With the wakened desire eerie, to be something,
It overgrows soon to be and have all-- everything;
The inner drive mounts a crazy tipsy horse clever,
Closes not on the unjust chase nor the goal ever
But for sure gets into too complex a confusion
That cannot find the fruition,lost in the delusion
A look back: and there is a huge, vast ruffled lot
Delinking time,space and the intent with each trot
Gone away are those that breathed full and wild,
Strong and firm against mind's all prompts mild,
With the darting strides sprinted with the gallop:
Somewhere in the dark corner of hope,all call up
Fostered,it grows fast ,certain only to disorder,
Distort the well cherished mettle yond the border;
The self overgrows toa monster,senseless of all:
The good and the noble,distant kith or kin, or pal;
One might loudly recall those tall conquests futile
And the great falls to the nadir in a bit short while
A child, when you first painfully surmised,
that love is something to be won or lost,
the victim of a winning player's lies,
when early on your youthful heart was crossed.
So, like many aspiring men before,
it would be your inevitable fate
in life and love, to try to pry a door,
by learning to scheme and manipulate.
Yet, strangely, the conquests you have enjoyed,
with each bittersweet passing victory,
are experiences empty and void.
The winner isn't really you, you see -
as, you've lost yourself, and incurred the cost,
in living, loving, with your fingers crossed.
Beautiful Loser
Successful
at failure
Whose wins
are lost
His battles
ridden
And conquests
gone
He tilts at
windmills
Where roads
dead end
All hope
inclement
As tears
— befriend
**
Primal Ordained
Looking
into the eyes
of a wolf
Is like staring
into
your soul
Not human
or animal
but primal ordained
Releasing
your fear
— his kinship foretold
**
The Sawtooths
The Sky
is the frame
that forever defines us
Our peaks
but a silhouette
in the last of its light
Horizon
to horizon
we sit at the center
Our summit’s
in reverence
— to its shining delight
**
At The End
You can’t manage
what can never be measured
Or hold tight
to what can’t be contained
In the beginning
you never win the race
Only at the end
— victory proclaimed
**
It is full of mixed terrors,
Musing in past few errors...
To loose today to rumors,
And morrow one of her consumers.
Let yesterday rest,
Of her past quests,
For morrow's best,
Forms today's undying conquests.
It is cool to raise cup,
Cum wins fear wallop,
Before changes lineup...
Real cheers growing lasting backup.
Let yesterday sleep!
Her weary hole deep,
And stop yet to weep,
For morrow's coming glory on its leap...
Power pelf and prowess that set up realms
Stay but for a contingent while : till overwhelms
The ruling of fate in irony to mock the futility ;
Strides long, and vicious loud laughs of vanity ,
Are lost in the infinite stretch of senile haul ;
Love renown and proud success just dissolve
In the roaring ocean of dismay and chagrin- brawl;
Conquests and coersion which surfeited the ego,
At the slightest win caused the pride to overgrow ,
Are all set to be lost deep down the nadiral low
And the elixir of essential life and existence also
Is mixed up with the harmful venomous potion- flow ;
As the irate , illusive end seems to near and cover,
Things fail and the inevitable destiny closes over.
Kowtow & kapow..the Bazball supernova
They think it’s all over…well wow it is now
Cool cat merriment to cricket’s detriment
Down tools school for fools experiment
Mules without rules serious impediment
Flunk their funk mission to debunk tradition
Teach each Baz monk flair pizzazz edition
Preach razmattazz and all that jazz sedition
Slam dunk sunk kerplunk fans in remission
Shan’t exult this odd bod Bazball adult cult
Can’t halt Starc’s hefty lefty catapult assault
Another hilarious result and nefarious insult
Inquests as Aussie test conquests take their toll
Pat patrol in control Ben’s men droll rigmarole
Stole our soul so gonna give them some vitriol
Banished to a grassy knole the Bazball totem pole
Farce whole brassy class vanished up their ar*ehole
No need to mull it is time for a cull heads must roll
Cos in Oz they Can’t bat Can’t field and Can’t bowl
The merciless poacher
his larceny quells
Shooting wherever
the desperate dwell
Leaving to rot
what his vengeance can’t steal
Stalking and preying
the weakest revealed
Stirring up warnings
and ghosts from the past
Damning his nature
and future aghast
Hanging his conquests
on walls that defame
That last spot for him
— dark trophy of shame
(The New Room: December, 2025)
Jasper had broken more hearts than a hammer on speed
His conquests all thought he would return some day
Thinking that he had feelings for them, which he did not
He was a snake, a wolf, a flim-flam man, slime really.
Those of us who saw it, tried to warn those who did not.
But most were young, optimistic, hopeful, and eager to give him a chance.
Worst of all, most of them loved the idea of falling in love.
Jasper was professional at getting women to do that; he was pure slime.
“This universe is differentiated into spheres, seven Swargas and seven Patalas.”
~ extract from ‘The Holy Science’
Brahman the absolute alone exists,
who by His will all the worlds manifests,
realms of contrast where delusion persists
until exhausted, soul’s ego lust rests,
renouncing forever earth bound conquests.
We need not analyse realms and domains.
Let’s focus instead on cleansing soul’s stains.
Tyranny wears no single face—
it dances in silk and iron,
in laughter rippling through marble halls,
in jeweled cups brimming with poison.
Here stand five shadows cloaked in power:
the Jade Empress who penned her conquests in ink of blood;
the Blood Countess who bathed in youth’s final heartbeat;
the Poison Queen whose roses wilted on royal lips;
the Thorned Mother sculpting her son into a golden idol of death;
the Icon-Breaker who crushed faith beneath her boot.
They moved like vultures through court and corridor,
each step a measured echo of shattered lives.
Their eyes—cold maps of ambition—
charted the fall of poets, princes, innocents.
Their hands—delicate arbiters of suffering—
wrote edicts that carved screams into walls.
Remember: cruelty is not a garment stitched by men alone.
It blooms wherever power dreams of itself
and drinks deep from the wells of mercy’s undoing.
I’ve seen the sphinx and pyramids
Climbed Kilimanjaro and Everest
Crossed the ocean in a raft, I did
So, which thrill was the best…
Lest you think I notch my belt
with each of these conquests
Sabbath meals with my family
are where I’m truly blessed
Obtuse abuse..rude platitudes shout..
About alternative attitudes..generations..
Scream at different altitudes & latitudes..
Venerate mandarins sins..
Generate pernicious vicissitudes
Vicious avaricious machinations..
Celebrate nations chagrin…
Pander to propaganda spin..
AI garlanded reputations..
Cohorts in suits cavort in cahoots..
Kiss or diss..the abyss
Hiss of mis-information bliss..
Arrests..capitalist corporate conquests...detests protest..
Well got egregious prior & previous..
SO
Whatever your hue or world view..
We know what's wrong..doesn't belong
Deliriously daring to dream of derring do..
The meme..prime time you probably knew..
The Force..of course..
Is also seriously strong in you..
Cinderella for a day
her pavlov dogs barking
Long shanks meant for the shining,
hairline conquests prevail
Antibiotics for a Queen
the white path of riddance
Stupor by Rules
Hysterical outcomes
The all Mighty Sun
is streaming
hoping for the fog
I receive just pure trust, love and no unbelief,
No abandonment, no fear,
No lies, stealing, nor slander
To defile hearts and hopes
Let all children believe, trust and love.
Care for them and make them secure for their conquests
Tell them The Truth, give them courage
Keep their hopes shining and hearts blessed.
Placed at the foot of the mountain
Thunderclaps and lightnings
Treasures buried in the zenith
A journey no man doth dare
One foot forwards, three feet back
Raging winds and biting frost
Coated in the smut of the snowy beasts
Bathed in the blood of conquests lost
Still he places each step forward
Relentless. Tenacious. Dexterous
Foot planted like the oak tree
Majestic in the dust of the enemy
With each step, he moves forward
Balls like steel, he refuses to yield
Drained of the blood of his humanity
Filled instead, with the guts of a billion men.
Still he moves. Each step forward.
Thunders like the neighs of a million horses
Cut with the edges of jagged winds
Covered in an avalanche of ice.
Yet he moves. Courageously.
Crawling like the desperate viper
Each step now like a plea to the heavens
Groans like a woman in labour
But he moves nevertheless
A shock to the distant stars
Making the sun shine in cheer
And the sky to dance in tears
Till he reaches the top.
One hand placed on the treasure.
A man, unknown, reaches the zenith.
Relentless. Tenacious. Victorious.
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