...

A sun extinguished,

A shadow, dark,

Light lost in light,

Brighter still,

And the day bends over me,

A rainbow,

engulfing flames,

Of swarthing light,

Plain, my cockiness hidden,

Just tell it in a whisper,

That secret,

I am now dead to keep,

The roof still leaks,

Molding through the night,

How does it feel,

To walk undead,

Pierced through the heart,

Could I feel it?

Like your fingers?

Rummaging through my vacant self?

come to life,

My ether,

And carry forth a wish,

Against all laws,

And breath it softly,

into the dream,

That my soul is now,

I love, better,

perhaps now in my death

Than with you alive ...

Coming of age?

I saw a dream of wingless flight.

Is it the "coming of age" or its going? When the time comes, and I see you grounded, do I choose to crash or maintain my even soar? 

Are you coming? or going? or have you never been "there"?

I know, I cant share my dream, you will just not get it. But in the eye of the storm, in the cone of silence, I will let it stir like a restless finger, and then it will all be clear, the moor, with a debris that will blend in and not stand out. Was it really standing? or was it in a wingless flight?

I have no questions, if you stop reading my sentences or showing yours. Lets call what I have "love" and "coming of age".

Do you resonate?

I hear the words from profound emptiness all the time. Just the ability to talk it seems is sufficient, where is the freedom to back the noise?

 All I want to hear is a voice that resonates and moves its way. We could post and destroy one flagpost at a time. Sometimes a footprint is a litter on the landscape.

Spell.

My spelling sucks, like the semantics I am asked to confirm to. Just like my memory sucks, and all that depend on it. Yet I talk,  write, and I am not willing to do a thing about this incorrectness.


If you have your semantics in place, and "spell" better than me, I will always hire you just to hear you talk. There is a beauty in the way those lips move, to release touch, perhaps I can even guess the next sentence, but I will not indulge in thinking, and it will be the first time I hear those words uttered by you.


Something wells, not sure on what side, and in your semantics, and spells maybe we will find some space for us. I am still waiting. But dont come yet, first get your language right. Let the anger lash in the smoothness of the right and carefully chosen words. Afterall what else could spell and add meaning to the word doom?

Flow

There are innumberable versions of the truth, with every word you forgot to use, or every word you choose to use you perpetuate another version in your world.

The point is I dont care for the truth, neither yours nor mine. There is a reason that I will beam with joy at your sight and you wouldnt even utter a single word to corrupt the truth of it.

Technically the infinite paths never show up. Those versions we have sufficiently corrupt the spectrum of delusions. If we let go, perhaps we might find another disused path or maybe even a new angle; but our inertia carries through sufficiently to stop at the point of calling ourselves original.

Sometimes, there is a good reason why a sigh should be uttered inaudible - It scares me that even this would corrupt your arc. Flow my friend. Flow.

Sitting in the reflected light
of Sun Light
The objects outside bring
in the subject called the Mind

Separations seems right and distinct
What I fail to see is
the space
between the concepts

Tried hard to look at the reflection in the mirror
Could observe the reflection or
The mirror
But never the reflection in the mirror

I the body shape and form
so does this universe
and this is not a belief or some
imaginations
without resistance the change
flows in manifestation

The patterns of living
and life
are in activity
obeying this as it is
will help the Mind
to know

Inside the deep well, perennial joy seeps.

In awareness I want
to reproduce a me through
Me
But this can happen
not through intuitive
awareness but only
through knowing

Wanting to know came
before awareness
for awareness could never
be aware of itself
Knowingness of I am is
consciousness
Awareness comes through neurotic
action happening in I am that
what is called the world arises
I am here and the world there
Simple

Playing the Game
To rid me of my
Mortality
One pointed in a divinity
I make animal love
With a sincere heart

Can love stay away
If I keep burning in me

Manifested Prakartii

If Lenon could teach me
If God could try more
on me
If writing could burn the
false
Lips could sing OM and
no closure came still
Movement in woods bought
no peace or unknown element
Great thinkers thought new
metaphors, only
hearing about the Atman
but could never comprehend it
Buddha seemed satisfied
But helped no one
at all
Systems came
Systems come
Subtler systems
Shooting a lot of
Carcass
My awareness stretched
in every object
undigested sidhantas moved
through in through
As I manifested my supreme
Nature

I Was In Love

I was in love
with the idea of illusions
they had great power
and the highest hypnotism came
from that love

It was real
it was my belief
it came in to reality because it
appeared
it had clarity
it was in perfect understanding
I was burdened with a million
illusions
I was privileged
And it belonged to me
It moved to next
Made it seem I lost it
And the play of lost
and found came in to being.

My illusions were beyond
suffering
and all wars
or frictions that  were overwhelming
I could look through my own
eyes
In silence
I hide myself from me
It was that simple
To fall asleep

I was in love
with all the conversations
of my illusions
Each one came
May be the being-ness
Was never incompetent.

I Was In Love
I Was Learning
I Remember
How I Registered

Walk

Are feelings thoughts
or are they dimensions
Is awareness a byproduct
or a discovery of maya

truth
has an image
show me one without it
or
show me the world without a
me in it
or you in it

walk and watch your steps
you have legs and yet you
miss out
to walk through that feeling
that dimension
to laughter, to joy
which has no time
no space
yes my joy
my truth that is me

walk

..

The problem is that what emerges is of no consequence to the reductionist, and what emerged finds itself irreducible. Perhaps the fundamentals are perpetually evolving, covering their tracks back to he source.

I run across the line, to fudge differences.

The seed does not rue the eaten fruit.

The flow of life

Fatal peace mocks a 
foolish thought
God bless my prayer
It is stuck in my 
heart
Sleep, and why should I
Conscious is the dagger
It was born to kill
all noises that bought
guilt

Water clears as it flows
Thoughts knock in
Eternal within from
all of me that calls its devils
Even that was acquired but
forgotten 
Take me on
I'm drunk and I lie
Even if I tell you
I haven't stopped flowing

Grace - In the eyes of my verse

Death comes in division
A soul in white
Brings gifts and moaners
In them love shines
The division grows
To it's tragic end

I'm married to this
division
I may be the priest
A constant that is
dead
In me I wonder
How and why I couldn't
remain one in my
own grace in time
and pluck the death out of my verse
to me to see

Observing all that demands movements
is a movement too.

Moving all by myself
I start from where I don't have to
go anywhere
It's noble to be in self love
A potential that is in me
I appreciate

and how do I dare to be drunk
in all my three dimensions
I'm a being
In my few things
I laugh
Yes, in joy
in my nonconformist
world

All search is an attempt to rule the rule of chaos, the rule that offers immense satisfaction of overruling all other rules. Futile.

Expression

The expression never ends, the inertia seldom wears itself out. It only assumes a dimension that demands sensitivity to capture. It's a gear changed to shift the orbits.

It is not unhuman to choose to break the direction.

A knock on the door
that sets all in motion
always functioning as if there is a future there

PROMISES THAT i MAKE

Absurdity Of What I Say

The bird drank up all
that it captured
yet it's helplessness
mislead it

"liquidate me, ha, you cannot,
you just cannot, wish me then
best of luck"

it's the potential I can't see
yet this is a special day
it's will
to standstill,
Further observation of people
no more around, they
were never there

 what was
ever there to drink up,
may be behind the iron rods,
there was a lot to understand,
absurd, ask them, ask yourself,
what have I been doing with all this time,
so called a deep gash in my heart,
teaching me
I like you,
you are the best, this one
 ascertained premise,
lets leave it here, nothing, no more
around.

Should have I said this
this the absurdity of what I say

The thirst looked up
it had secrets to keep
thoughts of fear
and search in eyes
it knew it had to burst
and not talk

Sometimes fiction helps, yes
a story
helps to understand
the ghosts of mind

Freedom not through this
and that
but by it

Esoteric - Dreams (notes)

I had a tremendous dream. In my dream my physical self does not exist, as much as the idea of it. So a self that interacts in its own reality, created, attracts its own friends, those that cannot touch my senses.

So the invading entity into my dream is real, ethereal. But when I come back waking, I cannot take a dream seriously, for at the end of the day, my reality is here till I am lost in a dream world. 

That is true for everyone, but why talk about everyone but me? If she is an entity that can invade my dreams then she can invade this reality too.  Because to her both are dreams. Perhaps - we cant have the same nature as we have in dreams, maybe in dreams we are more pure, maybe in my dreams the division I create in myself dies and I do not exist as two - the only purity I can offer.

So its easier to attract her to my dreams, but then - What one can see as an image, one can see as flesh too. If only I could recollect the detail lost, corrupted by everything I know.

My dream a pure creation!

Oh baby!

O baby its so fine! Are you Done
with 'yer issues now?
I just did it for love,
Bit my tongue today,
A stitch didnt save me nine,
I just did it for love,
And now I have my mouth runnin,
Full of love,
But O baby! its just fine!
Done with 'yer issues?
Are you now done with mine?


Oh baby the world is,
burning .... tonight,
And I am turning off,
The ... street light,
The street that leads,
to 'yer ... home,
The home, yeah,
The home where you sleep,
And I am running,
Running on the dead,
With a mouth full of blood,
Oh yeah,
But O baby! its just fine!
But the stitch didnt save me nine,
Oh baby!


Oh baby, I lost my dream,
I woke up,
With an empty scream,
Now where am I?
Just where am I?
It must have woken me,
The thing you gave me,
That didnt put me to sleep,
But yeah, oh yeah,
The dream I keep,
Is still asleep,
And it must be nothing,
Nothing, like a taste of love,
But I am woken,
Alive,
and I cant sleep,
No more,


But its fine,
O baby! Its just fine.
I still got a mouthfull of love!
Flowing and leaking,
Just full of love,
Are you done with 'yer issues?
Are you done with mine?
I guess,
I know now,
That its just fine,
For now I have,
A taste of love,
A taste of love, just mine ..
Just mine ...

When I understand something,
anything
Then that is Good

You leave again
To come back again
In the door way
A little act enacts
I a book
Never opened by you
It seems you have
seen it through
Yet I quote
To some deaf ears
But a heart that hungers
Keeps me on my toes
I wonder if you are happy
Scare me, tell me you are

I'm a fickle
And you a beautiful
Woman


Just what do you do for living?
Let me guess
You bring nectar of god