Warren

Out on the court the man walks
Seven-two! And everyone gawks

And everyone knows
He played in the pros —

But before that he played . . . for the Hawks

Another guy struts on the court
A Hawkeye all-star, they report

A sharp-shooting guard —
I’m telling you, pard:

This basketball game’ll be short

What’s that? There’s a buzz in the crowd
People start clapping — and loud:

It’s our own home-grown boys
And — joy above joys —

There’s Warren (trying not to look proud)

We rarely see Warren in shorts
Except maybe Rec Center courts

But hey — he looks good
Why not? — the man should —

This aficionado of sports

Now Warren, it needs to be noted
To the Hawkeyes is deeply devoted

To their games he will go
Through rain, sleet, and snow —

It’s the team on which Warren has doted

His dream, it would seem, has come true
He’s Fairfield’s Rudy — and crew (1)

If not play for the Hawks
Have a day with the Hawks —

And who could guess what would ensue?

Our team is quite lacking in size
They’re not tall, those Mozambique guys

The team is a grab-bag —
A little bit rag-tag

But they’re game — and there’s bliss in their eyes

But they’re the ones on the board first —
A fluke, we think, fearing the worst

But they keep up the pace —
They’re all over the place —

Together, sustaining that burst

The game goes from cool to warm
“Look at Warren!” we say — “Check the form!”

He jumps, and he shoots,
And his passes are beauts —

He’s taking this contest by storm

And look at the shots that they’re pourin’
Look at the points that they’re scorin’

Fluke? Well, indeed!
They’re holding the lead

And right in the middle — there’s Warren!

They’re very intense — and so quick
And street-wise — they don’t miss a trick

They hustle, they steal
They’re doing the deal

They’re hitting and making it stick

The giant — we know he can play
But the man hasn’t had a good day

The small guys contain him —
They might as well chain him —

They basically hold him at bay

The crowd hears the final bell sound
And the scoreboard? The numbers astound

We look — and again —
It’s the home team by ten!

And the home team is high off the ground

The Hawks are dazed — what have they missed?
In what did their losing consist?

Though never outmuscled
They were clearly outhustled —

Above all, they were simply out-blissed

The Fieldhouse has golden haze in it
And a golden future, too — Warren’s blazin’ it

That gleaming facility
For bliss and agility —

Having created — he plays in it

He plays hard and fast — that we see
But the tenderest heart was set free —

He lovingly saw
That his brother-in-law

Was honored, appropriately

*  * *  * *

A Brooklyn boy, wild as a lad
Worked the hardware store with his dad

On the job since a tot
He learned a whole lot —

Some father this man must have had

He hitchhiked cross country alone
A Deadhead, a true rolling stone

But his counterparts clicked —
The moment was picked —

Ah, Maharishi . . . and since then, he’s flown

Business school — his mom, as you’d know
Urged him and urged him to go

He finally agreed —
But only (take heed)

When Maharishi had told him to go

He’d almost gone all the way through —
Just one class remaining to do

His mother was thrilled
Her dream was fulfilled . . .

Then what should come into his view?

True love — ah, what vessel can carry it?
Some golden-hued heart-driven chariot

Whatever its carriage
It conveyed him to marriage —

To the lady we all know as . . . Harriett

*  * *  * *

Owns a plane — but he doesn’t like flight
When he does, they call him The Kite

Hold on to the tether —
He’s watching the weather

His knuckles a lighter shade of white (2)

On vacations, he stays home in bed . . .
Just kidding — let’s see where he’s led

When breaking away
From his work to his play —

His jaunt and his haunt is Club Med

Now Club Med is not about strife —
It gives him free-spirited life

On the beach at day’s light
Macarena at night — (3)

“He’s loose as a goose,” says his wife

Now Warren wants weather that’s warm —
“Warmin’” Berman — now there’s “name and form” (4)

Of Iowa weather
Folks say whatever —

But we’re the calm in the eye of the storm

Club Med? Why, we’ve got it right here
Club Med! And we’re open all year

We splash in the ocean
Of wholeness in motion

Our skies are unbounded and clear

*  * *  * *

As a competitor, Warren is tough
He plays you in tight, if not rough

In business or sports
Out on the courts

Warren has all the right stuff

When we talk about organizing power
Warren is it, in full flower

In this community
Of Brahman, of unity

Warren’s a pillar, a tower

With a mind like a bright golden trap
He’s never caught taking a nap

Alert and aware
He’s established right there —

Established right there in the gap

Now Warren has constantly sought
To see all our children well taught

And tonight as we enter
This Media Center

We sit within Warren’s grand thought

Warren’s thought — so sublime and so sweet
Warren’s thought — and now it’s concrete

From merest intention
To grandest dimension

And now it is nearly complete

A thought by which all are inspired
A thought that we all have admired

Expanded of vision
Honed to precision —

A thought that is truly hard wired

Warren’s thought — in the whirling of Rk (5)
Warren’s thought — clothed in mortar and brick

Hey, batter batter
Watch mind become matter —

If you’re watching, you’d better watch quick

This Media Center — nearly done
Our Media Center! What FUN!

He’s fulfilled a great wish
With a game-winning swish

With a glorious, grand slam home run

*  * *  * *

Ever fixed is his mind on ideal
And on making the ideal real . . .

When Maharishi arrived
And wanted to drive

Through New York — it was Warren at the wheel

At the wheel — and there he is still
At the wheel — pure sattwa and will (6)

His will is unshakable,
Unfakable, unbreakable —

He’s a warrior, supreme in his skill

On Warren great gifts are bestowed
To him many blessings have flowed

Like every great man
He returns all he can

And each of us reaps what he’s sowed

Few Governors are brasher or bolder
Than Warren, our glorious upholder

A New York transplant
Who never thinks “can’t” —

And grows wiser without growing older

Rakshasas world over, start squirmin’ — (7)
The man has arrived with the sermon

Prepare to transcend —
Your game’s at an end —

He’s our man who means business — Warren Berman

Our heaven on earth General Sherman
Whose future’s too bright to determine

Great coach and great dad
Our great value-add —

Our dear and our own Warren Berman

With his efforts, all good will increase
With his efforts, all non-good will cease

As heaven descends
And all conflict ends

He will be called Warren Peace

He’s a man to whom nothing is foreign
A man for whom silence is roarin’ (8)

He’s nearly untoppable
And clearly unstoppable —

The leader and friend we call . . . Warren

It’s Berman at the top of the key
He’s buried — but fakes — and breaks free!

Upward he soars
The crowd’s up — and it roars!

Pure net — it’s Berman for three!

February 28, 1998

(1) Rudy is the title 1993 American biographical sports film, about the life of Daniel “Rudy” Ruettiger, who dreams of playing football at Notre Dame and who had to overcome major obstacles to do so.

(2) A play on “Whiter Shade of Pale,” the classic 1967 song by the British rock band Procol Harum, one of the few singles to sell more than 10 million copies.

(3) Macarena is “a dance performed with exaggerated hip motion to a fast Latin rhythm.”

(4) “Name and form” is a term Maharishi uses in his Vedic theory of language to describe the phenomenon of the name and the form of an object being identical — or, put another way, the real name of any object is simply its vibratory impulse, one can know the object in its total value by experiencing the name at the most refined level of consciousness.

(5) Rik is defined by Maharishi as the unmanifest whirling within pure consciousness that creates infinite dynamism within infinite silence.

(6) Sattwa (or sattva) means purity, light, and goodness in Sanskrit.

(7) Rakshasas are beings in Indian mythology said to perpetrate negativity.

(8) Refers to the infinite dynamism inherent in infinite silence.