A Work In Progress

I am a work in progress, a-part of Creation incomplete.
I am an aspect of Creative Power
driven by the inspiration of Life-It-Self.


I am a temporary Temple of the Unseen.
I am a transient in Nature, eternal in the ebb and flow of life from the Light sourced in It-Self.

I am all-ways receiving the rhythms and sounds from beyond and beneath the drone of my earth-bound day;
as my energy, my Soul; my true Self remains
alive, awake even whilst I sleep —
even when this flesh of mine one day does fade.

I am a projection of an eternal reflection,
a facet of a greater Wholeness —
one point of an endless line;
concentrated in this space-time —
co-joined in perpetual continuum,
just a particle of the Universal Mind.

I am an opportunity to experience,
to touch, to see, and feel —
to think and to reflect. Yet what I appear to be is
none-the-less not real.

I am alone apparent within my skin,
yet I sense that whilst this seems to be the case —
alone can be as if All-One —
on a sojourn from the Source Unknown.

I be a life in process,as a page from the a never-ending story; I be the vessel, the ship —the means to… and not the end of…

I be the container and not all its contents,
and yet content I must be knowing that the Essence
contained within, can never be touched or seen —As It-Is eternal; ad infinitum; indefinite,
forever — nameless — Free.

Djubba Akbar © July 2003


Being Naturally Aboriginal

In the beginning there was the Breath — the Chi — and the Breath was made manifest, the word became the world. The Breath gave birth into the earth It-Self. The Breath was birthed, from nothingness to manifest; from the invisible the formula was conceived to create the form, the visible that we are now.

The source of us all is “the genius of genesis” — the beginning — the seeding of the breathing — the creation from the Dreaming. At some point — the alchemical moment of crux — we crossed-over into this world that matters, as an outpouring of matter fine and course.

The genesis implies the “gene-in-us-all” — the “Gene-Is”. And all of us are natural allies, cooperatively cohabiting this formation we know as life. We are nature-allied by Nature itself, and naturally-aligned from within the womb of us all — the mother-earth gives birth, the matrix is the mother — and it matters to us all.

We are but the many faces, the multi-facets of the One, a holographic expression of the ‘whole image’ — the Original is else-where; we are of the radiation of Imagination (the Image-nation) — manifested in the “atom-o-sphere” — entrapped within an atmospheric world of projection and reflection, acceptance and rejection, gravity and heaviness. Continue reading

Come With I

Come with I, unity, then ponder what has transpired,
from within the union of the You and I.

When individual polarities commune, mix and meld,
what is it that we have achieved.

My energy once implanted deep,
seeded within your receptacle, remains eternal,
awaits recharging from its source,
whenever it shall need, of course.

One plus One equals Three,
synergenetic combustibility.

DjA aka “Crowmanic” © 2002

Child Breakers

Lightning flashes, lights up the night
as thunder rumbles in distant clouds.
The rain spatters then runs in trickles
down window panes.

The storm covers the sounds of pain
seeping from within the home.

And behind the window, behind closed doors
is a room filled with silent screams, and a child sobs,
forlorn on sheet-less mattress bloodied and worn.

And the cloak of night descends on shame unseen
as the Shadow leaves the room.
This child’s joy-filled aspirations and dreams
now shattered and scattered by the obscene.

The years roll by, the child’s role set.
The child now deadened to the pain.
“Come.” says the Shadow,
“Come let’s play more innocence stealing games.” Continue reading

Bar Room Farce

Alone, again …
Another early morning in a lonely front bar.
Hand trembling, clasping the glass of a numbing cold ale.
Sipping another experience whilst drowning the past.
Sculling another drink, drowning the regrets from life passed.
Sipping another round of non-sense, whilst the money lasts;
seeking absolution in another bar room farce.

© DjA  aka “Crowmanic”

O Me! O Life!

O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless–of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself,
(for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light–of the objects mean–of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all–of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest–with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring–What good amid these, O me, O life?


That you are here–that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

~ by Walt Whitman ~