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Robert L. Martin


When religion reaches
   The end of the road,
Where else is there to go?
When its books are
Ingrained in the mind,
Where else is there to go?
When beliefs are
 Still in contention,
Where else is there to go?
When proof is
The manifestation of hearsay,
Where else is there to go?
When peace is still
Just a word,
Where else is there to go?
When peace fails
To reach the heart,
Where else is there to go?
When harmony is still
Broken into many pieces,
Where else is there to go?
When love whispers
Into deaf ears,
Where else is there to go?
Religion aspired
Is religion gained.
Love aspired
Is love gained.

Until religion realizes that
It isn’t the end,
It will always be in need
Of love’s consecration
To deem it creditable.



Of your deceptions
And frigid environs
You can’t live among
Smiling faces and warm climes
You dance with the devil and
Disguise yourself with sure footing
Your surface is as
Smooth as a baby’s skin
As it glistens in the afternoon sun
And you gloat over your treachery
With falling bodies and smashing cars

You reach out and smother all the flowers
Until the last breath escapes from their home
The bees succumb to your frozen madness
And to your cold, cold hands
With nowhere to go but to bed

All vegetation turns to ash and you laugh
As if life were a toy for you to play with
And you were a child of the devil
Or a witch stirring up a deathly brew

Your slender bodies hang from the roof tops
And your perilous beauty glistens in the sun
While your spears point at
Those who pass underneath
As if you were sentries guarding the castle

You are alive when all else is dead
And you are dead when all else is alive
You live among the musty tombs
The cold, cold life that is not life
You are all dressed up in
Death’s finest raiment
You are the ice,
That beautiful deadly ice



Heaven’s magic, wizard’s brewing
Power supreme, spirits moving
Focal point is a second ahead
When love becomes a story unsaid

Magnets power as tides ebb and flow
Attraction pulls as love becomes aglow
Silent poems pour out of hidden places
Where nature works with heaven’s graces

Two strangers arrive at love’s eternal gate
Together under the spell of a mystifying fate
Affinitive charms in their perpetual blooming
Roses and spices and searing currents fluming

The throne of love is a place called bliss
Where spirits rise for a consummated kiss
Volcanoes rumble while love commands
Two lovers have fallen into nature’s hands

An ode to affinity, an ode to its calling
Its powers relentless, its voices enthralling
The magic of attraction and how it works
Two lovers perplexed as the loving perks

Two lovers plunging into love’s sacred fire
Taking love up higher and higher
As heaven waits upon their ascension
The book of love and its serious intention
To the glory of love I
Give myself unto thee


It was a dreary day in the little village by the river.  Doom was written in the ugly gray clouds that shrouded the mountain peaks.  The cold mist was circling about, and the wind was digging into the bones of the villagers with its razor teeth, and sending a chill up their spines.  Death was in the air as I lay there on my deathbed about to meet my maker.  The cancer had taken up residence in my body as I lay there in agony.  The pain killers had worn off and left me pleading for my life to end.  My relatives were sobbing as they had gathered around my bed.
 Then at 5:36 PM, I breathed my final breath.  At last I was free.  I looked down and saw myself lying on the bed amongst the mourners. Then I saw a bright light as I floated out of the room.  I was curious to find out where it came from.  As I ascended to the skies, I could see things that weren’t there before.  That seemingly emptiness in space was a busy thoroughfare with spirits and humanity floating across the firmament.  Voices that sounded like sweet music were filling the air.  Angels were by my side, guiding me along the way.  The dread of death was no dread at all.

I saw a Hindu man floating.  I asked him if we were going to heaven, and he said in his native tongue, which I could understand.  “I am just a spirit in transition, looking for a new birth.  I learned from the Bhagavad-Gita that I will be reincarnated upon my death.  My salvation will come soon and I will be absorbed with Brahman.   I could understand the Hindu language, as I could see and understand everything in this new environment that I’m in.  I could talk to a bird that told me it will go into a horse’s body. There are no conflicts of beliefs here, because everyone is rewarded by his dedication to his own belief.

I met a Muslim on the way.  He told me he was ready to go into his eternal paradise from what the Koran had taught him.  He was rewarded for his dedication to his faith.  He will be resurrected shortly.  The Jewish man told me he will be physically resurrected and will live forever with God.  I met a Buddhist that told me that he has achieved Nirvana and has no desire to go anywhere else.

I thought that my restlessness would cause me to become bored and lonely, but the joy of pure love replaced any anxiety that I would feel.  I thought that heaven would become too common-place and that I would want to be somewhere else, but love and God made me contented with where I am.  Boredom is only for those dissatisfied with themselves.  They always think that another environment would be more suitable, but contentment is only a place in the heart.

Dear Lord, when it is time for me to go, please do not change your plan for me.  I am completely in your custody.  Do to me what you will.


A Gypsy’s Song

I peered through the ringing trees
Covered in a crying lament
A dancing exuberance, a rolling garden
A stage carved through nature’s vicissitude

A man dressed in rags and melodies
With bloody fingers, caressing his guitar
His voice was pure, his heart was golden
Angels sang through his humble tears

Oh earth, my mother, my bread, my wine
I am nothing, I worship your sweet command
Use my submissive body for your holy chants
Use my being and direct my tongue

Serve my soul to the Gods at the table
I’ve little to give, so give it all
If one lyric is baptized by the ungodly
Send it back, it has no purpose with them

The man was an instrument of heaven
In his rags, he sang with a golden dignity
A pauper amongst all kings and nobles
Music is music and nobility is nobility
Night is night and day is day
Social status has nothing to do
With the ear of the heart


The Proud Violet

My journey through cold
Darkened matter hastened me
To rise and find the sun,
That radiant paradise,
That warm hand that
Stretches through eternity,
Born from ancient visions and
Kept alive through its
Perennial plan

My simple, familiar body
Brags about how I
Can soften hearts and
Adorn empty spaces

My evolving, complex network
 Explains how Mother Nature
Is a silent genius that can
Rejuvenate itself as it
Passes through time

Even though I am little
I am an offspring of
Nature’s perpetual stability



You with your secrets locked up inside
Miniscule forests carved out of throbbing pines
Page by page, word by word, answers by answers
Intelligence is your menu, your digestion

I move toward you with salivating lips
My worldly hunger, my escalating dreams
Our intimate times, my endearing moments
Not enough days to know all about you

Yet you sit on my shelf and play with me
My tears, my mumblings, my futilities
Your sovereignty, so overbearing, so intimidating
For I, the forsaken, in search of some of you

Your words upon each other, one vast ocean
And I, an enchanted sailor, ask of your mercy
Lead me to your shores, hidden by the mist
All I need of you is one love poem
Please, please, please


Truth Down Below

Adam and Eve, how beautiful thou art
God’s handiwork woven from dreams
The hue, the shapes, the breath, the heart
With thy nakedness, you meet the elements,
The wind, the rain, the sun,
And feel the breath of God against your skin
If you seek through garments
The freedom of privacy
You will find it to be a harness
And a shield against the beauty that
Was meant to be a work of artistic merit
Let truth be known in all its magnificence
Let truth be known in all its nakedness

Yet truth is a beast from below with
Sharp stingers that lay at the bottom
Oceans of other truths swirl about
Cosmetics smeared on to
Wipe away the beauty
Smiles painted on to
Cover up the misery
Fabrication manufactured
From the fear of truth

Yet truth with its stingers in position
Shall rise up again from the depths
Hark ye lads, that beast is fast approaching
Man your battle stations
Prepare thy selves for truth be known
That beautiful truth that stings
But with a healing venom
That beautiful truth that
 Uncovers all pretension
That beautiful truth that
Builds pillars of granite
That beautiful truth that
Sets you free and
Sends you escalading up to
The threshold of heaven


Damn Those Poet Gods

Sleepless nights and distant days
Through thorns and sordid blinding haze
Pushed through comfort and rest about
Steady hands molding faith in doubt
   Stopping when hell is a sacred place
   And earth is a lofted planet keeping pace

Those damn poet Gods and their pushy ways
I’m a rag doll loosing my way thru the maze
My own thoughts are sufficient words unheard
A ragged warbling from a song-less song-bird
My pride is an anchor wrapped around my feet
A sweetness dipped in a sauce made bittersweet

How beautiful those commanding poet Gods
I hear their words, their palpitating vocal throbs
The overbearing ways they enter my mind
Their passionate journey to find what they find
Their dashing to my heart like a shooting star
I stand amazed in awe for what they are
Those damn poet God’s, please come again
I beseech thee to blow your breath on me. Amen



Conversations heeded
From voices inside
From unknown sources
From some other God
Who calls himself God
Divinity is just a word
Fools counsel fools

Reality is a confinement
Freedom is an escape
The world is a distortion
Life is a playground
Dysfunction is the order
Fantasy is the new menu
Imagination has no roots
Truth is a contentment
Thoughts are reactional whims
That lead to deeds and
Their prudent executions
That lead to madness

The other new God is supreme
Man made religion is his roots
Consultation is egocentric
Wisdom is an invention of his
Faith is an absolute dedication
Dedicated to his teachings
Trust is an inconsequential pact
An allegiance for fools
This new God of hers

He entered her mind
Through her supplications
He is the worst of the worst
Her aberration is her allegiance
Please help her, Real God
Our supreme God whose
Consultations are words of the wise

Years Ahead

Little girl, up ahead road so smooth
Moving swiftly into life’s journey on
Into years when time is like winter’s end
When rudiments are past and music is love
As fingers lose themselves and dance to and fro
When music climbed in and took you prisoner
Your piano is a seasoned lover of passion
The keys are a velvety glowing skin
Stretched out over miles of heavenly bliss
Your heart is a virgin kiss full of heat
Your touch is a lust before lust begins
   Your feelings traveled many roads but
These roads are yet to be traveled upon
You reached the summit before you began
You were a Siren sister sitting on the rocks
Luring the sailors to their doom
You lived through it all before
Before you became that innocent child
That fetus inside that warm cozy womb
Where geniuses are made
Where mortality is a smoldering ember
But not quite dead yet
You have yet to live, and live you will


That Silver Sun

Lo behold, up high when day is done
I can look deep into the heart of the sun
The blazing fire that came from its mouth
Must be a smoldering amber traveling south

I can see for my eyes can stay affixed
At all the beauty and shapes and colors mixed
I can see it hanging in the sky with no arms
Like a dancer with no feet yet all her charms

   Sometimes she goes astray like a lost sheep
Freed from the last breath down to the deep
Her mysterious descent leaves me bewildered
A man without a mind as she so rendered

Sometimes she loses her shape growing thin
From a robust queen to a pauper to begin
Then she hides away like a frightened swan
But then she reappears as if never gone

She is that silver sun, that blessed moon
That beacon in the sky, while poets swoon
Looking out for ships traveling here and there
That silver sun, that quiet lady so fair
That romantic story with no end