What is 'God'?

And what is ‘God’?,
When the word ‘God’ is there,
The God is not,
We conjure ,
that we are impure.
And must need someone else
To reach the other Shore.
So we take up a clothing,
A mask, and A huge Task
Rational and Pompous,
In Books ,On campus.

But the Scriptures Scream,
‘Neti,Neti’ ‘Not this,No this.’
Its not only the duality of Two,
That Scriptures point to .
They point to Sky Infinite
But we look at the finger,
And Block our view.
How do we see the infinite?
Despite of every Guide,
It’s a pointless point.
It’s a pathless ride.

And There is nothing to this
That is new,
We approach The One from Two
And The None from Many,
This is the limitation of words,
For a lot they conceal,
Than that they can reveal.
Yet we go to their fine refuge,
Our only ship,
Our only cruise.

Even when we are sayin
That ‘ Empty is this Pot’
This emptiness is still within,
The boundaries of The Thought,
But when the Pot itself is gone,
How can the Boundaries be born?.
This is the pure emptiness,
Empty within its own space.

So where is ‘God’?
Neither in forest,
Nor in the City,
Neither in Purush
Nor in Prakriti.
Neither in ‘this’
Nor in ‘that’
But in nothingness in between,
When the Thought is Not.
When the Pot is Not.

Listen! O ,Wise Friends,
Only If you really Care
Its accessible to everyone,
Yet Realized By The Rare.

Paintings on the sky.

On the blue hued canvas,
With spongy colors of gray and white,
Sometimes black too
Hiding the sun bright,
Suffusing colors many and swift
The paintings on the sky
The heaven’s gift.
Not caught in dimension
Nor static in time,
Following no rule
when they sprinkle
white cotton wool
Galloping shapes
Of thousand swans
Clouds are the colors
Clouds are pallets
When angels in sky
paint in heavenly dye.
In the night
They have added spots,
Those silvery sheep called stars
And their kind shepherd
Moon,Like Krishna in Vrindavan
Adding to the dark glory,
A new picture every night.
Such is ever fresh beauty
Of everyday's sky.That,
Michelangelo's multicolored dome
In all Pomp of the Rome ,
Human magnitude's epitome
Yet Looks like a firefly .
These paintings on sky.
Give enough proofs again.
That the magnificence,
Of nature’s art and class.
No man can ever surpass.

Death Escape.

Do not grieve O Mighty death,
From you If I escape
You have devoured many,
Let one flee your breath.
To every house
You must visit
That’s the rule
And it is writ.
But lets make a contract
If I worship you
When others ignore
You will spare me
When others you score.
Every day at your altar
I will keep flowers
Of my days engaged
So when the time shall come
You take them as mortgage
But unbind me
from your icy chains
as my ashes flow down
The Time's torrential rains.

Fine silk of universe

O fine silk of universe's string.
of what galaxy were you woven,
That thin shimmering silvery hair ,
Which garden did they find you?
Or did they melt million moons ,
And cast you in their finest moods,
and what do you do?
You allure the vibrations of universe,
And pass it on to the mortal world,
So we can hear what universe sings,
And in every moment ,joy it brings.
Your every arising in spacetime,
I will see.
just let me hear the music,
Wherever I be.

Two horses.

A silent forest
where my mind resides,
Two horses
Running in wild delight ,
Through crimson twilight
Either to each direction
Two rays bright ,
One to the Horizon of holy temples,
Guided by the star
Other to life's pleasures sublime,
Guided by the air
Bewildered I ,
as the dust dry.
Favour none,
No reign to pull.
Let everything go,
Where it wishes to.
I sit crossed legged,
Where the old man begged.
under the same tree.
Finally,to be free.

Mirror of 'Me'.

Landing from a shaky ship through life's lanes,
on the lonely island and its abandoned shore,
a crystal palace you see,from mankind's lore.
You watch the flight of a white falcon
and the grass that surrounds the crystal palace,
as the thick wind blows the grass bows...
and you walk into the palace of prose..
The silver walls and the ruby red carpets
whats this place and and what it harvests?
and in that wonder you see a big mirror...
eternally there , eternally here...
The Mirror of ego's spouse
the mirror of me ,me ,me...
the one you carry wherever you be.
you look into it and admire your face,
your youth, your beauty ,your fine dress.
And even if you are not in youth but old
You still see the stories you have told.
Young and old, you all love and admire ..
this mirror's reflections ,your life's fire...
This Mirror of 'Me' is only thing we see,
but do we ever think and ponder...
This mirror is but one thin plane...
lined with silver and mercury
and all that is vain?
It hides more than it reflects..
a whole world behind it that nobody takes..
what if we shatter the mirror of me me me
and see for once whats beyond this plane?
But man's hazy mind loves the mire more
of reflections ,we keep the score..
Yet if some crazy Man,
From Krishna's ,Christ's or Buddha's clan..
thinks about breaking this seducing plane
and take flight to other side..
like the white falcon into setting sun..
over the limitless horizon of spread ocean..
hurling deep into the new dimension..
behind this Mirror of 'Me'
that day ,we would also like to see,
May be then, we all could be Free!!
(Oh but you then carry on
with your own finest mirror of 'Me',
unless you see..until you be)

A Midsummer Night's dream

A Midsummer Night's dream
Now I know what it means
Vague face behind the mystic screen
Ending into violet fractals as Eyes scream

What IS this crazy dream
But a misplaced psychic stream
Alike in insanity, with wakefulness
my nights are divided I must confess

spiraling into the unknown pit
with saffron lizards creeping on twig
This dream is very dreamy indeed
I feel this is all that I need.

I chase you but I go in cyclic trail
You are eager but talking through a veil
Ah The background music falls like flakes
I can see them the yellow and bluish snakes.

These landscapes are so serene
My fears are also colored and rimmed.
I chase you again but you disappear
I am dragon fly looking for you forever.

the dream is on me like a magic spell
I cant get away though my eyes swell.
its not you not me but a psychic glance
into colorful shapes of mind's backyard.

(This is of course Shakespeare's title.but with all due Courtesy :) )

why shall I be hating you?

All I asked you People,
to show a little shame
and I said i would never
ever put on this blame

But people I forgot how
that Its just a game.
And whatever I do
you will still forget my name

With Mortals, this is nothing new
so why shall I be hating you?
-------------

You never even cared
when thousands were dead
all you did was to put
phony white bedsheets on bed.

oh but they are not white
cant you see the blood red
Oh I might chose to be silent
in my honesty instead.


The honesty is only a passing dew
But why shall I be hating you?
---------------

But dont know for what
I still sometimes cry,
You killed me alright
But at least tell me why

(or at least give some sign
that remorse is coming by)

so I have some reason for life
and let not the flesh dry.
and I had to say this now
for I am too hurt to be shy.

It is certain that this hurt will grew
still why shall I be hating you?

------------------




Pain will not pass like you said
The pain must remain there
For every tear I broke into
Must know theres someone who would care

I will make them all known
all the lies that you share
so to this shameless soul
there could be a honest nightmare

This nightmare you could never see through
along this curse I still wont be hating you.
-----------------------------------



For the sake of your Holy Name
that you put on your altar
when you find new insanity
good reason to take you far

Give us also a little recall
for we trusted the eastern star.
and If I vanish by myself
do you promise to end the war?

But You cant make a promise that is true
yet why shall I ever be hating you?
--------------------------------



when women were all fallen
and men were partner in crime
I still was looking for love
and never to give up this time

But You too fell for this
You shallow little heartless dime
You betray me for someone else
and I can only write worthless rhyme.

I know my rhymes are hurt and rude.
But I shall never be hating you.
-------------------------------------------



Oh you are you a (shallow) WOMAN.
may be thats your own burden
oh and the shame will surely come
as the universe takes out the curtain

But today you are so confident
your crimes will be hidden for certain
Its all just one Vanity cause
there is hell beyond every Eve's garden.

Woman,Your own proud youth is rotting too.
But I shall never be hating you.
----------------------------------------


I will be gone far away
Yes, as the time will unwind
Truth will be in my ashes
But 'The Real man' you can never find.

Ignore this but cosmos are alive
Burn will come as ancient laws bind.
But I will still forgive you
For you are the crazy crazy Mankind

your ship is already sinking with your crew.
Yes But I will never be hating you.

Nothing more to say.

When I was a kid ,
I lived amongst the stars
And found that which binds
Galaxies of universe also binds us
And We may not find the truth
But the truth always finds us.

And then I was the bird,
On the fence of an unknown garden
Stars were the harvest from heaven
And rains were true blessings
Truth was my silent friend
Without even telling me its name.

Then I had nothing to say
For I was not learned and proud,
Every cloud of thought that passed by
invariably mixed in the crowd.
Every moment was clear and new
Like the shinning crystal of morning dew.


Stars had mute feelings and So Did I,
So I just sat there gazing with an eager eye
Nights after nights passed
And there was nothing to be weary
Truth was my bedtime story
And Truth was my imagined fairy.

But I don’t remember when
did I sold my house in stars
and came back to divided grounds
to find dust on these artificial altars.
My old friend is hiding too in shame,
The silent one without any name.


Now I wish I could be that kid again
Who lived across the endless sky
With those sweet memories in heart
I stand here and I start to pray.
That soon there will be this day again
when I will have nothing more to say

Song : I will still walk across.

When the winds will be slackened
And clouds would be torn
The streams will be frozen
And emptiness in their hearts
I will still walk across
Through the sun dried grass.

When her songs will be mine
And mine would be hers
The skies will be gone
As our love departs
I will still walk across
Through the sun dried grass.

When the deserts would be dry
And Sun with sunken pride
The snakes would be hiding
Behind the abandoned carts
I will still walk across
Through the sun dried grass.

When Love is not in sight
And evening is heavy on tide.
And the spring will be gone
As the new night starts
I will still walk across
Through the sun dried grass.

Sunrise Sonnet (Shakespearean in iambic pentameter)

The lurking melody of morning mellowed flights.
And hustling of crickets on gritty grassy ground.
catches the stingy hoards of tricky lights.
as eastern barrack begets the scarlet round.

It Plucks darkness that troubled fasting skies.
And coiled taverns in waking earthen boils.
Seldom a smoke a rising house denies.
as farmers avid collect the fodder piles.


Beauty rinsed in early Morning dews .
Prickling sun beams that frivol flirting flowers.
A shinning Red now assumes glossy hues.
As Earthly pilgrim is baptized in Holy waters.


Sunrise makes such sights immensely Charming.
As Shadows of past are melting into this Burning.

(PS-Iambic pentameter A metrical pattern in poetry which consists of five iambic feet per line. (An iamb, or iambic foot, consists of one unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable.The shakespearean sonnet here has rhyming schemes as a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g. 14 lines divided into 3 stanzas of 4 lines each and ending in a rhyming couplet)

The Racial Device ( a free verse for the free mind)

(Humbly dedicated to the 'modern superstitions'
and the racists who are worth the Ridicule.
Though with a gentle heart ;))

The vanity of colored countenances ,
I do not know how!
But have butchered many dreams of our brethren.
From times that have been called Modern.

The first world ,then there is second
And then there is third!
The classes of colors and castles of uselessness,
Age old stupidity ‘colored’ with new spices.

The Houses that are white!
And the House That are black!
But None House here for man
And this filth that governs OUR clan.

Inside the unholy holies
Lies a spirit of Books that divide
Slowly poisoning the young minds to wars,
And every heart is scathe with scars

When the darkness falls over the human shadows
Even the darkest desires of men become invisible.
And in that Blank chapter of history
Many unspeakables are written in red.

I have seen many eager prophets,
No different than ordinary men,even worse
Because they have secret sanctions
For the sins that are of ‘divine force’.


But Mother doesn’t like a single child any special.
And The Earth is mother of all
And we are raised to same stories.
believe us,all mothers have same worries.

In the civilized men and women,Though.
I saw the hound dogs ,
Killing the law of truth for fun .
They have no idea what they have got.

On outside they are all smiling
And with books of justice of device
But Inside there is the proud devil
And the crooks and the malice.

Salvation is false story
Truth of your heavens is always gory
And the talks of oneness ,but mere talks
As long as this modern superstition walks.

As long as this coveted pride divides
Two brothers houses
There will be the slaughter of Mankind
And whichever side that wins
The loser is always The Man.

Journey to find the love.

The Journey to find the love,
I have started it many times,
My destinations have not come alive,
even though paths were lit with smiles

On the sublime shore of life ,
I have come along in a broken ship,
my wanderer is again to fly,
to the galaxies beyond this stream.

Every Path that I ever took,
had its own circle to break,
every day I ever won ,
Had its own pictures to take.

My Journey to find the love,
to the centre of every universe.
to defy all that is not love,
amongst this filling emptiness.

Sometime my journey talks to me,
and I recall my failures so far
I say this is not my destination ,
but a station amongst the stars.


I will keep on traveling,
till I am at the heart of Mankind ,
I have billion lands to cross
till I end my journey in silence.

which from what?

from Seed sprouts stalk;
from stalk ,the flower;

through flower the fruit and
through fruit ,seed is sought ;

then tell me in these things
which comes out from what ?

When this was sown that was born
would that be here when this is gone?

In this becoming there is no base
and without the base where is happiness?

And when that which is always IS is seen
then that which was becoming has never been.

yes I am free.

curling around the winds
of the cement laden scene,
rising above the smoke
of the early trains scream...
everyway I look around
I am always free....
yes I am free...

Parallel tracks that lead
to the gauges of daily machine
acid rains that smash into
sleepy morning side weed
everyway I look around
I am always free....
yes I am free...


Evenings that breed fatigue,
of lost day's unfulfilled greed,
fears that dont take along ,
the man's broken dream
everyway I look around
I am always free....
yes I am free...'

And I wont be all alone
on these newly founded roads,
you cannot make anything of
resentment and anger for me
everyway you look around
you are always free....
yes you are free...

Do you Know which mushrooms to ban?

When You dropped a Nuclear Bomb In Japan,
Even before my parents were born.
You still managed to break my heart.
O how could you win freedom like that?

and Do you know which mushrooms to ban?
and do you Know which smokes to ban?
and do you know which folks to ban.
Oh My friend of the white clan

When you barrel shot a woman in Afganistan,
even before I wrote this little song,
you still managed to break my heart
O how do you walked to skip that?

and Do you know which Mushrooms to Ban?
and do you Know which smokes to ban?
and do you know which folks to ban.
Oh My friend of the white clan

when you reddened the snow in moscow,
even before the spring wind could grow
you still managed to break my heart
O how could you pray to that ?

and Do you know which Mushrooms to Ban?
and do you Know which smokes to ban?
and do you know which folks to ban.
Oh My friend of the white clan

When You witched a kid in Nigerian land,
even before they learned to walk the sand.
you still managed to break my heart.
O how do you learned to spell that?

and Do you know which Mushrooms to Ban?
and do you Know which smokes to ban?
and do you know which folks to ban.
Oh My friend of the white clan

when you burned a house in Gujrat,
even before they could say the morning chant,
You still managed to break my heart
O how could you just switch like that ?

and Do you know which Mushrooms to ban?
and do you Know which smokes to ban?
and do you know which folks to ban.
Oh My friend of the white clan

Do you know Who is called the dope?
and Do you Know what is called the hope?
and Do you realize you tying it with a rope?
and Do you know we dont need your soap?


oh I wish I could just show them your plan.
and let you know which smokes to ban.
and let you know which folks to ban.
Oh My friend of the white clan.,

(P.S- the phrase 'white clan' in not used here in any racial sense.. it mostly means the people who dress up in white cloths...)

Consummation of souls.

The age old dilemma
between the woman and the man.
of two soul's disjoint,
of one wrongly sung song.

if truth is not sown
how truth that will reap?,
in the conflicts of choices
everyone ends with a weep.

she speaks many tongues
and he works many plans,
when ice for talks
turns into a clashes of clans.

the words that are jubilant,
dont stand the buds of time,
if it doesnt come from right
its only a written crime.

the balms are not many,
to flower and thorn's game,
and if both have not known,
who is it that to blame?

as they try to paint the graffiti,
of lies on temporary walls
a 'forever' of fleeting moments,
and those empty triggered calls.

oaths of giving up everything ,
and the temple of two veils,
when shattered are the foundations,
the house of packed paper fails,



But A time and again there is,
still hope in our days long,
that some day there be a flower
and that too without any thorns

Truely,when man meets a woman,
like the rain meets earth fulfilled.
and harvest is so abundant
that every soul is to be healed.

to that consummation of souls ,
we stand as a new light,
That shall be new heaven on earth,
Mankind, under the sun so bright.

Once from a certain Violet ship in motion,
fell one dim lamp out in the blue ocean.
Yellow on the high tide a glass slightly broken.
it went away and yet nobody noticed or was striken.
It had light enough to last for the night
It had fright enough to last for the life.
Lonesome , dangling it cut through the waters,
Its flame oozing of gentle tears of heavy past.
The smell of old oil and touch of old master.

Song for tommorow

Thats it for today your soul
has been cheaply sold
I will keep bringing in mine
until you have been told..

when your saviours will be dark
I will let you reveal the reel
But come on for the rim ragged now
Dont tell me How should I feel...


And when you will be reading your Books
I will snore at your door..
ah make it real quick I have
got summer mountains to own....

Snoring on your freshly bought white mats
I will give you a good reason to cry
And Once you will be all gone for tonight
I shall finally take out the sore eye.


And If your ever wonder on way
whos that man there speaking
ah I will sneak into your precious dream
and tell you what is cooking

But dont be so eagerly creepy
to waste your busy tortured lives
you think that this wont get you
but I already know of your lies.

smeared on the glass frames
are these lingering winds cries
oh be here tomorrow to call the crow
and sing a melody of deceased Prize.

Your lives are all shiny and elected
but mine is severe and yet to stand
let this be a remainder to all that is pride
of what has been built in slippery sand.

My purest abode.

In my purest abode ,
They speak with honest tongue,
ladden in colorless robes
are their figures ever young

Those sweetened heights of other worldy mountains
where images of men merry in earthly shadows.
the staircase flowered with tiny galaxies
and scattered with leaves of many colors.
spirals up into the tunnel of light
that leads the troubled souls away from dryness,
where ill conceited words have lost their stings,
where my own cocoon has got new wings.

where by the road the farmers till ,
till the stars are in harvest .
and those stars illuminated
have dotted wings in earnest.


there they abandoned all creeds ,
and they breed old seeds,
to a new stem of inflorescence
and is filled with unusual fragrance

There is no effort here,
purged of all mad trombones,
No struggle whatsoever
there is just love ,love and love.
An existence that has not mortal eyes met.
An elixir that no triviality can ever taste.

On left it goes up,
on right it goes down,
Breathing slowly ,no anomaly.
in center then they both meet,
there is untouched sword in it.

In my formless abode
there is nothing impure.
nothing that is mortal
nothing is unsure.

I will be darned mad,
if this be just a fad.
this is only one place,
I have had proof in space.

the lower seat of sword,
rise up through the fragile cord,
to the thousand petalled word ,
blessed blessed is my abode.

Night song For an Edi-yot of no importance.

She is an Edi-yot,
Tell you its a fact.
She thinks she is cool.
I tell you she is fool.


She runs a small shop
Her show is all flop,
A sheep is being sought
ha ha, she is an Edi-yot.

She has her all books,
and her gang is all crooks,
She will sell you lost pot
For she is an Edi-yot.

Trying to sell her goods
she and her gang of dudes.
Their hearts are black and rot.
But she is an Edi-yot.

A sheep without the wool
An ugly sad fool.
But she always says 'what?!'
ha ha ,She is an Edi-yot.

Now she will grow old,
what will be in her store?,
thinks her gang will get her cot,
ha ha, what an Edy-yot.

She will die an old fool,
rotten in her dead school.
a lonely depressed naught.
she is an Edi-yot.


But Boy you dont worry,
just sing this song in hurry
But Do not spare a thought,
ha ha,for she is an Edi-yot.

No meanness my boy,
she is just a toy.
just poor old cow,
she will know it somehow.

I hope you have got.
that She is an Edi-yot
She is an Edi-yot
ha ha.

Who Taught you to hate.

You were always a good daughter,
And always of good set
But tell me my girl,
Who taught you to hate.

When you were here ,
I saw you play,
And you were so happy
That I thought you would stay..
But you wanted to see,
Whats beyond the gate.
Now tell me my love,
Who taught you to hate.

You went into world
And all its politics,
You saw the art
And all its critics.
I tried to stop ya,
But the wheel wont abate.
Pray,tell me my sweetheart
Who taught you to hate.

The woods you have crossed
But what did you earn?
You r gone so far
That you don’t wanna return.
It still is okay,
For I am here to wait.
But once tell me my daughter
Who taught you to hate

Nothing

When deep Into the soul of nothingness,
A figure that is deprived of shape.

visible through a newly stitched time's lens,
danced to the random rhythms of silence

I heard the loud unheard sound.
It was deep and floated above ground.

But the air shook and the wind blew,
As the heart struck and the hurt grew.

When story of nothing was told by naught ,
I heard finally the music of thought.

Everything was clear after this done,
It was all just sweet sweet none.

Yellow Leaves.

Yellow leaves of autumn evening,
abandoned from their parent abode.
Fall slowly to the red ground,
like dreams of young men.

As they grow and follow the same motion
to dissolve into black ocean.
Of time of places lost
Leaves have no address now
Only the lost property of ground.

A lazy breeze sometimes though
Picks them up and up they go
To the heights of their previous lives
To see the greener leaves
and their replaced hives

A silent nod to clueless youth
A spiral then back to the booth
Of places; of inspirations lost.
This time never again to rise.

The Ballad of Magdalene.

I will tell you a story,forgotten long back in time.
Of one Man’s courage,Of many men’s crime.

She was a woman , her Name was Magdalene.
And She,like you or me, was not without a sin.

Hiding, It went well ;But She was caught in ‘act’
She was ashamed herself; as It was the fact.

But ancient Mob of men, enraged once again,
Was determined for Justice, with stone and stain.

‘Hark Ho’ ‘Hark Ho’ ‘stone that impure whore’
‘Sinner she is and only death is in her store.’

Bleeding with hurt she cried for her life,
As they watched ,The man and also the wife.

Some were Moved But argued Justice served right,
Some didn’t care n some silent in their own fright.

Just as then through the stirred crowd of men,
Stood THE MAN , unshakable as a mountain.

His Figure was robust; but eyes were eager,
He looked like a king, But robes of a beggar.

He walked towards her as the crowd watched in shock,
But He too was hit By one random hateful rock.

The color of his blood was same as hers,RED.
They didn’t see;But shouted ‘Blasphemy’ instead.

She looked into His eyes and she stopped her mourn,
The blood still dripped, But her fear was gone

He turned to the crowd now, with steady gaze.
His eyes were kind ,his face ablaze.

‘Behold,children!’ ;He said ,In firm fatherly tone ,
‘He who has not sinned, shall cast the first stone’

The ground shook ,and with silence grown,
Each stone fell down as if by on its own.

Thus was raging hate, turned into shame.
Of this great sin,everyone shared the blame.

Folks,Remember this story , Its only one of its Kind
The Man was Jesus,none like him could you find..

But when you walk in the world of Justice in vain ,
And see the enraged mob resurrected once again.

Forget not this story of one mercy and one sin,
For YOU are the Christ and YOU are Magdalene.

Truth Is star.

Truth triumphs like the pole star,

Unshakable and glued in the far,

As All other stars whirl around,

Only truth star is stable and sound.

When Sailors sailed in old days,

When Dark Ocean had many ways,

But pole star up on north horizon,

would guide their men and water-wagon.

Constellations are only second,

Pole star is fixed and reckoned.

By it, travel whole night,

The sun will be soon in sight.

So,In your darkness and low tide,

Let truth be your only guide.

Truth is ship and truth is station,

Truth is fixed in every direction.

Truth is refuge which wise approve

Truth is star which will never move.

Truth is Guide which never lies,

Truth is eternality which never dies.