chakras hitherto ignored now pulsate
all polarised nodes wish to merge with source
manner of change varies as does blink rate
all accomplished without the use of force
kundalini being our sole resource
that as subject and object become one
all we are aware of is bliss beat’s hum
This place —cold and famished,
abandoned —
Recalling issues of broken mortars
And mildewed, hinge-leaning pestles . . .
Desiccated and forlorn,
Like a lychgate in a church of battle,
This place reeks of unholiness, with the
Spring of wild, rioting grass, invading
Where we hitherto gathered and sat the
Setting sun out of the wilting clouds.
Fragile fraternity hangs on the decaying soot
Of fireplace metal basket, rusty and time-dispersed.
The unknown saw has gnawed mightily
At our sacred trees and our shrines have crumbled;
Broken doors and lintels devoured by wood ants
Raise questions about wood dust lodging at
Our lungs.
There’s cold serenity here, my kinsman —
And a rift of dismemberment.
Even when in dream
And all the more
Life be not what it seem
But lo, a revolving door
And we step thro’ without knowing
What awaits the other side
A silent horizon; a twilight glowing—
Or a teary long-distance call—
That lets us know,
A dear friend has died.
And the tears we cried as we’d decide
They are better off, now the pain is gone,
Or fool our own selfish desire
To have them yet by your side,
To laugh as we once laughed,
And cry as we once cried.
To fold ourselves within each others lives,
And giveth a hope that beyond all, love survives—
Death and every end we perceive;
The sun setting in a bitter eve,
From which, we lift our heads from the drowning dread
And lay ourself down to bed,
With the memories that brought us the most joys;
The golden years when we fought over toys
And relented in “sorries” said,
The best of best friends,
And to the later love we were led.
Let love transcend—
Let sorrow say it’s last goodbyes,
We’ll always have yesterday
Till alas,
Our ancient flower,
Our destiny—
Blooms and hitherto dies.
(and gods little bee, with pollen, flies)
INTO THE ELEMENTAL-:-
formal
excellent
style
united
unshakeable
yet LOOSENING THE REINS
expressing
artistic
visions
in
defiance
with a SHIFT OF EKPHRASIS
jointly
equally
honoured
hitherto
distinctive
I am here..To rip up any carefully concocted notions.' To stamp on obcenitys' and dis-abuse all and
Sundry of sepia toned views, of
Disgusting historical humans who
Have been hitherto venerated as
Almost God.? If not as replacements'
Indeed I will rip the rose tinted glasses
From your very noses ' And trample on
Your toes'es.' In order to wake you up.'
As indeed all heaven knows'es.)
And thats just for starters'
So help me God.!
an idea was born
So we are at the beginning, green ackers
yellow sand , blue sea, all in festive
bright colors except for the rest of a cloud
drifting about looking misplaced
The evening glides into night, but when
morning arrives two body awakes under
a tree, they are the last specimens and
hitherto the best work done by a hand
unknown; that as we later shall hear of
by it its demand to be worship
So, what happened to the less perfect
where they left to populate the imperfect
Eyeing forward the sky
Eclectic, unending, space fly
Moon reflecting, antennae, sky-high
Hitherto' I yield, ensemble quietness
Silent my eyes, motionless
Peaceful musings in my mind bless
It quiets me
A place, I let no other enter free
Not a solitary soul to be
My place. My space
My quietness, embrace
It is there inside, I laze
To call upon when
I wake from blurring dream zen
In midnight room den
Resembling to find serenity
Sense of harmony
My peace and tranquility
To soul’s discourse when we deal well,
Wounds of heart hitherto heal well.
Let whole world see no good in you,
Clouds once clear, sun-moon reveal well.
______________________
Epigram | 03.08.2025 | self, heart, clouds, sun
Note: Apart from being a Muktak, this could well be the first two couplets of a ghazal.
NOW THAT WE ARE AWAKE
Now that we are awake –
We had all the long while
Been in deep dreamless slumber
And while we were still
Still slumbering in our
Unreal bed of red roses
They planned, practised and projected
What “tomorrow” would likely bring
Now that we have realized with pain
That the “tomorrow” we failed to plan for
Has changed herself to “today”
We watch with mouth agape
As their deep buried conduit pipes
In our land of milk and honey
Drain the natural resources
That had sustained our life hitherto
Shall we fold our arms, do nothing or
Jump on the mass exodus bandwagon
While they milk our land dry?
Can we by this endless wailing
And tearful row and retorts
Within and outside our shores
Free our land, our people
From their firm and hurting grip?
Can we by mere declaration of innocence
Wish away the doom that looms?
Now that we are awake
Let’s answer these questions sincerely
As we continue to search for freedom.
In the mind of a poet on days when his muse is uninspiring
In the smile of great-grandma as her wrinkled hands hold her great-grandbaby
In the thoughts of a philosopher when he ponders on the intricacies of life
In the eyes of a farmer when his soil yields good crops after days of toil
In the silent prayer of a devotee as he stands before his Lord with eyes closed
In the sweet cuddle of a pet when he sees his master after a long time
In the tears of a mom when she meets her son after several years
In the void, hitherto unfilled, in the hearts of distant soulmates
In every single bud of thought that blooms in a mute’s mind in his lifetime
The diabetes Fraud
On Der Spiegel today I read that a solution to diabetes had been discovered, the article showed a serious medical staff breaking out
In jubilation, followed by happy patients
The reason it was not made official was because the big pharma would shut it down
Hang on!
I remember having read the same article 5 years ago about a rare plant in Peru that in powder and taken before bed would cure Diabetes
A spoonful of this stuff a day will surely keep Doctors away
The rare plant from a hidden valley in Peru now
In liquid form are costly, but what the heck
A diabetic is willing to pay any price to be able
To be cured right?
You will hitherto be slim and handsome again Full of energy vigorously march forward to new life, thanks to a flower in Peru
Such a fraud, the slimming of your bank account, you have been had when the blood sugar is too high and it is back to insulin again
First things first, we enter the void of vast space,
deep within the cave of our heart to discern
truth of our self, discarding crutch of belief …
free from fear and doubt.
Dropping mind, we navigate magnetic fields
pulsating in funnels within feeble form,
hitherto unknown to us, enlivening …
fabric of our soul.
God’s light that lights all lights then pervades each cell
in organic decaying body which we
ensoul for the duration our life breath flows …
darkness is banished.
The eagle has landed.
A very electric man who has vast riches
has hitherto behaved as your next-door neighbor
he might think he is that neighbor
He is not an eagle sits on top of a tree, on branches further
down lesser birds that fly in formation
the eagle flies alone and harbors a loathing for
ducks and gees
He knows argumentative crows can be bother
some leave a trail open for them, a path that he can pretend
to join when a hunt does not disturb the eagle's instinct
This is, if we like it or not, the way the nature someone is doomed
to be the leader to keep the rabbits in check,
less they should demand equity
Lord, it is dark inside and darker out,
and black thunderous rainstorms thunder by
blessing the tiller, the grower in drought
but Lord, not all that rages is the sky.
Behold, I am drowning but not yet drowned,
an ordinary man and nothing more
on a quest to find hitherto unfound
the heat of passion that begins the thaw.
In the sum of all hurt this I must bear -
that I too have known the seasons of drought,
and washed am I in a cold bath of fear
by life’s flood of tears and love’s well of doubt.
Still the ground I till lays fallow and torn
but for the pricking briar and piercing thorn.
Written: July 1997
Ploddingly it took the form
Of some dispassionate melody
Our wailing voices at crescendo
For our undying we mourn
With care they traipsed the deck
A mass of notions in mind
Did ten artlessly disappear
or were held by the Atlantic's inside?
Still we stood and tried to inform
Searchers of our malady
That we living men hitherto
can presently not be seen
Still we stand on Mary's deck
To us the world is blind
As they neither see nor hear
our gestures nor our cries
Not all can be explained
Not all can we fathom
Some presences can't be felt
like the eight in seventy two
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