Beyond illusions
August 20, 2009 § 9 Comments
Beyond indifference
June 30, 2009 § 16 Comments
Evanescences -the grin of happiness .
Yet beyond the smile there does lie ,
Tales of sleepless nights and endless fights.
Brawls with oneself ,as if the image in the mirror ,
Was afraid of what it saw in reality .
Some sort of truce ,
Even though the parties refuse ,
Is reached . Lest the wakeful
Hours be all too flee bitten by the scorn
Of the impatient self – impertinent .
Moments of madness ,
The bizarre gesticulation of reverberations ,
Endless syllogisms to accept life as if bound –
Painting the mind as a knave, who is chained by fate-
So that the misdemeanor of man’s whims
Can by buried , in a colloquy of ad libbing .
Yet something does ring ,
The cords of human ingenuity ,
The urge to break free,
See beyond the tainted tree
Of illusively constructed postulates
(The blasphemous baits)
And see the truth – still alive ,
As it is in the venerable roots .
Gravity maybe unseen,
But upon the ground we lean,
The feet do feel , the seal
Of some grave connotation,
The power of a greater imagination .
If being bound is an ambiguity ,
Then to break free a felicity .
The joy of appraising
The truth , the ego less divinity ,
The knowledge of belonging to infinity.
If only indifference could be smut ,
So that , it could be ignored like dust
Upon a windowsill ,cleaned with a cloth
Every now and then , when
A party is about to descend .
Yet its presence daunts and drapes
Into our very jovial spirits
And forces contradictions
To become an addiction .
By the presence of such negations ,
The mind loses its calm serenity
And hustles and bustles ,
In hope of finding a serendipity –
As if miracles can be whipped out of nothing ,
As if the Ether was detached from the weather
Of the stars and the galactic wars ;
Yet in the indifferent, the indifference seems
To take up a perch and poison the self
To divulge and indulge in its inaction-
A devilish penance .
For all that , belief is the quintessence –
the belief in yourself , in the waves
Of self trust , where you believe
That the light shines the brightest .
Where the path of ego less divinity ,
Leads to understanding of this transient Mortality
And the gory of indifference and its capacity .
The indifferent blows a conch
As if the final wars of the world
Were to begin at this new dawn .
Yet the glories of the understanding
And the sun’s first light ,
Kills away the plague within
Just like the dusk rays smother
The nonchalance of the day
And brightens the moon for a night
Filled with a serene , calm life .
The camphorous smile amalgamates
Into a deep deep profound joy ,
The belonging bound with understanding
causes the mind to feel the zest ,
The acceptance of life and the rest .
Mad moments ,capricious deeds –
Finally a epiphany to bring heed
To the one always known ,
The song of the one soul .
The light shines the brightest
The bakers
June 21, 2009 § 9 Comments
Once upon a time long , long ago ,
There was a baker who was known
For her bakes – which would melt
And disappear down throats
As fast as yeast could grow .
And as she grew old ,
She told her children the recipes
All made fine and woven ,
Created during many hours under the oven .
They all did hear her out –
Some more dexterous at the gateau ,
Others better at just making the right dough .
Yet there were a few ,
Who though heard all that the others knew ,
Who couldn’t spread butter on bread ,
Who were all fed to a starved death .
On one fine day , as the sun rose ,
The children were all on their own .
And so with there skills all set and perfect ,
The walked through the countries parks
And chose their shops ,
To spread love through their bakes .
A few boisterous mixed their flour
And added their eggs and yeast ,
Gave the world numerous feasts .
They took understudies to whom the taught
The skills , even as their coffers never stood still .
But those who could bake none ,
Lost their homes and had to run
From those they borrowed
And those they caused many a bad turn .
A few of such , idled about
(And that too all wrong )
And then the day came ,
When it was time to split
The estate of the one who was long gone .
With pens filled with liquor madness ,
They claimed that their siblings were unjust .
The harangued that their misfortunes
Were because the others were too good!
Pity , oh! pity the others felt ,
They thought that , at least their brothers’ kids
Would be better! So with their hearts
Filled with love , they wrote a decree,
Saying that the house shall be
Made of so much from the unfortunate’s
family , only so that they learn
And some day on their own earn .
Soon time’s ropes petered on those
And they left their bakery to their kin .
The kin inherited the dough
And so their demand never saw a trough .
All the while , the unskilled’s kids
Grew fatter under the provision
Provided and seeing success
Grew avaricious and claimed
That all this was through their pain!
A fight ensued and those successful
refused . They pointed out that
The bums had refused to learn
And that money cannot be earned
Without skill or working under the oven .
In a rage , the law book was brought out
And soon by popular vote , amended –
So that the unskilled got the majority’s share-
The rest just had to bare
These fat pigs who no more fitted
Into their own chairs!
In anger a few left ,
Others held that soon shall all be right ,
That under someone they will , together fight .
Soon that wonderful fresh bread smell grew ,
Longer became the queue.
The money came in and yet those
Who made them with honesty ,
Love and diligence ,
Lost their voice in the parliament!
One day a huge cake was made
It was for a festival’s sake .
The majority drunk in their inactivity
Got a big knife and cut in
For themselves and their kin .
And soon the pieces were
So many, Nothing was left
For the bakers
The actual makers .
For a while , they tried to reason
With their comrades and then
Realized with aghast
That lost was their cause!
Infuriated and cheated ,
They set out with bag and baggage ,
Landed in a better place
And baked a larger cake and ate
With grace , voraciously , singing
Praise to the new beginning .
Soon the old place ,
Ran out of money and food ,
Bickering , the people
First killed their kin ,
Then pealed their own skin
And finally lost everything !
A few survived , something
By nature , by blood had survived
Innate in them and in desperation something
Had come alive . The new of an old kind ,
Wanted to restore the past glory –
Though their memory was pretty foggy
With all that passed on being glossy .
One day , they called a baker home
And befriended him . They promised
To work together and to restore
Their pride . So the newly formed pride
Set about , the dough was bought
And the yeast all ready to dwell ,
But just before the first day’s bake ,
Someone found out the old constitution
And called the baker a traitor ,
Oh! he was no friend –
In vengeance into the oven
Went the baker
And baked forever was the bakery !
Pity , majority , democracy , atrocity
Ultimately a big big hypocrisy –
For that you eat , you gluttons
call God , yet the “makers
Are traitors” – so you say ,
Someday , someday ,not so far away ,
You will loose your way
And then wonder whose mistake it was .
You would then say ,
It was the man who decided to bake ,
Forgetting that , that was what made
You a big fat swine , Or maybe
You are right , you deserve less ,
Maybe a whip is a better harness!
The memories of the bakery
Were long after found –
After the bakers cult was tainted
And then erased to the ground .
The invading forces were butchers
And hogs were their specialty –
Enjoyed by the whole of (remaining) humanity!
For whom the sun shines
May 4, 2009 § 12 Comments
Early morning breeze ,
far away the sea breaths ,
The birds chirp and fly , free.
The crimsons slowly appear to be seen.
Clouds race ahead ,
The world wakes and slowly comes alive.
Almost forgotten the day rises
From the depth of the night .
The clocks go on ,
The horns will honk on ,
The sellers will sell on ,
Tube light filled cubes stretch like a ray ,
Yet at the sight of the sunrise ,
All seems by the by .
For whom the sun shines ,
Far away , for those who dare to smile everyday;
For whom the sun shines
Far away, for those who dare to smile it all away.
Walls built of stone and cement ,
Hours filled in thought ,all in vain , dormant .
Cries of war ,
Pains of lost wagers ,
Lives drowned in self pity ,
Birds who die as they can’t fly .
Lights that fade and blink their last days away ,
Roads that lose their path into dead ends ,
Bridges that collapse under life’s strains ,
Still there is someone ,
Who dares to smile it all away…
For whom the sunshines ,
Far away , for those who dare to smile everyday;
For whom the sunshines ,
Far away , for those who dare to smile it all away.
Winds of changes ,
Breezes that carry wishes ;
Colours which add life ,
Hues that fill the sight ;
Oceans that meet shores ,
Seas that have a deep and a shallow ;
A secret scent ,
A sweet bud ,
And of it is filled with a smile ,
At the sight , beauty , spirits arise .
For whom the sun shines ,
Far away , for those who dare to smile everyday .
For whom the sun shines ,
Far away , for those who dare to smile it all away .
Arms out stretched ,
Face high and pride less .
Belonging defined right ,
Beauty carved in the inner sight .
No clocks , no vaults ,
No faults , verses from forgotten songs .
For whom the sunshines ,
Far away , for those who dare to smile everyday .
For whom the sunshines ,
Far away , for those who dare to smile it all away .
Day after day , far away ,
A perfect sun rises in the east ,
The genius who arose from the waters ,
Who cares for none and has no masters .
In a set path , to the beat of the song ,
Yet the magnanimity and beauty is never gone .
Every night is a prayer for a better sunrise ,
As the clouds run stray and open a day in May ,
The day may be hot and severe ,
Yet the rise on every passing is lovelier
To those who dare to see beyond vice
For those dare to arise with the songs of life –
For whom the sun shines ,
far away , for those who dare to smile every day .
For whom the sun shines ,
Far away , who dare to smile it all away .
The light shines the brightest
Ego and divinity
April 18, 2009 § 17 Comments
Upon a peaceful ocean ,
A thought did rise .
That thought did move
Within the worlds , as a screw
Would into a wooden hollow .
As judgements were passed ,
And prejudices concluded ,
To all but a few the truth
Eluded . Virtues and vices
Are relatives at war ,
Divided by a single wall .
On either of that does lie
A way – somewhere , infinity
They do meet and there
Contradictions nay exist .
Yet till that point there does
Seem , a world at a brawl ,
Within itself always ready
To start a fire at the scent of smoke .
Forces greater than the container
Are contained , by the sheer inept
Of those contained to recognize
A frail misnomer . The forces so contained
Do pray to the within to discover
A better lens to notice the
Venomous drops , the poison .
And once the mind does locate
Where it seems the simple twist
Of fate seems to be placed ,
It does try to frame a case
Of revolution , an air of arrogance ,
The charm of ego and deliberation.
The ego is a way to feel the abyss
And not that which we pit against those
As wise . The ego is a virtue to protect
And feel all those below earthly morality .
The ego is to break the walls of discrimination .
And that ego is a screen drawn not to
Close love but to open the eyes of justice.
The only justice is poetic
And as each action churns a reaction ,
The world watches with concentration
And tries to balance with a fervor , a penchant
Soaked in a universal beauty ,
The song of which brings a deja vu
And belonging becomes de rigueur
For every creature .
At such a stark moment , the ego
Becomes a wall upon which you do
Stand and observe the obsessed world .
As a prophet to the mortal , the immortal
Sires the world and becomes the inner star ,
Set at a spot , showing direction ,
The venerated divine , the harbinger
To the future , the holder of the keys
To completion of an ultimatum .
With such a serene posture ,
The hand and the paper become
One . As one weaves through the other ,
That which is drawn breaks the beauty
Of stillness and the mesmerizing silence
Only to carve a beatitude beyond
The revealed rites of revered veneration –
The ode to world through perception.
And on such paper and as the hand
Becomes the mouth that disturbs the air ,
The thoughts on the ocean form
A known citation , seen within
And calm the diligent ego to mere strength .
As towers upon an unseen base ,
You do stand and watch the height
Of the sea , knowing that written
On the shore sand is temporary .
Yet that penned into memory ,
Is the message , to be visited
Again and again , in time’s rein ,
To establish the threads ,
To relight the blown fire
And rekindle the presence .
Everything is an illusion .
And so let the world be .
yet within each sketched ,
Does lie a world , the creativity
Of another illusion – reality
Mounted idealism , The final
curve to the straight column ,
The finesse of mind’s design .
And as the illusion’s illusion ,
Takes strength from its perceiver ,
The creator , it does add a tantamount
Code to the encore of the world .
Yet a while it does take
For another to conquer
The imagination and rise
The almost moribund ,
A final twitch before disappearance
And cause agitation in
The being’s bosom .
At such a moment ,
The negations seem to add up ,
All in whole and almost real
And thought aware ,
Such is the nature
That the being allows
Th virus to infect ,
If only not to let the world
Be poisoned.
And such and such is called divine
By plenty and worth a merry hail
But they do fail , they fail,
To see that it is not scarifies
And the ego’s penance ,
But that it is a discovery
To thrall the abyss by
The sheer resistance of life –
The strength of the wall
We do sit upon , the power
Of that which sits on the wall
And the stars whose lights do connect
The world by illuminating the world .
If not for anti , the ego has no existence .
If not for fear and guilt ,
The world would not be built
As it is but would have been formed
By the hands of creation –
The procreation of thoughts upon
Thoughts , the pro evolution
Of mud into bricks , of dusk
Into a dawn , memoir
Of man’s visage when he
Did see that he was free
To contemplate the way to the stars
And to carve a transient image on the shore
And letting the ocean the one to hide
That which is at the other side of sky’s brink .
The soul of life is divinity .
The beauty of movements ,
The culture of souls to choose ,
The ability to be alive .
Divinity is the way we feel ,
Divinity is the veracity .
And that truth which it represents ,
Is a means to an end .
At a solvent moment ,
The ego dissolves .
The viruses are none .
The illusions float below
And the world is a calm proposition.
Life seems to be drenched
In itself. The containers break ,
The Pandora box is overridden
As the world feels the hands’
Alacrity to be itself .
Life is life .
The world is alive .
Everything is an illusion
And we live in our perception .
Veracity and its integrity
Are the natural scales which we adhere
And as the notes of a song
Whatever pitch we breath
And ours heart’s beat
The love we feel
Will set us free .
For revolution is action
Where we reveal to ourselves
What we are , the action
Which frees us from the ordinary
And makes us to be the divinity .
Love is a essence ,
The flavour to let out the strings
And understand the world .
Love is the soul’s delight ,
For it is the fire of the fight .
As the world comes back alive
And the waves do eat the sketch
And reality is set alight ,
We do feel we belong ,
To this , that which is a metaphor
To our life , that which hides
From our sight , that we seek
For lending a meaning to life .
The joy of ego less superiority ,
The joy of divinity .
The God you are is what you will be ,
The God the world is ,
What you want it to be .
The God ultimately ,
Is the God that has to be .
Truth is not the end
But the means to an end.
The light shines the brightest
The essence
April 1, 2009 § 9 Comments
Sense,
Essence,
At a certain distance,
Connected through reverence or vengeance.
For a few a revelation,
Others a illegitimate menace.
Far away from the visceral planes,
Where one notorious thought reins,
In a dream of a certain refrain,
The colours of freedom seem strained.
Through the senses-scintillations,
Through the emotions-vibrations,
The balance of past and future,
Deliberately hang on the vision,
Of a mortal and bound scion.
Words may pass wisdom,
Actions may give martyrdom,
But neither can provoke, freedom,
Unless within the creature arises
A stroke (almost a epiphany,
Yet one of time’s boundless nature)
On the verge of breaching space,
Yet binds the universe,
Into the cramped room of a head.
And there it fills the thoughts,
The emotions and something shines,
A rudimentary essence,
The grit of our race’s existence.
Origin unknown,
Yet never visceral,
It is the knowledge of many an incidental,
carved into the nerves -the child
Of verses of unknown depths
And the knows worlds’ heavens.
And as such a realization dawns upon,
In those glorious hours,which life is called upon,
Everything tries to belong and then in a strung call,
Falls upon and arranges as if bound by a song,
To show the exactitude-the answer to the puzzle
Of living. Yet by the time the strains resurface,
Negligence reverberates and confiscates,
The essence through illusions.
At that,petty decorations need harnessing-
Water needs colour,
For the solvent cannot solve,
The lack of opaque it possesses,
For it is deemed unclean without spillage
For a bearded man said that was its visage.
And while the forces seem violent-
The wind torrential in its wisdom
And the seas tumultuous in action,
Humans throng and try to belong through religion.
The docile are then fermented
With ideas that man is tormented
By the virtues used
To bind him and rule.
Albeit that does come purity,
But then named
Heretic ,by some capricious decree,
Only later , understood to be,
What is really seen;
But veracity needed fire
And so it was lit
With a match upon a soulless hay
With chants of hail for the gist of the display.
Such are binds which curtail the hands
Of values and refined sands.
They call him the devil,
And he does roam among humans.
he has no eight tails waging
Or thirteen a table set,
All he has is a gullible mind
And he does exploit with haste
And then spreads like a plague
From man to man,
Until everyone seems wan
And prone to the entourage
Of a abyss and its flaming reaches,
Illusions bent from the malleable,but
Mind,that oh! if used properly is divine!
Finally as all seem corrupt
And thought dead and shut up,
Struck a ray through the condescending grey,
Creation was set alive again,a rebirth ,
Now life doesn’t seem vain.
And that abrupt force was all hailed,
And his words proclaimed
As wisdom, his actions martyrdom,
But fail did everything to grasp its freedom.
Then the devil did descend in full,
Dressed in white,peace he would bring,
No one would sing,the mantras
Of old and sally no more would
The undercurrent wisdom
(Relight by nature with
A little bit of nurture)
As the mirror reflects
The myriad darkness
And in it man would see
Nothing , for an eye
Is as good as its lens,
Mind is as good as its exponent.
But the devil was faced,
He could not rebate
Nor could he reinstate
His hold. The keepers
Were three,wisdom was set free,
Though humans have a hand on
The devil’s vehemence,
Another does hold the benevolence,
Of the spirit of creation.
The sevens and nines
Will never die,
Unless new numbers are sworn by,
And so will never the life
Be left astray,
For there is a final way,
The path which all do face
And on a gloom filled morning comes
To the surface,there they do
See the light from the negation,
It is the mere lack of contradiction
Which sets the world into a revolution.
The light shines the brightest
The mirror shone…
March 8, 2009 § 12 Comments
And the mirror shone,with the image,
There stood the love,
There was the symbol within.
The sight was beyond might,
And the will of man,was his own.
He did belong to himself and Earth,
And those who see no face in the mirror,
Are the once who are in darkness.
Switch on the lights he did want to tell,
Yet how to address that which has no face?
That which rots will always rot,
That which grows shall always,
For you cannot be discriminated
Unless you your self choose so.
If the sky looks dull and glut,
Then the spirit shall be alight,
If it does choose to see the light within.
If the tools of men failed be perceived,
Then shall darkness have a victory,
Let the spark of solitude and the society’s
Misnomers do isolate ,in fear of itself.
That ,that curse is a gift,
That not to belong leads to a search,
And the identity that which is googled,
Will be found,in love,in what we value.
To that we walk,we parade,
Those whose spirit is in integrity,
Who refuse to lie down
And to all that,bow,
For the sweetest rebellion
Is victorious when it seeks not to avenge
Itself in the name of revenge.
To rebel is to accept yourself
And that the face you do see,
Is not meant to be bound but free.
For in freedom alone dwells love,
For a bundle of life is in projection,
To seek the stars and greater levitation.
In dreams love does haunt
To seek the greatness so perceived,
Accidents lead to discoveries,
And so love to solution of mysteries.
Love to be alive,
And to abide to your light.
Humanity is at par with destruction when
In comparison of virtue-
Beyond that lie a very very few.
Sin is sinister and love is not a dagger,
Yet to preserve itself,shall it spill blood?
Is ale spoiling the unspoiled to give
Negation a victory and to rejoice,
The death of our kind? Or is it the spirit
Of invention,to the man who drank it
As an unknown poison and found heaven?
Or neither but a state of natural invention,
Just so to place the mind a while away
And ultimately free from the bound day?
A metaphor to freedom?
Why is man bound?
And alone his love,with wings,
Always to be flown?
Why is it that we seek solace,
Even though we know out own face?
Now do we bind words into form
And say a noise is right,
The others utter and see your rite?
What sense of order do we see,
And beyond that what do we perceive?
Is disunity,A state of mere callous
Misinterpretation ,a stray mutation,
For us to marginalize our life?
But finally does come a day,
When we do breach innosence
And climb the ladder and pass the grey,
And into the clouds we do pass,
This a metaphoric heaven,
We seek not bliss,
But mere sense of equality-
Be valued as you are and not
What you are meant to be.
If earth was to be such,
Than a beggar will not be a king,
But to do so,must learn the arts
To raise and in character appraise,
The minds of those who fought past
The fiends,those many armed monsters,
The cruel nature of human disunity,
A stark stray-hail! OH! Hail,the society!
In spirit,realize the curiosity!
Love is such,turn on your light,
And in it you shall see the face of life,
Be bold and smile,for what you see
Is what you perceive,illusion or not,
It is a de reguier reality!
In the light of truth,
One will lead,not mere instict
But that which speaks logically,
A known or unknown tongue,
Hear it and learn to be,
Yourself and in that free!
Love yourself and forget disunity,
The world will be what it wants to be.
In scarifies and sacrilege and absurdity,
It sees joy; Then,love to be,
Be not tamed but be free to set free
the wisdom of freedom,
To the rocks,they might wake,
To restore the order of insanity.
Love is that we lend ourselves value,
And that is the end we seek,
Truth is not the end but means to an end.
The light shines the brightest
the light shines the brightest 