You're in everything,
Thoughts, dreams, In rivers and streams,
I can't escape you.
Somewhere
In a cave
She sits
Carbon stained fingers
Drawing
A poem
Disproportioned figures
Dancing
As a moon
Rises
Over arched
Stones
A dank cavern
Unlit torches on the walls
Some light easier than others
You bring a compass
Drawing you through the inky darkness
You sense little with just yourself
Armed with recognition
of the ground
of yourself
Most compasses grow obsolete
As you find more than they can point you to
Man suffers in life
because he takes
so seriously, what
the gods created
for fun.
He's entangled in
his own carnal desires,
which keeps him in bondage,
unable to progress his soul.
Life is a merry go round
and earth is the playground.
Where man can be amused by
his carnal desires, achievements,
enjoyment, social status
and his ego.
Man became a lover
and slave to these things.
Which brought upon
himself, his own greed
and suffering.
Forgetting where he came from,
how he got here, and
where to go after his
game is over.
Man must be stripped
from his name, career,
possessions, and his personality
in order to find his individuality.
Without ever knowing this,
he will always be the cause
of his own suffering.
He must detach from
his mortal self and return
formless back to the light,
from which he came from.
Averse to noisy thought flow din,
we close our eyes and look within,
searching for our soul to feel whole,
to be the light scriptures extol,
laudable yet desire subtle
does from the start, our quest scuttle,
for we need to negate doership,
merging with God, in pure worship,
shifting thus our entire approach,
free from ego, beyond reproach,
becoming a formless presence;
hologram of God's bliss essence.
19-September-2022
Become formless, like the wind in-between the branches that form a tree.
Where no two patterns are alike to becoming completely free.
Learn the language of human, where they can't instill their projections onto thee.
Where they are second guessing if they can try to control or manipulate he or she.
Become formless, like the waves in water in the sea.
Where no two waves are the same, like lines in ice when water starts to freeze.
Study the patterns of life and all of its entirety.
It may get lonely at times but that is why they invented diaries.
Become formless, like a flock of birds flying in a straight line, free-for-all or horizontally.
To get through this thing called life, with its certain beauties and everlasting monstrosities.
To the young, Time is growing
and achievement...to the old,
it is comforting and survival;
to God, perhaps, reconciliation,
an opportunity to show His
Grace and far Greater Love.
For me, it is where I float
my poetry, having put my all
into the buoyancy and power
of words; the indefatigable
currents of phrases imagined,
once beyond the horizon, dipping
into the formless deep....
Deludedly believing that we are the limited mind body, our responses on a moment to moment basis are narrow and self serving. On the other hand, spiritual insights during meditation as well as spontaneous wisdom downloads, reveal the expanded, self luminous and blissful innate nature of our consciousness.
higher and lower
aspects of our awareness
stillness and chaos
02-November-2020
Is beauty connected,
or to a vacuum condemned
Is truth then required,
for it to enter within
Can beauty be measured,
by the heart or the mind
Can it chase, or displace, or replace
what it finds
If beauty is truth,
let all reason be shown
Why judgment and logic,
to our hearts stay unknown
As semantics untangle,
and the linguists all kneel
The question stays formless
—to astound and congeal
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)
When I peer through the windows of my eyes,
so desperately I want to know who I am.
What is the cause of my being?
At times I feel formless and empty,
a collection of memories. Maybe,
no more than arising from an idea.
Here existing in this moment with you.
Life bursts into being out of the timeless pool of the void,
the uncreated, like bubbles - bursting into life,
time and time again.
Disillusioned self-empowered battling ego's, all suffering,
and, all pass through time and space.
Is it society that guides the individual,
Or the power of some ubiquitous force?
Immaterial – formless;
the imbued by Spirit
and body is more!
That patterns determine
rain, snail and flower
and more by zero
but most by Soul!
And innumerable
Infinities that come
and go!
:: 08-17-2017 ::
Each form is a form of His form
Both form and formless are His norm
He chooses form as well formless, to get you to reform
He yields to a form even when a form gets deform
With such creation of forms, He does perform
With such ease, one may design Him in free-form
With various forms, He upholds a message to inform
With all such forms, His form is uniform
He is the only One to have the omniform
Though He is also of multiform
To realize Him, all religions are platform
Fact can be realized with a brainstorm
He cares for each being, even smaller than a tiny worm
To drive you towards formless, He takes form like cruciform
He is the form of formless, ultimately one may conform
From form to formless is the ultimate, one may transform!
NOTES: the state or quality of having every form. — omniform, adj.
Characterized by an unconventional or variable form: their own freeform teaching methods.
Cruciform = Shaped like a cross; cruciate.
Above poem is adapted from the eBook “ENOUGH TO FLY AND PLAY AND A COLLECTION OF POEMS” by Mr.V.MUTHU MANICKAM. Copyrights reserved.
Sleeping giant,formless,not yet born,
You will awaken as poison.
Rising up from retention ponds,
Dragonflies with nephilim wings.
Writing prophecies on liquid scrolls,
Your iridescent words we'll eat.
The fire,raining down to earth,
Feeding the mandrakes, of old eden.
Formless is a feeling
If you wish to spread
Spread yourself
In the star studded sky
In the lush greenery of valley
In the deafening silence of forest
In the roaring sound of sea
My friend, I tell you
Formless is a feeling
You are blessed with a form to do.
What is form for the formless,
when Apollo is gone and dead,
and no God, can have revival?
What is form for the formless,
If the happy stranger drugs the mind,
and the seeker only seeks a fix?
What is form for the formless,
If nothing be original, but chaos itself,
to reject the modern fix,
by rejecting the present.
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