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2014 Happy New Year artwork with quote by Aberjhani “Speaking Tree” in Times of India.
The real poem of the month for January 2014 is the title poem from the book The River of Winged Dreams. The simple reason is because that’s the poem (and the book) which gave the world one of the most texted, messaged, and posted quotations used to bring in the New Year. It didn’t hurt when the quote got picked up as one of the Top 10 New Year SMS Wishes for 2014 and journalists from Monterey in California to those in India embedded it in feature stories. You can even find it on the news website for the United Nations.
But the thing is this: the complete poem that the quote comes from has never been published on the web and word is it’s there are no plans to change that anytime soon. We respect that. Since we couldn’t post the complete poem we had to come up with another one that hit with the same kind of vibe. We succeeded by turning to the pages of Quotable Poet Aberjhani’s first book, I Made My Boy Out of Poetry and are hitting with” Miguel Upon the Sand Dunes of Ecstasy and Hell.” The reviews for this poem on AuthorsDen give some excellent reasons for making it the poem of the month. But it’s mostly because what it describes is how a lot of people say they feel (well, using their own words) in their heads as we step out of the year 2013 and into the New Year 2014:
Miguel Upon the Sand Dunes of Ecstasy and Hell
(Passion for the Shaman in 1994: That Love Should Have Its Way)
Breathes burning sugar and frozen memory,
pumps holiness through each of his cells
while the sun squeezes his behind
and crumbles his spine
flips, flops, and rolls him back and forth
like a baker gone insane
slapping bread into crucified dreams of art.
His desert sky shines with goddesses
cooing clouds inside your ears
the air freezes with angels demanding
you stand up and glow like one true god.
Snakes in white tuxedos crawl rattling down your throat
and you shit poison for more days in hell
than you ever want to count again.
A dead butterfly makes love to your eyes
and you shiver semen wide across the wind’s wide naked tongue.
You are golden and rose like a beautiful ballet.
You are cold, demonic and hungry.
A storm gray and furious and white
is what your soul looks like
zooming in and out of your pitiful heart.
Look at her praying for you Miguel
and bleeding for you, loving God for you and
swallowing the whole history of His pain for you.
Miguel upon the sand dunes of ecstasy and hell
imagines he is Walt Whitman
cut straight in half by the beauty of soldiers,
dreams he is Malcolm X and Gandhi bleeding justice
inside the syphilitic mouth of a nation.
Believes he is ancient and Yoruban and female
splitting his body giving re-birth to his father,
provides comfort to ghosts fresh from their bones,
sets free the niggers in Alice Walker’s nightmare
and sings her demons into well-earned death.
Miguel burns godly and shamanistic, his chest
studded with rubies, mouth foaming diamonds,
three black owls pour feathers on his head
and he yells into the night:
“I insist unrelentingly upon ecstasy
and I demand that Love should have its way
with all my Lord’s creation.”
Miguel walks hard-on bowlegged through the desert
shouting new light into this new sky
screaming loud Ezekiel’s name.
Prophets kiss his tears, laugh hallelujah,
get him stoned on wine.
Saints wash his blood, they all sing amen,
tell Miguel to be quiet for a while.
–poem by Aberjhani (from I Made My Boy Out of Poetry)