The Blacker Soil

The south of vindhyas hold deepest of secrets.  The island of India hit the mainland and created the snow covered mountains. yet the vindhyas never ever shook a single bit. There was something brewing far far ago; In this sun beaten land; covered in black gold.

The visitors flew by in their shiny ships; stopped by and atop arunachala took their masks off; and took deadly sips; of the plants present in abundance. The south of vindhyas took hold of these creatures from another world. They sat and contemplated on the wonder that was truly the subcontinent; for eons in silence and in awe. The magical skies from the island that was India took their breadth away!

The time passed not here; Where the tip met the oceans, Where the jungles vast and untarnished grew in their mystical nature. The sun couldn't penetrate their depths. In time what was; could simply pass as something which just could not be.

The blacker soil redemption in nature. Its dirt pulsed through the veins. Man beast and god became a slave to this lands eternal strange fate. The underground pulsed with murkier visions. The skies poured the never ending rain. The blacker soil of Deccan gave this world the first glimpse of divinities gain.
Solitude and remorse went hand in hand; as the idols of the alien gods darkened like the soil; gained demand. Though they still remain under the impenetrable rain forest cover; hidden with brimming nectar still ages old.
The story of the blacker reign still to this day unfolds.

I hold the darker soil in my hand, wishing that it taught me wisdom and command. It soaked me with its warm embrace. From the seas to the ghats to the plateau all at one place. It showed me patience and justice to those unjust. It asked nothing and gave everything to quench this thirst; where my generations are buried, where I shall be asking myself to be buried in turn... The soil asks nothing; gave everything for my burial in turn.

Every night I wake up in the dirt covered to my nose. The black soil of the Deccan; its reaped way more than I had ever sowed. The sensations covered deep within my heart; beats and beckons to become one; one again with this wise old black gold.

Pink Elephant

Merrily it stands aplomb the center of the circus, the pink elephant holding a bouquet of rose.
Shining glittering eyes, dimensions untold; horrible instances of whips and torture unfold. Yea one blink of her fluttering eyes, and you are hypnotized; woken up from the dream when the best part was about to come.
You are already hooked on, the flying trapeze blows your mind away.. Truth be told; you never had it all anyways...
The pink elephant stretches its nose straight to you; pass the doobie man, this wicked crowd aint getting fooled..
What is dylan doing playing the flute straight from silence's gates... atop you oh fluffy pink elephant, You are not the whole truth be-folded yet are you?
Damn anarchy; You fool. You dont see what is in front of your eyes, what will you do increasing your bloody gene pool, wretched cursing you plunder the world from its dream home...
I remain silence, as dylan laughs out loudest yet, the crowd is staring all at me, wide eyed and jaw dropped.. is this already the prediction of a unanimous verdict?? what has happened to the circus,
I am afraid to believe, to trust my senses. When was i ever sure of anything, even my sense; the message is clear.
The visual paradox is the one which skips right in front of your eyes, mesmerizing and yet never registering... a blink too many took that happen to us;
The pink elephant striped in gold dust, the lies melt into a reunion pot, where the labels are removed from the sinners and freedom is for one and all..
Crows join around and lift the dark hue of what resembles the circus elephant, it is a golden ball with tuskers made of pure white light... something innocent eaten away by the ends of what we will call an end.
The enchanting forest beckons, where the wicked haunt will be what you do for fun, where you will do your best to increase the love between you and another, in harmony and dance; equaled to none.
The pink elephant will become the idol of symbol of worship of this adherence, to be N(one)...

Causation ceases, desolation reeks. of what our love will be; change, embrace and be the crystallized form of divinity, each and every breath moment and span. Your ends dont end with this journey dear friend, the elephant sees through space and time, peers through your hearts till the haunting so so short ends of our time...
Try in this instance, the elephant keeps a short shrill, its heart beating and flaring its smoke filled nostrils...

Publish Post

Om Nama Civaya

Restruct Restart

Earth has been overburdened enough is the general feeling. A general feeling? Lets analyze this more carefully, the quantifiable amount of remorse, angst, distaste, hate, loathing, greed, jealousy, confusion, and such other colorful words which revolve around our minds, which keep us trapped in a frame is what a general feeling is.
Sure you go out with friends, have an ice cream and share a movie. The world is revolving just fine.. is it not? The deeper working of your mind surfaces just as easily. We cant stand so many people around us all the time/ the suck our energies up, as we suck up the planet to the core with that incessant need for more.
More fun, More frolic, More Joy, More carelessness, More love, and More More.
Well I aint no fool, and I wont be set aside when that grand plan for restruct and restart has been designed by mother nature. She has had enough; just more than ever could be possible. We waste her potential energy in the name of ELECTRICITY AND TRANSPORT and what not. what she has accumulated , we destroy. For the name of more.
See the case most recent, she has made us into pigs. Swines to be more precise. She is ; believe you me. humoring our plight. She gives us the disease which will hurt us most easily through the carrier which we need most. Air. Through the source which we all have become in this day and age. Swines. Fucking Swines

At times, I have had enough I tell you, there is no heart left in the minds of men anymore, no one looks and asks why? how? what? Why are we here, how will it all end, or begin? what is I? Then without these first hand knowledge of self, they go out into the world and think that there personality, and self (the very fucking lack of substance of a self) will protect them, and will actually help conquer them from the external brutal world.

I am for a large extent, a tribal at heart, a pre timed hippie. I have no use for people who being born into this world, loathe its very existance or think that because they are born into this grand world at this time, they still are so much smarter than something which has lasted for eons before them, which is so much wiser than they could ever be.
Look at it, you will look at a sunset and say what the fuck is so important about that, it happens everyday. You fucking live for 60 insignificant years and you would probably see some 100 sunsets in that time with due interest and you think you can see and feel and know the power of a sunset which has happened for eons before and after?
What is the wisdom in this. As a tribal, one understands that things are not always as they seem, that things are deeper and more consequential than they are shown out to be, more so in nature than anywhere else.
You look at what all can be your guru, teach you about the world because they have been there way longer perhaps than you. An animal, tree, the wind, the rock, the cave, the waterhole, the sky, the moon and sun, the night. They shadow. The fire. These are not insignificant, they are indeed life transforming.

In the old days, men and women used to sit near the fire. They calling themselves agnihotris, the worshipers of fire. They lived as if they could not be separated from that source, it used to show them the other side. The wisdom of silence and power derived from the flames.
And there is today, when we all like to fashion gucci bags with air masks, so we ought not to be certified that we are Swines.
Dont worry I say, mother nature shall make us all wallow in filth of our own mess to teach us that which is the truth.

Peace. (to none of the swines)