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.

 

 

 

Circa Time

There is this conspiracy theory - that we humans have been visited by alien entities from heavens (or other cosmic entities  in the past. That earth has been the breeding ground for space ships and alien gods which have come to show various sights and wisdom to the primitive people living here. 

The beautiful thing about this is - that these alien gods of ours (look within any religion or culture - annunaki/egyptian/indus/mayan/incan what not) -> they look just like us! They have 2 feet, 2 hands or more in some cases, and generally a human or animal (therianthrope) looking face - which can be a mask or such. But the nose/mouth teeth/forehead - all marking a clear resemblance to us!

So if there was alien life in the universe, advanced more evolved - I am sure they did not have to evolve under the same conditions which we have. Life forms can be nitrogen/anti carbon based as well. It is only our short sight that we think life has to be like us and not any other way. 

So what came to me was that - what if there was intelligent life forms in the past which visited us were actually our own species of life forms. The various artifacts collected across the world - point to weird vimanas and space suits which these aliens wore to come here. So when you look at these ancient descriptions of what primitive peoples encounters with their gods looked like - it pretty much looks like if one of us in this day and age with our ipod and space suits went back in time and encountered them; provided them with intelligent information and ways to create wisdom? (or maybe slaves?)

This seemed pretty funny to me at first glance - our future races all genetically changed morphed coming back in time and affecting courses in time itself to create a more profound future for themselves? Sounds cool does it not - If you could go back and change the conscious intent of people through time - would you not do it, so by the time you come into being - you are completely different - with immense amount of knowledge stored in your genes without even have worked for it! This sort of time travel is unique - to change the course of consciousness with the evolution of time. It sounds pretty fine to me. 

Though there remains a single problem - these entities have tried time over for the best way to accomplish this. They come to earth through wormholes (connected from future earth) and teach human beings the nature of matter and energy and even the soul. The self. But us human beings bound to our nature, do not worship or take heed from the immense rich knowledge which they provide us (all the intent full knowledge of our ecosystem and its inhabitants also are from the 'other world'). We instead start blindly worshiping what we know through our senses - the gods themselves - their digital devices (helmets/mukuts, scepters/wands, flying saucers/vimanas - their so called power and might - their physical state and of course anything else they did or could do. We do not understand their real reason of being here - to liberate themselves, by showing us the way to liberate ourselves. 

This is the true interconnectedness that they talk about time over (every religion, culture, person and so forth). That we are all bound to each other - how much ever we try to dissuade ourselves from believing such. 

The moment here - now is always affecting the here now in another context. Our liberation literally causes every one of our lineage and birth to liberate themselves; This is possibly what these ancient alien gods with the power to time and space travel came back/forward in time to explain. 

It is our time to listen yet again; with eyes wide shut and ears intent on hearing the silence.

Peace

Field Visit - II

To start where it was left out,
Part I - http://civashakti.blogspot.in/2012/06/field-visiti.html

The hardened arteries pumping blood to the brain and legs - The heart throwing away its veil of fear so that it may make the brothers in arms stronger through this dismal abysmal night. What has fate in store for these earnest seekers. Light or darkness, or something totally different.

Guru-bhai's have begun their journey to find the fabled lotus, which once eaten shall cure all disease, redeem all sins, make all efforts not futile and create emancipation both for the body and spirit.

They are somewhere in dark jungles of kumaon - valleys and hills by night hosting myriad himalayan bears and tigers; lurking to eat the faint of heart. They have entered the cave of delight (as told by their mystical masters) - They have battled at the gate - the incredibly huge king of snakes (ananta); They manage to lure it out and then fight this gruelling battle surrounding this ancient beast. The beast knows not to let anyone unintended into the cave, it spits venom from its fangs and tries to coil itself around the five guru bhais. They are undeterred - they have come to expect the end from the day they took the vow to reach the mystical lotus.
They take the ends of their staffs, which has the trishul drawn out - and poke at the snake (it is not amused). They are forever breathing in and out their sacred guru mantra *Na Ma Ci Va Ya* and they raise their energies in a collective unit. The breathing slows down though the battle is full and drawn out. The Snake senses now the group dreaming power. It suddenly comes to a standstill - and the spirit brothers also stop attacking the very instance it does. They understand it is the nature of the snake and themselves to be at conflict until both realize that peace is the only way. The brothers are battered and bruised - bleeding profusely. The Snake suddenly shrinks its size and becomes a common earth worm and wriggles away. The field visitors are confused but they are reassured at the strange ness of the events and that it means they are not being mislead - they are on the right track. Towards the fabled powerful lotus.

They enter subterranean worlds. The entire place smells of holy incense - As they descend in darkness (only lead by one torch amidst the five). They are able to see semblances of what seems to be steps. Old and broken, the cave has been one of the oldest foot holds of mystical contemplation in the world. Beyond the realms of time; Inside dimension of infinite space (via the medium of darkness). The place had been refuge for all those who sought/found peace amidst formlessness.
Somewhere here was a lotus flowering - which would bring this to form. This illusion to despair and emancipation to fore. The pain of the void would recede and will be flooded with endless light - bringing about an end to the past and future. A never ending bliss to the present. The risk of the venture is this life.

They hear dancing footsteps; after a week of inseparable darkness - entering the womb of earth. There are small shafts which go all the way to the surface - an ancient design made to let oxygen enter inside. The men look at each others faces with glee - they can see! How awful indeed it is, they have made their peace in this underground abyss, with paths and leads going all over the place. The silence is deadly - only interrupted with this haunting footsteps of some sort of invisible dancing entity.
The brothers cranium beams down with intent - they understand that power and forces from beyond their reckoning are at play. They can control their hunger and to some extent their thirst - but they will be unable to control their senses now at play even more - to save themselves from the suffering of their mind.
They stay together and put a step at a time - the labyrinth is getting more intricate. The days and nights have passed slowly (or quicker than usual?). They see the path winding down (not spirally), but stepping as if from corner to another corner of a hexagon. The path is steep and blindingly dark, seems like who ever made this - had only one purpose - to dig as deep as possible and stay there without any possibility of seeing broad daylight again.

The smell of insense is still present and the light foot tap of an invisible soul getting louder by the hour. The lack of food and water for a week taking its toll; and no one to point a particular direction to the mythical lotus.
This is where most people break down, and let their minds control their beings. The brothers were facing it too, even after years of meditation and mental fortitude showing forth - yet the lack of light had severly affected the serotonin levels inside the cranium - some sort of dark depression was at fore - making fools out of men's sincere yet futile efforts to reach the lotus. The ultimate challenge was of course to overcome your own self to view something different, something worth the space taken!

They reach the end of the steps - and all of them pile on each other - fall down and look for pieces of their broken bloody body to pick up. They do not have it within themselves - not anymore. The search has taken five more for the keep.

Perhaps twelve hours down the line, one of the brothers gets up and drags himself off the end of these steps (the steps which took a week and more to climb down), there was no way to look up - there is nothing to look up in this darkness.
The single brother sees a small pool (rather sees a dark shimmer through some light of his faded torch).. The water seems to be boiling hot in some places and very very cold in others - it seems perfect to take a dip and drink. The feeling is quite other worldly (he imagines) and then falls flat onto the surface.
The lake is deep - extremely deep. The guru bhai does not have a clue regarding this - he falls and keeps falling to the very end.
Over the next couple of days the others get up (still speaking their holy mantra!), they see no trace of the fifth one - they know a moment of respite is never found (not even after embracing the grave). They knew they were one less in their strength and dreaming power. They were indeed vulnerable.

They touch the pool with care, and clean their wounds. Loss of blood and lack of amenities in the dark has made them weak. They need to rejuvenate. They need to liberate.

They look around - and see the cave has come to an end (is it that they have not noticed the way further down). Is it that there is another way further below? Is it the end of their grousome journey; Where is the fabled lotus which gives freedom? Is it rotting somewhere here like their guru bhai? Or is it that liberation has a stiffer price than even this?
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To Be Continued
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Peace

The Cursed Moon

The last survivor colony is getting burnt under the brutal suns wrath. The protective layers of the walls worn down; some kind of war that has almost eliminated the survival of humans. Adam possesses resilience, he will not succumb and before he knows it, his will takes over his entire set of survival instincts. He dawns his enamel colored suit; and switches on the oxygen supply. 
In front of his hazel colored eyes; the entire scheme of his way of life gets burned to the ground. Ashes get blown away with the nomadic howling winds. The disease that has consumed mankind; is as prolific as anything that has been or could be seen in our times. Some said that it was a virus that attacked causing insanity and disease. Some say that it was an asteroid colliding at imminent fatal speeds. The death clock had wound up and life turned to nothing but compressed matter in too less of time.... 
Adam waits and prays; the oxygen runs out and the sun still doesn't decay. There must be a way out from here; a survival cockpit; an engine that wont fail. The massive military base is dismal. It has burnt a crater onto the ground... too many craters now everywhere. Signs of failure to be saved. 
Adam runs and makes it to what some call a miracle to till this day.... He finds a fueled rocket with an extra second to spare. He makes his way onto the night sky; now hidden from the sun, spread with charred bodies and rubles; Adam knows that he has made his way out from a cold death. 

The rocket has co-ordinates fixed; It will not maneuverer manually, some one always knew of the eventuality of the events of such chaos; some one knew it all along till this very day! 
Adam is a pilot; but cannot change the destination where he will land. He goes into a hypnotic sleep. Where time would slow down, and he would wake up with a loud vibration through his body. The plane had landed; 
It was the barren rock Gaia/Earth. The moon of adam's planet. The only moon. The cursed Moon. 
Adam survives for ages it seems; The sun is hotter and the moon surface pours lava all the time. There is plantation and rain but there are no signs of life (atleast to his eyes). Adam moves from volcano to ocean. Rain to sunshine. He looks up at nights and sees his planet broken and life-less.


Till the day when he crosses the fateful ridge; finds what seems to be a broken down marooned rocket (something which seems his kind!). He looks no further and finds, a survivor. Eve; the only other survivor who got out from that catastrophe alive. Seems like a curse or a blessing; It flashes but for a fraction of a second in front of Adam's forehead; something of a premonition. Ages to translate into truth and arrive!

Life is will. Will demonstrated is being alive! Life procreates till this is no more. On this cursed moon or perhaps another....

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.

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!

D

I arrived at the end of ratnagiri, and hitch hiked my way to the ancient temple in the small desolate village of _____; It is not pleasant to speak of travails as if they were casual. The dead speak in tongues. They loll it till you drop dead in their place. I took my rosary close to my soul; spreading and chanting the bija mantra to ward that which did not know; did not know what it did.
Barefoot in the heat; the striking glow of the sun on each rock polished eroded and burnt up. Spread to a thousand miles each which way; there has been no respite from the demons of my mind since the day I took birth crying for solace.
Sun and moon will play their games; as the ancient temple atop the lonely hill awaited my arrival. Nothing but the haunted stared; their lifelessness rubs off if you dont have the energy to dissipate (in their presence); otherwise what is the difference between you and the ghouls of yesterday.
I leave sleep and food behind; the sun feeds me and my mind rests by itself. The earth shakes; tremors and etheric whips of sheer prana come out and lunge at me; a slight mis calculation and it will be done; There will be no one to burn my remains.
I decided with the grace of the divine, I sit outside and meditate for the rays to penetrate; Into the amulet i possess, one last time till the sun drowns in crimson red. Opening my hair; and shrieks abound to warn of my presence; laughing and crying at the same time is such a pathetic existence.
The karna pischasha in my ear; talks with certainity of what is to be; it knows the present and past, and digs for the future of my end. Sure sure i invite its intonation, of my demise. I know I was born to die; die a dog's death, no lover by my side; not even god would care.
Darkness surrounding, it smells of something out of the world, the senses cannot fathom; the mind crawls back into its primitive shell. The two etheric beings arrive; the ones who have sensed me; the ones who have stalked my dreams.
One of ice, long and stick like, sick and dispassionate, It jumps from spot to spot for the earth cannot hold its energy for more than a fraction or more. Besides it the fat disfigured mutilated fire; filled to the brim with wrath, stuck to the core, inviting each soul to come inside and taste nevermore.
They laugh and taunt, "You of feeble faith" they call repeatedly out to me, show me your staff; show me your sacred ash. They burn and breathe ice simultaneously.
Drunk with the name of my master, I put my staff once in front, twice fold behind, they scoff and remain glued to the movements of the energy of the wood splinter which strikes through them. The life force becoming weak.
They pound the ground in a fluid motion and enter my head from the two orifices of my nose, I breathe them in at the same go. They open the doors of this ancient ruin once and first over a millenia since it has been struck shut. Fear nay Power holds what is inside away from the dimension cast as this earth. It is opened, for a split; I am dragged in air and taken inside. The path is decorated inside deeper within the ground...
The temple goes inside the hill, under the ground; heat and cold both strike fast inside me, from the spine to my mind. My eyesight shut, my senses closed. I am all to what laya has taught me, the first and the last recourse to deal with ultimate truth.
The temple is sage; It is decorated with the bones, bones of saints, who have given their lives after spending it in contemplation and decapitating their physical heads at the bali - stone. The center portion of the sanctum sanctorom never seen still red with blood.
The darkness is lit by the eyes of the dead. They are flashing like stars from another galaxy. I am in black space; or so it feels, illuminated all over by the eyes of the taunting ancients, who gave up their breath for something more satiating.
The older reign, did not see as the recent seekers of freedom would; reality was tangible, death wasnt; how to escape? give up the body, live as what was not physical forever in the place which the ice and fire powers beckoned to. The masters spent eons buried in sand and hills, enduring the heat and cold. The hunger and thirst would not bother, the concept to escape, to escape to some place immortal had caught their attention.
The ghouls laughed at me, to try to convince, to try to allure, put the fear of death and the fragility of mortality. They ripped me, shred my soul, took my rosary and converted it to filthy gold. Their metamorphosis, to show me how frail my quest for freedom was. How everything was relative especially what i called freedom. They didnt leave I to I, they twisted and turned it till I died.
Yes I died, in the special site of the old masters, but I did not join them, my path was lit in life and death; They spit and cursed, yet I would and could not be cured. My soul did not exist, like theirs forever, forever trapped. My final moments, before non existence was to see the ghastly deals that we humans in the name of life everlasting did, to the extents we could undergo. To tread on one and other, the universe of energies took advantage of this naive race, they held us captive, in a dimension where life was forever, where form was not temporal or permanent. But we still existed, one which way or the other, constantly being fed off by one or the other. We could not escape even then...
The temple remains a light brighter than the sun for those who wished their freedom from alluring life everlasting, to be back into the void, where nothing will ever be anything other than what it was meant to be.
Nothing is free
It is the cost which isnt you see
but you must remember that no one and nothing is what it seems to be..

**Swoosh**

The lies which we adopt, to suit us are in the end but lies. Our origin, our destination, our concept of everything, all coated with lies. In truth; nothing is as it seems. The push down the cauldron seemed bestile at the moment, but it opened up my eyes. There are no truths no lies.. as soon as we remove the veil of I.
The cauldron holds warm indigo soul liquid. But that is the lie. The truth is that the cauldron kept inside the cave beyond human intervention, far away from all life forms, is at the exact point of the opening of a wormhole. The wormhole stretches furthest in time and space from earth. This is not a random wormhole formed and destroyed with natures designs. This is a deliberate travel mechanism built and sustained for a millenia under the crystal mountain for a specific reason. Wormholes stretch as far as they might yet they can never be held for more than a fraction in time, the alien master race of gods found the crystal structure of the mountain hospitable and the conditions precise for the sustenance of a same (singular) dimensional wormhole. My head submerged and no more, my body remains there yet my head is decapitated and whorled for timeless periods. I havent lost consciousness, but rather have in this speedy process lost the concept of I.
Landing in an alien terrain bodiless and without a measure of knowledge of what you are is, is fascinating. You are a true observer. Not a judger, but a kind of a rock. Having the freedom to see as what is shown in front truly might be. The understanding of a change, the demonstration of peace. The lives of the alien master race. Something which cannot be described. The gods, descended here on this hostile terrain. There was no coincidence of that. They linked the wormhole from both sides. This allowed them not to travel through crafts, rather through teleportation only. They set up colonies on earth, and more wormholes. Different gods with different designs took up different parts of this land. They grow different hybrid dna present here. Test tube the creations and see the fruits of such experimentation. The gods created us. No one knows who created them. The irony embedded. There is the acceptance of the arrival of a 2 chained dna molecule. The information sustained is compatible with their expectations. They grow adam and eva. The rib cage of adam taken and coded further. Africa becomes the birth place of man/woman. The nature of good evil, pleasure pain, war peace, ignorance and empathy all put in equal proportions. Experiment to see whether humanity will be as they have been (the gods), or will we take to another way. (what do you think now?). Gods have created us in their image. They set out wormholes to be precise in location concerning this barren rock called earth and they visit as they please. Humans call it divine intervention. visions of our father/mother/our savior.
This is not to say, that humans have never been able to glimpse into the world of gods. Philosophers called it the causal plane. Different plane, but never different dimensions. They live in the same dimensions as we have. Hence the validity of the experiment. Not to say that our gods cannot travel ascending or descending dimensions. Their world here in a 11-dimensional existence is the furthest humanity (As it understands) in the known universe. In truth, they remain at almost core center of the universe, humanity only arriving half way at the resolved space which makes the universe. The space of the 'universe' is most dense where our gods live. The reason why some of their physical characteristics- halo, lightness (levitation) etc are such. They are gods not because they chose it, yet they at the same time chose it. The dichotomy is that they never chose to be our gods, we were their children. Looking into seeing where their past was by making a future, yet they chose to be gods. They chose how they wanted to survive/exist/live and die indeed. They chose it consciously after eons of life transmitted coded information in them. What it life, remained their center point.
They look not to influence, yet even gods are habitual to extents. They set up colonies and in the primitive stages of the thumb endowed human, they try to tell us how to go forward. No, life is not natural. Inertia is natural and indeed if someone is not taught to live (Though subjective), then they will be all fine living inanimate as well. Humans worship the gods. They look to the sky to see how they will arrive. Sometimes through crafts and sometimes through wormholes. Humans make structures within which they worship the gods, the structures reminding them of the space crafts in which they arrived and the gods in stone inside, exact inspired replicas of the gods of lore. This continues for centuries together, and the gods actively reduce the number of blatant visits they hold; as they see the impact they are having on their children. Something which they had missed or perhaps (just perhaps), they wanted acknowledgement.
My head lies on the ground of an alien dark red land and a multi colored sky (if these were what they were in earth). I am not free to move; but as soon as i think that in my head, i float. A voice (or telepathic suggestion in my head) tells me that here thought is as mobile as your body. Thought like body is energy and if you resolve yourself, or if you are nominated (like i had been from my tribe), then you can use energy in ways unimaginable. I have all around view of everything on the planet at one go. I dont have any limitations. Limitations of thought boundaries disappear. It is like how freedom has been described to me by the elders of my tribe. Before i acknowledge this fleeting thought, i see the 3 elders who pushed me down to the cauldron in front of me, they are elevated a bit from the ground. The eyes brighter than the sun. The smile faded yet hopeful. They lift me to their level (mentally). They show the illusion of day and night. Through which i understand that all what humans are is because of this. If there was endless day or night, the race would not be able to survive (not all life on earth, but just humans). This is for the reason that even gods lived a diurnal existence. The importance of veil and un veil, truth and ignorance, balance and unbalance. Somehow at the center of this universe seemed to be the purpose of this universe (the gods visiting the multiverses, saw that in each kala- something they said to each of the universe in the endless range of multiverses) was balance and unbalance as demonstrated through presence and absence... basically duality. Many such existences advocated but one truth and many none and many universes had so many truths.....
The last part of the experiment was tricky, that is why they left one and only one functional wormhole on the earth near my tribe, they held the initial three of my tribe to be the successors and they remained immortal in human terms. They remained there forever. I had only seen them in this life, and never imagined the truth that these who i saw, they were there forever. No one had ever told me this secret truth.
They entered my head and explained what my tribe was trying to achieve. A new sense of purpose. in this decided fate of ours. We the tribe were the spiritual heirs of humans intertwined with our gods. We were the children of the father and the son. We the trinity were the holy ghost indeed.
Our life was an experiment, we had been born as humans, yet when we arrived towards our vision quest, we were bred with the power of our gods. They trans mutated us into something out of this world. Our tribe in seclusion remained at the edges of this universe penetrating a new truth. The balance between god and man. A new level.
The gods each touched what felt to me as my forehead, but as i had all around vision. I could not fathom what was being activated or felt. There were as many as a thousand gods (though our tribe had but one, perhaps a symbolic representation of our gods). Thousand different illuminations drawing me magnetically close, with such power touching my being and transmitting sheer energy with light (not light, but its something which comes closest to describe the sensory impact)
With each there was a foundation, it must be said. The I had been completely destroyed in the process of wormhole transfer- something to do with decapitation and its impact on the ego-molecule. But the foundation creates now another I. The I of a thousand and more gods and men. The purpose clearly defined balance and imbalance.
I reach back, same body not the same I. There is no cauldron nor a underground cave where I am trapped. It seems that I am in mecca, perhaps. Inside the Kaaba. Where balance and imbalance are played out. I am perhaps in the Vatican tomb where light and darkness are constructed and destroyed. I am perhaps inside the third floor of the kal bhairon temple in India where good and evil are demonstrated and replayed. I am perhaps within the temple of Ra under the vault where power and peace and side by side. I am perhaps within you as well. Where life and death are certainly present in the molecule. Molecule made from god and man.

Boiling Half Lie

Simply aghast at how fast my world changed, I stand mesmerized. The cave beyond human intervention opens up and swallows my soul.
The darkness is endless; and I walk on in silence, with the sound of footsteps as my company, my companions have taken their routes to find their truth, as does everyone in this world... finding their truth. I dont mean the absolute sarva truth, but their truth. So I shall find mine.
The depression which was once the great crystal mountain of lore, sinks further into the abyss. The quietude broken by the rumble once so often, I follow it intently; forgetting to think that perhaps this hum is made only for me. Sometimes we see signs where they are none, and sometimes signs show us the path and we dont believe them throughout. There is a cavity, enough to squeeze through a healthy man. As i had not seen any other in this subterranean world, i decide to pursue it.. bending through initially only to rise and move in a sidewards fashion squeezed till the ends between older than time rocks. i feel fresh air with a flavor of some sorts coming through from the other side. My torch might blow off, and then how will i find truth, how will truth see me?
The crevice breaks wide open into a huge hall, a dome of proportions to top it. There is dim light here, some residual light but how? there is no source, the cave is deep underneath the earth. There are open sores on the surface, through which hot gases are pouring forth. There is heat in here, why didnt my tribe ever settle inside these caves? especially in the cold harsh winter months.. something is not right. My gut almost explodes with such intuition.
There is no mistaking the scene in front of my eyes. There lies a huge cauldron at the center of this massive hall. It is bubbling something; there lies a massive hole underneath it through which the heat and gases pour forth.
Now i bring you back to my current situation, as i stand mesmerized; and just freaked out. I look around every corner to see reminiscences of human existence here. But none is to be found. There is something eerie... here in this hall.. There is no other way out from here than the way i came through, and as i look back to see whether the narrow cavity is intact for my escape, i fall down in a daze. The route present till now, is no more. I mean to say that i am trapped. This is not reality. There is no way out of this hall.. and as i now observe more closely, the entire cave has taken an odd shape; the odd shape being a perfect elliptical sphere of some sort, there is no rough edges anywhere on the wall; no stalagmites sticking out as i had noticed when i just entered the dome room. This was beyond me, I dont find the strength to get back to my feet, It just pounds down on me, why was i stupid enough to agree to come inside this abyss? what if i had just forgotten ancient bullshit lore and had stayed content back in my hutment, back safe in my village.
I breathe deep and then i try to find out the source of all this air, there must be some way out... i repeatedly roam this ellipse looking for the path through which i came, but its no more. there are truly no ways in or out from where i had landed up..
All this time i had been too scared to approach the center stage, where this huge cauldron was bubbling all to itself, its fumes mixing with the gases from various other small fissures spreading to the roof. There is an aroma which i mentioned, it was surely from it. The cauldron was definitely old, but it was not unused. That was my fear. There was definitely someone or something who owned this, and who they might be and where they might be, was my biggest concern.
I scream for help, to my other companions, but i know that tonight was such that even the gods might not come to my rescue, it was my vision quest and one makes ones vision or dies in the process.
The curtain lifts, the veil falls. The night at her prime, and madness at its peak. Such distorted sight as i embrace each step towards the ancient cauldron. There is a thick syrup in the making, bubbling to the brim.... There is a swift hand holding my shoulder. the fright is immense, wrecks my nervous system, and my voice sits silent... i turn around and see the three elders of my tribe naked standing in front of me, how can this be? there was no way to come here in this lair. How could this ever be?
There eyes are shining, never blinking. they look at me, scanning me i think to myself. There mouth emits fog, they are cold in this hot labyrinth of sorts. How could this be? I speak yet words dont come out. The time passes not, and their eyes just shines even more wildly. The spirit elder on my right points at the cauldron and the eagle elder removes his hand from my shoulder. He too now like the silent elder towards my left - all point to the cauldron. I look to it, and before i can recoil, my face is pushed deep within it.. all three hands at my skull.
The moments which followed removed all shackles.... broke down all lies.......


(continued)



Peace

Boiling Half Truth

The space evens out as we climb higher, the plateau is in range; three days of horseback and everyone is saddle sore. The horses take to drink as we sit planted at the base of the only tree in this entire range. The surface of the earth pours nomadic wind at our faces. No water consumed since the holy journey began. we were together to re-invent ourselves. To absolve our former selves and create a new image. Both gods as well as mans.
In these remote heights. The wind blasts cold fury from each possible direction. It tells a man, how long he may live. how frightful his death might be, and every blast now felt the same on our skins. My two brothers and I ventured further before the sun set completely before us, and the plateau bringing upon the desolate lifeless scenery of an alien planet in front of us.
Many times i have wondered, whether this tribal existence on this tribal planet, whether it was home, as in earth. Or whether what i have seen through and through the blinking of my eyes, could have been another world. Surprise. The plateau breaks down into a ravine right in front of our eyes, the most massive mountain (and the only one) broke down and went underground many a millenia ago, when our ancestors reached this place, they saw the path built by the implosion of this mountain, a perfect ravine made underground, going deeper and deeper into earths solace...
Showing a distaste unfathomed, the horses break free and run off from our control before we enter the holy tomb. The crystal mountain beckons for apprentice, a soul sight for what the world is and what it is made to be..
Somehow no animal ever enters these deep ravines and with the moon of the background now coming to the fore, the path downwards at a gentle pace straight to the earths belly seems way beyond haunted. My nose breathes in icicles, as the cold dark moonlit starlit night finally dawns inside of me.

------------
Some moments of time later its like....
The cave beyond the realms of human intervention now lies close. Its mouth shadowed withs slime, a perfect recluse's perennial home this would have been, had not my people found out what lurks beyond the surface is something of quite a find!
There is no shine, there is no daylight. As we enter, we pour camphor and oil at the caves left side, for the spirits which guard always look for favors. As I informed, this is a soul journey/ in my tribe as most, people at one time before being granted a permanent position in the society what they take as a "vision quest", i am aware that many cultures perform the same, and i have pondered deep and long for what could be the reasons for such an event, the centrality, the focus. The tenacity to draw out fear in every man woman and child!
The others and I now, split and take the 3 paths which we find, oh i must tell you, the cave beyond realms has a feature, which now dawns upon me... as many seekers, there are that many paths... deeper into the earth.. There were three clearly marked paths for the three of us. We speak not, we are not tired, for the cold earth has properties of heat lurking close, the heat keeps one alive.
There are pools deep within this cave, its length and breath  never been measured for its that endless... the crystal mountain imploded when the gods flew their craft on it. Imploded it beneath the ground, where the gods of ever-more stayed, here beneath the earth its said... for it was the heat which the gods needed to survive. This is what my ancients have told me through story time after time, but as a society.. we keep our distance from the place of our true worship till the day we enter it, all alone and all to be re-born and come alive. During my life, i have seen more than enough coming back with a silence binding their lips, a light glowing at each one of my elders corner of the eye. Something unspeakable finally revealing itself in humanity.
I take my fire torch a level higher to see the cave in all its beauty, the place is devoid of huge life forms, but is an excellent refuge for any animal trying to get away from the cold outside, its strange that nothing dares enter it. The earth rumbles here they say... I dont know what to trust. My intuition is afire. its alive, I start seeing the path which will take me to the ends of these catacombs.
Salvaging what I can of my bent will, i set forth, i could hear the rumble of the earth once more, i heard with intent this time around, it looks like the bubbling of a very deep endless cauldron... somewhere in here.


(continued)
Peace

Visions

I see this creature at the ends of my sight, every night and every waking hour during the day, it bends like I do , and it shows the fangs which I keep hidden most of the time. It smiles when I pretend to be compassion
He shows himself never complete, like myself he dances with naked feet on ice. He prances on fields of corpses. When I look behind, he jumps on top of my head, grabs my divinity, makes me twist. Makes me swing to his tune.
I believe that I hallucinate of my own flesh, I understand that I am long dead, rotting under the cancerous ground of this earth, but if this is so , why cant I let go of myself as this other, this other which comes and never leaves,
I pour like water, I go like the wind to the corner of the world. But there is no respite from the visions which I encounter,
No words which I describe, the love which doesn’t compare.
Creatures which sucks my dead dried blood from the ground, the one which growls when I groan. The one which howls when I cry.
The pain of falsehood in my head, is now blooming, is now ripening in blood.
There is no respite in this world or in non-existence. The visions never stop.
I lose myself in pain. Pain not like the one which is experienced. This is pain which I have become , pain which is all consuming.
Visions which I could have been let of without being. Visions here and visions there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Strange Tune

Confusion has confused me thoroughly. The past week or two, has brought about such allignments in the environment that is me; that I cannot see what is what. There have been many inconvieniences of the external- the air that I am breathing has led me to a cold; the rain I dance in has given me a fever, the paths that I have been walking has given me feet aches unparalleled.
There has been the question of lesser and lesser sleep day by day, bound by some mundane college duties which I have been giving (un) due importance. The nature of people close to me is changing, their fates are entangled with mine, and hence I feel the force twice as powerful.
There has been angst and confusion like no other, there has been a sense of dismay like before. As strong as the waves of past.
I am not sure now again, of existances motive in bringing about these situations. But I am forced to believe that if not now, perhaps later in the future the aims shall surely manifest in understanding.

Pathethic states of life; that is what has been for sometime now. My house is under massive reconstruction leaving me little or no private space to introspect. My condition of health has deteriorated and rest oppertunities are little. I couldnt devote enough quality time for my lover either or my parents for that matter. and least of all to my god. Namaciva

I can feel that there is a tremor, perhaps the starting of the end. I am not a fatalist. I dont believe in stupidity over love. But i do believe that stupidity might eventually win over if there is not enough wisdom to butcher it away.
I try my level best to bring quiet and peace in my way, but the power that be give me ever more mental and physical unrest. I try to take it on with indifference, but I dont know which day it might be that would be my last.
Sleep and rest - something that I have been wanting for some time evading me. In these conditions I am already in alternate consciousness. I lose my parts of personality faster. Losing myself but not gaining anything in return except lost.

Perhaps the days to come will be crucial, they might not be dismissed under any circumstances. for fate and life is assuring me that the time is apt to take a stand, however the being namaciva would like to be life. There is nothing as important in life as this. To take the stand to Be. not become, but the end product is what it is. Let us make the stand-the end product and the starting are the same. Being.

In days to come sudden transformation and strange tunes hummed are to BE. Life and its weird incantations are bringing more and more dispondent feelings. Just the other day I saw with my mother, a Ufo which humming this strange tune showed blue blinking light above a dry decapitated powerless city (delhi)
I could see that time is apt for world destruction. Doom to take a first step towards end. For Yama to come and seize the little appetite for life which is left by the inhabitants of this shitty shoddy planet. To start with a clean sheet. Perhaps never more.

I have always wished for endless peace and boundless love for every living and conscious being. I see that is the only way to wisdom and energy handling. Stupidity and mass hysteria about social economic conventional institutional ways of living are just ways to grave.
I hope every lover of life gives her/his own; his energies awakened/and stirred to the cause of life.
I do assure you that if not, there is no way out of pain everlasting.

Voodoo People

The eternal cynic. The eternal sour singer, looks at everything in awe , in wrong.

He sees not himself nor anything else in reality, he loves the illusion of his own admissions at impotence. He is impotent. But not to do something. That everyone is impotent in their own way. He is impotent to think. He hates to think, I mean the thoughts that lead to the state of thoughtlessness. He ponders yet he is afraid of the results which this introspection will lead him to. He thinks he is right and wrong. But he feels that he is always right. He wants to be nice and good and always upright. But he also ‘knows’ that he can never be such things, for he believes in the illusion that they exist. And anyone with half an inch of understanding will know that his death is more real than these morals.

He is a cynic, He believes that his death is unreal. That he will live forever, though he might talk of death; either others or his own. But death doesn’t exist for him. He cannot comprehend it even if he spends hours every day pondering on it.

He sings sour, he has no soul and anyone without a soul, cannot dance nor sing. He does neither; He thinks it can be pulled of without soul.

He has hate in himself, borne again and again; he believes that there is his righteousness in question, He might look like a saint, but understand this very deeply,  He is the utmost of devils.

As the night approaches, the voodoo people come out of their hiding, they walk freely, they remain in the stillness of the dark, they lurk in the shadows. This is not metaphoric but rather something of the truth. They cannot be seen by the eyes given to us, rather they can be smelt and perhaps even be heard at times. They are in states of different consciousness. They are in different realms all together. As our sensory outputs change, we can see these people. These entities. These energies.

When we become dull, when we lose our sense of being. Then we cannot see nor smell nor hear these entities. Let us make ourselves more flaccid , much more easier to be, and I assure you , we will be able to see these people. They are monstrous. Not in the classical sense. But you will get to understand what I am saying when you have encountered what I have. Seen what I have seen. And been where I have been

I have myself been a part of the voodoo people… I have understood the morbidity that can take you to the realms where these entities reside. Where these state of being can be expressed in freedom like the sloth which we are shown so freely as of now.

To be of one of these creatures of the night, there must be insolent need for power. Power not seen nor felt. Power which is . power which can be only experienced.

I have not been close to anyone in my entire life. I have seen suffering and that has made me morose and even morbid. This is what is needed to become a voodoo person. To understand that all things end. And hence find no need for anything. This is dispassion according to the masters, but when you see it through the eyes of the voodoo people. Then this manifests as something darker than dispassion. There is no need for anything or anyone, hence no need exists for anything good or relative good either.

There is no bad or good in my books, there is nothing as beneficial or malefic as I see, yet there was a tendency in me to move to the darker side of things, I moved to night arts. To clairvoyance and to deliver blows to entities when they least expected it. I understood the basic principles by which this universe worked. And now I used it as I wished.

This is the starting of the power struggle. This is the state which we may encounter in the early stages of the making of the voodoo entities.. oh and of course I could not be destroyed. I could not be finished, I could not be killed or confined. This wasn’t an egotistical statement, but true to the core. This is what makes us voodoo people. This is the freedom that the bondage to the power brings. This is the ultimate of all freedom and also the saddest part of existence which one can bring upon themselves. 

Re Lapse

Every seven months, I left to the quiet womb of the earth. That’s what I used to call the hill. It wasn’t that I ever was detracted by the raving madness of human seas. Where one body ended and another started without the sight of a gap. All in all I used to enjoy the play, which humanity had played upon itself. The gaping mouth of madness was upon them and all of this movement. To bear it null and void.

I used to take a slow train to the ends of the earth.  The train used to chug along without care. I used to find peace in what most others call an inanimate object. It gave me care till my no-destination was reached. Once there, I would be greeted by no-one. I would take slow steps. These steps were the method by which I made the seeming separation (or no-separation) be realized. Or forgotten depending upon my gentle smile. I would not take much with me for this habitual indulgence every so often. Just perhaps a change of clothes, a pad to write with (though I used to loathe using the skin of a tree to indulge) and perhaps a razor. Maybe to look presentable in almost a non rational colonial method to the seeming crowds of no-ones who would greet me..

The climb would start very close, as close as I chose. It looked unfathomable that an odd old and quite unfit man like me would do a bit of trekking to what most would call an escape or even a vain effort to reassure that self peace still existed, here and now. And perhaps even realizable. Of course this isn’t true. True peace. Well that’s something which is very remote to me. For there is not much true and there is a lot which is peaceful. And the words are quite inter exchangeable along with their meanings.

The time of the year which I chose for such rambling and traveling would inevitably be autumn or early winter. It left the remaining earth in a silence, silence which I had adored when I was younger. Don’t get me wrong, I still do. But realization is something profound. Perspectives drop and silence stills.

Silent tree greets me on silent snow filled paths and peaks. Silent is the river which flows not. Made into ice. Slow is the partaking of this grandeur. I also take my place thus.

There is a single flight which takes place over and over in my head over my entire lifetime. The flight calls to me whispering in hedonistic, sometimes nihilistic tones. ‘fall, oh fall just once go down and see the master. See the master that maketh the rise and the fall’

Not a trace of meaning is present.

At these great heights. I sometimes take a dip. In the ice cold sensation of being nude. Where no one can watch the no one becoming nude. Where silence envelops, grips tight.

The seizure starts as soon as I enter this city of glass. This city of silence. It begins with the shaking. The trembling of the roots. As it all spins without end. Endless circles, endless citadels broken remade only to be broken down. Every which way , this moment, this shaking takes me by surprise. I give into it not easily. ‘I’ will not give up as much as it takes. It will try to move. Try to move into the shadows and take hold like a puppeteer.

Blood gently flows from my nose. Sometimes from my eyes and my belly. It soaks the ice red. It creates somewhat of a stagnant sensation in this aura. A stagnant sensation because it is exactly what this place calls for. The exact thoughts, never different. These roots shake then. Tremble even more.

And as I lie on my back stretched like the dead fetus which I was when I was born. Relief and pain stretch at first very exact and in directions in the inner space. Then they recede. They come back one last time, as I have noticed almost all the time. When this relapse occurs. Then they disappear. They vanish.

I have become a whiff of cloud. I have spent time in the mire. In the moor. In the marsh. In the wallow of wood. Inside the womb of adya.

My body disappears one at a time, the hands become the earth and the feet become the seas. The heart becomes the shadow and the bones become the sorrow; sorrow enveloping humanity. The lips become deceit and the eyes become the thunder in the sky.

One at a time, I become devoid.Both these stretch in another inner space. They are here as real or illusory as the blood soaked which gold I lay on.

Trapped in bodies. Freedom in the mind. Redemption of souls. Such drills in the I. The breadth is wasted. Wasted is the last stand. Shakes and quakes is the being with such glimpses.

I lay there for the exact time; 5 days and some hours. Not that I am keen on keeping time, I don’t even possess a clock or a watch. But this place keeps me in a condition…

I come back, but not the same, I don’t understand the ideas of emancipation.

The no-being greets the no-being like a beggar greets the king; like a whore greets her customer lover; like the rich man greeting his death. Like myself greeting no-one.

I wander, as I awaken. Thoughts are afraid of the I now. They hide where they can find space. They dig deep in the snow. Inverted; in cooling conditions such as ones promised, who sees who? You see everything in everything inverted…

The clouds you walk upon, the ice melts into rain to fall and drench thee. The sky pulls the earth and the earth reciprocates. The love quenches something what the bowl can’t ever hold.

The relapse isn’t a lapse. It is the lacking of the lapse.