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.

 

 

 

 

BrokeHowl

Sitting splendidly in the middle of a vast milky ocean, lasting for eternity (without time)>
You break into a fine howl, shaking the edges of my sanity and the universe away, all in one go. There you set your mad will on roll. How its set it all in perpetual motion, never to stop anywhere you know
The silent meditation broken down by the blowing of a conch; very far away and yet so piercingly powerful, you and all cant help but notice.
Changing everything, every scene in a split moment – splitting every creation, your fine scent every so fresh this rainy season.
It feels like ages ago, as it did now – every sense of time leads to deja vu, with enough of it (time), everyone feels old.

Thats when you come into the picture, my beloved will, the eternal dharma, making everything tender and refined. Raw and maybe even inertial, every drama with its fine script. Broke into a howl, thats where the entire world stopped.
Stopped in motion and thought, experience and vast no being. Where quantity was not a measure, and brain was not created yet just a random thought to the entirety, the none.
But you are like eternal jasmine sunset, without words or expressions – so elegant in accepted love/laughter, there seems to be a break in this world’s plan.
Eternal will damning itself to another; rolling over till never’s end and then some more, and there seems to be no stopping the will to be. How awkward indeed.
Bring forth the muse, the scene and music, love for laughter and being along with the subdued and eternal lasting impressions of not being, darkness and loving twins accepting each others reality and faces – night and sky, day and light, death and life, mighty duals expression full and so gullible. Eternally refreshing.
I spoke of the vast ocean, where conches blew as beacons and the shrieking pierced through to create life itself, perhaps the screech was in the sound of om, or some other audible creation, or perhaps it was the entire range of audio known and unknown, The broken howl. But who is to know about such things where the tender love of you(rs) is involved~
Beloved experience of tender love in this awe filled world and beyond. where mind is another tool of the so many to wonder and ponder and create and nullify.
Breaking your shackles, coming apart. The life of day and night not making quite ‘sense’, as it ever did to anyone/thing. When the milky ocean settles down, maybe all movement might come to an abrupt halt (the freezing over of the cosmos).
And the conch still is traversing through the fields of space and more, every single rhythm and harmony traversing in invisible, silent and naked grounds. Creation with grace is what I calls it, a spiritual understanding (that is a dichotomy though).
Don’t I vibrate, pulsate with energy – in vile and such soft demeanour; every single cell of this creation dancing with shiva~shakti.
Blessed are the witnesses and the merge into the void. Where experience meets the center of your heart and mine ~ howling infinite at the same frequency, we meet and nullify~
Peace and Love.

Epic Sayings

 

Dark looming clouds are gathering overhead; pouring has begun finally the end; again.

So first one;

People say that the ancient structures of lore. The grand pyramids and the towers all going up to the sky were all to serve as a reminder to humanity (perhaps by ancient god aliens or like). The structures made were all protruding into infinite space above. A metaphorical reminder of the pointedness of the spirit in the abundance of the grand spirit. The phallus and the space around.

Also many would say that the structures were made to look like something resembling our pineal gland. The small pea like structure holds our concept of reality; for each living sentient animal. There is a gland which is controlled by light and darkness. This would make our sum total of life experience. Some would say the temples were made to propitiate the inner archetypes-gods who traversed through this black hole from the center of our brain – where the gland resides and can cause changes ultimate to our reality.

So the second one,

People nowadays say that they “write code”. They are software programmers; writing jumbled up sayings in english or any other local language- but none the less writing a different language all together – perhaps Java or C or fuck what not. Every single device and machine which we are to create and have already is run by the code. The code if changed or deleted would render the entity perhaps completely different.

So we too as humans are bound by code – of language. Language in its most simplest and literalist of sense – the language which we speak – which is made of secret allegory and visualizations. Language and words which when spoken render a certain sort of will into action, and words which carry with them some sort of hidden unspoken power – again causing will to be created,

but it is also the concept that when we change our language – we will change our selves – the affirmation which we set upon ourselves – creates the notion of us. Perhaps it controls the amount of chemicals released from our pineal gland and hence our sense of reality is a certain sort.

So the third one,

Traditionally in India, all saints who follow the nath order – remain generally followers of goraknath and of shiva, cause shiva himself is a nath and hence he is considered to be one of the guru brothers- mingling in between all of em. And all the followers of the sect generally end their names with ‘nath’. But there is one avatar of the god vishnu who is also interestingly called nath – In english he is well known as a juggernaut, and he is verily that. He is jagan natha – the lord of the world. This seemed to be very appropriate, that the one who according to me has time over protected and kept humanity from destroying itself from each other mostly has been lord vishnu. If prayed to through sincerity – he would actually cause a revolution in the hearts and minds of people on this planet – something which I understand to be of vital importance now especially to avoid his last avatar to descend ( or is it that he would actually come if we pray to him more?). Kalki is to return to the earth, wiping the physical and mental distress away, starting a re-model of the ancient times, where everything would be what it was chosen to be. Not just a mirage or a hallucination.

So the fourth one,

Bliss is a word which is encountered a lot from many masters. They say that the state of absolution – of liberation from state and cause and structure is a state of bliss. But there is no self to experience this self. This is what I feel from heart. The state is a nihilistic condition, something which cannot be explained or experienced or been… cause its not there (from the point of I – perception) yet its thought of more than any other concept in this world at any given time, Love or freedom or some other word/symbol could be tried to fit into the word bliss and the state would be still thought to be understood, but its really not the case.

The experience of a Identity – I. makes us, makes us experience, makes us experience our own deaths and accepts, accepts that this would be liberation. Its something beyond the mind’s comprehension(for it exists by the death of the mind). So what is it then? Its surely not what the word ‘bliss’ could mean as we know it.

But yet we strive for it, If we do we succeed in our own personal deaths (and at the time of this personal death – is the liberation/realization/emancipation/bliss reached) and if we do not strive for it, we remain with what we are/have. The identity of ourselves, the Immortal (or so it seems) I.

So the fifth one,

Existence so fragile, calls upon everyone to sing and cry. We must oblige;

with a sensual smile (as I see it).

Existence so alive; in between endless darkness – states which we wonder

Yet have never experienced. Then we finally die.

Where is your heart; Your strength and armour. If you would not be a warrior

and embrace these fallacies and make swift progress in shortening time.

Embrace and accept, move on and fight. There is one last night of this deafening pain.

And then you will be a shining star in the sky. Make you shine bright!

 

Peace and Love.

Faster Stronger Bleaker Weaker

Something like the movie The acid House
You waned your days and nights, walking never there here and everywhere. You were to reach your destination so clear in your mind. Where did you leave it behind? Where did the rose which smelt so… go? I guess you left it all behind.
The rain pours faster stronger; as you walk on bleaker; ever longer.
On streets and desolate pavements. Without a soul in sight; with your noose hanging in front of your head, all night. all night.
Sure you hit the fast track to success; your money and gold inside that secret crest. You got the moves to show ‘em; the world. Faster and stronger you went ahead without a fucking care to share.
Your dazzling teeth and that bewitching smile (makes us vomit); your health so fine and your mind oh enveloped in dark shine; you thought yourself more sweeter than all the rest. You carried the devils pentagram around your filthy chest. Where your heart ought to have been; beating ever faster and stronger; only lay a carcass waiting to be buried; each day making it bleaker and weaker; how much longer?
You wacked the helpless; prayed for the pardon of your sin and got it out of your head. What a fucking joke you could have been; instead we could only reward your life with complete apathy.
You are the architect of your own demise. Blessed be; that we are not as you; that would be the worst crime. You don’t know who you are yet. But the day you find out *who you are* ; would be your day of judgement; unlike the rest.
Cause we all are going below the ground. Sleeping till eternity ends and wakes us from our slumber sound. You my friend are still at it faster and stronger, working to death for the riches found perhaps only in your head, while your life wanes thick and quick. It is seeking its reward; but all this, your charade, your facade, your hate is making us perpetually sick.
Why don’t you leave my friend? (this world, this existence and all of us indeed) Why are you so hell bent to reach the fucking end. There is no fame and fortune like you so explore. There is only your life ending one day at a time; a fucking chore.
So now I ask, why are you moving ever faster and stronger; cause it looks like whatever you are after is only making you weaker bleaker, causing your demise to be ever longer.. causing us to sicken and suffer.

Creatures Like No Other

The vast repose of momentary conditioning uncoiling, with the eternal music. There is such exuberance in your movements; subtle sensual and delectable.
I am feeling; rushes so glorious like of yester years. Of stars spangled in the sky eternal. The points combining and weaving stories of your existence as well as mine. In such fragile bouts of love; waning with time.
Equally apart; and at the instant such, coming together again. Below the full moon shining, and the kiss awaiting. The rivers are flowing nearby; waters lifting us. Think about nothing, no one. and the entire existence becomes you; eyes shining as we dance and laugh the night away.
Inside her mind, she loves me like no other. The I is such splendour. So sought after. With every step. with every step dear one, I am one step closer. One step intertwined. What reckoning, do you not see it as well. This is the explosive nature of this kinetic whorl.

Oh you whorl like no other, like no dual I have ever known. Come to my core, in the night where there be no thoughts disturbing us. We are to become creatures of light.
Smiling and kneeling, towards each other; yes yes one step at a time, slowly and making a move like never see before. The dance wraps us up. Drunk on yes the love for the wine. For divine. For the wine.?
Soke in the grapes, and make merry under the tree, yiedling other worldly fruits, something which your tongue knows not, something which you are not. And yet glistening inside you; making you realize. The apple eaten and the wisdom of the snake now forgotton. Make you realize that you are creatures par exellence par light.
Par most realms, yet not even in our minds, where we exist, where we deserve to live. In such torrid affairs, let us counsel the heart. The heart has the property not to lie. To tell the loves way of existence this existence which is being lived by I.
The sensation of grandeur; of the love; of the nausea, for each and all, where ever we are. Whenever we were. The love for the soul. Defining and expanding ever with or without time.
Come sing and laugh, kiss and make erotic noise. Make this existence wake up; follow and raise yourself to your own end, Some things should never change?
Peace and Love. 

The Spacious Coffin

Resting on posh surface; a spacious coffin occupies the room.

No one to lift it or even see; the coffin remains marooned.

The coffin looks unoccupied; but that's not the whole truth.

Such an exquisite day for it to exist. Morbidity seen fit.

Coffin opens up; and the body of ours lies stiff as a rock. Waiting for it to rot.

Eyes still looking; seeking the truth. Without inkling of knowledge to untie this eternal knot.

There is space inside for another. Recently forgot. Come and occupy.

No one is seeking the unsought.

What is the need for this dazzling cage (the shining spacious coffin);

when the body it so proudly holds as 'itself' is going to be set ablaze.

Why the need for such insight? When wisdom herself will come forward to enslave?

Leave the ochre robe; and the glimmer of hope. Walk into your coffin and shut it intently.

No difference a thousand sunsets seen shall make. For no one will come to dance at your funeral. No one for No one’s sake.

Everyone now marvels looking at the impressive passive coffin. Lying cold as if death was itself dying at the stake. They see the width and the wood, the depth and doom, lying to themselves and twitching abound.

Everyone looking will one day sit on the same seat.

The coffin will engulf the grateful and remorseful just the same.

No one will get to have a say; No one is ever worth their personal judgement day.

Why then shall we all undertake the farce of life. Somebody with a <...point..> must explain

Only to be caged again in a painted spacious grave?

~Peace~

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam-I

This ‘book’ can be treated as more than drunken poetry or a Sufi's attempt to elucidate spirit love. Each verse/couplet has esoteric meanings hidden just like most Indian texts on the subject of divinity or such.
I have tried other people’s commentary and translation on the various topics present in the rubbaiyyat. Though there are references to the mundane events and people in certain couplets; yet omar khayyam keeps most of the couplets as esoteric and hidden as they can get. Most people read this famous treatise on Sufi love and think of it as some madman in love for the supreme godhead. Yet most verses offer a different worldly perspective for the ones in dire need for liberation.
The translation (there are numerous of them) which I like most is by Edward Fitzgerald (this is the most comprehensive and famous too perhaps). The reason translations are advisable is not because one can’t decipher the meaning from the literal translation; but as the quatrains can point to various meanings, the most suitable depending upon the age/time of khayyam and the immediate environment too must be taken into consideration (which I believe fitzgerald has done marvellously)
The Quatrain which I love to read over:

Up from Earth's Centre through the seventh Gate
I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,
And many Knots unravel'd by the Road;
But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The literal and esoteric translations of this quatrain for a long time did not make any sense to me, it seemed to be very very tantric but I in my foolishness did not give khayyam credit for the worthy knowledge and experience he possessed. Then one day it struck me :

The earths centre here refers to – The base of the spine, the energy centre close to the sexual reproductive organs- which in Sanskrit texts is known as ‘Muladhara’ / The earth center by definition. This centre holds the individual ego powered energy which in simple English refers to the individual ego. I personally call this as Kundalini- the female serpentine energy – non mythical, and the causality of the entire illusion of personal history and creation.

The seventh gate here refers to the top of head – in Sanskrit its known as the seventh chakra (energy center) – sahasrara (refer to post – ). There are seven such energy centres along the spinal column of the erect homo sapiens. Each energy centre is progressively pierced by the rising earth force- kundalini during the unlearning process of enlightenment.(seven gates from the earth center- muladhara, svaddhistana, manipura, anahata, visuddha, ajna, sahasrara)

Sitting on the throne of Saturn is a very metaphorical yet powerful statement- Saturn/Satan/Shani and so forth is the seventh known planet in the solar system (moon was considered a planet as well in olden times), Saturn is considered as the biggest planet and hence its gravitational effects in astrology are felt to be strongest. Saturn in Indian context refers to a planet giving enlightenment. It gives spiritual knowledge and freedom from mundane pursuits.

Hence sitting on the throne of Saturn- refers to the process of achieving one’s original state. Its not the illusory I condition, and it refers to freedom from the world.

Now Omar, refers in more detail regarding the journey to sitting on the throne of Saturn- there were many knots unravelled by the road. In Indian tantra and texts- there are roughly three major granthis or knots the Individual ego power- kundalini has to ‘unknot’ before reaching the top of the head- sahasrara/ The three knots simply are called the shiva/vishnu/brahma knots. So it looks like even omar had to unknot these on his journey of self discovery.

But the last line is the most difficult to comprehend. He continues to say though he had unknotted and reached the top of his journey to evolution and enlightenment, yet he could not find the key to remove human death and fate. He is trying to impart powerful wisdom here- though you are enlightened and death and fate exist not for you anymore, but for the person who is still dawning the rose colored glasses of maya- there is no reprieve from human fate or death.

And this is true, every saint or Sufi who has been enlightened has not been free (or so it seems to us) from the entanglements of human mortality or fate. This is a way of saying that enlightenment has nothing to do with this. If you are looking to avert your karma- action/reaction/ranu-bandana or such or trying to reach immortality in the guise of enlightening yourself- then you might be sorely disappointed.

Wild~Flavor~Flower

Mysterious and Spaced; lying on my chest yet so far away from my heart lies she.... in damned silence and peaking rage, why is she still facing away from me? Where are her doe-eyes pointing to... towards dark empty space?

I am haunted by this ethereal scent that she brings; the flavor of my fondest flower and my darkest sin. The requiem of love on my grave. She is centered and dowsed in this emotion. Jasmine is her loving name.
A kiss on her lips and surely you are doomed to wander, She owns you. You remain her sensual game...

Every dawn, she would walk upstream close to the pulsating river. She would disappear in the mist and reappear as if walking in from a frozen dream. Dressed in the color white. Her fragrance would wake me up in an orgasm unfulfilled; begging for ever more. For that darker jasmine.

Cloaked in decaying flesh and rotting bones, seeking what was forever more; I fell to deceit and cheats, lifted my gaze and saw her seeping into my soul, saving the wasted and fallen me.... she razed me towards her intoxicating smell. The dark jasmine ruled me whole. What else is there to tell....

Her past shrouded in subtle mystery, her present was dismal ecstasy, she spoke of her childhood in sullen frames... where her father beat her and her mother ran away in shame.
She took upon her heart the unthinkable and accepted her cruel fate. She rose and sprang her cheer and she was never the same.
Her silence forever made me morose. Her shy demure laughter made my eyes shed and my throat hoarse, Her beauty ever resplendent like the shining sun above. Her madness grander than the moon on her throne.

Jasmine, oh darkest Jasmine; would you lie down for a bit now? Cease to be pained by who you were hurt by someday, somehow....
Your soul so pure!, saved me; touched me; kissed my shredded heart; You became my cure!
Let us be intertwined this solemn night, where we lose robes of skin and in each others eyes, make magik love like hungry djinns!
Your fragrence has lifted me from the pit of my despair, shed my pain, and has finally cut the painful mortal snare.  Your sadness has shown me my worth this life. To become your lover and servant till time exists no more.


Oh Jasmine, there is surely no need to cry anymore. See the abundance of love pouring through; from shore to distant shore..... Jasmine, you remain the darkest damsel. You remain sheer delight, dissolving the exterior in turn for one and final ethereal core.

Love and Peace

(This is a continuation from http://civashakti.blogspot.com/2009/10/wildflower.html)

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.

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!

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!

Hiss Order

The cool shade inviting, your special foe now in.
Turbulant shaking and violent strife; flowing raging like the wild flower
Demise; Spitting the fury within, right type of dissent.

In spite I flew in the daze, it deludes the wicked, blessing insane..
Type spell cast over the pearl like moor, Winter Wine with the wane.
To look over your venom, the death and vile in my vein. Take the sport that first fades (into your well of pain)

Dye red, and wine over flows as the turtle settles within the shell,
You look in due awe, with the jaw hanging like a nuclear holocaust babe.
So, sow the seeds of strife within, the servant will obey; Hiss order looms in dis order.
This order which you accept with heads down to be in unison the favorite failure of our day.

No this is not the attempt to change what come may, hiss oder like the snake pouncing down at the flesh
weak and writhing rage.
The coil force is shifting, and as this is the day and age of aquarious, what you could be is what you be never ever in a thousand days.
Night owl; smirks and leaves for the worst to come down and finish the end looks like.
It bears no mark or resemblance to memory; it corrupts and registers itself again.. you will see
the bars unchained now let the fiery to the fore; the subtle humor, or what the senses will call an insane moment..
uncovers again and again. Why to bother; when everything bit down becomes to do your bidding.
Come what may.
Take a breadth and hold yourself in, see the wisdom of silence of this order to change it (within)

I stress your survival linked to the lineage, where you are the power plant; shamans night owl and the laughter of hallucinatory proportions.!

First Love. Forever Love. Final Love. Forever Love.

Do you remember when we met for the first time. You didnt notice, but I sure did; you standing on the escalator; like it was the stairway to heaven. We had our first meal in between laughter and I was hooked on to your smile.
Do you remember when we met for the second time, You didnt notice but I changed into a pair of stalking so that we could go to the club we desired. We had our first glass of wine, so that we could stir the moments by.. It was such reprieve that you trusted me from first sight. There was none like you i would ever meet, I knew the very moment I put my eyes on your sensual attire. Wow I still reminisce till this day; how that night ended. with a peck on my cheek. So graceful.. ended with a sigh. Didnt know whether i would meet you ever again jyoti. Just destroyed my days and nights.
Do you remember when we met for the third time? We stumbled each other in the bus stop, waiting to catch a ride, up to clean blue heaven... we took the cab instead with small talk and so much intensity bestowed besides.
Reached to kasauli, where we lost the garb of strangers and dawned what we truly desired. A bottle of mountain wine, a walk and a talk of the sunset at hand, and caught by cops; we were just brother and sister to the outside world... while being soulmates forever in time..
Do you remember when we met the fourth time? It was the very same night... when you took the rosary beads from my neck and put it on as an anklet on your sexy feet, you made this saint a bloody sufi just in one night.. You took my life and turned it upside down. No words or deeds could ever speak like you did with your fluttering eyes.. oh you dont know, but i notice a lot more than meets the eye!
Do you remember when we met for the fifth time? The early morning dawn of kasauli when it poured lightening all night long like an endless affair, a wordless song.. it was coupled with the cinematic rolling in the hay !! The sleeping of the gentle angel on my lap in an abandoned bus stop till the morning broke us down to our sweet embrace (finally in a bed!)
You dont know how many ways you made me, you can curse me for not being there, and leave me for not being there.. but you are bound to me, like the leaves are to a tree; like the sun is to the sky, like the eagle touching and kissing the clouds so high. I am your dasa, and you are my muse. You remain the forbidden fruit, which once eaten jyoti; makes me remember the truth.
The truth that we havent met the first time, we wont ever be apart.. the laughing misery of our seperation too shall soon; oh very soon depart...
Do you remember (so we thought) when we were to meet for the last time? Next to the sunset lake, where we held hands and kissed perhaps like it was not meant to be? Do you remember the time, where all the mirages I had of you turned themselves into the blue blue sea? I remember the lips; I remember your hair; coiled my life into your hands and lo! there.. you my nymph, my self in another; you are the one who I can verily be happy with a life shared.
No poet can deny, No artist can respond, when the call of love strikes; they all drop and become one... You are my grace, I am your strength. together we will live this world and the next.
Be mine forever. For I am already yours forever.
Peace

Walking Free..

On the vast desert of hopelessness, sufi shamz tabrizi walks the path bare, the sun has pronounced us guilty and the earth sways each day closer to the clutches of the soul of the solar system...
Tabriz what is heard about him, the god who shakes his matted hair and the earth spins out of control, the true ardent sufi gaze to cure disease and misfortune,
shamz makes it all happen, with the love outpouring a thousand fold, to and back through each vein of this cosmos, shamz the sufi of agelessness, is humble.
There are disasters which the soul heads towards, if the life is not at the hands of a guru, a teacher wise and simple, whose life is a model itself to live completely,
Brothers and lovers, ye shall unite in the name of allah, the one merciful god of heaven and earth. Of the eons which have passed and which shall be endured, the name and love towards emancipation will sweeten the final reward,

Be a martyr unto yourself, kill all those experiences which cast a dual nature on your way, the truth so simple and profound says shamz the lover, Path is one, and the goal is truly one, when the path and goal are united the unity spreads to each and every moment... take heed; live your life sincere and for the love of the fellow being.
Shamz raises his stick and the earth stops, the gravity pulls him closer to the solar aura,. the venerable god listens to shamz intently for the one who is the creator is the very same as shamz in human flesh and bone.
Sun relentless wishes you to be ash as soon as possible, where is the wisdom to wait and see, the grace to just be.. humanity wishes itself to be something which it can never be? whos kidding whom, the slow doom that we are headed towards, is the last straw in the stranger scheme of things....
The lord fakir knows each and every detail, of the happening in this life and the next, visions of love over power him every time he opens his eyes.... some things like the nectar of sweet emancipation may better be experienced that defined.
The tower of night, the yogi of discipline; shams-e-tabrizi walks on the water, the canal which feeds ignorance, he looks neither here nor there, the sufi is the sweet wind, cooling refreshing, the spiral of life incomplete without the mystic lover shams... How many lifetimes will you take to show your real face oh master; the world mundane knows nothing but what is vain, fakir destroy the minds of those who see not unity. love them and banish them and love them more, so they get to feel what your beating heart has been trying to tell for millenia.
Inside the quiet cave, sits the fire worshiper, the dhuni lit for the night, you retire to your beds while the fakir baba returns back to the castle of silence, the re union, the yogi sleeps neither day nor night.
The use of mystic in the disruption of what you felt is real, is the crux of this.... Mystic lovers like shams will I believe care to differ, they are the silence and complete union of allah and the lover. I see duality in every single moment of my life, where nothing is related, nothing is permanent... I wish to follow the path of the master who walks endlessly in silence, levitated thoughts from beyond come rolling out from his tongue in between burning the dhuni further, and ever higher...
Listen child, he would tell me first and foremost, how you feel in your moment is the indicator which you can follow to complete satisfaction for the soul, things which peer passion through your body and mind are the ones which will also free you.. The elixir brew is the one that keeps the soul content, it is called soma and then some, a simple drink to finish you, seal you and make you another person  altogether
Shams never pondered, the true baba-ji that he is, take the walking stick and point, walking in silence the walker and the path merge into one, the mirage becomes alive, real and completely un-defined.
The charisma the love of the sufi towards the one malik of this creation and else, this is spirit talking through mortal flesh, how strong is the will to create unity, amongst chaos, amongst the stench of death (i prefer to say things as they should be- to call a complete change in perspective)
Love creates the will, it generates an entire episode of life altogether, the heart opens gates to the love, its not where the physical heart is, but closer still.. the chakra is all powerful, ever indulging towards an embrace.


Peace

Subject Matter

Subject to the fast pain, that shoots right into you... into the spun detail...
deed done, no one is to blame, yet looking forward to shift it none the same,

Shift start, life is there ney its here in your eyes bursting flames like a psycho circus gone haywire
why why? I ask and yell at you lover, why this insane rage? Blame it on the weather, you give me your lovely cool gaze...

Somewhere I have always known that I will be reborn and die finally in your arms tara, you might not for the night waxes and wanes indeed!
Cursed hex, you stand at the cross road of roaming and twilight which intertwine down your spine into the pit of power.
You dont feel it now, but someday it will bring us all down in gluttonous shame, the splif politics; the ridicule of the experience, the sensual yet ever despondent maya; nausea of the soul, wont let you go; shakes your hair to end; tingles like the first drop of your rave eh?
Subject matter be damned when i have created the god particle, slower grinding it spins into itself; demise knows no other name... but of course yours and mine and the end of this fucking race...
Slow down; pace fast, spit face, cursed rats..... how will i repent? to whom shall i show my face, they all lie; and endlessly slave.
Am done with the passivity of the endless gravity being in you and I. Love; of lover tara, you can be my only saving grace... you dont believe it, you ridicule me when i speak it, but somewhere in your heart and soul you know that what i say is but what is..... forever in times and in eternal echoing space....
Yea I am a god, you are one too, each occupying the eye in the sky, named eternal jewels in the path that follow you from electronic symphonix to deeper darker metal banging you into the wall that separates you from your inner face....
Blue meets ends
black is your split tongue
Fine tune your carcass for its day in the sun
for when you merge there wont be enough pieces of you to even call it one.....

Peace

Some sort of Demon

Haunting my dreams, every time i get up; in the mirror I see.
Run away further and further till I can breathe no more; just to see you waiting for me at the door.
What kind of hatred are you made of? The putrid mixture of jealousy Lust and Sloth..
In time I have found you in the hearts of men all alike; wrecking whatever they see in dismay.
You are my nemesis, the fallen angel true; In your palm are lines edged in blood.... they tell of the glory of your right, the right to fool man into the false notions of power; of immortality
Master of puppets, these fools swing your way, dance your tune and puke and die when you say...
They think not, seeking castles made in heaven and run ever more in circles as soon as they receive what they thought they had sought....
You have sown the seeds of misery so deep, ploughed in with your material rewards of greed and gluttony and sprinkled ever so often with the rain of hate... in each and every man
You wait for the show to begin, so that you will feel alright... that the demon so vile is not obscure, he runs mad and free in each and everyone who breathes.
You are not alone lucifer, you spawn generations of your disciples... who prefer to walk blind, from natures gardens right into your realm; to meet your minions; brothers sisters of the kind.
You fool me not, You enslave me not; the light of sacrifice burns in this heart. The purity of light to bury your sins back to hell... My kind will defy you; defile your existence; seal your loathe in your tomb.
Your selfishness has ruined earth and the lot; you have won for too too long. The day of judgment comes one last time, yea this time your money and your greed and your hate and your selfishness and your death and your crime and your sins and your lust and your power will be your downfall... Not Mine, Not Mine.


The real demon walks in man, He walks endlessly day and night. He stops not, tires not. To destroy what man was to create. To laugh and ridicule the grandeur of life,spit in our heart and convince us that we would sell our soul for greed, butcher each other for 'happiness', spew hate for no reason... like rabid mad dogs without souls ever more....

Peace

**Aloof Time**

The Plot thickens to ripen in time

Leaving no scars of this last crimson sunlight

Sheepishly he walk into the middle of the road

To get hit by a fast moving anonymous truck

To be a part of the part which is true nature

There are lights like the butt of the cigarette

These colors form the part of the staircase, reaching somewhere closer to heaven not in my mind . In your mind

There is wanted error in the system

And all which Is left is the end of the world

Swallow all up In one go. Towards infinity rising slowly

And rising still…

There is this way which things will go, before they start afresh

And all of us are closer to the things which we stand united for

To create something new , something which makes us masters of ourselves.

There is a smaller legend associated with the death of god

It seems that we stopped the embrace to ourselves

And stop singing those little pauses which happen to us all the time

The greatest of the prophets walks still now.

Till now he is the lord of the matted hair

Not removed his anger and the dance of delusion

Of which we all sit in amazement and watch

Before all of us becomes all of none.

That which I speak can never be closer to what I never felt

There is this which flows through me, there is this itch which has never left me.

And which has all of “I” has become of I.

Leave it in peace, there is no love here.

Only the power of I filling it up

There is this pass which must be cleared

There is this love of the self which must be removed

The Buddha walks alone in the garden

Listening to his murderers speak in truth

There is no love for the Buddha , there is only knowledge of him

There is no Buddha, Kill Buddha. Kill Him now

Some speak of Sabbath as a bad element to society

Of the laziness and drone it fills us with

And with that awful sense of murder which comes is not because of the music,

And some times the word spoken is not an echo but a peeling of the soul. This is the most destructive power.

Inside or outside, You and I are burning up into this lie. Into this word.

Time to rest. Time to ripen the wine.

Time to spend in aloofness of this crime.

(A long time back write. somehow it seems to befit the crime just this moment)

Pinnacle of Pain

The artificial seasons in the abyss stands towards the nature and its own reason.
The ode for the often dead, rhymes closer towards my head and the poverty struck with a morose tear.
Stand inside a iron maiden, and sell my pity for a dime. Just for this humane crime.
Shower your lead into talk and thought, it wont be the easy way so you lose your methods and madness.
The terrible affliction is taking on a color of black inside you and I . Don’t you believe me? Do you think of me to be crooked.
I am not the world which you see.
I am the world you need.
The last hope , it drowns in a part of my head.
It remains there like for a time not known to me.
Some where in this lost hope, it shall remain buried
In the minds of men and monsters.

Void

The time has come

For distant cries to come close,

Until they shall shout and you shall turn deaf

And they shall purge you of the sleep

And they shall create the awareness within you of I.

You are to be the next one to be in the chamber.

The chamber of doom , the chamber which shall make you remember, the chamber of putrid rhyme.

Where the dead are all around. The funeral has reached its summit.

The cries are deafening, Now that it is your time. For what is the joy of dying alone. Take them all of you. Kill ‘em All.

The slight chance that you are at fault is removed the very instant they call out your name.

Its time. To face the Kreator.

So you step inside the mortuary. Its refreshing after the time you have spent with the ‘living’.

The rhyme reaches crescendo . the voice within you is void now.

Void is the power to cleanse. Void is the need and the desire. Void is the disease of want. Void makes the Void. Void is the rhyme and the poison drifts slowly inside and outside.

So when you awake from your sound sleep. Do you realize what has happened. What is now.?

Yes the remembrance is the key . It is knowledge of the void.

The void is here and there . and nowhere .

If it moved slowly it would be slow rhyme. It moves fast and its fast rhyme.

It is the presence of Deja-Vu within you and I . It is the nature of divinity.

It created the mist of forgetful-ness and of consciousness.

The void speaks and is deaf .

The void remains in solitude. And remains not.

It is not to be described. That is the threat to the presence of the void.

Plane(t) of Experience

Sweet majesty created out of void.

Pleases itself with experience and remembering.

The planet of experience twirls out of the void,

Sinks everything in infinite nothing-ness.

Sleep and inertia are brought upon.

The mystery shrouded and the veil drawn.

Brings none and take none. The slide is inevitable.

The king rests on a bent knee.

The planet of experience differentiates not between pleasure and pain.

It shall rein in quite wisdom. Until every-thing is drawn back into the void.

No redemption or salvation can be present; when there is differentiation in mind.

Remove mind replace with no mind. The planet of experience teaches.

Limps and groans. Without reason . Placid and fearsome to none but itself.

The sweetness of his, is drawn mostly out of treason; of ones self to the soul.

And the amber mist is mistaken to be harmful. But what of ones own can harm?

There is nothing beneficial or fickle in experience. It is the natural source of calm.

Contemplate deeply with no-mind to the planet of experience. May he reign forever.

On and On.

Peace