Long Feasible Poems
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It is time to change the gear
you are causing a mountain of fear
people are running to and fro
looking for a safe place to go
the cars are climbing slowly up the hill
and there is a traffic jam and I hope
that you can understand.
Nothing is coming and nothing is going
the heat is raging and everyone is complaining
meet me in the conference room at three
I have something important to tell thee
bring the team with you and you must
not leave until you tie up the loose ends
and transfer the lion out of the den.
Ego is flying from tree to tree absorbing my
innate energy we have wasted so much time
up and down the galaxy looking for that single
proof that water is on the roof the distance you
travel to merge day into night is over a million
miles and you repeat the pattern from time to time.
At the stroke of a pen you have shaken the world
with just one word you have broken the deal
spilling venom on the street, all the work that
was done in previous years has suddenly
disappeared in thin air
and we are right back where we begin.
What are you going to do?
are you going to let your pride falls
through the roof you have got to change
gears before the universe disappears, the
people are crying desperately over there
and there is no one to care.
Some things are just not feasible
for they create lots of evil
you have to make a lot of adjustment for them to
make sense, you are walking on thin line
and you must change gears to get it right
For what reason did you brought me here
when you have created so much fear
the damage is already done and destiny is on the run
It is not the time to brag and boast or indulge
In self-praise, make up a different agenda
some executive plans will not work
they will sink right into the earth
and leave some men without shirt
Take the meat off the bone
and make a call to the Vatican
in Rome you have got to get
everyone on the same page
Lest you wipe out the human race
You have to change the gears
and eliminate the factor that
is causing people to fear
Trade in all the stick-shift
and begin the negotiation at six.
Try not thinking back; when started, you can't stop.
The forlorn sticks may not forever show up for you.
Even so, your feet prepare their own certain flop.
Move, even of whether odd things tail your view.
You are lonely in the delightful emerald schism.
Lush lands bear their own specific rhythm.
Birds and brooks whistle their note to you.
Lawns like sage and sap cover the wood hue.
Their various tones get inserted through time.
It's feasible for the passes on to fall like lime.
At any rate, it can have the ability to regenerate.
The season changes from winter to spring trait.
The reusing forests at dusk are turning.
It'll transport you to a world of swing.
You are my purple dream
I am your yellow window
In between yet a fault line
Taking toll yours and mine
Both indeed feel sorry
I am the enigmatic dusk
You are my emerging dawn
In between still a night
Taking toll from both me and you
Both suffer from dearth of dew
I am your Darjeeling tea
You are my cut glass bowl
In between yet a fault line
Taking toll from our river
Our feasible flowers get fewer
We walk and share our sparrows
Green grass smiles in the meadow
There too falls the night-like shadow
We do want to shoo it away too
But the fault line is a difficult fence
The malt-robber fault line
Disappointment dwelling in the spine
_____________________________________________
26/11/2016
Before we get to the practice number three
A few words to reside in clarity
The triad or trika
Para, para-para & apara
Lowest the apara - we as in-form consciousness
Aligning with (para-para) Shakti to get to (Para) Shiva Oneness
Or we may say our journey from ignorance to luminescence
Relying upon energy as vibration in octaves of innocence
The path being pathless there being no coming or going
Yet awakening from amnesia by simply re-recognising
So no doing to be done erect without support
The Sushumna ignites vaporising the maya fort
Or we may say bypassing the Ida & Pingala
We cajole the Kundalini to ascend via Sushumna
Thus theoretically this practice is known
Yet execution feasible only when fear has flown
So what does the practice actually entail
How may we rudderless sail
Resting thoughts imaginal
As also theories conjectural
Our focus on Sushumna when breath ceases
Possibly is a childlike prayer that Shakti pleases
The practice also speaks of Samadhi like meditation
Which if enabled grips Sushumna in bliss elation
Which it always was & is
Though we were oblivious to its fizz
As such this practice is for those who are so qualified
Having partly awakened with lower mind vaporised
Epilogue:
The practice narrated
As stated
Yet it may be affirmed
Confirmed
That indeed the Sushumna is the rod of initiation
Luminous with radiant bliss throbbing in elation
Preceded by fusion of polarities in the Anahata
Whereupon bliss in permanence abides in the Sushumna
11-August-2020
Spring Equinox 2019 ™®©- çø!a
Wednesday, March 20, 2019
out of hibernation,
sans mancave, I will climb
specifically at 5:59 Post Meridiem
eastern standard time,
when calendrical, celestial,
and chronological prime
airy factors mark
onset of temperate clime
mitt, also coincides with
'super worm equinox moon,'
to this Earthling, would appear
no larger than a dime
though ironically enough,
said satellite of Earth
closest to this oblate spheroid
whatever esoteric tidbit may be worth,
yet unwittingly inviting once in a
blue cheese moon opportunity
to espy with naked eye lunar dearth
of life, nor feasible conditions
warrant sear ching colonizing ahoy
by an adventurous space cowboy,
but perhaps convenient
launch pad to employ
entrepreneurial minded profiteers,
whether Jewish or goy
establishing other worldly
getaway to enjoy
reprieve, asper burgeoning
hardy madding crowd
populating nearly every square inch,
sans third rock from the sun, a proud
arrogant, defiant, haughty,
et cetera species predominantly cloud
ding, glomming, mucking, et cetera
exploiting courtesy manifest destiny
bajillion year old planet as if endowed
by divine creator to trumpet "FAKE"
supremacy, tis not white in my mind
declaring might equals right unbowed
credo selfishly amassing untold wealth
ideally at expense and health
of every others by fiat, force and stealth
consigning subjects to slavery
in an effort to rule global commonwealth,
which self centered
aggrandizement that ball
(pockmarks most visible hall
of the moon tin king)
did not return my call
and thoroughly explains
without rhyme and reason
why what appears as face on lunar surface
actually migrants of Stonehenge vestial wall.
How do I escape my life of misery. Do I run away or do I hide away. None of my
choices seem feasible because where can I go to escape tradegy or how conceal
could I be so that no one can see me. How could I be like the great Houdini who
escape traps; as for I, How can I escape life. Or how could I be like the incredible
David Copperfield who eluded object making them invisible, so that ,no one can
notice me. All my notions are idealistic and not realistic, so the best thing to do is to
expire, that will do the trick. Therefore, making me the greatest illusionist and
escapist artist that ever been - to create more than illusion and to escape the
greatest escape... and that is cease to exist. That is how I will escape my life of
misery.
Incessant motion and constant innovation,
Are the defining features of our modern generation,
The hustle and bustle that drives our economy,
Also help us avoid the ghost of monotony.
But even the great God of all the nations,
After six days of His many creations,
Took time to rest on the seventh day,
As an example for the world to follow alway.
Six days you should labor is His command,
And rest on the seventh is His demand,
When this day of worship and rest we observe,
We give Father, Son, and Spirit the honor they deserve.
You may say that in today’s economy this is not feasible,
But I would point you to what Corona has shown is possible,
Our economies have almost ground to a halt,
Even though it is not due to our own fault.
Only businesses deemed to be a necessity,
Remain open during this global calamity,
Millions of people who were working before,
Are not gainfully employed anymore.
Businesses once thriving, their doors had to shutter,
Streets that were once buzzing with activity and human chatter,
Are now strangely silent and almost deserted,
And our busses and trains are no longer crowded.
Events long planned have been cancelled or postponed,
Our sports heroes can’t display the skills they have honed,
People once free to move when they wish,
Have been ordered to stay in and not be selfish.
And what is the reason, Oh, what is the cause,
Of this rare phenomenon of a world in pause?
It was ordered by our leaders and enacted by laws,
Designed to check the spread of Covid and close his devouring jaws.
So, when this nightmare is over, and things to normal return,
I hope we will trust God, and his law no more spurn,
By laboring six days and working because,
He said work for six days and on the seventh take a pause.
Don’t wait till world leaders enforce Sunday laws in disasters’ wake,
To convince us to rest for the environment’s sake,
God’s law will not change till the heavens the SON shall burst,
He said rest on the seventh and not on the first.
Moments become wet steppingstone
over a stream of consciousness.
At breakfast, a TV delivers omens
with a perky disposition.
Buttering grilled bread, distracted by normality,
slipping through the well-greased gears
of a self-made reality,
then a singing hint of burnt toast
ripples through suddenly aware
nostril hair.
What should you do today -
walk the mood off
or pray brother pray?
Will the monstrous appear,
its likeness --- cute and kittenish,
though even now
new velvet satanic horns
are already budding.
Will the fuzz and fur turn quickly
to scabs and scales?
Sinister left-handed slaps of hysteria
swipe the sweat from wrinkled foreheads.
In a room bereft of natural illumination,
a light on an open laptop is blinking,
imagination types a nightmare
on the underside of its blank screen.
Brains unchecked by reason,
swivel inside their bony portholes,
they search this way and that
for a more feasible fantasy
before this amorphous apprehension
emerges fully clothed
as an all too familiar
mirror image.
Quivering lowest limb
namely mine little feet
medication side effects
analogous running dead heat
most often while fast asleep
the missus claims thrashing feet
easily mistaken for epilepsy
disrupts her pleasant dreams
claiming legitimate grounds
for kickstarting divorce
bachelorhood amenable
versus her furious
expletive laced outbursts
crying out loud
further under_scoring, necessitating,
mandating, accentuating...
feasible solution for Pete sakes,
thus favoring me night owl schedule
mine circadian rhythm
easily reoriented,
reestablished, realigned
when she goes beddie bye boo
I feel unbounded energy reserves
bubbles forth courtesy microcosmic
La Brea tar pits interestingly enough
preserving fossilized traces,
when shut eye cycle
regarding yours truly
synchronized more optimally
with counterpart, which
vagary linkedin with
one or more
pharmacological prescriptions,
yet this mister loathe
to forego synthesized agent
that calm emotional provocateurs
particularly diminishing
frequency and intensity
formerly debilitating panic attack,
which vestige chronic anxiety
prevalent thank you sweaty hands
profuse dripping perspiration
during torpid heat waves,
where combination
central air conditioning/
(albeit malfunctioning)
doubles as warmth
generating source
one bedroom
apartment unit B44,
which aforementioned detail
lacks relevance in toe toe
with healing power of
selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors
cuz clinical depression
linkedin with diagnosis
constituting genetic package
biologically bequeathed
to this anonymous hominid
amazingly graced with
psychological ills affecting
academic and employment functionality,
hence lifetime struggle
to live hand to mouth
hardscrapple existence
plaguing dependents and spouse
dealing with mailer daemons
compromising her mental health
translated as without income,
therefore financial shortcomings
lured by castles in the air
pipedreams, a lottery winner,
I dream of genie - in a bottle...
which farfetched stroke of luck
less likely than
getting struck by lightning
with sunshine illuminating
man cave within
which scrivener scribbles away.
POTD 6 Mar 2020
Oh, where are those waves
of bygone days
that caressed and rocked
on hearing you cry?
‘Sleep little ship’ I'd murmur low
while ocean crooned her soft lullaby
Turbulent change wrought by tempestuous winds
Fresh cravings to taste the salted breeze
In foam and spray twixt the now lashing waves
Illusions waft to tempt and tease
Resounding thunder heralds a storm
Streaks of lightning split the skies
Your torch burning bright to take the helm
for selfish reasons my love denies
Indecisions vacillate crucial visions
cavernous chasms far withdrawn
The deeper I think the lower I sink
The wind howls forth a cry forlorn
No delusion with love ~ high the price
In this icy realm my resistance will take
a solicitous change of a Mother’s heart
Look not the shattered glass in your wake
The impulses of the over protective mother and keeping her child sheltered in a bubble away from the real world is just not feasible anymore. The ‘Breaking Point’ is, when she must weigh up her own feelings - either relinquishing her relationship with her offspring by forcing it to stay, or breaking her heart if she lets it go.
Ultimately, as in the ‘Story of Life’…. Love conquers all.
~Happy International Women's Day to those celebrating on Sunday 8th ~
POTD 6 Mar 2020