Dreamy Eyed Race

Visions of Angels are not scarce,
for us,young dreamy eyed Race.
Some say that aint real ,
But what is real anyway?
Nothing is ,not even science,
If you can Contemplate the Quantum Play!

Where the electron spins,
In her own ideas of waves,
In the great Atomic Grace,
Not knowing who she is ,
Yet never the momentum cease

Such is our world ,
Of dreamy young eyed race,
Into the intergalactic space
Where we see our Angels Dancing,
In the starry cradle of dust ,
Where birth is, without lust

Born are our dark angels ,
From Supermassive Black holes,
That hang in emptiness ,
They must be laughing at you,
Who say order is due,
Who pomp in their reason ,
Caught in the rational prison,
Of rules ,structure,season

But Universe is Chaos ,a Haze,
A happy wobbling tear,
on the Angel’s face ,
And For our Dreamy eyed race ,
This is the only Holy bet!

The longing, ancient and eternal,
beyond poet's words,
beyond Philospher's boards,
Nothing to be done ,
Nothing can be done,
when water has evaporated ,
whats the use of the bowl?

whats the cause of the mysterious?
whats the source of it all,
this longing is not sadness,
for it is too sweet,
to be anything that uncouth ,
its distilled sorrow,
pure in its lineage of fogs,
of centuries ,
That stir a soft man's heart
Man who longs for the secrets,
not for any desired effects
But for that uncontrolled pulse,
to drink life at one go!

But then this unfinished journey ,
both bitter and sweet ,
maddening and wisening,
resurrecting and damning,
murdering and saving ,
is still My most prized possesion

That supernatural has installed in me,
this eternal blood ,
that dries not,
nor does it clot.
So kind the supernatural to me
That I seek not kindness
nor a fairness ,
anywhere else .
In the ordinary world,
of ordinary people,
Let them come and be unkind,
Not a muscle I will stir
i will just rejoice in the longings,
Mysterious,ancient ,eternal!

sweet sadness

what soft burdens of this heavy Plight,
That in this sweet sadness I delight ,
morrow be when the duty calls ,
let me just die again tonight !

Upon Thy bosom let me play,
Upon thy lips let me stay,
let me drink to thine eyes,
lest I burn and you the flame

If I cant prosper in sunshine,
of that beauty ,innocence thine,
then let me atleast be a refuge ,
in shadow of your unseen smile

Young men

When Young men vanish silently,
what misfortunes could those be,
Men like Lions ,strong and pure,
Yet alone always ,
what do they endure?
when women chasing them,
yet in their full beauty,
they turn away,
what Hurt that must be?
what makes them Happy ?
what love they seek?
what dreams they dream?

The ordinary world Knows not ,
This sorrow ,nothing personal ,
This madness not of impressions ,
who can stand by those ?
who dares float the forest fire?
who acknowldges a silent desire?
None.

The world has business,
thousand things,useless,
but their hearts empty
how will they hear,
songs of those
who disappear,

But the rare Kind walk alone ,
like an untouched stone,
rolling into great rivers,
never seen,never heard ,
they travel to the ocean,
till the end of this Holy life ,
But sadness never touches them?
who knows and who has the care !
for those who vanish into thick air

Orisons

We live in a world ,
strange yet straight .
Where drowning silences,
open the heaven's gate .

And Man' shadow ,
on the yellow streets
asks for forgiveness,
in maddening feats

-And yet Hope,
The mother of all .
Blesses our nights
with holy scroll.

That Man may become
what he pleases to be ,
whence fear is absent
and love is free!



where the songs of sorrow ,
never absent nor tired
but despair no more ,
in sublime desires .

where wind brings joy,
of autumn and spring .
and music mirrors the mire,
of every little thing

There may reach ,
my purified orisons ,
In God's lap ,
beyond tranquil horizons.

I am defeated !

I am defeated ; O lord Defeated,
and its such a joy ;
to find yourself to be nobody,
defeated ,so utterly vanquished,
conqured by everything else,
the self gave up,
quiting everthing ,
In the land of Conquistadors
I am a great quitter .
I lost the great game of self,
I lost the great shame of self,
now there is only taste of nothingness,
The great song of silence,
No winning anymore,
I am forever defeated,
the thousand insects,
greater than me,
I am the lowest of the low,
less important than dried leaves,
than blades of grass,
than evaporating dew,
than dust by the roadside,

desire to win took me,
in her warm fiery embrace,
and tossed me like a poor lamb,
into the slaughter house,
that i created birth after birth,
with the great defeat,
i lost that desire too,
now who slaughters what?
can you ever slaughter the dust?
Nobody does,nobody can,
No more a lion nor a lamb.
totally useless to every efficiency,
i sit by the shade,defeated.
no ambitions,
no places to go
but to remain there,
where I always was ,
winning took me away,
from my original defeat,
being lost brought me back,
I am defeated ,defeated,
O lord ,now only joy enjoys the joy.

what I have become?(song)

What I have become ?
was never something ,
That I would have known.
What song I have sung?
was never something ,
That I could have undone.

Now It is gone,
Ohh It is Gone,
So far far away,
I hear It is Gone.

What I have seen?
was nothing that,
could ever else been.
What I have loved?
was nothing something,
I could have controlled.


Now It is gone,
Ohh It is Gone,
So far far away,
I hear It is Gone.

Her voice is so low,
I caaant even
recognize her anymore,
Only the shade of her eyes,
is all that I can
recall tonight.

Now It is gone,
Ohh It is Gone,
So far far away,
I hear It is Gone.

The Billion here are in Impossible chase,
few shout justice,few shout grace,
few family, few friends ,
few are deep in their grave,
few are still digging it
what do I chase when I have nothing to catch?
What do they chase?They have a clue?,

And what was my face,
when I was not in chase?
I know not and I care Not,
I am not the reverse of the ordinary,
I am not the same ,
I have nothing to know,
Nowhere to Go,
walking in the ocean ;I am dry.
drowning in the desert;I am wet,
Time and space,are an old farce,
I play not the game with same rules,
this moment is the ship,
in endless ocean.

Deception is the rule,
For both Good and Bad,
Nothing remains stable ,
nothing simultaneous,
I hear these colors,
and see the sound,.
Bcauses neither is there,
upon this ground.

I laugh ,I weep.
For the same thing,
which is different than everything,
yet is not nothing.
not found in any chase,
slow or fast,
noble or evil,
selfish or selfless,
simple or complex

How do I tell you what I seek?
How do I tell you what I chase?
The Moment I tell you,
I chase it nomore.

Chapter 1: Is an Overture . Comes in visual style might make a little sense but is just creating one single picture .Its somewhere between late night and Dawn.Introducing the Triangles.


Chapter 2: Its an origin of Universe .Written in Vedic hymn meter .Discusses or rather visualizes theories of origin of universe,Especially from the Big bang and Buddhist \Hindu cosmology .Again formed of dispersed Images.Macroplasm ,soup.Cadence.cadence.

Chapter 3: It’s a free verse about synthesis of Civilzations .Journey of man from jungle animal to a civilized animal.

Chapter 4: Is about Man’s Greed and Industrialization , and conquest and Heroism .

Chapter 5:Discusses love,war and peace,religion.

chpter 7:final hope.

Triangles.

Part 1:
The Night

I saw Triangles of Light,
Obscure in their Geometry ,
Obscure in their axioms,
Piercing through the window,
Abusing the Nights Charm,
Through the leaves of baked trees,
Piercing Into eyes.

Room full of Triangles ,
Fusing into each other ,
Like maddened squids,
of three tentacles each
Growing in their reach,
to distort everything.

In early Morning sickness,
images of Uneven proportions
screeching ,belching in ears,
jellificating gray neurons ,
as skeletons turn into ashes ,
and stars turn into rashes.

These Triangles strangle,
everything in their infatuation,
Like Giant Statues
Crushing everything with their shadows
At the most Inauspicious
time of the night ,

when chakra towers ,
of 3 and half coils
turn everything into messy fluid,
the semen ,the blood,the saliva
acidic pancreas bursting out,
when skulls suck the skies ,

These evil Triangles,
concordant and Arid,
Organic yet lifeless ,
Dehydrated with ammonia,
coming in through tubes.

These Triangles snatch and Take hold,
Of entire struggle of soul,
As fingers try to escape,
from light-year long Gutter hole,
Into the yet Unborn pieces of madness
Flashback.

Chapter 2
The Origins
when original smooth,luminous ether,
Froze to pallets of life,
in an organic ocean,
visions of eukaryotes,
to the great Gods of creation,
In busy factories,
made of a furnace of bearded stars,
Now life is created ,
In a mist of million years,
as vapours of nursery ,
turbulate ,circulate ,assimilate,
the blood of the beginning ,






chapter 6:
And To the parallel Lines,
Of energy crossing over the hills,
In erect masculine towers ,
With Gigabytes of insanity,
Fed daily to slaughter houses

Energy fed Triangles ,
By the damp rail yards ,
Where the Hungry tracks,
Gather by the blasted Crows
Where the greasy river flows

As painted feces and Faces,
Decorate a democracy ,
With Thousand unborn colors
Rising symphonies in Nail polish acetone
Celebrating their federation

The Young ogres
Taking Delight in pages and Pages,
Of Rotten ,mutilated Corpses .
In rhythmic pulses of liaisons,
Every moment.


The Prophetic gizmo Boys,
And Their Dirty Girlfriends
Video Game Visionaries ,
Shooting the naked children
From a rising chopper for fun.
As justice poops out
of Their fatty splashed doors.

In the barter temples ,
Seeding the snake crops,
Embroidered by Plastic bags ,
And the pulp of broken Glass
The Triangles whoop and play,


Three sided Nuclear Joker ,
In chain reactions ,They intermingle.
Blessed Triangles upon Blessed people,
Then The triangles swim ,
In concentrated aspirin.

In smoky movie theaters ,
Horizons shrink to pus,
An accidence of mere Ideas,
Vulgar, obscene, passionate, Bizarre ,
In coffee House by inverted Bats .

Rants of self declared saviors
and ugly feminine freaks,
With spoiled milk oozing out ,
Of their tasteless bosoms,
Reconstructing their frozen fathers
in distant idiotic images.

The Triangles Triumph and stay

Chapter 4:
Alexander ,Ceaser,Atilla,Chengiz Khan,
Stories of Heros and Naked clans,
Rape the women,squash the enemy,
Put sticks in holes of conquered bodies,


Chapter 7:
Music,Music,Music,
Outside of the moving window,
As wind touches the blades,
Of shy,glossy grasses
To the left ,Masses
Mass of Masses sloping down,
Maddened Masses
Glorious Masses
Orchestral masses
Harmonic masses
On a Grand stage,
A trillion tongues
Shouts of Moye ,Moye,moye.
In the Oil rain ,In Nuclear train,
In Violet Pain,In rusted shame.
Its Finale.Final Hope.
Thus The Vision of Triangles,
In supra-optic nerve ,
Transcends now to the Final word.
(incomplete)

Tune of Moon

Tune of Moon
in the populace of a herd,
reverberating
by their naked bodies,
bouncing back ,
a distorted reflection
in tents
of pressure waves
it dissolves into
the atoms of Moon
From where it came at first,
now nullified
it returns,
crossing the land of Gandharvas,
The Tune of Moon,
Like a sword of thin leaves,
fuses with its womb.

Tired man's bowl.

A tired man's Bowl,
Full of dust ,
coming of waves ,
Incessant crest,
of His passionate waste .

From door to door,
tree to tree,
like a sage he moves,
A sage who knows too much.
But the passions yet unburnt .

the tapering leaves,
Moon peaks through ,
Mercurial ,silvery flash.
Into the tired mans bowl
is now a haunting scroll.

Man's desires

I will let you a secret,
of man desires,

He desires of what he is
most afraid of,
unlike women
who desire
what they are most tuned with,

A man desires ,
Lust in his renunciation
Renunciation in his lust,
He looks for stars in dust
and dust in Stars.


Cursed forever,
he wanders in robes,ropes,
Saffron,yellow,white,
afraid of his own desires.
Running away,
from the distant hopes.

Ocean of Misery

I was looking for peace,
as a Shrouded shrimp,
In this Ocean of Misery,
Samsara.
In all its eight corners,
with my proud horses running,
In purity ,In beauty,
upon all those abstract tiles,
But It was not so simple,
May be I was too complex,
for this simplicity of Peace,
May Be I still am,
The same shrimp,
In his shame ,sanity and shackles.
And the same samsara,
vanishes not.
Like a Nightmare ,
at which you look in desperation,
Hoping it gets over,
Just Like a Hooked dove,
tired of all the struggles
Looking for silence and peace,
The Final Peace.
But the Ocean is too vast,
Even for my long past.
I found it not in her bosom,
where I hide many times,
Nor in melody ,
Nor in Rhythm.
Or rhyme,this or that.
I know not when it ends,
I know not how it ends,
I know not why it ends,
I just hope,
It ends.

It

IT cannot be heard
Because there is vast vacuum
between two ears
two Yonis
of billion light years

These images
they are largely active
from flames of fleeting furnace
of the annihilation
of two.

Between the eyebrows,
comes the Sun,
Engulfs everything,
This or that.

beyond everything...

I was always beyond everything,
Like a slow wave of time,
beyond the dark ocean of space,
Half particle,
Half wave.
Nothing changed
even after so much of change,
So that every blue leaf,
Out of life,
now looks strange.

yet I was beyond and beyond,
Of every three-fold Bond,
Of life,
Of love,
Of death.
For I was never born ,
here nor there.
Neither shall I die
here nor there.
Canvas I was,
For triple point,
and Phase.
Like water ,
turning its color,
to light,
Light like faint violet,
On which
every flower is synthesized.
like troubled birth of beings,
Luminous like a starball,
That whom we call men,
floating as Hungry Ghosts,
to descent upon the Glue
of life
the organic soup
From which
A thousand tentacle emerge
of darkness ,whiteness

Yet I was aloof,
all that time
when Monkeys were walking
and the tail shrinked
a Billion years ahead
to the year zero
of start of beings
oscillating to and fro
in thousand such
aeons.
I was aloof
I was beyond everything
ever,always.never.

who cares anymore?
if the words make sense,
who hears anymore?
what birds may lend ,
This was not supposed to be here
nor you,
But we both are,
so what do you say?
were you beyond me?
when I was beyond everything?
Can you see these layers?
that condense
upon every moment of moist
a cold thin droplet
onion peels,
to strong
and suffocating
the very meaning of life,

I see what you cannot
Thats why
I say what you cannot.

Tears of Moon

Stars are the tears of Moon ,
sprinkled on silent cushion of darkness ,
as he Mourns upon the sorry state of Mankind below.
Yet this sorrow is so Noble
that these tears do not evaporate
but twinkle beautifully in hope ...
hope for the Mankind remains
as long as the stars twinkle in Night sky...

These stars smirk back at us,
Now detached from Moon's silvery sorrow ,
Its a strange mixture of despair and hope,
I see this irony every night,
In my solitude's delight .
This Eternal game of damnation and salvation,
floating on the empty canvas of sky,
when did It start ?
where does it end ?
I do not know.
I just take part in it tonight.

I put aside myself

I put aside myself ,
A burden I carried way too long,
I dissolve my hatred,
My envy ,My desire,
I denounce my place,
My race,
My face .
I forgive the past,
I renounce everyone.

I renounce every dream,
I ever had or might have,
I let them sublimate ,
Through my memory neurons
All of them,
My lovers of past ,
The one illusion ,
Of care and path,

None to hold hands.

I have lost my hands,
I cant pick up anything,
My skull has burnt,
The remaining house,
I care not for your love,
Nor mine.
The old tricks don’t work,
And I have no fire to invent new,
My frame is out of its fuel
A stuffed past,
It was Never important

All my wars are over,
My fight vanished ,
My ambitions vanquished,
My hopes abandoned.

But to really say,
I have renounced nothing,
And I never can,
I cannot defy,
what I cant define
For what was mine ,
Is never mine
And what is mine
Will never be mine.


None to blame,
No complain,
No stance in life,
I am nothing.

I must go,
And so should you,
But when it comes to going
I am not in same place as you..

I need not a partner,
Here or after,
Not a soul to please,
Not a soul to preach.
Or to make plans,
Of togetherness .

I still have a kindness in my heart,
The only thing that remains,
I don’t know what it is,
But I might put it to some use
Before the ash vanishes too.

I am not a tortured thing,
Not to be pitied ,
I am in peace with vacuum,
Purged of all torments,
Without any regrets
I put aside myself,
all my envy and shame
As it was never there.

will you just sit with me?

Will you sit with me on open Grounds?
On a simple night ,nothing special,
The wind not too fast nor too slow,
Everything just ordinary ,
We have nothing to achieve tonight,
No desire to desire,
Nothing to prove,
No past to mourn,
No future to rejoice,
The present vanishes too.
Whats the use of time to us?
When we are not in hurry
We just sit
Look at the stars
Metaphors we see many
But utter none
We judge nothing,
No complications,
No emotions,
No journeys to make,
No paths to take,
No philosophies,
No books,
No wits,
No languages,
You ask me not
‘why are you silent?’
Neither do I give a reason
For our silent reunion.
For we were like this once
Silent and simple,
When nothing was there,
To worry or to protect
Once again tonight
We are Just being THAT,
In the suchness of it,
You and me.
Will you just with me?