Feed the Machine

Om Namoh ganapatiye 

The future: 

There is no room for error. The machine works fast enough to ravage everything which comes its way. The human brain is the control room for today as well as tomorrows surprise.
God is dead and the belief that anything awaits us in the sky past our lifetime is today's e-newspapers joke. What tomfoolery to be bound and gagged when we can go out and rape and plunder. Its our official governmental stance.
There are stockpiles of "that guy" robots waiting to be dispensed. "That guy" can be a girl as well. He can be your listening guy, your walking buddy, the guy who will sit and console you. He will be your punching bag. he could also help you with your euthanasia. Welcome to the future of "that guy"
The sky is muddy; coal and soot in high amounts within our lungs. The nuclear stockpile piling ever so readily. The machine needs more fuel. I say the machine needs way more fuel.
In the hospitals the babies are being "born" from a source undefined. They are clocked and tested. Their arms twisted so the new bar code can be printed without error. Courtesy xerox.
On the roads, mass carnage and holocaust remains the favorite theme. In a sea of sorrow; brewing bones; babies and bosoms submerged without an inkling of emotion. The machine dispenses off what it needs not. Can be done; at all costs.
No trust between men. No love between men and women. Everyone shuts their eyes at night; to escape the nightmare. Dreaming in their vacuum tubes. Where the mind connected as one with the collective of the entire planet fuels the machine, further and further.
Sycophants on their way; to the zoo to feed the animals and make love in the hay. Children stabbing needles in their veins. Sunset is pretty especially after an eon of nuclear radiation pouring through our brains.
The future becomes connected. Brain chips connect us to the "Internet" transforming our lives revolution evolution brought to the fore. The connection is useless we all know. Our breed lacks creativity to live as one. Even if it was a virtual existence.
The sordid tales of the jails which the majority claim as their home away from home. Packed and pushed in till there cannot be filled anymore. we are fed the blood of our dead. We eat the flesh of those who didn't succumb to the maggots before. This is the glorious future we build without nature to call for help.
Everyone fights and kills to get the paycheck. During these times, when there is no food to feed oneself; the paycheck is the only thing which can be eaten. The fatter the better. The corporations are excitedly feeding the machine.
The man made the machine. The machine maketh now the man. It takes the soul and transforms it into a spitting bowl. Redemption and capitalism goes hand in hand.
This brave new world takes no prisoners. Calls everyone to arms. Another war. Another victory; a chance to bleed. For your nation and your creed. Killing is the machines true nature; seems to fuel it further more.
Everyday everyone steps on another in a manic race to get to somewhere. Once there they run helter skelter to get back to somewhere else. The machine efficient in its humor makes us run here and there like rats running to their shelter. Truth be told; In this day and age even rats dont spread the plague like us human beings do...
The majority represents the machine, the machine crushes opposition. It speaks clearly. Become part of me or become history. In these violent times. What choices do we have than to become serfs once more to serve the feudal gluttony. The machine merrily chokes on what it feeds.
Sometimes I laugh and smoke at our future travails. It seems that it will become better with nothing to spare. Everything shredded and recycled for another moron born; Where and when will it all end.?
Welcome 2012. I welcome you with open arms. Come and cleanse through the agony; The heat and misery. The failure of our becoming something worth our salt.

Some ways

Some days filled with the melancholy; slowly brewing inside us every where. There seemed to be no end in sight for the task at hand; and we all felt down in the trash. Besides who is there to help us reclaim our inner strength.

Some days just feel like they will never end. 

Travelling to the dimension far away from mundane designs. To a place not an escape; but truly a marvelous architecture locked somewhere deep in time. Inside we find the fine tuned reality expressed as music as melody, and we just become melted to the ground alive. 

Some days just become transcendence from time. 

Perched on the rightful view; the view be fitting your dreamy blues, you know what the trouble with morrow is? Morrow will never be the view which you sought in the first place. Instead you keep your eyes fixed on plain sight; and what a wonderful dance that overtakes everything in place. Sweeps you off your feet with the gentle embrace. Some views they remain stolen in memory; beating with the heartbeat. Surely to repeat in another life. 

Some days just call on love to take the drivers seat; in glee, let's go for a ride!

The path tumbles over there; it meanders like a snake on to eat the sun's radiating glare. It is like what I felt the first day; when i see you over and over; i fall unto grace. A sensual dip in life's gift of the pools that are your sweeping eyes. The end complete personified so exotically at the nape of your neck. In sweet gestures and long embraces. The life's little secrets swept away. Some days just go on to a violent crazy night!!

Wicked vixens riding their broomsticks past midnight; they leap and jump in violent frenzy across the midnight city. Sweltering in its gluttony; looking past to end it seems, but the heart wanders.. slow and surefooted. In the narrow alley ways, that haunt and loom endlessly in the mind. Some days are just spent in morbid fascination of life's silent sighs.

Caroline; that sound. Sounds of the winter hound; past our door inside our house. Fear and fixture at exact moment; never lasts. Listen closer; they are in the house. The demon of winter past; and the craziness abound.  In my numbness and your sobriety. The child of mixed colors takes to task; Seems like some days when you least expect it; death leaps up to finish your life in a blow. Leaping like a silver toad. 

So some days its the serpents hiss and some days your beloved's kiss. Stark contrast to what was and what is. 

True it is that special feeling, something which is unlike another that makes us who we are. But who we are; is simply the product of some days in the making. 

Peace.

Celebrate the Choice

I woke up; I climbed the steep climb, where it led was what I wanted to know. The morning mist had just gotten its hold on the weather. Everything cold to touch and numb to bare. I climbed in silence towards the summit and where it led.
Awkward nights I had lit the candle; tried to see as far as I could, in the darkness.. where the view would end? I could never gaze at the abyss as well as it could stare back at me.
At dawn the hills rose with fervor. They vibrated secret melody. Some could hear it, those who wished to blend in with the mesmerizing flow of nature; bountiful and abundant at her best.
In the days which follow; I could very well have lost my mind, but the mountain air clear and refreshing; cooled the heat from my head, flowing down with each breath taken.
I climb not in mood, and I dont climb because I have reason or need. I climb for that is the nature of everything which dwells in vertical landscapes. If i dont climb, there is no existence here for myself.
The mountain air blows harsh as i continue with my reverie. Trying to rid the human condition; of the need to suffer and redeem oneself in a lifetime. I want none of that. I am free; I ride carelessly, not recklessly but trodding to see the world beckon life once again, every moment of the breath taken to be alive!
Sure the path is raw and it doesnt leave you to gain for more. it needs the patience and lucidity of near perfection to the core. You have to be one with the path and the goal. Always. In silence and in peace with one and all around.
The shrubs decrease in their radiance as the climb steers on. There is water somewhere amidst the mist. The fresh smell and taste of something like that in the air could never ever be mistaken. Its a gentle fall at the distance, the distance which could be at the end of the ravine of this hazardous road. I swallow the taste from this unclear morning. With the sun hidden behind thick mountain mist. Somewhere lies what i seek (not); Somewhere here itself.
The mountain likens herself to be the hidden path. Towards one's emancipation from worldly sore. Look at what you see everyday and it will surely not show you what the grandeur this world was supposed to be.. I purse my lips and rub my hands to see warmth once more. Just a while longer. Till the mist covers me and takes me where ever she blows.
Such surprises loom in the shadow and mist, looking younger feeling stronger. Taking no care to see that the ice and snow has started to melt on your body as well.
I walk like the mountain life. slow on its feet and very very sure. There is no limitation for zen to occur at these heights. Whenever i turn and move upwards my very soul looks upwards at unity. In frozen silence.
The views are magnificent at great heights. But what is to be understood is that, for the view to exist the mountain and the valley are both needed. The duality and trinities which one sees at these altitudes is truly something apart. The fall in pressure, and atmosphere so not what humans feel and breathe (nowadays). Something takes over the mind. Guiding itself to something in patience and faith. Looking with awe and due respect towards the path that the mountaineer has to undertake and make.
Its such a celebration, must tell you. When you perfect the walk. The sheer effortlessness of the actions your body undertake. Looks like you have been possessed by the goddess mother maha maya herself. Its all the same power. Which makes the mountain and the climber and the walk as well. so well indeed.

I talk to the invisible forces everywhere. Its not in the languages which us humans have made up. Its the true language of nature and the multiverse itself. Its a kind of power that flows from one to another. It makes up the truth and the sentient living being. The entire being. The cosmic egg. In a process of being alive. Becoming.
What are you becoming wise ones? In the day to day walk through your life time. What will become of yourself? Will it be the same as what it started as. or will you fade and falter? Rise and Reclaim, what you are.
This is not patriotic, or religious, or sect intended. This is the truth. When you talk like this with your mind and heart burning the holes everywhere; wherever you look at, becomes the same singing tune. BAM. Thats the way you were intended to be. Becoming that is our work; and of course our choice.
I walk like a madman on the hills, when it suits me just fine. But when you will join me, the tribe of silence walking between melody. What will become of you? Is it the same view which you intend to see all time across; is what You and I must ask of ourselves.

Peace

The summit is the rise and fall.
Look and guffaw, at its sheer brilliance.
Under the white shimmer of moonlight captured in these endless snow days and nights.
Befold the true dawning, upon yourself as the final reminiscence which you possess of your former self.
Its the final beckoning. Come and join the tribe. Celebrate the choice. Intended to be. Your self like never ever known before.

Living in the Womb

The rusk and grain separate you and the pain.

In the desert sand, the rattler shakes like mad.

Who will win you over? Judas or Mary Jane; one mans misery is another mans gain

Defiling and spreading, slowly turning (vermin). Becoming nothing again and again and again.

Sit down; stand up, enjoy the glass of wine sans singer sans song.

Slow down; pick up. Life is turmoil, chaos breeding mistrust.

Point fast, Shoot last. Pity there is no one to put me in my casket;

So sure? So surely you will come for the funeral. Pick up an end; bury one under the molten rain

Defy! Decide! Deicide!. Don’t doom yourself to this lie. I have become the ravenous hunger that I hope you surely despise.

Cross over and kiss oh so so slow. Oh how I bit off more than I could chew. But the ride is never ending. Sorry to tell you but you got a ticket love; for eternity

Two pennies for your eyes. For the ferryman to be bribed. Taking you over to the other shore. Where blood meets wine, wine meets lips, and those lips; they surely must go… get aboard!

Travel travails that must not last. The ferryman bores your dead real fast. Oh how the Styx overflows into the boat. Of gold and mildewed lava to burn my skin. Nothing favors sin like delicious sin.

Thrown overboard like a whore; croaked and choked and oh so bored. The god Anubis waiting for me at the door; Kiss the snake and guard the gate. Your end; was it worth the wait?

Its your birthday child of the damned. It’s your renewal to ancient love of the land. Your journey repels you to even try to think another one might be at hand.

Had enough of changing cloaks so soon; death and life and living in the womb. Over and over and over till the end. The end in sight and no end so right.

Would you hold my hands and walk with me/ The child flutters like a kite in spring summers glee. Oh wicked son of god; you entice me once more. That I be smitten by innocence and enter the world of addictive gore. I put my head down and sigh ‘Once more; No more; once more’

Look another one born, the child so complete yet so lovelorn. He is the master, he be very well the slave. He will grow up to be our savior. Before we once again bury him in his grave!

Kali Dasa

Is the incense still burning, the smell overpowers the angelic within thee. Get up matted god of ash; your night is beginning…. The wolves howl and the wind a constant blow to the chest. On top of kailash; the stars so close reflect the other side.


Why are you alone? Oh jatadhari. What happened to your kingdom and mansions? Your servants and worldly glory… did you abandon those for something fruitful or useless? Sage and Sound, your lips go round and round, licking the last pull of the holy smoke abound. Shiva oh Master natha why have you let yourself go to such a life?

Clothed in the skin of the tiger. Wearing the fruits of the rudraksha tree, covered in the ash remains of the men who lived once… where has your sanity been? There is no question that you are lost; there is no reason why it must be so.. why cant you live like the others oh third eyed immortal, in householders squabble and the pains of everyday life?

Your trident swirls not with the harsh cold winds. The broken down dhamaru sways and drums like my heartbeat. As the vultures crowd around our head, we seem to be headed towards a subtle

In times of sorrow, men would seek solace from you, in return you ask not anything? Is this foolishness in times of deceit? Where did your mind roam…. In the valley of death? The place you call home.

Sitting alone under the banyan, with fire tongs by your side; sitting in turiya day and night without a soul for company ever in sight. Why such a handsome man like you be alone? Why not make merry in the world of pleasures unknown? Is there someone you wait for beggar master? Is there someone out there for you too…..

Shiva rose; The natha spoke; without a single expression on the body, The voice in my head awoke and croaked

“Such is the effect of waning days; the earth becomes somber and old and the sky dazzles like gold with the dazzling shine of the solar orb. Yet Man still wanders and ponders why he is born and why he must die… without answers sooner rather than later; life seems a great big lie. “

What hence to do I ask, the silent natha. There is no way out when you are born; than to die. Once living, the family and friends pile on and the concerns of the householder seem to sustain. There is no joy once you are born; there is nothing to hold on… but what of yourself? You seem morose none the less oh matter hair master; Your way of life cannot hold joy either; I feel. You seem lost and dazed, escaping life’s perennial haze… You rub ash on your self; why in such craze-ness do you delve? You silent mauni night and day; why don’t you go out grab a woman for yourself and make hay?

Shiva opens his eyes (the human eyes); he looks surprised, he smiles and peers at my fragile frame, he points towards his heart and then mine…

His telepathy through another corner in my mind, speaking voices loud and unkind; The ash master laughs over and over, and then silence deafens everything and everywhere.

“ Child, you are too harsh; the world has been unkind, you speak in absolutes; while you do not understand what you seek. Unconditioned and Unlearnt I am. Clothed in the burnt rubble of what was to be… you shall see kindred spirit; that without my beloved parvati, I too would be ash waiting to be dissolved in the holy sea”

Shiva paused not;

“Oh mother; Oh mother, your child calls you in distress, Lover of kula and kaula; your presence is needed! When your laugh and play out loud, your mother sleeps sound… when you cry and weep; resonate in distress.. mother divine wakes up for her to bless… maya and prakrti, money and power, your play just becomes too confusing for the child in me to handle!”

I am at peace with nothing to lose.. looking at shiva; as he looks on to his muse.

“Deep within you and I; stays my love of my life. She is the divine feminine; She is maha-maya, the sri yantra existing before time. I am not away from my woman you see child; for she won’t let me back into the world which you seek. She wills me to stay atop Kailas, away from the world she created to destroy!”

“I am shiva; the dasa of my lover kali. She is all there is. In darkness of the unborn universe, and the bright destruction ending all that is known and done; what is the world sans mother, I would never like to see”

“At nights when you are blind child; she comes and dances and plays atop my body. I am speechless as her love overpowers me. Lolling her tongue in frenzy, she is what the epitome of power to you will look like to be. Don’t mistake; she is here to establish your faith and fate in her; through me”

I sit mesmerized looking at the beggars pose. His repose unmistakably troubling. His silence ever more superior. His eyes never ever sober. His aura overpowering completely.

There must be crucifixion, there must be release. Without either; it seems all to falter and fall apart….

“Shiva is not the body. Shiva is not the eye. He is she and without her He will fall apart. Shiva is the lover of Kali; the bestower of grace. Shiva will be Shiva when mother kali awakens from the base.. The tower of fire, columns multiple rising higher into the head, fangs wide open; mother oh mother take me over to become the phoenix rising from the ashes; rising to the thousand petaled lotus; union of lovers, on the tower. Many days and nights Shiva spent envisioning this divine power!”

“Salute Goddess, thousand manifold times to your feet, when in trouble look within and you will see her piercing gaze, Kali is my mother. Kali is my beloved. Kali is my lover, Kali is my savior. Verily Kali is all I have, need or want. Kali chose me. And my days wandering aimlessly wondering are over. They are finally over!”

I look no more to shiva, still sitting under the enlightened tree. I understand why he is so sure of living a nomadic life of begging so care free. I would never know why my mother did not choose me……

Go with your Gut!

Haven't you heard people tell you... go with your gut feeling... doesn't your gut tell you at times, when all might not seem well... then you have a sixth sense, a gut feeling towards it. Why the gut? It could be your genitals for all that the statement maker could have chosen as a organ in the body to describe the sixth sense feeling
.
The story might be conclusive if we were to see what the gut holds. The gut is the alimentary tract through which most organisms' food goes to the intestine. The interesting thing is that the chemical "serotonin" produced within the body; is mostly (almost 85%) kept in the gut. The chemical serotonin helps in regulating intestinal movements, but it does way more than that... serotonin helps keep the brain in a feeling of well being (its also present in the brain/central nervous system apart from the gut). Its deficiency can cause mental diseases like depression . The simple connection which i thought when i read this was, that the chemical could somehow tell when something negative or non-beneficial could happen to the organism. Sounds wicked, but somehow it makes sense. The gut feeling, is the sensations which we might be getting from the levels of serotonin (which might decrease) influenced by some other sixth sense in us in times of danger, sadness or negativity. Or perhaps the chemical serotonin itself was somehow a signal which could see negative vibrations (etheric), and could change its levels within the body depending upon the etheric energy. Perhaps more explanations are possible, but there seems to be a strong connection between the sixth sense (gut feeling) that we have sometimes, and the levels of serotonin present within us.
Serotonin within the brain is known to cause mood swings, emotions sleep cycle (in the synthesized form of melatonin) and even appetite. Its derivative is the much loved melatonin. something so close to my third eye :)
More about melatonin in upcoming posts....

peace and go with your gut.. feelings!

TEN MILLION DEAD

The quiet of morning dawn broken by vultures galore

Ten million and some more rotten to the core

Their bodies dumped by the vessel which brings more

The saga un ending un folds ever more

Dont ask names, Dont ask castes, Dont even ask why the seagulls laughed

They mock the human machine; spewing deathly hate across continents unseen

The dock built on human pains, the rotting corpses all bound and chained

For one to remain inhumane would be better than to remain here

For ten million are finally dead without a single care

They die of hunger, They die of remorse

They die of war and boredom ofcourse

I joined the boat and surely you will too

The seas are dark and spew sickly brew

Ten million and some more needed to fill the waste

That humanity has created to satisfy its expensive taste

Rogue rats jump out of the vessels carrying the carcasses decapitated along with their heads

Must be the first time in history that even death flees the dead

The name of religion and politics and land and caste ring a bell

Surely there must be some place worse than this fuckin hell (there isnt).

Ten million and some more waiting for their turn

To shed their belongings and take refuge in an urn

Though gifted with empathy and intellect

The misers run around amuck; to see whos branded the villain next..

There is no appeasing the belly of the beast

Who is never satisfied without a blood feast.

Ten million too small, blare the battle guns more

Push the button; drop the plump bomb, see how high it soars!

Its patriot and the priest left finally you see

Picking up the shovel to set you free

Ten million needed and some more...

To rid this earth of filthy whores

Some are found; some hide (in their mind)

But the weight of bodies rotting finally upturns the tides

Oh don’t be shy friends and foes

Lets catch the ride before the ferry doors close

Lets join emancipation, Lets become history...

Ten million and more again thrown vehemently (on the shore)

Oh the future looks bright & endless & colourful & nevermore!