Being an ever disappearing organism

The Holocaust used to manifest in my mind

While I step down through that lonely stairwell.

Where do I go in this meaningless life of froth?

However, some peace used to rain

While stepping down in the street.

The sun used to rain as forever

From the heavenly sky.

But sudden chilling wind yet to evaluate

this ever disappearing form even more,

Like that awaiting stray in front of the hotel

merely differentiate between me and it.

The gusty wind left away after diffusing

that question in to the atmosphere

And had brought some joy

as helpless star acts in the universe!

 

 

31st January, 2016

Longing for a corrective conclusion

Longing for a corrective conclusion

when the rain of hatred will turn into the hail fall

The suppressed conscious of Neanderthal will regain it reign again

Through the  quadruple game of brain for who to lead the milliard of modules?

or who to lead the the human, it’s conscious, forms or something like Not-self!

Or the organism that rise from the secret pain of a pale seagull

Will have comfortably flied up in the fresh air

Perhaps that will filled with neither oxygen nor hydrogen

some kind of ungrammatical air

Perhaps their would be a time about to sweeping up

That all the oysters from a kind of airy phenomenon

through the unfinished touch within the beautiful fair of colors.

The dream that’s been rooted down

I should draw the dream that’s been rooted down

And also the dreams that have been lost

within the road of thousand miles of suffering

that we crossed stealthily in the transcending

of inhuman to Anatma, wouldn’t they have a chance

to join in this Exodus towards the light of heaven?

In this shimmering colors of the evening

After a tedious span of time of the noon

That’s been scratched our tender conscious

But yet the sudden feelings of that dream roots

Drag us through the ground with the speed of light

and imagined that we just touch the ground again

With its subterranean root and hence ‘should be hold with

the conscious eyes only!’ are you listening this chant, versifier!

An organism without suffering

He who wanders everywhere like a puppy, happily

His suffering must be ceased

He who lost himself within everything like the wind

His suffering must be ceased

He who amends himself and take the right course without any intention

His suffering also ceased

wandering around in the gardens only for the fragrance

without plucking the flowers!

 

 

27th January, 2016

Love always blooms

Love always blooms

Even if it is withered

Unappealing and disgusting

Gathered to be cumulus clouds of hatred

Utterly nonsense while appears with unanticipated gifts

But love always blooms nonetheless

Love always absorbs the suffering

That have been left out as pain

Pain always enhances the love

That you are longing for

Through your dampened window

Through your latch

Through your patch

Through your sanity

Love always blooms!

What is love?

 

Love surfaces only you can forget your body because your body is the hive of all sensualities. So, through sensuality one cannot view the world rightly. Through sensuality nobody can’t intend rightly. A question could rise up ‘what about sex? Isn’t it the part of love! I’ll say no because it is only a pleasure which gives you a temporary feelings of pleasure. So, don’t mixed up Love and Sex together like the porn-stars. All these porn-stars will suffer in their imparted life time, only if they achieve the human conscious again.

True love manifest only through the Not-self because self is illusory. A self never sees the world rightly. It is always misguided by the wrong intention. So, you have to achieve the state of Not-self where everything goes together, harmonize together. And first step of being a Not-self must be through ‘exterior’. Through exterior Not-self you could enjoy the ‘Emptiness’. Emptiness means to know the phenomenal world as mirage or as they made up of cloud or as a dream, and know all the human beings and other organisms as apparitions without essence. Remember don’t try to essence them but judge them with qualities that can be seen.

Next step of realizing love is again Not-self but this time its through ‘interior’. That means interiorly you should feel the existence of Not-self, for instance you could feel your pet puppy as you or part of you. Lets take a try and feel that you perceive the very phenomenon through your little puppies consciousness.

Yes I might say this is the true love and always feel that the whole world is a part of the impermanence. If you feel your lover or wife through this sense then I might say, ‘yes this is the true love that I’ve been looking for since long long time.

Night speaks out

Night speaks out

Through the split light

Throughout the room

After a piece of hibernation.

The entity flutters silently

Without it’s flutter like wings,

It always changes and fleets

It’s colors, forms never fixed up.

Even the word “I” also succumbs here

Saying, ‘darling I’m the night without sorrow’

Cause I’m the non-substance that never borrow.

Living as a dust of the city

Living as a dust of the city
Not worthwhile at all.
Drifting throughout the winter
Fleeting around and around.
Sneaking around the windows
That will laugh again
But the doors will be close forever
For the nuisance and the astray.
Blow up your entity
As you are not integral at all
Before the worn out flowers
And the falling leaves drifted through the river.

While Nuisance waltzes nobody gaze

While Nuisance waltzes nobody gaze

Only the tawny falling leaves harmony with

As they follow the sign of springing

As they brush the nature like Gogh

 

Sometimes the strings of guitar twang

Amid in this awkward surrounding

Old violine of negligence comes to mind

With the dashing stroke of Vincent

 

One life is just a stroke

Under the shadows of apparitions

Yet they form their forms in the dream

Though the chance of over stroke still remains

Once I Touched the word love

I touched the word love

That inscribed on the whetstone,

Day after day it withstand

Towards the blizzard of hatred.

The nature tempered it

Without my inspiration,

Now whetstone seems as lonely tomb

Where apparitions whirl around;

Reject me mysteriously

While I’m crazy to touch it again.