The Fairness Myth

 

This article isn’t meant to be racist.

On second thoughts perhaps its supposed to tell us why racism is so much in fashion

I have a conspiracy theory and it cannot be proven. In fact the only way I know my theory holds good is through practical experience (Hell, how else can any theory be proven other than through unbiased experience). Before I continue – I reiterate the unbiased part. I am a part of the human race. And I am a subpart of what I believe to be the indigenous race.

The human race has been far too long torn through strife and war. In fact today – year 2013 is one of the most if not the most peaceful times in history of humankind. All of our past has been marred by continuous strife – and its been always almost an invading army and a defending homeland.

If I go a bit further – I see that most of the world has been colonized by white Caucasian race. The race which explored North American and South; Australia and Asia and not to mention raped the fuck out of Africa.

The indigenous tribes and races of these places almost always have remained rooted to their territory. Not that there were not middle eastern or Indian or Chinese travellers – but they always remained that. Isolated folks who travelled to trade or to learn or spread something. But the conquest and conquerors have almost always been the fabled Aryans.

The gene which I know very little about; yet know enough that it has a particular slot for the experiences of ‘opportunity’ and ‘profit’ more than other races with their particular gene anatomy.

These are the white people who built modern railways and bullets with the industrial revolution. The change towards so called rational thought process and explorative mind. More than any indigenous brown/black/yellow tribe.

Again this does not imply that the local land tribal and farmers would not have fought amongst themselves – but simply that they did not wage war and death in the scale across the world that the Aryan gene has. The Aryan gene is nomadic (perhaps like the alien gene which brought it here to earth)– it moves from place to place and in some cases (Nordics/Vikings) – it is extremely hostile to the point of sublimating its fellow race.

This is the same fascination which brown/black people have with their white masters – to become like them, more aggressive; oppressive; opportunistic and profit oriented. This is what the rest of the world for almost the last 500 years has been trying to do. But the pyramid of genes ends with this almost out of world gene (this is where my conspiracy kicks in)

I firmly believe that human race has undergone genetic modification – with alien species. Aliens yes – the fuckers who come from outer space have come and created lab species (Remember Adam – the white guy being created from god and eve – the white chica being created from his rib – like a genetic experiment?)

Every time I see the white genetic order pop up – I know its at war with the indigenous population. (Where have they all disappeared – see Hollow Earth). 

Now I know why the world follows the white order – it is not a locus of control thing – where I believe that it is destined to happen – or rather why I can see it is destined to happen – for it is true – the blonde hair, white skin, blue/green eyes and utter disrespect to earth and way of its beating throbbing way of life – is truly the myth of our life. Where everything will be destroyed either as profit or the method to reclaim our life. It is all fake – for the white gene – like a disgusting virus – eats its way into the skin of earth, making false claims and beating us down first. Nothing will remain; not you; not I. Everything be destroyed. And I wish it fast. For the earth will not survive. Require a cleansing. Require it now. Require love of the indigenous to spread here and NOW.

Peace.

 

 

A Last Drink to Die

 

The flower opens up its delicate petals. Only to be met wit conceit and deceit (This world’s special seat). Perhaps the innocence has to be shovelled in a grave filled by dirt – for it to really know what it was truly worth?

Walked a hundred miles and a hundred more – looking for a tavern where I may lose my hope for sure. To sit with a numbing drink in my hand and listen to the jester sing about the day’s frivolity no end. To make merry and then fight lose and get bruised. A last drink before they throw me onto the streets for sure?

Picked up from falling stupor - asleep - by the golden dew struck sunlight (too bright). A toothless grinning pauper my friend for the day to dine. Sly conversation and makes merry with the morning flavour of wine. And I devilishly dervish around his words with my heart; opened pedestal by pedestal – giving a match for the sure shot sunshine.

No sin in repeating and replenishing the favour. The maidens refill the cup a thousand times. Many a company I have seen and passed by. But perhaps with you my old friend; A last drink before I die.

Since when does the moth question the flame; or the bee run past the flower on the vase? Since when does the innkeeper refuse the customer for a drink to dismiss his ignorant deeds? I have not known the world’s ways now too sure to start. I have not seen those who will ever give up their drink to the dying souls choosing to depart? (all done wilfully)

Maybe to be taken as a pessimist in search of god to scoff at his creation and will. Perhaps a romantic losing his poignant charm and selfless love to thrill (his beloved). Perhaps the fool who has undertaken experience as a chore (and now wishes for nevermore). Could be yourself in the guise of a body of a man/woman – who doesn’t really know why they are born to die here any more lives anymore.

So I wish for a last drink before I die. Tonight is the only one given to me; so let me drink be merry and say my last goodbye. Tomorrow shall never come with the overlooking plague; war and lovelorn heart all conjuring up some my way. Let me pray humble and kneel on broken faltered knees – look to the northern star, close my eyes and spread divine love through my sweet lips. Press the cup tender, make love and let it go so I may be buried perhaps in an unnamed grave. Somewhere on the periphery of this night tavern where the weary stop to reminisce their lost-ness. Maybe on the edges of a greyed sombre silent night. Giving up one’s life. For the love for the sublime in sight.

Peace.

 

 

 

 

Kill the Patriot!

 

The lover waits to go home; this putrid war takes its toll. Each and every one of his buddies dies in the vomit filled bunker hole. All he looks is to save his skin so he may go back to his pregnant wife. Will his little thought suffice? Will his prayer (though he is an atheist) now come alive?

Is the time to delay the inevitable ripening…..

The war has been raging on. forever on and on. The peace talks remain a talk and blood and water mix once so very often and no one knows what they are drinking in the first place. Water to sustain or the blood of their brothers. The nights are snowed in and the days it rains and hails. No one knows when the next shell will fall. No one knows what they are fighting for.

Some call it the sacred freedom; some not so bright eyed – see the rubble mountain and know their life is worth than this piece of land they rest their weary heads upon. While those in power make powerful speeches and lure the innocent to defend this mountain like so many others. Kargil remains the graveyard of the many easily forgot for a cause easier forgot.

Today the many pray and mourn – the loss which my brothers and I have had to endure – for a maddening obsession of the patriot fuckers. Those who had nothing but to divide land which did not belong to them. They split it and bled it with the blood of my brothers and I. Over and over till we were sucked of anything which remained.

I remained a lover – waiting to go home to my beloved. I thought that when this cursed war for so called freedom would be over; then I could go back and live a simple life; and look at what I have done (The blood on my hands). Cursed and brutally murdered people time over. People like myself; and who I did not bear any animosity towards. What made me do this. What can I say but folks like you!

Folks like you; who wish to sit in their mansions watching the daily news somewhere far away – and generate drama to be patriotic once again. To make speeches and attack and retreat to the march and beat. Killing is your business; and yes business is doing fucking good. You do not want to live and love. You who does not have anyone who will mourn over your death. And instead of living with that; you would rather people like me go to the ends of earth and die and slump – my grave should take your body. You should be on this icy mountain fighting for your morbid greed. You must be the one who dies for your petty land and religion. I am a lover; going back to my beloved. Require nothing of your fucking insanity. Please spare me and instead take my place and die for me!

I have seen the fear in the dying man’s eyes. And as now pneumonia plagues and fills my lungs. I feel the pain behind my temple as well. Unable to live with being apart from my beloved anymore. I die without hope crying and drowning in the pool of my own tears.

I have one last wish, that you stop celebrating my sacrifice. I did not want to die; alone away from the gentle touch of my lover. I would rather not be embroiled in this fucking illness of everyone of yours’ brain. I wish my peace and I wish you peace too. Kill all you fucking patriots and have a good laugh soon.

Love and Peace

Kill the patriots. Burn the flag. Shroud in black.

 

 

 

Afraid to be Alone?

 

People merrily celebrate independence of a country from a tyrant autocracy – but never ever feeling that they are still bound. By fear and inertia – to forget and look everywhere but within. Is this independence? or the essence of our chained existence; Cradle to Grave.

A disease unparalleled. A delirium of epic proportions. Madness right from the start and a futile attempt to mask the symptoms. A truly delusional proposition. A bleak effort in vain.

You ought to have guessed the intent and effect of what needs to be shared. It is the primal; most intense feeling of fear of course (from what?). It saves us from a certain death at a certain esoteric consciousness level. From physical to metaphysical. Fear is something to hold on to. Maybe till death (No pun intended)

But look around; keeping a silent perception without any biased judgement – do you not see what the suffering is all about? Do you not see that all this running about is nothing but to satiate your unique fear. Your unique ignorance to breathe in yourself….. Losing breaths every single of these blessed lifetimes.

Our Tele-visions and cellular phones. The books, movies, dramas, literati, glitterati  and multitude of social activities. Friends and family; a busy life – these intense hobbies and pursuits. The life of ever expanding interests and opportunities. Of trade and commerce with humans inclusive of all other forms of life around. Is this not what defines our beautiful dramatic ever involving lives? From the beginning to the end.
What is the meaning of all this movement without a cause *yes it is without a cause* Could it be that we are afraid to be with our own thoughts/feelings/neurosis/being’s. Be as who we were born to be, is it that we are in deep seated neglect and denial of our inabilities to cope with our own inner selves?

This is the preliminary realization of those who sit down to correct their mental waves of movement. To slow them down with their breath. This is the most potent of realizations. That the fear all along was to be in peace with oneself. Whatever that oneself could be (That no one wants to ever explore or realize – most people ignorantly assume that they know themselves – based on factors like – what others see and speak, what a mirror shows, and what parents decide them to be – both genetically and conditionally)

But there is the dormant powerful self – waiting within. It is seeing the show of movement – enacted cause of neuron firing rapidly in the brain. The incessant movement from hither to thither to all mask the insecurity/fear of facing oneself every single moment. Is this not boring. Is this not futile? To most it is, and to those who put in a wee bit more effort being in silence darkness and without need to be amused away from who they are in this life – the realization is like nectar flowing down from the heavens without reprieve. It is indeed soma of being alive – this self we are intended to be with; who we are. Our self – nature divine. It is not words; but the simple existential truth that each and every one of us in the absence of fear of being left to ourselves will realize. Perhaps this life or the next when ripe.

Sit Still. Breathe deep – feel alive. There is no cause for angst anxiety or fear. What you leave unto itself – will disappear or show itself complete.

Peace and Love  

 

Tsunami Beckoning

 

The day starts bleak, another morning with the sun rising and the fishermen waking up to the call of the local mosque and temple blaring their sycophancy out of everyone;s dreamtime.

Ram wakes up before the sirens of various man made religion calling the faithful to worship go up disturbing the quiet morning air. He is a devotee. He is such a priceless lover; towards entirety. A chaste simpleton. He wants not anything more than the simple waves roaring towards him endlessly. To make him a part of their motion. To make him dissolve into the salt water once again.

He washes up and goes out of his shack and towards the beautiful mesmerizing sea. She is calling. She is power; the divine feminine after all. He is in love and the beautiful sounds are calling him towards his personal insanity.

He has lived some 30 odd years on this planet, nothing has life given him except the wonder of this vast blue ocean. Sometimes so rough and distasteful and sometimes so sublime (especially by night). He cannot fathom living away from her, and all her moods. Her roaring days, her endless nights singing to the moon. Her waves and foam. Ram could not fathom to be born ever away from her.

This day was different of course; he went sat his limp body against her tides and meditated for an entire lifetime in time with her – and she spoke to him. First and perhaps the final time to a human.

“I come to you in such peace, the land gets crumpled and I take it below my surface. Within my depth; everything is present, in darkness and for-ever/ You come and sail on me, and envy my entirety. Ram you will not be disappointed. You will revel in my sublime existence?”

This is what he sensed and no more. His left brain tried to interpret and his right brain tried to give it up to the mighty sea. And then the crimson rays of sun grew ever brighter. They gave light (like never before) and ram was mesmerized – reminding him of his childhood. The days where he never had to pay attention to the mighty existence which breathed heavily on him – on the shore. The days where the lighting sun was a new experience. This was one of those days. This was the moment – maybe which he had been hoping and mediating on for a lifetime now since his post pubescence.

He sets his sails open and moves into the ocean looking a new place to throw his net – and wait in patience for the fishes drawn to his personal magnetism, the fishes come, and within a short while they run away, they do not stay for the net to be drawn out? Why ram wonders when he lifts his net. What is it about today? In over 3 decades – this has never happened – the ocean she speaks to me and the fishes residing in her belly run away. Why is this day so special? Why is this my reckoning?

In a matter of minutes his questions answered, the seas seem turbulent and the waves rise more than he has ever seen his short span of a life. He feels the sea bulge and start the process of spitting out her innards. Ram rows towards the shore; lest his little hammock of a boat be upturned.

He gets off and looks towards the mighty blue wave which progresses towards him like a wall. He feels peace – his prayers somehow are answered with this mesmerizing sight. He feels content. He opens his arms – as wide as they could possibly be stretched. He welcomes the waves to wash off his soul far away from the mortal coil.

The waves stop in thin air – they do not progress towards ram. They stand mesmerized themselves. The sea finally sees what his frail fragile heart is made of. What it has been asking in the first place. That the waves come more than what the shore line confines them to be. Ram is so elated; so blissful that this time around the waves will come and swallow the land and all that it holds dear. There will be no difference between prayer and prayer answered. The waves and mighty sea in love with ram, could not destroy him (or could she?)

Ram has his eyes still closed and waters running deep under his skin. He knows the game begun now will finally end, in the arms of his lover – the mighty roaring endless sea. He will sit in her depth; in the darkness away from the world’s humbug and will meditate endlessly – on her majesty. The beckoning is now turned into staunch reality! What a marvellous day to wake up and die for.

And on the other side; the mighty blue ocean – in a tizzy to see sights of such a fine warrior and lover, who is willing to die to embrace her depths. She couldn’t go through with this. The wall of wave wishes to recede (and the masses standing looking at the sea – from a far distance; are in awe – they look at ram and are unable to understand what is going on this mad man’s mind – has he lost it, does he not understand the gravity of such a situation)

Only the love calls forth the mad to the periphery and willingly makes them lose their minds, so that they can reunite in the flesh and depth of the almighty. Of the love that flavours and beckons them without any fucking reason. This is indeed the mighty will and calling.

The seas they dissipate and ram still looks not and in a mental frame of being accepted finally wishes the moment to last and not pass. That his mortal death be enjoyed by the sea looking for vengeance for all the wrong done by man living on her shore – looking for comfort and never immersing himself ever to do the hard work for blessed heaven’s more.

Ram calls his heart out; and open and this time the tsunami once again comes from the wave behind. This time the seas come towards ram and ram only. One after another waves size of 10 story buildings wash over the land. Every one has had time to retreat out of their homes and temples of falsehood and run far far away from this mighty power. All except Ram.

Ram is drenched, not in liquid water – but the all knowingness and sense which pervades this earth and beyond. Which pervades in the depth of dark oceans and also the depth of dark matter in deep void space. He is drenched and loses his mortal ‘self’ quick. He is taken back home. To the hoary depths of deep waters. Where he sits in religious fervour. Looking for another to cross over from the shore to the depth of god. Looking out for a tsunami beckoning to lose themselves in….

Peace