Rainspouts send plaintive song-messages upwards in gift parcels,
Sending an SOS to Rain-Gods in magnificent castles.
They're confused by our mess in clouds and rain.

I see a stormy world next for feeding our fears,
Raindust weeps muchly and blood is in her tears.
Ominous signs appear, soiled clouds and rain.

How to change the unnatural worlds nature-fickle perspective,
Assisi ignorant, fool yourselves not — change — or a deluge expected.
From dark clouds and rain.

The rainbows and rare moonbows give bubble-souls hope,
Good luck on that one, feel the noose tighten around the throat.
As in a cyclone of clouds and rain.

Rainstorms a-comin' for certain, storm-cone shows it is so.
All this digging — gems, gold, oil, will hasten gale winds blow.
Bringing even stormier clouds and rain.

The heavy drops that fall warn of abounding dark grime,
Feeling grubby they sob, asking payment for our crime.
Against Earths clouds and rain.

Rainswept tired planet, dry scorched soil, dimming sun
Shall not harvest good food but black inedible dung.
From crazed clouds and rain.

A bright-fiery sky at night is a sailors delight,
A bright-fiery sky at dawning is the sailors warning,
Grab the Captain's life-skills, mastering clouds and rain.

So get a grip dear Bardess, let not the signs haunt you,
Tell of moonglow and heart-glow, don't let the deluge daunt you.
Survive and loyally embrace clouds and rain.

O Raindust have certain hope on this rainy day,
Sing night ghazals, day-bright ghazals to the elders of Fae*
Love's lightning electrifies clouds and rain.

Rain-cloud-God utters "Gail-Nam-Gar"** Transmuter of dust into water,
Respect Him — for floods, storms and gales are His precocious daughter
Born prodigiously of pure clouds and rain.

Raindust has two new releases "Grin and Gulp Ghazals by Raindust is a matter of interest.
Raine's 'Surrenderance Blues and Gospel Ghazals and Songs' a fun rhythmic matter of interest.

The web site and recordings weigh heavy; eight years of making blues ghazals, and spoken word ghazals most interesting.
My heart weighs nothing as I feel subservient to the muses who helped me finish this matter of poetic-song so interesting.

Ghazal Page gave the confidence to pour it all out, thus the projects were finished at last for your interest.
I cannot reveal the past poets and ranks of angels involved in the
inspiration for these new mediums of interest.

Seal up ones lip with the secret yell past poets, remember Mansur, reveal secrets not, they are too interesting.
My heart after so much work has the right brain ocean-free-wheeling, the Jalal in the work, is, so to say, interesting.

I would not be less if they had never been finished, as the arts Goddesses heard them, stored them. Blessed with interest.
But for my Beloved, I keep going going like the little train, I don't run out of puff, it's the love for the matter of interest.

O Raindust may peace and joy be upon this glorious planet upon which we live, this is in every humans interest.
The sound art bytes are recorded, mixed and mastered and finished, and the river of inspiration's expression interest.

Gratitude and a feeling of ecstasy/emptiness due to the Beloved's love for the noise of expression, His loving interest.
Raindust's love of That expression keeps her alive "I think I can, I think I can, I knew I could" it stops regression of interest.

I got in my car and cried and cried, all the way home,
There was no one else in the universe, it was empty when I finished Grin & Gulp Ghazals by Raindust today.
I felt to grateful
so alone in my lighthouse
so full so empty
so amazed so unworthy
so plain so polished
so hungry so satiated
so loved so alone
so kind so selfish
so talented so talentless
So lonely but for the Beloved
So I am now dressing up in a glitter scarf and going out to sup with my
darlings BillyDarvishKhan and Freiny-etta Frances and you,
my wonderful friend-muses are tucked in a secret heart-pocket. Off we go!
 

O computer my darling with whom I live and have as my muse,
Why, at this time would you crash, bring sorrow and abuse?

Don't you know that us dear lovers earn loot from you now?
S'pose being a machine you don't give a hoot not nohow.

Come, build us a slick highway through the skies to Venus
Stop at nothing, let no stars or man come between us.

We serve you, we love you, do anything for you.
We need you, we want you, we're subservient and adore you.

We upgrade, antivirus and firewall, purchasing you each program,
We have photos of you on an alter and enshrine your sleek mainframe.

Oh darling so fashionable, latest macbook-laptop; black white or slim,
We gaze lovingly as you filter spam, provider and protector from relationships grim.

O Raindust, you slavish duffer of gmail, hotmail and America-on-line,
The computer has hypnotized us, we're under it's spell of megabyte grime.
 

Turkey was a lurki
got self dead in Bli Bli
Mummy got real angry
Put a doll on killers doorstep
They thought my Mummy mad
Daddy wrote a nasty note on the pad.
The turkeys moved on over to Meher Road.
To follow pretty Fluffet the cat there I suppose
They knew that fluffy lovely cat good karma had
'Twas worth the rough journey no matter how bad
Finally later when they arrived they found it very lush
They chatted, wander'd all over the road and in the bush
They grazed and gobbled and nested happily in Avatar dust
They procreated, ate and slept wandering, they fluffed and fussed
It came to pass two new German neighbors trucked them off the place
The turkeys though, can't be beat, they plan returning any minute post haste
They know and clearly remember they have way more right than the peacocks
Who strutted and pranced with their ugly feet and made ghastly sounds to hell-mock
The good morel here is hard to find as each line grows sillily lengthening and increases
Essentially, it seems, I seem to be saying don't kill Mums whatever the strange species.

Raindust knows she never did write this zany poem, 'twas Veronica and her Mary rosary
Channeling Raindust, with her big toe in the river of inspiration, poetry pops out real easy.
 

O Beloved would you? did I see you swallow the sun?
I look out the window, no light or warmth, it's not fun.

You gulped it down, did it right in front of my face,
Nothing can measure the glow lost, or replace.

You grin, eyes twinkle, think it ever so funny,
Give back now, we'll catch cold, get sick, nose runny.

Good boy, now spit it back up, give us back bright light,
The warmth and glow alone will be worth your might.

Shining and golden is your face now that it's in you,
No mercy, you laugh, and chide us for ignoring you

I'll make nice to you sweetie, now just spit it back up,
Tricking you, snuggling you, I slap your back, Kawup!

Glorious, golden, out it pops with a great loud OM-sound,
Lovely! Good Avatar, now listen, Raindust sing a sunny round.
 

Look at you birds out the window with your little black cap
Hanging upside down eating pine blossoms four stories up.

If I caught you in my hand you'd fit quite comfortably.
I find you in my bird book, look like a Chickadee to me.

Raindust you try being that tiny bird and eating upside down,
Between bites whistle a song or two, in the moment, and never frown.

Birds song, Your song, my song, their songs, we all sound together,
Maybe that will forestall Kali's (as Chamunda) winds of change and their tremor.

Hologram's flames follow her breath as she brings about Kali Yuga seeming crime,
A God-winged-dragon of stupendous beauty on the spoiler's chests, dancing in time.

She the rhythm of the 'dark night of time' dances to sounds and beats of beauty,
She might bide her time? But alas we find Kali Yuga destruction is her duty.

But I have every reason to be happy as I hear the Chickadee sound with sweet voice,
I am watched over by a beautiful Goddess I once met, singing Her song to Him I rejoice.

O Raindust see the birds beauty, sing to the Beloved, love Him as He should be loved.

"Give us the wisdom of purification and transformation
Help us cut off the demon's* head,
Om haim hrim klim chamungdayai vicchai swaha**."

Blossoms, calla Lilly's, narcissus and jasmine fill the air
'Tis spring a wagtail and friend, were fluttering food to share.

Walking in the sunshine and feeling beautifully warm.
The bees were humming and under one tree sang like a swarm.

It would be dreadful to think one day none of this might be,
The waste from human consumption is messing not just the sea.

Oh birds up here in my treehouse you sing your lovely songs,
I'll walk the walk and do my best to protect your beautiful throngs.

I think that Johnny Appleseed had it right from the get go,
We need to plant trees and veggies and the supy-doop let go.

Trader this and Whole veggies that are still a stock market slave,
I need a garden and some acreage and caste capitalism to the grave.

O Raindust you kid yourself, you make it sound so simple to leave this sophistication behind,
Perhaps, 'tis possible though to love all creatures like St. Francis again and live in nature sublime
 

I couldn't bare it if music had to become a competition like that,
He moved, lunged his body, sang too overtly in his smarty pants hat.

The star held his own though, ignored the show pony's improvists
What on earth was pony thinking, he was there as the accompanist.

The point passed him by on stage and he kept goin' at it
One Loud phrase after another, we vibe'd him, he couldn't intuit.

I thought back and wondered had I seen such a folly before,
Couldn't say I had without someone showing the muso the door.

After the break we all saw he cut it back quite a bit,
Thank God for someone's honesty we felt like strangling the little shit.

In the end it did not really matter, we saw the shining star of our choice,
The show pony was gone to memory and our hearts filled with the stars voice.

O Raindust one day if you're a star, do it as risky improv. just the same,
Free up and take the chances and let synchronicity play it's game.
 

Once couple of folks thought Rani Didi a mad muse,
Who are the uncreative to say which muse to choose.

Of course quite unexpectedly and 40 K later...
Rani Didi an icon a seller, sales bigger and greater.

The poet-publisher knew how to lift the corners of his mouth
A smile across his features and Raindust poetry book prints out.

Funny in the big picture her poems make laughter flows until tears,
That those who responded knew I'd been a poetess for years.

It all started at Chelmsford with first prize for drums and poems,
What else can a child do on Melbourne trams, aloneness showing.

Only child, lonely child, gazing out windows, friends scant,
On trams to schools, to work, but think of rhymes and songs to chant.

O Poetess of such fun, you knew it, poetess mother did too,
That thru chant song and poetry inspiration would come to you.

Raindust can't say how long ago she got that first prize
A perfect person in India told her about age..."don't tell," she was wise.
 

Gail-nam-gar* — Transmuter of fire into water.
Do you remember, do you understand? O Raindust**

The big man stood up there as if a naked young boy,
So natural a bard one could have sworn ... naked.

I felt nothing arise from me in a creative challenge,
He held us in the palm of his hand, silent feeling mellow.

The theme, of course, was totally at the right time,
You and YOU and him and me in Persian poem sublime.

The music enhanced the words as they woo'd our hearts,
Sitting in silence and grasping his passion we felt the love darts.

Rumi turned 800 and didn't look a day over sixty-five,
Age means nothing when your breath brings others to life.

O Coleman you do it so well, in reminding us of the pearl,
We fell to our knees in silent Zikr, having sounded such earlier.

O Raindust this bard was a shining light, feet planted behind the lectern stand,
He glowed, filled with the poems passion, 'do you remember, do you understand?'

I'd love'd to have been in your old cricket team in Poona
Or swept and dusted the shop where you served toddy,
Or an early disciple at Manzil-e-meem in Bombay,
OR traveled with you from India to Quetta ... just like in the old movies.

To have been there in '25 when you started your silence,
With you at Ahmednagar when you set up Meherabad,
Or a little kid studying Love in the Prem Ashram
You on the gaadi, me peeking thru the fence ... just like in the old movies.

Loved to have picnicked with you in the south of France,
In rain-boots in England and do you a dance, oh!
See you walking, gracefully down stairs in Portefino,
Then off to Cairo to the desert the Pyramids and Sphinx ... just like in the old movies.

Going to Toka and Bombay, Bijapir and England,
With Adi and Behram for Devonshire tea-o,
Or been the photographer who took your passport photo,
Or when you went to New York, on the SS Bremen ... just like in the old movies.

Been with you in Hollywood when you met Tallulah,
Or at St. Marks Square with Quentin and Herbert,
Been on the ship to Switzerland to your lovers in Zurich
Or been Chummy the dog in Hollywood and China ... just like in the old movies.

To have helped dress you up as Zarathustra or Rama,
Watch you ride as Christ oh so humble on a donkey,
Wrap your head, like Mohammed looked, in a cloth
Helped You and Mehera dress up as Krishna and Radha ... just like in the old movies ...
JUST LIKE IN THE OLD MOVIES ...
 

Here high on the bridge above this glorious huge bay,
Sun shining, scudding clouds, sparkling waters hear the birds say:

"I see your damn rustbuckets* carting round oil,
Do you care for us birds, fish or the ocean that you spoil.

One would think with oil now one hundred bucks a barrel,
You could spend some maintenance money as oil ocean travels.

It isn't enough that plastic plankton soup our bird-bellies fill,
And our glorious feathers covered from constant oil spills

Ya constantly yacking of evolution versus creation
Ya better think more about natures imagination,

I'm a bird and know lots about nature abused.
Next you know you'll be walking like me without shoes

Next you'll be walking everywhere with no oil in your tank
Have nothing to do but gaze at me flying-sky-free; your eyes blank."

I see it off in the distance from time to time,
I know it well and know it is there all the time.
It hovers protectively, it glitters, glints, and gleams and sparkles when I am in silent song.
Sometimes a quiet silent vision of loveliness.
I've know it since birth, ever since I first saw it form my pram in Saint Kilda.
I cannot think what it is, I can feel it though and it always feels like a heart filled with love.
A fellow traveler for my forms company and yet it is formless. Words fail.
It is always there waiting for a time when it will move closer to me and I to it.
I am not in a hurry most years.
Sometimes though in certain places or moments there is a quickening.
I suddenly feel do want to bring it closer and push illusion away.
I feel complete as it nears,
Beautiful sparkling like vast waters. Beautiful as a single tear.
Seamlessly it moves back, just within range of nearness
The art of waiting is all in Gods time.
Waiting for the Beloved to intone a New Song.
I wait. It waits.
Endure Raindust
 

O Raindrip of over used feelings, barometer not warn you of it?
Get a grip, send cranky heart-crushers in their rubbish-truck to the Tip*.

O Rainstorm, monsooning them off? you know it really won't work,
Just grab that usual strong spirit and Happy-duty don't shirk.

O Rainswept it's all this wild water, thru your name constantly chanted,
A name like ours is best sung, or used for seed — timely planted.

O Raine-gauge did you not see, rain-shadow and rain clouds a-coming,
When there's calm sunset for weeks, sure sign fiery-sunrise brings suffering.

O Rainspout pour it all out, stormy poems in glum-mood complain,
Have song-mood rise up like a sea-spout, and reach the Gods in refrain.

O Moonbow will you shine on me, show a pearly or gem-moonstone night,
Turn glum to a feeling of song, sing of blissful moon-glowing delight.

O Raindust of that rainy day — long time coming of writing rainsong,
Sing Raga Malkoush's** glissando***, slow-Drupad**** night and night long.

They collect their monies from the poor and imprisoned,
They sell their advertisements to add to their millions.
Kabir says throw it out with both hands.

They collect their fancy cars and leave them on blocks,
They say they are Happy, wealth avoids life's knocks.
Kabir says throw it out with both hands.

They act constantly like scrooge and give very little,
They hoard and look down on anyone below middle.
Kabir says throw it out with both hands.

They act so glib and bless'ed assured,
They love starter mansions, Maya grins, absurd.
Kabir says throw it out with both hands.

They feel that their lifestyle deserves every expense,
They're safe in the slurbs, no karmic recompense.
Kabir says throw it out with both hands.

They know they are right, your plight they must shun,
They speak with the Lord, he reassures them one to one.
Kabir says throw it out with both hands.

"Kabir says, If the boat is full of water, if the house full of wealth,
Throw them out with both hands," and 'cheers' to your health.

O Raindust ... too much time on wet pavements.

 

O Vishnu sitting on your snake bed
Seishu's many heads protecting you like an umbrella,
Why do you not care for your Vaishnavis who love both worlds,
Do you love only those who love Shakti and know the outer world unreal?
Why would you care if it is sustainable or not?
Leave it to Laxmi, Vishnu's divine consort,
The Mother of all, holder of the golden chalice and golden lotus,
Don't think she will destroy her honey's world, not likely.
"Chant shrim shrim shrim," says Laxmi, daughter of Venus.
But up rears Kali for a say ... shouting ... Sat
Then up floats dear Tara ... singing ... Chit
Better leave it up to Sundari ... sighing ... Anand
Vidhya ... Anand ... aaahhh knowledge, says sweet Matangi,
thinking her glorious thoughts.
In the mean while the whole bloody world vanished... poof just like that.
 

The body is fragile it must be cleaned and fed,
The heart is fragile it must be nurtured and loved

We go bout our day with our fragile feelings
We go about our, one after another, small healings.

God has said that the louder the voice the less the love
The world gets louder and more and more spills blood.

Would I be less for needing some quiet and peace,
Would I be less for wanting quiet clarity at least?

I cannot fathom a thing about this world
I cannot tell if it is real or illusion in a swirl.

I do know that my responsibility has to come first,
O Raindust who cares whether you suffer or burst.

I love you Beloved you know that for sure,
You love me you say and will continue to allure.
 

Wow! the traffic increases and the car groans, no gas.
Christmas spending at all time lows, no cash.

We see all the lights on trees and houses, no true light,
Christmas and Christ an incompatible pairing, no insight.

He hangs on the cross on Veronica's pearl rosary, no question
He's more real there, than on lit pretty trees, no exception.

Some stole plastic baby Jesus and Mary from a garden, no way!
Ya gotta gather the lambs and hide 'em and lock 'em away, no delay.

'Tis just the beginning of this kali yuga destruction, I pray,
Guns, roses or puddings are not going to control, woo or feed, I say.

Pain is the answer and suffering and strife, no wholeness
Be detached as the carnage causes frustration and disgust, no neediness.

The Beloved will bring oil and power to their knees, with clout,
We will survive and relearn to eat, sleep and breathe anew, no doubt

 

The noise of expression goes on and around I sometimes feel it woulda been better to have drowned
You can't fool me with your promises of bliss, I'll be convinced when I feel your kiss, oh to drown.

The daily struggle and the everyday pain can slaughter an artist it can drive her insane,
Cease I hear the cry, attached it's just a sigh, even You had the common sense to kiss this place goodbye, in bliss drowned.

Where are you Love come again I long to melt in you, where are you Love, you left, our love never to renew?
An up note to my song it'll lure You close to me, better 'n having negative thoughts of sea-drowning.

My heart will take me to the sun across this lonely moat, yes my love I won't go down with you I'll stay afloat.
O Raine this is not how this song was meant to be, they say that there's no death worse than expectancy, in Me drown.