Friday, August 29, 2008

a third from duality

molecules far between,
a few light-years
feeble to enfold time and space,
tried the fallopian vestibules
flocking in to bud new worlds,
as time masked as mind
hemmed in legroom for space
through a runnel of desire,
heaved in by a rope of blood;
however broke away from freedom
to become the ironic third,
fashioned from duality.
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the oblivion

hidden behind the gaze
basking in where the bats flew
bearing a black mantle
through a tunnel in the spine,
the misnomer
ignored the palpable truth
of the knower and
flew where ignorance lived
with the nocturnal perceptions
of the inebriated,
merging with dark ‘unawareness’,
nonetheless conscious
of the ‘unconscious’
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Saturday, August 23, 2008

The old photograph

A frozen point in infinity
The lifeless flower’s vanity
And the ever-smiling faces’
Arrested moments fading.

Left behind to stand, constant
Many left the scene, hesitant
Pointless images, Irrelevant
Showcase of absurd life, transient

Strange faces near stained vases
Stagnant shadows and rigid gazes
The eyes forever waiting
Wistfully anticipating

Black distorting the white
Like the night the day
The child’s innocence, sweet
Like an eternal pretense’s sheet.
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Tuesday, August 19, 2008

The Ether in the Earthen Pot

What's common between
The sky in the pot
And the icons suffocating in the rock
The clouds without name and form
And the dead clock put backwards

The mould gone, water and fire withdrawn
Broken in to five, the pot
Longing to merge, the ether,
Like me, in to freedom
From thought, time and place.
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Monumental Blocks

The stack of yesterdays
Suspended in columns, lay
Like leaning pillars gray
Stuck in mind’s darker bay

Bricks of memories lay
Precariously in harms way
The formation of time swayed
As in an earthquake, astray

Like in futures deal, Judgments
Assailed the life’s only Present
Building mammoth monuments
Out of mental blocks of mirage
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Wednesday, August 13, 2008


The sky entered through the north east and ran over all rooms inside my house,including pots, but not those foot balls, I guess, inside of which, my mind didn't seem to discern the hidden; But marveled at what came about to the ether displaced by the great ball under my feet and the trees and mountains and oceans, on it. Emptiness is absorbed by substance, which in turn is gobbled up by the void, made of mind stuff.It expanded all over, in eight directions, linked by the invisible rings of imagination, wild and abandoned, while trying to reach the farthest; swallowing up the unseen, impenetrable and apparently forceful Time.
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The old, tired clock ticks on and tries to splinter the present with its two arms. Why do dead clocks fascinate me? I think they are stuck in stark truth, more than any thing else and they seem to read your mind and remain in rapport with you. They make you piece together bits of your traumatized being and make you at peace with existence; its conceptual design seeping in to your micro consciousness, stilling everything that disturbs the identity, with the motionless truth .The ever fluttering mind is shocked and stilled for an abrupt [moment?], before relapsing to its tremulous nature .The idea of time, cloaks the truth, more than any thing else, commemorating illusion.
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Slumber, pitch black
Body dead weighing
Covered by dark
Ignorance's cloak
The veil of
Lethargy of a million
Frozen thoughts
Hiding from view
Me, just watching
The great sport of
Dipping in and out
Of the pigment of black ether
Blind, unaware
Of the color of abstract darkness
Like a witless witness
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Tuesday, August 12, 2008


An ancient moon lay warped, fluttering,
In the moss-reeking fishy pond, flickering.
The cool night air raking archaic sentiments,
Stale, evoked only hollow consequences,
And it looked as though my mind was reflecting
In the rippling glassy darkness,
As I searched for the two,
the mind and the moon.
A frog-like thought leaped in on to the surface,
Deranging and scattering the images.
The water seemed uneasy and nervous,
Incompetent to deflect radiance and
The darkened glitter basked in the gloominess.
Up in the heavens the clouds shrouded the glow,
The firmament a black blanket of holes.
Reality of life, the sheaths, the five domains
Prohibited love to enter the remains
Of old age's distrustful psyche, to which, a breeze,
Now tried to respond in vain, to mellow.
The facade of the make believe, made no efforts
To defend and delude with its time worn enticements
Lasting only the life span of the trembling moths.
Looking up and down, there was no trace,
Inside the blanket or under the rippling glass,
The dismal haze,of a round, scarred face.
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The rays of the moon played hide and seek, through the foliage. Dark, smooth, and curved, the snake lay motionless. Disgust filled my heart. Shadows swayed, as an eerie silence deafened my inner ear. A cloud hid the sky, sending chills up my spine; I saw the ghost.

Dogs did not bark.Moonlight's milk filtered through the window's hole. The cat was licking it, weird like in a dream. Cool breeze caressed my face with the silken claws of sleep.

I woke up hearing the chirping of sweet birds; relief dawned, in the form of the sunlight, fearless and bright. Then I saw the cat, mewing with a foolish yawn, staring at the black rope, its tail brushing the wooden post.

The morning light reflected, a mischievous smile giving me the shock of sudden intelligence of liberation, from the world of illusion.
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One of the five horses severed the harness and flew in to the night in the direction of the sensuous reflection. I looked up at the darkness and saw a scarred face hastily hiding away behind the silken edged shroud, like a jealous voyeur. The voluptuous waves from the apartment window across the street entered through my eyes to reach where I held the reins- my intellect- to send shudders down the spine.

The rain had just stopped, bringing up a heat that lay secretive underground; with a band of moths that circled the gloomy streetlight. I held back thoughts, about life’s fleeting nature, stirred by the circling moths and looked away, beyond the opposite street, as the moment’s hankering prospect was too special to distract and ‘indulge’ in philosophic truths.

The horse’s soft neigh held an ache that betrayed an indignity which for a moment appeared like a sacrifice; vital for the opportune time of gratification. Brute compulsions, giving flesh to cravings, the enchanting flashes of naked light from across hid a smile entrapping a part of my sublime psyche. Carnality created plausible excuses for the release of shock waves of illusion.

The trees still rained, like the lingering thoughts of mind’s contempt, dropping and draining ....Lights were on in the dwelling of enticing portraits that moved behind my translucent visions. A swell was building up which sought to engulf and sink me in a quagmire of fluid desire…….. to drown my soul……..

High above, a round beautiful face appeared with milky white aura as the fragrance of night flowers filled the air. The gentle cool breeze carried the fragment of an old song and a lucid sky .The heat had disappeared as sublime love returned as I held firmly the reins of the five horses and traversed the swells of transcendent beauty and bliss again.
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