Paul Smith

Paul Smith

SELECTED BOOK COVERS PUBLISHED

A SELECTION OF BABA POEMS BY PAUL SMITH

OVER THE PAST 40 YEARS

MELBOURNE

Of all the beautiful places in this Dream

Melbourne is a special one it would seem.

When Godman was asked of Melbourne’s centre:

“My lovers hearts, all Melbourne’s My centre.”

Along the quiet ebbing Yarra’s banks at dusk

Lovers sigh together and still their rippling lust.

The great beauty of this garden city is renown;

Botanic Gardens rival Eden, His first home.

When through Melbourne’s countryside He drove

“All this beauty is still an illusion,” He said with love.

No better place is there to walk with You;

Down these dusty God trodden streets love grew.

Pines meet, caress, while eucalyptus sway in tune:

Even the grey walls of pollution have to swoon.

All colours, creeds and lifestyles come to stay,

Find their ‘something’ here and never go away.

The Painter knows the clarity of Melbourne’s light:

He came here in 1956 and established… Sight.

Melbourne is kind to lovers, He saw to that:

Anyone who can’t see that is blind as a bat!

The Yarra slowly ripples out to… the sea

The bay and then the ocean, flooding You to me.

THE RAIN KING

When the rain comes

You will be standing before me,

just You and the rain.

Rain embracing You

like gently falling streamers,

with all the colours

imaginable and unimaginable.

A prism of ecstasy

will mirror You,

You will whisper ‘come’

and open wide Your arms,

and I shall stumble

many times

before I reach You.

But I will reach You

and be bathed in tears

of remembrance.

And the rain?

The rain shall soar back to infinity,

when the King of the Rain comes.

‘67

AWAKENER

I have seen His hands upon the children

bathe stumps of smiling lepers

eat with the foodpoor of the Universe

converse with smiling mothers

cuddle their babies

laugh.

I have seen His sandaled feet

move rapidly across a courtyard

instigating the motion of the stars

the awakening of the heart

the swoop of the birds

upon the merging sea.

I have seen His hands

His eyes

His face

speak words

that span Creation

that inflame the heart

until it is agony

to be without Him.

I have sensed His loneliness

and my loneliness

revealed itself to me.

1968

AVATARIC PORTRAIT

In His hands unfold the movements

of stars

great trek through

cosmic joke,

In His smile the distant future

past unveiling

songs of understanding

praise Perfection,

In His eyes infinite mirror

reflecting inward

contemplation

silent recognition

hidden Unity,

In His walk the nonexistent race

of manufactured

time is illusion

against the Constant

Now is still

ever everywhere,

In his feet the great magnetic

hold the universe

fill the space

never was

always ceases

to exist,

In His Silence every sound

every form contained

within the uncontained

infinite soundless Silence

continually Manifesting silence,

In His heart the beat of creation

Dance of Play

Song of Journey

spinning Web

Love throughout

cloak of illusion,

In the dust at His feet

songs of His lovers

wooing His Glance

washing His feet

singing His Song

Great Unwinding.

AT THE TOMB

And they laid the body of their Beloved

in the tomb He had ordered

to be built for Him long ago,

and so they gently lowered the body

to which they had given their lives,

given with love because of His love for them.

And He was wrapped

in the colour of their devotion,

and the tears of sorrow

the tears of gratitude

happiness,

washed his face

embraced the eyes that had held them

for so long,

for so long

He had said

that soon He would drop His body,

and now ...

And now they looked at the cold ice

enclosing Him,

Stood above Him

minds racing

or stunned,

hearts with Him

The evening sun bathed Meherabad

the rising moon kissed their bodies

with sweet tenderness of remembrance,

and many wept.

Feb ‘69

IN THE NAME OF GOD

O Compassionate Father and Merciful Mother

Creator of all Life and Sustainer of Reality

Destroyer of Illusion

Meher Baba

Ancient One, Avatar, Adam.

God in the Beyond and God in Form.

We Your servant seek Your Guidance

and wish to obey Your Command

Into Your hands we place our selves

Guide us in the Truth

not in the ways of our egos.

We wait upon Your Word

Beloved of all beloveds

Allow us to obey only You.

AFTER THIS TIME

After His dropping His body this time

perhaps there will be no weeping

or guilt for not recognizing Him,

but great peace

and joy

and brotherhood

will illuminate

the hearts of all

and we shall work

together as one

thanking Him silently in secret

corners of heart and mind.

Maybe we will sing again

the songs that flowed so naturally

the other times He came

and write poems

that sing His praises

through the Universe

that lift the hearts of all

into His,

not keep mumbling

grey dirges

of intellectual praise of ignorance.

Will we really live again?

He might be remembered physically

as He really is

(we have photography now)

not prettied up

or senselessly solemn and lifeless

like our organizations

that claim to represent Him

that fail to recognise Him

when He is again among us

doing as He did before.

And will we help kill him

as we killed His appearance

in Jerusalem

with 2000 years of selfish misinterpretation.

But it doesn’t really matter!

What concerns us

this time

is acting upon His message

(the same as those other times).

Could be we’ve bashed our heads

against the walls

for so long now

that they are about to crumble

and we’ll see the obvious

for a change.

What will He be remembered

most for?

His Silence,

His Humility,

His Humour,

His Compassion,

His spontaneity

His Love for us

or the change in Mankind?

Who will stand up

after He has left His body

and live and die for Him?

Will we remember

what He lived and said

when He was here -

“I love you more than you can

ever love yourself.” “I and

God are One.” “Love Me.”

And will we love Him

next time?

BABA’S BLUE BUS

Then there was the blue bus,

carried them with Him

journeys into now-here,

everywhere it went

causing Manifestation

blue bolt of auto-lightening

crashing through midnight

waking another dawning

and if that blue bus

could not bind the threads,

leap continents, planets, creation,

He drove it till it could,

dwelt on it with

loving care,

tuned its should-be-tired

heart,

pumped in the good juice

turned

it

over

pressed the Om-point

button,

Jammed it out

of neutral

into

First

Moved this GodAlmighty

Creation

into

gear!

CREATION’S PURPOSE

The only purpose of God’s Creation,

is to remind us of its Creator.

Each leaf that drops

tree that grows

dog that barks

frog that croaks,

Each missile that is launched

arm that is severed

knife that is stabbed

insult that is hurled,

Each sun that rises

flower that blooms

bird that sings

baby that smiles,

Each lie that is told

tree that is felled

pain that’s inflicted

city that’s bombed,

Each touch that heals

gun that kills

sight that pleases

look that hates,

Each frozen lake

each deadly snake

each obvious fake

each mournful wake,

Each orphan who wails

boat that sails

competitor who fails

judge who jails,

All, each and all and everything

and everyone and there is

no exclusion to this:

God creates and preserves

and He also destroys

His hand is behind each flutter

of life, each laugh of joy

each sigh of death.

To see Him in the rose’s beauty

or the infant’s eye

or the work of art

or the sky’s red glow

or the mountain’s peak

or the poem’s melody

is an easy thing to do.

But,

to see Him in the assassins

sword,

or the twisted corpse,

the angry eye

the obvious lie

or the senseless pain

or the polluted stream

is not so easy.

But how can we know God

and love God

and praise God

until we see God

as He really is?

GOD HAS MANIFESTED

God has manifested in

the physical presence

of Everything

and that includes

you and me and she and he

and right through to

it almost does not exist

only energy finite

from mind universal finite

even the Universe

and all the countless others

finite

having beginning and end

the circle complete

“POP”

to make space in a vacuum

for bubble to go

“POP”

now and then

the whole illusion goes

“POP”

individually collectively

altogether Everything

rounds off the circle

and starts a fresh a new

creation

“POPS”

out of

The Womb Word

becomes finite

takes all without form

and all with form

and awakens everything

to its possibility consciousness

internalizes focus intake

depth width breath of

LOVE

is Life Force

keeping check

everything is as it should be

nothing to desire

completely happy with Everything

praise The Game

is Infinite

no thing loses

you win your soul

become aware of existence

Be Careful for God

IS

Infinite Energy

has bounds

unbroken

unless

allowed misused

leads into stone state

of nothingness

but usually a helping soul

of perfection

lifts you up and into

the next dimension

where only God Is

and

JUST THE SIGHT OF

YOUR SELF AT LAST

THIS IS ME ALL ME

ME ME YET STILL I EXIST

THEN WHO AM I and

GOD SPEAKS

I AM GOD

A U M

EXISTENCE KNOWLEDGE BLISS

AND BEYOND

THE THREE WORLDS

MATTER ENERGY MIND

INTO THE

THREE STATES OF BEING GOD

THE ILLUSION GOD

CONSCIOUS GOD

THEN

GOD BEYOND CONSCIOUSNESS

BEYOND

EVEN

GOD.

FIRST MASTER

Seed of the Creator

into the womb of Own illusion

born first of human form

through

e v o l u t i o n

into man

became

HU

YOU

GOD

MAN

HUMAN

who

for the memory of God

existed

before man

for man to see HU (GOD)
within

he had to enter himself

I N V O L U T I O N

to the depth of the Ultimate

First Master of First

only Journey

GOD

Conscious of GOD

at first at last

The Ancient One

Avatar Messiah Rasool Buddha

Ultimate Pirate

Thief of Perfect Love

Compassionate Father

knowing everything GOD

sustained seed

when

the question

who am I

Comes back

to fertilize

seed of God

so all the shadow

creation

comes

into

it Self

Knows

No Shadow

comes back

to free His own shadow

which doesn’t exist

and that’s

the Ultimate Joke

CAPTAIN OF THE SHIP

Seven thousand years ago

You came out as Zoroaster

Sun came down to You

You never rise and set.

From beyond illusion

YOU

came down

setsail from beyond

the seventh sun

shadow of the Sun

Ultimate Sun

Shine Shine

Shine again beyond Time

Shine through Time

Shine on the brow

Ancient Sailor

Ultimate Pirate

After the Sun came out

You came out as Rama

Gave meaning to the stars

Arrows of Your glance

Cutting through the sea of endless night

King of the seven seas

Ultimate Pirate

You

walk again the timeless ship

the stars

maps of voyages

inlets of conquests

each star a burning lover

each spark a longing

for You

Pirate of Love

As Krishna

You walked the deck of the loveship

Flute at the lip

Perfect wine at Your table

Dance from the shores of illusion

Out to the vessel of harmony,

Setsail

For the moon

Came out of Reality

The perfect overhead moon

Lights the lip of Love

Plays the pipe of wooing

To fill the ship

with all who wish to travel

across the seas of mind

beyond the seventh moon

past seven setting suns

through the blistering dance of time

to that bower in the land of Love

Setsail

You

Came out as Buddha

The whole illusion came out to You

Nothing came out Everything

You sat beneath the mast

Cut from the tree of light

You told the crew the rule

laid down by the beginning of time

swallow up the ocean of mind

sail through blue nothingness

through seven skies

past the end of time

Ocean of void

Dive in and swim

Swim into nothingness

Beyond Time

You stepped out

Ultimate Pirate Jesus

Nailed to the tree

Mast of Your ship

The word came out

Pierced the hearts of the hunted

Called them to the ship

Setsail

Setsail for the One

Came out to sail you away

Bound for the Garden of God

Heart of the garden perfect rose

to sail you to the garden of peace

and rest in the bed of the Flower of Love.

Fourteen hundred years ago

You came again

This time named Mohammed

The Mountain came down

Now come again

This time came

everything

down

because

You

came down

Everything

Born for the first time

as the beginning

Word

Came out

beginning Time

very latent words came out

form came out

one two of everything

mind energy form

rock mineral vegetable

insect fish bird

animal monkey man

YOU

HU

MAN

GOD

MAN

came out

ARK

Being

Imagination Energy Vessel

Creation

Came out upon the waters of illusion

Carrying the dove of love

Built of the tree of Life

Ship of Light Shimmering iridescence

Cutting the waters of Time

Flag

Seven Colours

Seven Seas of Imagination

through which You came out

First

Captain of the Ship

Ultimate Pirate

MEHER BABA.

MASTER OF INFINITE CHESS

Death and Paradise are pawns in His Play

They also in the final move are swept away.

The board is quiet, opposites motionless, waiting;

The Game is won, Your hand moves, Game begins.

You play against Yourself, there’s no other player:

There is nothing else to win except Yourself.

Loneliness is love that has not been returned,

Return Love through us back to Yourself.

Clothes, bodies, nerves, mind, each beautiful vehicle,

Like flies upon the great chalky dome of Creation.

Each star a bright burning fibre of being,

Each planet a seed of Your Imagination.

Each neverending void of space containing You,

Every atom, pebble, grain of wheat and glorious tree.

All sky so blue and green sea, every grain of sand,

Every living thing and every dead thing is You.

If all of this and so much more is Your Imagination,

How can a grain of sand imagine a neverending beach?

A pebble is a pebble because it knows no other

And God is God because He knows no other.

How then can the tiny pebble know God?

His feet walk earth’s stony road, awakening dust.

Sound the Song again, Original Sound sing out,

Don’t leave us like dust without Your Blessed tread.

When Meher Baba rose from the tomb at Meherabad,

He rose from the tomb of the mind of man into his heart.

He knocks at the door, heart resounds with His calling,

To contain His Presence the world won’t succeed.

For His Song sings out in everything in the end,

As it was in the beginning and forever beyond Time.

BURST THE BUBBLE

Baba,

burst the bubble

of this illusion

with the Word.

Send us off into

the journey

that is within

ourselves.

It’s all or nothing

now

burst the ego

with the Love

that gave birth

to the shadow

and the illusion

that we are.

Burst the bubble

of the mind

that contains

all the energy

that we put into

the form

that we believe

exists.

Take it from us.

Burst its bubble

and let there

be Nothing;

and illusion

- the shadow

seeks from where

it came.

Your Game!

SUN’S RISING

Slowly the deep orange hue on the earth’s sweet horizon

Throws out a further light into the blue: Sun’s rising!

Pink flow, the wide cloak of His great Dawn has come,

Now trains blow horns, birds praise, heart beats drum.

Magpies meet, woo like vibrating checked-flags of bliss

And forget about their prey, two insects above them kiss.

Chirping crickets bleep out waves of ‘the day has come,’

And the all of Creation wakes up to greet the only One.

That breeze now blows around my eyes a madness dance,

Never let me sleep again for I may miss another chance.

May sun forever shine and moon forever glow His face,

And may perfect happiness of God descend on this place.

If all of the Creation was to come back down to dust,

A single moment in the Master’s Presence one can trust.

May we be given soon sight that rises like the sun before

My eyes have seen the glory of the rising Song we adore.

DIVINE ALPHABET

A - is for Avatar - the first and the last

B - is for Baba - the last and the first

C - is for Creator - there is only One

D - is for Divan - the book of the Word

E - is for ego - it’s all one must lose

F - is for Father - Beyond the Beyond

G - is for Grave - the means to the Source

H - is for heaven - the halfway mark

I - is for identity - which one must lose

J - is for Judas - the essential disciple

K - is for Karma - the Law that’s in force

L - is for Love - the Force that is used

M - is for Maya - the means to the End

N - is for Nothing - after which is Everything

O - is for Om - point of departure

P - is for Perfection - the true state of all

Q - is for Question - that must be asked

R - is for Religion - that must be lost

S - is for Surrender - that must be made

T - is for trying - that must be tried

U - is for understanding - which comes with Time

V - is for Victory - of heart over mind

W - is for Word - from which it all came

X - is the mark - which we all bear

Y - is for You - the Total Undoing

Z - is for Zoroaster - the first of the last

GLANCE GHAZAL

His glance compounds in us throughout Creation,

Look to look we pass it on in silent communication.

Breaks through the watery limbo womb to light,

Lights the wick of the heart until complete distraction.

Burst through the barroom door and glanced my way,

Passed unknown from her and caused me consternation.

Looks can kill, You kissed goodbye my waiting game,

Death to myself - now You are the only destination.

That Glance sustains my soul although it’s been ages,

Passed that day in time, but, it led to recognition.

He Glanced through her, through me, I passed it on,

The thread of Light invisibly weaves the constellation.

Glanced through all of evolution to His Perfect form,

Meher, God, Glanced All into the great Involution.

His Look that hearts can’t resist is never absent,

Look into the Mirror of Love is a possible solution.

BUND GARDENS

I sit here,

here in Bund Gardens,

the cool air rushing

around the back of my neck

caressing me,

the lovers walking hand in hand,

each bench occupied,

most asleep,

some lost in troubled thoughts;

on the stone bench

next to me

an ordinary looking man

sits

lotus position

swaying from side to side,

eyes ablaze

with some kind of fire,

maybe hunger,

maybe lust,

or just maybe

love for You.

On the opposite bench

a woman lies,

asleep

sari top moved up to reveal

a beautiful brown breast,

and…there is beauty

everywhere

here,

here in Bund Gardens,

here,

here in Poona,

the birthplace of God

this time,

come again as Meher Baba.

And how often

He came here

with His men disciples,

His beloved Bund Gardens.

He often walked past this fountain

before me

two small children

wrestling in fun

and He would have grinned,

eyes screwed up in amusement,

loving the play,

the game of it all,

the innocence of each of us

and the fun in this great game

He plays so well.

And to my left

the silver lion stands,

ball of the world

under its right front foot.

And He would sit upon it

as I have done

and gesture of its ferocity

and smile

and gesture

that like the lion

He has the whole world

under His control,

so don’t worry,

for although He can be

as fierce as a lion with His lovers,

He can also be

as gentle as a lamb.

And the Bund Gardens

spread out before me,

the rotunda behind me,

with groups playing cards

away from the sun,

and He must have sat in there

with the others

and played

and explained about Love

and Himself and Creation

and what is yet to come.

And He would often walk

beside His beloved river

the Muttra,

just beyond the garden

to my left,

and the fishermen fishing

as He fished 200 years ago

and the force of the great river

rushes over the brink

in one great long flow

like His Love for us:

unceasing, always available for us

to wash our sorrows away

like the women washing their bright clothes

upon its banks today

as they must have done

when He once walked

by this river

by Bund Gardens.

And further over

my left side

is the open area,

with magicians

who are the world’s best

waiting to perform near miracles

a foot or so

before your eyes

just for a few rupees and paise,

and

strange-eyed men with birds in bags

that they claim can speak

in almost any language

for a price

but not for paise,

“rupees five or ten please”

And small trolleys

with hawkers selling

roasted corn or peanuts

and others selling coconuts,

one chop and a drink

to make the gods weep.

And further down,

down towards the great river

stands the Tree

and what a Tree it is!

What size,

what symmetry,

what a history!

It stands,

knowing so much about God,

it must be

the wisest tree in existence.

For, so many years ago,

God in human form named

Babajan

sat for many years

under this same tree

and dispensed to all and sundry

God’s Love and Power and Knowledge.

What that tree

must have heard and felt.

The back of God

has often lent upon it

as others

lean on it today

and unknowingly imbibe

God’s neverending Presence.

And Baba would often go

and look at this tree

and admire this Tree

of all trees,

and gesture:

What a tree!

You do not know

what this tree has experienced,

it is beyond your comprehension.

And He would touch it

with a friendly slap

and lay His tired back

against its skin

and begin to dispense His Love to all

and sundry

gathering

under God’s Tree.

And once,

He pointed to a spot

at the top of its trunk

and said to those gathered near:

‘The river will come up to here’

and they joked and found it hard to believe

for it would have to cover the bridge

and that was almost impossible.

And some time later

the dam burst

and the mighty river rose

to the top of the tree’s trunk

and the waters spread throughout Poona

the City of God.

And there was no fresh water

for many of the people

of this Fortunate unfortunate City.

And so the well at Baba’s house

was to become the focal point

as thousands of buckets

kept many of them alive and clean,

thousands drank of its sacred water

without knowing the worth

of its Owner

and His well did not fall

a single inch.

Ah, here I sit,

here is blessed Bund Gardens

and recall

some of the times You

graced this holy place

with Your Divine Presence,

a cool breeze brushes

the back of my neck

and I long to see You.

And beyond my back

in the open space

where stands the Tree,

the hawkers, magicians

and the men with bi-lingual birds

in sacks,

beside the small cafe

stands the pale blue

miniature theatre

about five feet high and four feet wide

all metal

with holes to view through

and the ancient miniature man

who happily,

O so happily

for a small sum

will show you

the World’s Great Comedians:

Chaplin and Keaton, Ben Blue

Laurel and Hardy too

and Charlie Chase

and the Keystone Cops

creating their mad antics on a tiny screen

about five inches square

and tiny chairs

and buckets on the stage

in case of fire,

and He also

must have viewed these greats

He,

the Greatest Mime

of them all,

the greatest Joker

must have held His sides

to contain the laughter

that would almost spill out,

and if it did

it would have engulfed

the whole of creation

and

drowned us all in Joy.

And I sit here in Bund Gardens

and light a cigarette

for a fellow appreciator

and survey His Creation,

the trees sway to His Music,

the flowers brightly wave,

lovers walk arm in arm,

families eat apples

juice running down the roses

of the children’s

happy cheeks,

and lonely people

feel not so lonely for awhile

as they sit here

and listen to the birds sing

the river roar

the rickshaws saw through the crazy traffic,

horns blast and motorcycles bleat like sheep

the sky turns blue and O Baba,

it is impossible not to thing of You, here

here in this joyful sacred place,

here in Your Bund Gardens.

Aug. 1985

Being Your slave, is far better than being any king:

to be a world-ruler without You, would be nothing.

Being Your drunkard’s far better than any sobriety,

You intoxicate me with one glance You’re shooting!

Being Your poet is far better than any Nobel Prize:

the only prize that I prize is You, “I love it”, saying.

Being Your lover is better than on the silver screen;

compared to Your beauty all film-stars are waning!

Being Your prey is better than being safe forever…

Your cruelty to me is such bliss from this I’m dying.

Being Your seeker, is like travelling to the moon…

and beyond that You are the sun, upon me shining.

Being Your beggar is better than winning a lottery:

the only lot of worth... is Your foot on me standing.

Being Your servant is like waiting on the Almighty,

Perfection is Yours... and my service is most willing.

Being Your biographer, I find I am lost for words…

You’re in this life and also beyond it You’re existing.

Being Your minstrel is to be playing into Your hands

for each song I sing of You, You are really composing.

Being dust at Your feet is far better than being gold:

if You tread on me, pure alchemy I’m then becoming!

Being You in Your other form is still beyond my form:

I hear and feel Your presence and it is overwhelming.

Being Paul, a being that You’ll ‘love until eternity’,

that the ‘same goes for me’, is all that I am saying.

“Being me, O lover, poet, slave, prey, and minstrel:

it is difficult to wait until to ‘Me’ you are coming!”

The difference between our ages is quite enormous,

You are beyond all Time while I wait for it to pass.

Let them sat what they like, I will still be Yours…

the only voice that I hear isn’t with these ears I use.

If You were to lead me down a street like a dog on

a chain, I’d consider myself... a most fortunate ass!

Being of service to You is being a slave to the finest

household in creation, receiving Your divine abuse!

Look at me, what am I without You, nothing... dust!

Dust should be thrown under Your foot, so gracious!

One fine December day call me to You wherever You

may be and I’ll come instantly to suffer Your abuse

or whatever You have in store for Your poor lover…

be it heaven or hell, for whatever You give is of use!

Use me O my Beloved, use Paul until he does die…

for Your grace is Perfect and Your ecstasy enormous.

I hear Your voice, “You have won my attention I’ll

give You that! Prepare yourself, or what is the use?”

Without You in my heart, this heart would not exist…

without You on my mind, illusory thoughts they persist.

Without You as Beloved this lover would be nowhere…

without Your face to see again, there’s no place of tryst.

If I forget You a moment, crush my neck with Your foot:

if I try to live without You… become an interventionist!

What’s the point of being Your slave… without orders?

Tell me what to do for You… even let me cease to exist.

At least a dog in Your street knows where your street is:

give me direction to Your door, or I’ll be Your extremist!

Love, is a game of ‘give and of take’, haven’t You heard?

Give some more take, I’ll take all You give, I can’t resist.

the pollution today is so extreme that I can’t see a thing:

You veil face with distance being such an obstructionist!

Recently I saw a movie, a fight between God and Satan:

Your Love is beyond tearful ideas for You are the Realist.

Is there truly any point in separation’s game You play…

when in truth You tell me it is unreal and won’t persist!

It is said there’s divine bird, flying between day and night

and it’s circling the world daily. Hey, if it really does exist

let it take this message to You… O my Perfect Beloved:

“This distance is killing me… it, and I, cannot co-exist!”

Your answer, it takes less than a day and needs no bird…

“You complain so well lover, praise in complaint, persist.

And remember this always Paul, take it wherever you go:

when lover is ready, Beloved comes; remember, I insist!”

Feb 2004 Pune.

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