all be in vain,
For mind remains with you, until it is slain.
Demonic ghost ego, source and fabric of thought
Create body and world, whereby we are caught.
Change of place, never changed the way we behave,
Whether living at home, in a forest or cave.
There are two ways by which our bonds may be freed:
Either ask 'to whom is this strange fate decreed?'
Or surrender false 'me' to be then stricken down,
So praying intensely for 'my will' to cease,
We leave it to grace, to grant us release.

We leave it to grace, to grant us release.
God will do this through the gaze of his Sage,
He sends down His messenger for every age,
To those who yearn and pray for great peace.
The Realised Sage lives on here and now,
Without confusing the Self with the mind.
Humble, compassionate, loving and kind,
Wisely profound, as his way clearly shows.
He steers the vessel of firm devotees,
Fulfilling everyone's spiritual need.
In deep silence, he sits, with perfect ease,
To awaken those, whom his teaching well heed.
Graciously, his great glance of initiation,
Drives the mind inwards, to Self Realisation!

Driving the mind inwards, to Self Realisation,
He grants safe passage through life's stormy ocean;
What frail soul will ever be excluded
From the presence of the holy Supreme?
No matter how depraved or deluded,
His mercy never ends, and will always redeem,
Raising the soul from the depth of depression,
To free one from the 'I am this body' obsession.
From passions that churn desire and aversion,
His fair breeze wafts clear equanimity;
Enmeshed no more in worldly adversity,
Never perturbed by praise nor foul enmity,
We learn that there's the greatest giving
In knowing all are Self, and so truly living.

In knowing all are Self, and so truly living,
We thank the great Sage who is ever giving.
We praise the Lord, who leads us to his feet,
His gracious gaze is eternally sweet,
Without ceasing, he's forever reviving,
He grants that freedom, our real surviving.
He severs the grip of bondage's chains,
He frees the soul, where confusion reigns,
He bestows both compassion and deep peace,
He sends out his grace to grant us release.
He teaches the truth that Consciousness is all,
And Self Enquiry to raise us up from our fall.
We praise God Almighty whom is ever living,
This crown of my verses is our thanksgiving!

To regain that Selfhood we lost from birth,
That's the Sage wisdom by which we are graced,
This is the high wisdom proclaimed on Earth.
Just seek for the source where mind is based.
Take refuge in the all loving Lord,
Who can be known by enquiring 'who frees?'
He cuts you loose with his mighty sword,
One with the Self, as the Absolute sees.
Returning to Self, our birthright of peace,
Know you're Self, not body, know that is certain!
We leave it to grace, to grant us release.
He drives the mind inwards, to Self Realisation,
In knowing all are Self, and so truly living,
This crown of my verses is our thanksgiving!

Saturday, 21 September 2013



I'm full as a mountain lake after summer rain

That’s fed the sacred stream and source of holy wisdom, 


A flame sent by God to ignite His planet from above.

The golden glow of heat on burnished plain

Gilds leaves on this path down pilgrim’s lane,

Warming earth, her gritty ochre clay,

Water, sea of mercy, so green and grey.

Air, the sweet breath of life that’s free from pain,

Crystalline beyond any loss or gain.

What does it mean to my Master, pure as a turtle dove?

This vast empty void, a deep abyss, the precious pearl

Of trial that poor pilgrim has to pay.

What of scriptures, tracts, gospels and theological books?

The Lord’s lurid library of commands and revelation.

A crore of scribbling comments with endless emendation,

Weighty tomes which cram cathedrals nooks and crooks

To surfeit cawing like a craw of rooks.

What is self-knowledge, esoteric?

Pathology of mind, narcissistic?

Even  freed from the senses it looks

A hotchpotch prepared by the devil’s cooks,

To titillate the senses to some novel sensation.

So what is freedom, vulgarised by folk-democratic?

But my Master who is One is truly aristocratic!

What is knowledge of truth, understanding, enlightenment,

Ignorance, sleep, alienation, dark delusion,

Or folly, dithering in a dream of world illusion?

Or freedom from bondage and attachment?

Are these questions the prime predicament?

What means ego? I thought, I conceit

Imprisoned by mind one beds in self-deceit,

This is mine, a grasping temperament

For baubles, attractive but so vehement?

But there's Self-consciousness to save from confusion,

To rescue soul from dualit  its preordained defeat?

I pray for grace and mercy at my Master’s tender feet.

I am without a central ‘I-notion’ resident at home,

There’s no me to be elated or badly hurt by fear,

Pleased, perplexed, precious, pouting, proud, or simply here

To feel depressed, anxious but  a soul free to roam

On inward seascape of bubbles, froth and foam.

So where is he who suffers, enjoys, and acts,

Who has strong opinions and knows all facts?

The rising of thoughts under a cerebral dome,

What’s this world? The trinket of an impish gnome?

Here and now there’s no fictional person to jeer or leer,

For my Master, Dame Fortune’s cards are neatly dealt in stacks,

Abidance in the heart, Real Self, there's no need for lofty tracts.

Seated in the temple shrine of the spiritual heart

Nestling on the dexter side of my heaving breast,

Not on the left where the fleshy pump pulses in the chest,

Dwells ‘I Am’ which wakens Self to start.

Pondering, I question, what is the part

I play on life’s stage and what is this world?

Who yearns for freedom from this prison where hurled?

Oh what is oneness, truth and wisdom’s art,

Into which God shot love’s rose-flowered dart?

Who's bound or free as honoured friend and conscious guest?

Behind the nervous body-mind and now at last unfurled,

Space for a universe to happen in, lustrous and impearled.

Deep in my spiritual Heart, I am the One, unborn,

Uncaused, deathless, I am, uniquely perfect, new, absolutely free!

I ask what is this tempestuous, stormy, troubled sea?

Where mind froth foams spuming from dusk to dawn,

On the ocean of Self lit by a fiery morn.

What is creation, world dissolution?

I ponder, and search for some solution.

Who and what is seeking?

King, bishop, Queen or pawn

Sporting on this chequered emerald palace lawn?

What is the goal of seeking? Is it peace, freedom, liberty?

Who is the bold seeker who craves this final absolution?

Has he found an answer? An ultimate resolution!

Yes, I am pristine, pure as the driven Himalayan snow,

Or pellucid stream pouring from  pinnacle’s height,

Chaste, flawless, stainless, without blame, blemish and wintry white.

I trickle down the mountain valley’s flow,

Free! I’m curious, what is there to know?

By what dubious method is knowledge gained,

To what spurious end when it’s attained?

I have no problems here, now or there below,

I’ve surmounted grief, all sorrow born of woe,

Simply stated, I know what's meant by wrong and right.

Our universe by creation, preservation, is maintained

By grace of God and his mighty will, all creatures are sustained.

Here, awakened now, I'm steady and perfectly still.

As an adamantine rock in the restless ocean stands,

Unmoved by cyclonic gale, tidal wave or shifting sands,

What of oppositions, healthy or ill,

Pleasure, pain, to heal quickly or to kill

Distraction, perturbation, meditation,

Reflection, negation, confirmation?

Sage welcomes all as God’s almighty will

He accepts ‘what is’, as gracious grist to time's mill.

Gently by grace of God, in mercy he breaks all bondage bonds,

In a great paean of praise and total affirmation,

He rests with Consciousness, his Self, the great consummation.

I have lost the monotonous merry-go-round of thought,

The perpetual treadmill of self-opinion and words,

Mainly cynicism and lies, the parroting chirp of birds,

A poisonous brew so bitterly fraught

With the mistaken idea that I ought

To cherish the mind as chief,

And then be mugged by thought, the villainous thief?

So that is the lesson my dear Master brought,

Ignore the scorpion stings of concepts wrought

With such inner discussion and debate.

It’s so absurd, there's consciousness here,

A precious gift beyond all belief, he ending of thought,

Now there's peace, ultimate joy and relief.

I am clarity, bright as a diamond, crystal, lily-white,

Growing in a moorland, a purple thistle-bracken field.

So what is illusion? To this question I meekly yield.

Finite mind can’t understand the infinite field,

The magic of Maya is but a slick trick of light.

What is this life? A bad dream which appears?

A noise to deceive the soundest of ears,

An emptiness as the velvet void of night,

For witnessing Self the nakedness of clear inward sight.

To know what is here and now,

Beyond pearl onion peeled.

So my Master gently wipes away all sad grief and tears,

All is well, unfolding as it should to allay such foolish fears.

With not the slightest hint of duality, One without two,

Unity, wholeness, existence, holistic, all seamless

Without separation, pure consciousness, love, awareness,

No division between me and you,

Emanating from the Primal Source, who

Am I, but That? I am eternal, the same

Being as truth and God without a name.

At last I know the little ‘me’ who can never do,

All that happens is the will of God right through.

I rest in the spiritual heart, blissful, benign and blameless,

So what is my greater Self to the mighty God of flame?

My Master says “Unknown, unique, celebrate His game.

For endless striving and effort, what’s the urgent need?

Struggling, wrestling against one’s natural way and feeling,,

Trained from the cradle to do well, and practice honest dealing,

Working hard if you wish to barely feed

A family own a home, car and succeed,

Ingrained, conditioned, a machine well oiled,

Pilgrim’s become half-baked and par-boiled.

So my Master to his students does plead,

Be still, motiveless when you perform a deed.

Forget all those books, aims, efforts, teaching and kneeling,

After all the hard years you’ve zealously worked and toiled,

Open wide, relax, and never by the world snake be coiled!

I have no limits or borders, I am no longer bound,

No hedges, fences, verges, remain for spacious me,

Nothing arises, I am empty capacity for all to see

That all is well, my True Self  I've found!

I traced my ‘I thought’ like a hunting hound

And knew my primal source the light of day,

And now as consciousness I’m free to play.

I rest in the heart on a sacred mound

Where my naked feet walk on holy ground.

I am freedom, enlightenment, joy, bliss and liberty!

Nothing ever was, I am God, what more is left to say?

This Ashtavakra taught me, his devoted pupil, the true Advaita way!

I am That, absolute, unique, ever primeval One

As consciousness, love, awareness, effortless bliss,

Embraced by the love of God, 

Blest by His all-gracious kiss.

In light of glory, radiant as the sun,

I am homogeneous, second to none.

What care I now for freedom or liberation?

In life or death, gaining Self Realisation?

Or for my destiny predisposed to run,

Reborn in another womb 'till kingdom come?

And after transmigration, at-one-ment I may miss.

My Master halts this baffling mental perturbation.

I let go, abiding in my heart of silent adoration.