The Thinking-by Devi Nina Bingham

To the unthinking

the world is dead serious

while the seer sees delusion

The unthinking weep

as the seer laughs in her sleep

nothing touches her

For she has seen futility

in material things

now she loves what cannot be seen

She is the thinking. 

Only an Ignoramus-by Devi Nina Bingham

Only an ignoramus

believes there are many Gods

for God is one

but like an arthropod

branching out 

in many divine directions

splitting into male and female creations.

There is not anything 

but God to see

not a forest, not a mountain, 

not the Heavens, nor you and me

there is only One in all

and all is energy

wrapped in sensitivity, God is one.

Can't you see?

Rebirth-by Devi Nina Bingham

We take rebirth

by our deeds

a soul of great worth

on knowledge feeds

Let your insight lead 

come to the truth

bliss will meet your needs

and satisfy your youth

To be set free

we must find true love

stop the heart bleed

this pain to be rid of

Flying above

the world's trifling mess

light as a dove

and feeling blessed

We take rebirth

by our deeds

a soul of great worth

on knowledge feeds.

The Good I Do-by Devi Nina Bingham

We are imperfect reflections of our maker

or loathsome imitations with limitations

we either help the divine plan or we hinder

humble ourselves with devoted prostrations

or run after money and other temptations.

Part of God, our choices can slow the karmic wheel

causing sorrow and death, and all of the pain, He feels.

I choose a reflection of divinely inspired good

not the picture of perfection, but I know how to kneel.

The good I do I do for Him and I certainly should. 

Meditate on Om-by Devi Nina Bingham

Meditate on Om

the still point of silence

it will take you home

No reason for to roam

it will bring you guidance

meditate on Om

Like a temple's catacomb

and a three-stringed chromosome

it will take you home

Raiders have stolen Om

greedy and misguided

meditate on Om

Cosmic sound that stands alone

though the mantra's been derided

it will take you home

Make it your very own

the still point of silence

meditate on Om

it will take you home. 

Nincompoops-by Devi Nina Bingham

The mighty Ganga river

you stand upon her shore

waiting to be delivered

the mighty Ganga river

yet still you are bewildered

finding water is such a chore

the mighty Ganga river

nincompoops, forevermore.

Thoughtcrimes-by Devi Nina Bingham

Millions of births, millions, millions

before you end the search

surrendering the billions, billions

of customs you called church.

He has no fixed rules of worship

the Inner Knower of All

dispassionate as a turnip

towards our problems, oh so small.

For we are souls deluded

believing in the lie

demanding to be saluted

when we are born to die.

How many times

will we reincarnate 

because of our 

thoughtcrimes? 

Cloud City-by Devi Nina Bingham

We dwell in a cloud city

built by cosmic power

the rain is always so pretty

still we shout, "Freedom from the showers!"

"Freedom from the tower!" 

though the cloud city is my home.

Pain and pleasure, but no power

like a ghost we do roam.

Don't hide and don't you cower

don't you leave alone

when you vacate cloud city

tell them of the flowers

and of the happiness of Rome.

Take someone with you in your pity

upon cloud city. 

Make Believe-by Devi Nina Bingham

Shiva, magician

the world is projected

through Shiva, physician

by His scheme protected.

His maya is hard to grasp

we are deluded

in the heart lotus He basks

our natures transmuted.

Supersensible

Pure consciousness is He

Reprehensible

the world is maya, only a dream.

Suffer we as long as the dream is perceived

Shiva's world of make believe.

Illusion Crusher-by Devi Nina Bingham

Illusion crusher

cosmic dancer upon my grave

ego to ashes.

So dead, yet living

covered in cremation dust

drinking water from a skull.

Meditating God

snakes and ghouls, his friends

bones hung round his neck.

Not afraid of dark death

not afraid of love's bright light

fully alive, fully alive.

Contradictory-by Devi Nina Bingham

I close my eyes and the world slips away

a warm embrace envelopes me

not knowing how long I should stay

I lift my hands and make my plea.

To a God I speak and make my case

to Him I bow, surrendering all

for only He can send His grace

without it, I will fall.

I know my place, His servant be

accepting what my Master sends

a river of tears, the grief's black sea

and yet, He calls me friend.

There is no greater mystery:

why is God contradictory?

True Love Lost-by Devi Nina Bingham

When you think back on what could have been

when you are alone, your fortunes in review

when the years have delivered their half-hearted wins

for your guarded heart that safely withdrew

Then will you admit when no soul can hear

Then will you wail to know all that was tossed

Then will the bell toll in destiny's ear

for your one chance at true love was lost.

Despite divine decree you ignored the signs

month after month and year after year

until you became the tempest-tossed

and your true love died one thousand times.

No going back, nothing as severe

No time left for the star-crossed.

My Last Fond Wish-by Devi Nina Bingham

I so long to be a mermaid

true blue as sky and sea

for when I am cruelly betrayed

I'll be as cold as a fish can be.

And sailors will tell stories 

of when I sang my siren song

how they lost their wits and jumped to be

fish food for my killing spree.

And artists will paint my portrait

murals grand on beach house walls

and in the night, I'll come to see

my likeness if I have to crawl.

So now you know my last fond wish

is to be a cunning and beautiful fish. 

Alone-by Devi Nina Bingham

Alone in cells of isolation

experiencing a deafening silence

yet we soldier on

in battle with ourselves

like cells in our bodies

of a particular duration.

Isolation offers consolation

alone with cruel thoughts

cells contain what cannot be shared

so afraid of touching others

in a world of miscalculations

we withdraw into ourselves.

We invite others to our party

isolation when they have come and gone

in solidarity to preservation.

Cells are bleeding yet nobody sees.

Cells multiply, generating new life

we are meant to grow always.

Isolation sweeps away

connection as we face the sun

in our morning cup the day is done.

In our hearts the tribal drumbeat

cells understand the dance of inclusion

alone until they meet themselves.

We have become estranged from our tribe

isolation was the sentence of the damned

are we living as ancient outcasts?

Are we living the best way

in secure and impenetrable fortresses

isolation is the unintended outcome

cells we have made of ourselves.

We were severed from the natural way

alone for too long, we stopped reaching.

Alone is the defense of desperation

we took shelter in.

Cells have we made of ourselves.

The Sea Sounds the Same-by Devi Nina Bingham

The sea sounds the same

wherever you go

with a frothy hi-ho!

it plays a sporting game

Calling to the sailor

and stealing from his wife

promising a life

with no womanly jailer. 

Nothing near as free

as the vast expanse

bust a jig and dance

when land you cannot see. 

From the fish to the captain

all are glad to be

part of the mystery

water is where it's happening. 

The sea sounds the same

wherever you go

with a frothy hi-ho! 

You'll be glad you came.

The Clandestine Years-by Devi Nina Bingham

The clandestine years crept up on me

wagging its chin and with ogre ears

speak loud for I can't hear

wrinkly skin like an elephant be.

My senior friends come round for tea

I call them gently, "My dears"

for the clandestine years snuck up on me

wagging its chin and with ogre ears.

At the end barely able to see

then my mind crowded with fears!

As sundown comes and the darkness nears.

Yet in my heart a child runs free

though clandestine years crept up on me. 

The Heart is Fickle-by Devi Nina Bingham

The heart is ever fickle

running after pretty eyes

then we're in a pickle

making excuses and telling lies.

Or looking back to a love gone by

yesterday seems finer

what we want we have already tried

it's like eating at the same diner.

To satisfy the heart with now

is a trick we haven't mastered. 

Today has gotten lost somehow

for my heart's a fickle bastard.

O my heart, look within

to look without is a mortal sin. 

Everything to Gain-by Devi Nina Bingham

Mexican breeze rustles the palm trees

an ocean of blue and green

windchimes humming like bees

golden sunshine that must be seen.

Persistent coo of the doves

pelicans flying in formation

spicey dishes that I love

Aquarius is tonight's constellation.

Mariachi music is always playing

shells in my pocket and sand in my shoes

you can bet that I am staying

everything to gain and nothing to lose.

Everything Happens for a Reason-by Devi Nina Bingham

Everything happens for a reason

the blind bat finds its way

in dark, light, or any season.

Religious parents call it high treason

and reject the child who is gay

yet everything happens for a reason.

The single mother knows nothing but depletion

and begins to pray

in dark, light, or any season.

The divorcee who feels uneven

alone, cold, and grey

everything happens for a reason.

A bird whose wing is broken

but sings anyway

in dark, light, or any season.

Pain and trials force our completion

and test our strength alway

everything happens for a reason

in dark, light, or any season. 

Consolation Will Never Be!-by Devi Nina Bingham

Lost I my sweetheart on a bitter day

roving soulless with half a heart

Devoid of romance and in decay

with a single kiss the gloom departs.

Roving soulless like half a heart

consolation will never be!

With a single kiss the gloom departs

yet love flees from me.

Consolation will never be!

Like a broken glass of many hues

yet love flees from me

dispassionate suitors I refuse.

A broken glass of many hues

I hope to be reclaimed

dispassionate suitors I refuse

masculine company entertained.

I hope to be reclaimed

though affection is no game

masculine company entertained

rapture set aflame.

Though affection is no game

the rouge who will win my attentions

rapture set aflame

is one who can ease my tensions.

The rouge who can win my attentions

not the handsomest, but clever

is one who can ease my tensions

and become my cherished treasure.

Until then, consolation will never be!

Chemistry-by Devi Nina Bingham

Passion, where have you gone

lingering in thought

of sweet memories fond

forbidden, yet sought.

Will I never taste

thrilling pleasures fine?

Tender moments gone to waste

like a soured goblet of wine.

To distant heights

we did fly, yea, soar!

Our souls two tangled kites

never wanting for more.

My heart closed as a book

slammed shut by a wandering eye

and promises forsook

there's naught to do but cry.

Yet, once the heart has entertained

the heights of fiery seduction

no less than this will keep me sane

than carnal instruction.

Chemistry is primary 

to sweep me off my feet

all else is secondary.

You and I should turn up the heat. 

Poseidon-by Devi Nina Bingham

The ocean marked me. A jagged bottle beneath

branded my foot as blood gushed, a sandy sacrifice.

Payment for the joy the sea would give me all my life. 

 

Racing to the hospital in Dad's rusty pickup

a drunk driver swerved into our lane.

Head-on we flew into a highway ditch in Santa Cruz.

Ten stitches as I screamed held by nurses with Novocain.

And the nice familiar farmer who appeared on the scene vanished.

Branded at a young age by Poseidon of the Pacific. 

 

I learned to bodyboard, both terrible and glorious  

trusting instinctively that God would never harm me. 

Until I drowned in the muddy Russian river, or nearly.

Watching my arms floating freely in the dark deep of death

the first seconds were foreign, yet strangely comforting.

Saying, "But I was so young!" as my short movie played.

And then a man's arm as fast as a freight train 

and as big as a redwood 

fished me out and infused life into my corpse of a body.

 

I pull on my neoprene skin until I look like a seal.

A senior who still plays like a child because she was branded. 

This is my domain as much as any sharks, so we must share.

I hold my breath as the stinging cold water tumbles me.

Laughter bubbles up and gets lost among the seafoam.

Salty lips as I swallow a wave as it forces itself. 

Salt in every crevice stinging my frozen nose. 

Age has stolen my stamina, damnina.

 

The day I stop playing with Poseidon he can have me. 

Take my body and lay it beside the crystal sea where He 

will brand me with his golden trident.

No blood or pain, old age, or death will beckon. 

This life is but a shadow of better things to come. 

Strange God

My mother was astonished

upon hearing the news, and admonished

me to repent. Her religion

of righteous division

didn't accept that I'd run aground,

lesbians were hell-bound.

But what kind of unjust God

creates a creature that's odd?

Which cannot relate and suffers

the stigma assigned by others?

Perhaps a God who is stranger than you

and stranger than me, even blue.

Only a strange God can understand

what seems to be outside His plan. 

I am made in His image. 

O Mexico! by Devi Nina Bingham

O Mexico! The sweet sounds of traditions old 

on accordion, guitar, trumpet and tuba

and spicy tastes of cumin, cloves, and Menudo

a proud heritage not my own, despite your lack.

The fields upon your backs and children running barefoot,

the maids and housekeepers making it nice for me,

for the white money that is their smug savior

tossing pesos like pennies at the eager car parks

and with reserved smiles and lowered eyes you say, "Gracias, senor."

Sunshine always graces the beaches filled with white dough bodies

as an ever-present desert wind whips up 

just in time for fresh fruit margaritas and 

giant shrimp cocktails, and tacos of carnitas 

with white creme, green chilis, and red tomatoes.

The white of your flag stands for the Catholic Church who converted you,

religions of the indigenous ancestors 

buried now, but standing indominable 

in ruins where blood ran like rivers of sacrifice

as stores next to the pyramid sell trinkets, like sunblock.

And green for independence from the Americans 

who buy your goods as you say, "Bienvenido," which means welcome to our country.

And red for the blood of the Mexican heroes, refusing

to become our slaves, resisting even the Spanish 

who weaponized smallpox to destroy all and every

vestige of your civilization. O Mexico!

You have made peace with your tormentors. For your many talents,

peace-loving is what I would call you, and survivors. 

You forgot the past so you could have a future.

Who can blame you? Hold on, and keep holding on

to your pride as you bow respectfully to the Europeans 

and as Americans as your children dress in designer 

everything that's made in America.

The traditional sarapes and sombreros

are sold to the tourists while your children ask for

Nike tennis shoes that China manufactures. 

Swapping fashion for the Mayan and Aztec ways,

techni-gadgets are conquering history.

Every nation has traded its heritage in some form 

for survival, convenience, and progress. 

Rolling forward in step with humanity,

not to be left behind in the swift march of technology. 

Adaptable, always adaptable, this American admires who you are,

O Mexico!

 

Exotic Pets-by Devi Nina Bingham

He called me his girlfriend before I knew

what it would mean. I knew I belonged to him

as friends do belong to one another

yet something else was expected that I couldn't decipher. 

He was a handsome Mexican boy, a mustache of peach fuzz

and a serious, rough demeaner that drew me in.

I was magnetized, a pattern later to be repeated in life.

Curious to touch his scuffed, mocha-brown skin and thick hair,

I yearned to caress him but kept my eyes low, green eyes 

that flashed giggles, and Irish freckles dappling ivory white skin.

Sun kissed hair flying straight and strawberry blond.

Skin of white silk against the wild deep, dark, and dangerous.

His broken English intrigued me, spicy hot words

spoken like a bullet train I had to catch. I was quiet

as his temper could flare like water thrown on hot grease-temper, temper!

This intrigued me. Volatile and passionate,

fuel for his rocket of adolescent rage.

After school he would take me by the hand and lead me

to a dark, dank and cool place smelling of wet earth and dust

beneath a foreign house and kiss me as we locked eyes sternly.

I tingled all over with excitement, guilt, and worry.

What would he do to me, the passionate Jose?

He always pulled out his magazine of naked ladies

and he would explain like a doctor, anatomically

as if they were his, like I was his for giving him pleasure.

I would look then turn away, only there to kiss and plunder the depths

of his angry Latin eyes. 

Riding bikes through a field, he grabbed my wrist and marched me

into the canopy where trees slumbered and stooped.

"Lay down," he commanded in broken English. 

I didn't want to lay down among the marshy, pointed reeds. 

I protested as he pushed me down and laid on top of me.

We kissed until I got worried about snakes hiding in the grass.

Jumping up, I bolted for my bike, but he was fast.

In a field of gold, we were yelling.

Jose's fist sailed through the air landing hard.

When I awoke, he was stooped over me. 

"I didn't mean to." All Jose's say that. 

Revenge was coiled up in me and ready to strike.

Crunch, crack! He flew back when my punch landed straight and true.

Jose laughed, although his nose was bloody. "We are even now,"

he conceded. "You are strong for a girl." 

I knew I would never trust him again. He had knocked me out

because I couldn't be controlled. Suddenly 

his darkness didn't attract me. Jose was a dangerous jungle animal 

whose stripes had hypnotized me. Be careful, 

I said to myself, with exotic pets. 

Joy and Sorrow-by Devi Nina Bingham

I came to clear my head jammed with worry as it always is,

the kind of worry that resurrects the past like a compulsive grave robber.

And the kind of fondness that drives me to replay time-worn scenes,

the kind of fondness that had me dancing like a showgirl puppet,

and gowned in taffeta on a soggy, sacrosanct day.

The kind of worry that made me plead on my knees when death snatched her.

A mishmash of ragtag memories crowds my days.

Label me a retrospective character, 

for it fits and I wear it with pride as an artist and a woman. 

The sea is cranky, withdrawn, and baring its' jagged rocks. 

I walk until my legs ache, and I've sorted my problems.

Of different natures, they grow like flowers in a garden.

Like wildflowers, my disputes are colorful but unruly 

and therefore, harder to contain. They do ramble

and travel in tight circles that repeat themselves.

And like red roses are my joys, neatly arranged

against a backdrop of finery and romance. 

What stands out to me is the realness of my problems

and the falsehood of my joys. Misery is truth

while joy is fleeting; a blissful bird ready to take wing. 

Yet, we would sell our earthly souls to do one bright day over.

And it is the joys which will alight on our shoulders in the harsh days to come. 

Like a babe, we will suckle from it and take strength. From the blemishes and wreckage

we can only hope to do better, lesson after bitter lesson.

If all my desires were met I would long for a vigorous challenge. 

Life is a game of opposites. 

Having assured myself that my problems weren't extraordinary,

nor can any joy last, I turn back to the sweet and salty sea 

who has so many moods; she is like me. I had forgotten the fresh air

and the restless waves that hurry in to carry me away.

My head is clear; there is room for both joy and sorrow here. 

All I Didn't Do-By Devi Nina Bingham

I try not to think of you,

for memories too close impair me.

Just a song about how you flew

or a butterfly on my knee

and the pain spurts like regret

for all I didn't do for you.

Can't forget as of yet,

a hole my conscience chewed.

Your note said I did my part

but all I see is my refusal to

be present for your bleeding heart

too busy with my can-dos.

How I wish for the melody

of your voice hounding me. 

Heavenly Hand-by Devi Nina Bingham

My face upturned, I pray

When I'm alone I run to you

As night passes into day

the sunrise makes me new.

Life can bring so much strife

I fight with myself or another

My back is stuck with a knife

or I kill my odds with a lover.

It's because of your heavenly hand

I have a bright tomorrow

Life with you wasn't planned

But you take away my sorrow.

And you met me at the very last

when my chance had all but passed. 

A Thousand Years-by Devi Nina Bingham

You're tucked in my heart for a time in the far future that none can see,

a picture of your dear face with a million different attitudes.

Time freeze-framed around events of joy, pain, and even lazy.

a precious treasure chest of such tender magnitude.

Unyielding my heart's picture, it's no platitude.

I can't let go as time marches on and the sun keeps rising high.

No matter what you say I'll believe in us until the day I die.

For your fine face and smile are locked away here for a thousand years.

A thousand blind hopes will bring to you my love as it flies.

Then be soothed and dream of the wild time when we loved without tears.

Shiva-by Devi Nina Bingham

I can't do this alone, I need your hand

I am trying to hold onto you.

Lost for days, then I see land

been sailing without a crew.

It's easy to be adrift at sea

so far from shore, reel me in.

Daily I've prayed on bended knee.

Where have you been?

In the stormy night you hear my cry

I've never had to plead.

But speak up, don't be shy

before I bleed.

You've always known who you are,

the darkness is all for me.

Promise me a morning star

that I can see.

You've created this game to play

then send us back to "Go."

We are just globs of clay

you run the show.

I beg you, please reign me in

I've drifted enough.

My courage is wearing thin

it's been rough.

You'll give it all if I will

those are the rules of the game.

You handle me with such skill

I wish I could say the same.

Let's meet again when I'm at my best

my Hindu superhero.

Smile, because I passed the test

Shiva, my fiery fellow. 

Monsoon of Passion (Haiku)-by Devi Nina Bingham

The wind blew my heart wide open

standing still and waiting

for a wild monsoon of passion. 

How Many Loves-by Devi Nina Bingham

How many loves can one heart hold?

And when broken, do the cracks ever mend?

At this age should I be so bold?

How many loves can one heart hold?

Starting again leaves me cold.

Can we begin this romance as friends?

How many loves can one heart hold?

I'm willing to follow this road to the end. 

Trilogy of Crashing Stars-by Devi Nina Bingham

Before the starry-eyed curtain falls,

before the last treasured memories fade

I look back to see we three standing tall

not knowing the grim reaper was bringing his blade.

I have asked myself a million times, why we?

Why take one so young, and a marriage torn asunder?

A shitstorm that ripped the branches from a tree

and scattered like clouds running from the thunder. 

Bound to fall apart like a trilogy of crashing stars

each one concealing their hidden, private pain.

The two of us left standing carry the scars

and I think about the two of you every time it rains.

Don't forget me, and remember 

when you flew overhead

and we were crashing stars 

in the universe's bed. 

I Hardly Know How to Be-by Devi Nina Bingham

I hardly know how to be

words fail me every time.

Mountains we did climb

when it was you and me.

You struggled to be free

and wouldn't last a lifetime.

It drove me to my knees

where I stayed for a long time.

I'm living near the sea

where your ashes are full time

sparkling in the sunshine

at least you're living carefree. 

I hardly know how to be.

Words fail me every time. 

Death Comes Creeping-by Devi Nina Bingham

There is a grace as age descends

twas given to men, a gift of the Gods

that death comes creeping as a friend.

With softest steps it condescends

with shuffling feet, it plods.

There is a grace as age descends.

So sneaky death, though it offends

doth whisper sweet until the end

for death comes creeping as a friend.

And thinking you are on the mend

the vulcher swoops and caws.

There is a grace as age descends.

The preacher sounds the final lament

then we welcome the wormy sod.

For death comes creeping as a friend.

Destruction need not ever repent

for gently untying the knots.

There is a grace as age descends

when death comes creeping as a friend.

Ancient Abyss-by Devi Nina Bingham

To let you go, I'm moving on

will find another to welcome this kiss.

Art was the muse I threw my passion upon.

Why are you so hard to dismiss?

I see your smile but it's for her now.

It's high time I fixed the holes in my heart.

How easy you left when I didn't know how.

This time I'll play the vanishing part.

The past is gone so face the truth.

But the memories got spilled everywhere.

We met in a time of carefree youth

seizing a torrid love affair.

Why are you so hard to dismiss?

I must rescue myself from this ancient abyss.

No Man's Land-by Devi Nina Bingham

The silence is too silent, a weight to bear

like the cloak of darkness of the longest night

we keep our distance in the pale moonlight

and play solitaire. 

But we had plans as lovers do

to see each other to the end.

But now you want to call me friend

and other loves pursue.

Yet, I will smile and shake your hand

as if we had never tasted passion.

I am stuck out here in no man's land

as falsehood's all the fashion.

But tell me, won't you, what happens when

our eyes meet and time stands still

swept up in timeless love again

against our will.

What drags us back to yesteryear

no matter what we say or do?

How many years have we passed through

yet youthful we appear.

Oh, how the mind remembers love

the lucky two of fates star-crossed.

But foolish youth, opportunity lost.

A beloved now we're bereft of.

So here I sit in no man's land

because there is no going back.

I hope, I pray I cut me some slack

with my feet stuck in the sand.