PETER MALAKOFF
I earned a BA in Religious Studies from UCSB, specializing in Hinduism and Buddhism, and received my Ayurvedic Sadhana Padavika Diploma from Kalidas Sanskrit University of the State of Maharashtra, India. Maharishi Mahesh Yogi initiated me as a teacher of transcendental meditation. Everything I know is intimately connected.
A Poet’s Hope is in Dying
Inside my heart
a mighty stallion is being broken
I do not know if this is a great growing
or a terrible defeat
The priest turns to accept the offering
An enchanting woman peers in the window
to watch
I’m not quite sure whether to carry out the act
Many voices cry out
I cannot hear the great song clearly
I have heard no incomparable word
that has not fallen and broken
a thousand times
I have had no final vision
without a feeling
of mirage
One thing I do know
There is no sacrifice
without a victim
A Poets hope is in dying
It seems our only hope is to die to all concern
particularly for a poet
*****
How Long
How long
did planners, diggers, dirt haulers,
stonemasons,
food makers and water carriers
all labor
with vision, hope and ideals
to build the proud castle wall
But look
now it has fallen
Just as all things without foundation
do
They collapse and come apart in ceaseless change
and
since all things are without foundation
so
everything falls apart in slow or sudden collapse
but
let us not forget all the work we did
it gives us meaning
before
gravity
takes its easy way
How many days and nights
of dinners and jobs
houses and cars
parents children
wives and husbands
friends and teachers
have we shared our life with?
Workin’ and lovin’
cryin’ and laughin’
arguin’ and celebratin’
prayin’ and forgivin’
Now look
we are all passing
just as all things must
slowly or suddenly
everything just drifts away
But let us not forget
all the love we shared
it fills our feeling hearts
as gravity takes its easy way
Lord you have laid down your blessin’
We’re all fallin’
apart
We’re all fallin’
apart
Grace is jus chillin’
The winds of grace are always blowin’
just put up your sails
We’re Thankful
Thank you God
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
*****
I Have Lost Myself. . .
I Have Become You
In the tresses of your hair
I am bound to you always
I have no hope for release
In the pools of your eyes
I am drowned and die happily
Celebrating my fate
Your face ensnares my mind
and
by your slender neck
I am broken
Your breasts are miracles and in awe
They open my palms to praising
Where your waist draws in all things
I am trapped
And then
Flourish again in the grand sail of your hips
inhaling and soaring with a luscious pride
I am baptized by the sacred swelling of your abundant backside
That rounds and turns like an odalisque
A full moon of blessing
And in your quiet place there are secrets
that I wish to learn
And know I never will
The two rivers of your thighs flow down
Turning tenderly towards each other
Sweetly they stream to the pools of your knees
Where they gather
and pour out again into the calm lakes of your
shy calves
and
down into the conundrumed cornerstones
of
your feet
From the sky of your appearance
To the depths of adoration
I have fallen
I have lost myself
I have become you
*****
Sometimes You Need a Miracle
Sometimes you need a miracle
When your head floats in a cloud of confusion
When the push and shove of argument
has hardened your heart to stone
Sometimes you need a miracle
When your searchlight of self-examination
shows an endless chain of cause
an you just caint get off it can you?
Sometimes you need a miracle
When you just can’t stand it anymore
Sometimes you need a miracle
Cuz you’ve left too many times before
Sometimes you need a miracle
When there is no way to figure it out
an there aint
no books written
on it at all
Ain’t nobody you can talk to
ain’t no
Ghostbusters to call
In that desert waste of feeling
In that endless pit of snakes
When you got to change it
Do it right
right Now
Let it go
Cut it loose
Sometimes you need a miracle
yes you do yes you do yes you do
In that desert waste of feeling
In the endless pit of snakes
ya gots to change it
do it right
right now
let it go
lay it down
cut it loose
Let me tell ya
Sometimes you need a miracle
sometimes
you do
Lord have Mercy
*****
The Mystery of Our Love
The very first memory I have
is when I lived in a housing project in Virginia
It was called Hillwood Square and there were small houses,
joined and set one beside another
along sidewalks that extended for about a hundred yards
Along these sidewalks to the right and left
were small grass lawns and then the small rowhouses
A narrow walk went between the main sidewalk
and any particular house
Up and down the sidewalk on either side
were very large oak trees
Their trunks were 2 to 3 feet in diameter
They rose up straight for a long time
before there were any branches at all
Then they spread out
in a glorious, thunderous foliage
They must of been 150ft tall
They were the largest living things I had ever seen
The forest had been carefully cut down around them
leaving them standing,
one beside another
up and down the long sidewalk
One day I was walking down the sidewalk
It must of been within the first 5 years of my life
and
This is the first memory I have in this life
I felt the trees feeling me
The silence became very loud
and filled with the sense of ‘other’ living presenc
We felt each other, the trees and I
I bathed in their ancient quiet regard, their community of living
I sensed my smallness and their hugeness
I felt them feeling my size as well
I felt my individuality well up like a secret, just between us
No one else knew this thing
In just this way
I now,
also feel the immense presence of a Tree
An ancient oak of love
It towers over the paths we walk
and the things we say and feel
It is the oak of our life, of our love
It does not call out
but
it is present
When I become aware of it
I become aware of how small we are
I become aware of how vast is our life
I sense a great and vibrant community
and
This feeling is secret, just between us
Like the rhizome of a mushroom that only shows
itself around it’s fruiting edges
it is a surprise
No one else knows this thing
It is the mystery of our love
After he retired and moved to Sedona, Arizona, he taught literature at Yavapai College in Clarkdale, Arizona.
He and professional artist Bev Kephart bought a small motor home in 2003, sold most of their possessions, and traveled the U. S. for seven years. After visiting Mexico several times, they settled in the village of Ajijic, joining the ex-pat artist and writing communities.
Mel’s writing has been published online and in print in The United Kingdom, The United States, Mexico, New Zealand, and Australia. He is the author of three novels, a book of short stories, and several books of poetry. He and his wife now make their home in the village of San Nicholas de Ibarra.
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