Confession

I have a negative freedom,
Isolating and weakening me very much.
I got hurt many times,
But the most important wounds
Were at my heel and my soul.
I broke my collar-bone of soul
In wrestling with my love for life
And I feel my heel like Achilles, when
I think of my freedom.
Maybe some gigantic forces are beyond my control.
Today, because of my old injuries,
I can’t go on with my life.
I was told that my soul was mildly sprained,
But the soul injury was much more serious than I was told.
So, I’m abandoned, living with my pain.
I'm a modern person, being so well rooted
In the complexity of social forces.
My speech is always passively
And, without some form of universal care,
I’ll never be able to go on this way.

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poem by Marieta Maglas
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This Earth Is Cracking

In USA,
There is a presidential election fight,
Well, everything seems to be alright,
It might be alright, everything seems tight,
Sometimes, I dream of a red sky,
The earth is cracking,
I'm slowly dancing
On your sweet love floor.

Turkey
Sends bombs for free into Syria, on the other side,
Well, it seems that nothing is more important than having pride,
When Syrians in Turkey need to hide,
I've never dreamt of a sky so red,
The earth is cracking,
I'm slowly dancing
On your sweet love floor.

The Greeks
Don't want to sell to Canadian consumers their gold,

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poem by Marieta Maglas
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The Learning Curve

I reach with my eyes
The light curve and the variations in light intensity
From eclipsing binary stars.
The time becomes a phase
I touch with my soul
The curve of love between me and you
Ephemerally being, I still believe in eternal.
I carry the new life.
The curve of love, like a painful river
Between death and life
I can swim in its water of faith and piety
To reach the understanding.
We are getting old
And all we can do
Is to deep-freeze our memories.
We learn to love.
Catholic and Orthodox,
Pentecostals and Baptists,
We learn that only love can change our souls,
We learn to become eternal.

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poem by Marieta Maglas
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Solfeggio (Part 1)

The sine-waves of the theta pulsing choir note
Are like clear water bells in our love meditation,
With timeless feeling in Zen ambiance they float
And with signals from space without any cessation.

Being stimulated by Tibetan Chimes Solfege or by
Intergalactic fusion music as monaural Gamma pulses,
They produce lucid dreams to keep us on spiritual high,
Where Gamma Centauri may send some delicate impulses,

Centauri has a gentle spacious feel with Gamalon Solfege
And the synthesizer interactions blend with the white noise.
Tones liberation means Tibetan bowl and sine waves cortege,
When solfege frequencies from background sounds man enjoys.

The Silk Road meditator learns the oriental Koto song,
To assist in the release of crystallized emotional bondage.
Intuitive Sine for non-linear knowing is like an awakening gong
Ending to Theta meditation as “conscious'' for knowledge.

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poem by Marieta Maglas
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The fellowship of our life

We live in the Spirit,
In the Spirit also we walk
When He holds our hand
And guides us every step of the way...
How beautiful is this God of ours
Who can teach His children to walk...
We are circumcised inside
Without hands
With the fellowship of our life
With this love from God
Flowing so smoothly
By the grace of Christ
Flowing continuously
In the spirit of our being
For the eternity of our souls..
The circumcision of Christ
Having been buried with Him in baptism...
We walk in the light
As He is in the light,
We have fellowship with one another,

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poem by Marieta Maglas
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A New Time Was Born

I approached you
And the flash light
Of your voice embraced me.
It was somewhere, near the divine idea.

I hadn't met you before, but
When we united our voices
To be together in this way,
I felt the eternity floating in the air,
That kind of white eternity
In which, everyone wants to stay.

So many people crowded in between us
That we seemed to be two points on a world map.
So long was the distance in between us
That we seemed to live

One at the North Pole
And the other one at the South Pole.

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poem by Marieta Maglas
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The prisoner of his conscience (Story Poem)

He was very poor and he married a rich woman
So he got money but he became a very sad man
She couldn't have children, even it wasn't his game plan

One day he saw a widow walking down the street ''It's later'
He told her calmly and begun to discuss about life with her
He didn't know why he suddenly felt to touch her so tender

He understood her when she confessed her cried coeur
Saying that she had three grown children and she was very poor
And she had to work as housemaid at a loudmouthed boor

She was in pain and he felt that and to help her was his concern
He wanted to take care of her family asking nothing in return
He thought never to dishonor her acting as a father to her children

He begun to understand how unhappy was the woman he loved
When he left her for another one and she became so grieved

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poem by Marieta Maglas
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Last Seconds(Ottava Rima Poem)

A tin cup scraping along iron bars, cup a' tea
Was even sweeter than honey and the honey-comb.
There were gleams in her perfect teeth and her sad esprit.
Her strange smell brought the breeze from her funeral home.
With hollow sad eyes, O Moon, you climb'st the night to see
Mad scientist’ of horror as bleeding piece of gnome.
She felt the dawn of hope and the sunset of despair
Leaves dancing across the grass, their shadow in the air.

On echoed hills, her voice was parched and glazed was her sight,
The sooner lily dies; the louder is its scent.
Tearing, roaring, she felt her painful soul in light,
In sweet coming death, her pitiful lament.
Her soul had terrified wings for her flight in the night.
She was cribb’d, confin'd in tears for this event.
Her legs bestrode the abyss, her rear'd arm held the pain
Her mind should 'scape whipping her memory in vain.

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poem by Marieta Maglas
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The colored spin wheel of death

The vacuum of a spin
And people dying

Style overcoming the substance
Being blighted by
A dearth of dialectic

Decoding the coded languages
Preparing the public opinion

Trading information
Slipping out announcements
Aggressive complaints
Briefings
Specific channels
Separating
Collapsing
Advocating the absence of something

Black holes

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poem by Marieta Maglas
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Searching the truth

Nothingness of negation or
Negation of nothingness....

In self, we are the negation of nothingness,
But we allow the nothingness for self.

We allow the nothingness of consciousness
As a perpetual flight of the being.
We exist in self and we exist for self,

In a cartesian duality,

In a latin con-cretum,

When the certain being surpasses that being toward nothingness.

If Jesus did not exist,
the Christians would not be existent,
But Christians are existent.

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poem by Marieta Maglas
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