Time has come

Time has come to sail over windows;
of cold dead unshaken nights
To deny sunrises and sunsets ;
to not wait for that motherly or fatherly affection
which was once promised to us
But to jump into the endless oceans of sense-madness
Alone ,Naked and with nothing to carry but fire and
 glowing, fiery storms in hearts
to evaporate the incessant vulgarity of life
to deny places and faces that insult our spirits
to deny words and jobs that insult our souls.
To fly over the city walls with horses
that carry not the burdens of our past
to deny birth ,death and all that comes with it.

Who were these common folks ,
But Grassblades in Winterwinds
Masked in learned jokes ,
Never knowing what life is .
Why look down upon these children of misfortune ;
whatever may they wish to be.

Animal stock of apes,
are they derived ,and;
in darkness of primitive caves
formed are their minds
They are free from nothing ,
Masters ,diseases ,gold,deaths;
everything that binds
If Ye who know the Truth
be not forgiving to these sorry commoners of life
who else shall the chalice be passed onto and be rife?
Ye who hath seen multi-fold heavens and hells
and know the light of Karma and danger it bells.
Ye who has seen the spread of inter-Universe
And Known the "Çhittas'' that created this crave-curse.
Forgive them!
And let it be ; part with all this cynicism and child-fight .
Let the sorry bury the sorry while ye Bask in Supra-bright

Prophet's Path.

How Much Does love cost ?
And Hatred too.
When Soul Has rested in nest,
of eternal blue.
Why shall we must yearn;
of purest sea-shells;
on shores of washed up dirt;
of surest dreams .

A dandy of words and an ancient soul;
I am tormented in this earthly foul.
By Buffalo of Early East ;
By criminals ,Traders and communist Priests .
Yet There is holy in skies unseen,
in robes gone long before ;my lonely wings.
And there is light in darkness,
and salvation in suffering .
The Prophet's Path
his silent uttering.

Half Dreams

In half dreams of love I sweep off my days ,
Mend my drifting mind to memories of her ways 


And spend my tender summer nights unslept 
Upon the morn then I mourn ;promises unkept 


Love; such a straight thing crooked by bound
Impedes my every hour the guilt of lost sound


Fireballs that eat sky-dots on windless nights,
Furrow the lands of heaven in worried plights 




But I still sit awake on hills of my dreamy scape
Where I echo her smiles on the mills of death

My Blues

If you do me unright ,

I will not hate you quite,

For you got your rules

 I gotten  blues …

I will make a song about you

And sing it to morning  dew

And To whoever listens ..

that evening …

Swing, I will all on my own

By the corrals of dry foam

And startle all the folk

 with wet grasslands …

Over the mountains cream unfolds,

Where clouds dance in the cold

Serving only one purpose ,

For my Rains.

You still look down on me,

I  still sing up on to rim,

For you got your rules

 I gotten  blues ,

My people keep me aside ,

On the shoulder of the tide ,

Or I forget ocean of mind,

Forever…

So whats music to me?

Partly pain, partly freedom

Partly mundane, partly God-loom

Partly Love, never hate,

Partly soul, My friend,

often people, seldom me.

It used to be a cheap hobby,

Or a cheaper way to pose

Now its solvent of my soul.

I am basically a slave you see,

on contract with white bumblebee

And I am more black than white,

I guess you can see that clear,

If you have that sight.

Yes ,I am slave and thats right,

I sing the songs of slaves,

My Blues ,My Blues at Night.

No training Have I,

No theory I know  ,

No grammar I show,

No tricks I sow.

I have no use of rage,

And I may never have stage.

Yet I sing my song.

With Or without you,

Be it right or wrong.

Who cares?

I will drop into the grave

With same speed as rest of slaves.

Another world

In My Mind , the fertile field of all that brings forth, I strung a Veena.
And to her vibrations I begged to create another world.
the rhythms and motions and forms and oceans then moved,
far beyond the reach of earth, galaxies to cross the cosmos.

Above the womb of creation ,vibrations stood still then
and poured all the essences of life into it ,
so from that supra-cosmic intercourse ,
was the world of my own imagination created.

Where unending chanting of love filled the space,
greed was replaced , with ever-lit face.
For love of one; for love of many
My world flourished into a garden of Moonshine..

Where Gods were Kind and mingled with humans,
and the chariot of rains was sprinkled with diamonds,
Not a single soul ever had a touch of cold,
as in eternal summer sweet grasses rolled

Thus ,My once parched soul was in happiness pandered ,
Knowing this place, now only the body wandered 

Last Love

Before I leave the womb of Earth,

To  scatter in dimensions ,beyond Birth.

In laps of Gods and in shadows of Silk

Weaved not out of tyrant time ,

But churned out of eternal milk

Shall I love once for last ,for sake of thy beauty Vast

Or will I be cursed on holy path,

 Where I must end all that boils

Including a lovers duty for thy holy beauty .

If I choose to be in warmth

And shadow of thine love

Would the Gods blame me?

For shallowness ,which my earthly flesh

Treasures so deep .

They say,

I must have my colorless wings

And cant afford the oil of thy love

On my feathers of righteousness that stings

And must vanish dry and barren

 into the white cottons of heaven.

So Angels giggle at my childish whims

And Demons ridicule my indigent dreams.

For I cannot be so bold;

To have both ,

earthly love and heavenly Gold

Winterwind

Who wants to love the Winterwind ?

Nobody does , for we bind ourselves

To daily strives in warm dens

But she wants to be heard, not for herself

But for the stories she brings in rain

Of rivers far across, dull and depraved and frozen.

Rivers who are mothers of your soil,

And everything you do, all your toil

Yet you hear her not .

And shut the blue doors

 You phony, criminal, rot.

So she goes crazy ,

And Rages and rages and rages.

And whirls upwards

To clouds ,her heavenly fathers .

And brings down the blizzards

upon everything beneath .

Kills the beggars ,

And flowers from last spring.

who have no doors to shut

Lambs sacrificed .

For the sins of others .

But I, though a Prince ,

Who had seen a thousand sorrows

And been happy ever since.

Welcome the Winterwind

To my daily palace .

I keep my furnace off

to chill with her

make love to her

without a blanket.

Then I ask , silently

What about Rivers ?Mothers?Rodents?Beggars?

She now blushes like a Young lady

And says,

‘ its okay ,I just wanted a lover.

I found it in you , I am blessed forever.

I shall be be back now and make new way

For the Spring’s flowers and Summer’s hay.’

False Darkness

I wear a cloak of darkness ,

Not out of prosaic sadness ,

But as my Auspex ,

which guards my Places

From agencies of fallen graces

Those ogres and bulls 

who walk in finesse

For they threaten to trample,
The butterflies by the sensitive bud,
With their muddy feet,
Sore with clots of own blood.

The Darkness in my apparent gardens
Protects us .

Only a self-lit Angel can walk,
Through these corridors; pitch dark
To my heart's caves ,in which I keep
The colorful gems I found on Highways
where ruby's sprout
Like in dreamy lands and surreal plays,

Where golden- green grass swings
Upon giggling summer afternoon winds,
That await now ;the evening
Like a newly wed awaits, her esteem.

How bright these caves
Of myriad colors of Orphic fable,
Of magic potions,
Violet ,Scarlet ,Gray and purple .
Boiling .

Of trees which have for leaves,
soothing ,consoling ,balmy palms ,
Which heals of death ;a deep wound
Like an Enlightened beam
competing with thousand suns
underground.

Of wise soft rains yonder
that gently dampens ,
The carpet of rye ;
beneath the sky
Made of dews’ glittering canvas.

If you once see these sights,

Why then in fright? Would you turn back?

Stay; and leave not the Magic castle,

Made of glass and of my soul’s  fiber.

A Poetess

But I am a poetess , she said.

I write with ink of moon

in shiny letters and lady's swoon

Nay I said ,you are but love herself

queen of dance with nimble feet

a temptress , with laughter so sweet

Everything I worship ,I find in you.

But I am no poet ,

I write in dopey soot

with quill of rust

and in Man's shallow Lust.

My love is fossilized ,

in earth so deep ,

crushed by her crust

Only finds a rare volcanic jet

in tarry grease of flesh.

So I will vanish again,

behind  sulfurous fumes,

lest the venom of my words,

 spite thy shiny starry blooms.

Yet I will not die entirely mute,

I will stand firm in sacred madness,

in which lovers often dwell,

lose their souls and everything else