,I wonder what would be the next thing in the scale of evolution..what if one day everyone on the planet perceives what is done to them and what they are allowed to do and if they know that we are being operated by the mechanism of the default choice's of nature and now they want to take it over..and every one turn inward right now and not open their eyes for millennia until they attain moksha....even if it is remotely possible I love the idea of fooling the nature but again I don't think we are fooling her after all we are capable of making a choice because we have been provided that choice,so all we are doing that we are acknowledging the potentiality given to us and we are exercising the opportunity that nature has given to us...but again we are in her creation and we are a part of her intelligence so it is impossible to fool something in which we are a part of,we can never transcend the intelligence in which we are a part of...because you can be never something other than which you can be as we are in the realm of someone's creation..I think evolution is all about choices:The first scale of evolution had limited choices but this scale of evolution has unlimited choices..A human being can choose everything from birth to death once you are born..that which has happened before we were born perhaps is irrelevant ...and all this time we live as a human we are governed by the laws of the nature every moment and even if you transcend time,you can be the creator but then again you will do the best things possible and then again we are living in the best things possible..I wonder what is to be a creator,I mean a real creator Where you play with the elements and create a life out of that..it is a really interesting thing that once we transcend time we are capable of creating life itself without any copulation...so this kind of brings me to a question what good is a choice when we don't realise even that we are being given...we are being crushed by the default choice...we are lost in the basic rudiment choice made by the creation...it is may be because there are so many factors that govern these...but however we think we are being forced but I think we are being crushed by the default choice..the choice made by the creation...but if you take over and you choose then life will be your own design in her design..you can create your own blue print...but however the blue print is made out of the creator governed laws..

Creative Creator created
Creation out of recreation
Injected harmonious hormones
For boundless bonding
Of the first earthly pair    
  
Love was in test foremost
A mystic apple mapped its best
To wrap up love and lust
Betwixt male n female at first
  
Duo were face to face
Seeing eye to eye
Breathing nose to nose
Testing the tasty touch
  
Limb in libido, libido in limb
In all permeable permutations
In combing combinations
The test fire tested fine
Life on earth began to define.

"To each his own,
but I'm ******' keeping mine."

Visions besiege my mind,
Of beauty, of the moments
That are intertwined upon
The air and senses upon
Life and non static moments.

Intense sensation, realization
Of more things than in just
Sight, senses are given new
Meaning with each passing,
Minds collaborate sensations.

We are engrossed upon unseen
Beauty, not all that is so is seen,
Releasing us for moments to
Other places that aren't here
But neither there, unseen pictures
Painted within an awakened mind.

All is beautiful, euphoric pleasure
Of the senses released, we are
In that place of imagination, of
The flow. Never do we want this
Moment to fade, as our minds
Flourished with beauty released.

Our senses as the music finishes,
We smile At that moment of serenity
& energy of what if for a moment
Took us from this place, we discovered
A new beauty short lived but we were free.

The venom in your snake bite glare ties my pain in knots, Knots

don’t come undone

Every time you yell I smell smoke

You’re burning us, you know

You’re burning us.

And I’m drowning in the fire.

You’ve got your magnifying glass in hand like a detective,

And I know you’re searching for something better

I know you’re searching for clues that we could make it better,
between us

But you always look in the same place, you always look through these
piles and stacks of Anger that we’ve been collecting and you haven’t
looked anywhere else, you know, no matter how magnified that
Anger is, it won’t change what it is.

You’ve been standing in that same spot searching for too long, and that
magnifying glass is burning us

And it’s not that I don’t still think you’re made of stars, because I do

I still do

I still need you, mom

I need you to breathe,

I do.

You’re my oxygen, you always have been but

This Oxygen is suffocating me.

Do you remember that story I told you so many times? About that day
in kindergarten when the craft table got new materials? When there
was nice

Purple

Shiny heart shaped box and I wanted it

So did everyone else, but I got to it first

So it was mine

I had it in my hands

I had it

But then the other little girl spent all morning talking to me about how
she wanted it

She wanted the pretty, shiny, heart-shaped chocolate box so that she
could make a pretty gift for her mommy and I didn’t want to give it
up, but I finally gave in to the guilt and gave up that box to her

Do you know why?

Because I thought about how I had the best mommy in the whole wide
world and I wanted to give that pretty box to you because I loved you
so much and I thought maybe that little girl loved her mommy the
same way I loved you, and I understood why she would want to give
her mommy a pretty thing and to this day, that time in kindergarten
when I gave up my pretty box that I wanted to give to you is one of my
deepest regrets, because I loved you so much and I wanted to give you
that pretty gift.

I still do, you know

I still see you as the duct tape to fix what I broke and the hands that tie
the back of my dress in a bow for me on Easter Sunday, sure I still see
you as the lullaby I fall asleep to because I used to replay that
recording of your choir solo you downloaded on my very first IPod for
me every night before I went to bed one year when I was in elementary
so that in case I died before I woke up, the last voice I ever heard
would have been yours. Or in case you died at least I heard your voice
last. I always romanticized death back then, but now I can see how icy
the frosty fingers of death really are when the death of our old bond is
staring me right in the face, Mom!

Do you remember that one month I spent making absolute sure the last
thing I said to you before you shut my door and left after saying
goodnight was: I love you so that the last thing I ever said to you
was “I love you”? Same logic, mom. In case you died before the next
time I saw you, at least that was the last thing I ever said to you I never
wanted you to forget, and yes mom, I still see you as the stiches in my
torn up nylons but I don’t see you as my blanket on a cold day,
anymore.

I can trust you to save me, I can trust you to love me overall, in the end

But I can’t trust you to comfort me and you tell me to call you when
I’m sad, but you wouldn’t get it.

I can give you ten reasons why you and I need you to stop chasing me
into pain’s open arms and all ten are on my hands, balled up in fists
that are bruised from fighting, I’m done fighting with you mom, I can’t
anymore.

I’m too tired.

You start every knitting project and never finish it before you start a
new one, and I don’t want to become just another unfinished project of
yours, the daughter who left home and never sent more than 10 emails,
one for each finger after that because it’s not that I don’t love you, it’s
just that we’re growing so distant now that when we fight, the “I love
you” is no longer implied and when you get angry, you’re scary

You call me worthless, you swear at me, you say some awful things
mom, and so do I, I know,

But then you demand in irritation why I consider myself worthless as
if I’m seeking attention or something when I admit to you how
worthless I feel, well if you would quit calling me useless and
worthless and I quote “The stupidest human being alive” maybe I
WOULDN’T FEEL LIKE THAT MOM!

Maybe your mom, who is supposed to be the over-sized, comfy hoodie
you can come home to when life is getting too complicated is
constricting you with her harmful words it’s hard to find any good in
myself anymore maybe I’m just really hurt that you would say that to
me.

My sisters came along and they STOLE you, I’m sorry if that sounds
like a selfish, angry six year old but I need to say it because I don’t care
how unbiased you think you are, you never show me the underlying
kindness you show them because mom, I don’t want money every time
we go to the movies, I don’t want two pairs of Lululemon leggings or
expensive boots I just want the Love I feel like you’ve lost for me when
you didn’t have enough to give to all three of your children I just want
you to Love me, mom. I’m scared that you don’t anymore, and God it
would be so much easier if I could hate you but I can’t bring myself to.
I wish I could say I hate you, but I don’t. Every time I cross the line and
scream something unforgivable at you, when you cry, I can hear every
teardrop that falls from your eyes crash to the floor and shatter, but I
feel like you can’t hear me even when I’m screaming, even when liquid
pain is pouring down my face mom I love you, but you can’t hear my
tears and I feel like you’ve lost the Love you used to have for me.

I wish you would come back to me, I wish you would spend just ONE
night without insulting me, or yelling at me because I’m not
exaggerating when I say you haven’t.

Mom, I’m asking you to help me fix this.

We are not going to find the answer to the Cold between us in this pile
of angry, so please lower your voice and lower your magnifying glass,
just stop burning us and help me rebuild our old bond, okay?

The venom in your snake bite glare ties my pain in knots, but knots

Can come undone

Untie this pain with me?

"Learn to write by doing it.
Read widely and wisely.
Increase your word power.
Find your own individual voice
through practicing constantly.
Go through the world with your
eyes and ears open and learn to
express that experience in words."

PD James (1920-2014)


I took a little trip
To the Isle of Write
There to find
My muse
My light...

I went to a wise man
On a Himalayan hill
For to find
A poem to quill...

I went right
I went left
But the write
Was still bereft...

I went here
I went there
Couldn't find help
Anywhere...

So I sat down
Pen in hand
And thought about
Those foreign lands.

To describe them
I painted with ink
It was hard
But made me think...

Hardly did a day go by
When in frustration
I did not cry...

But at last
The words took flight
I told tales
Of sadness. Fright...

The pen took on
A life of its own
The lines like scalpels
To the bone...

No more struggle
No more strain
I had the write stuff
In my brain...

Now the page
And pen don't thwart...

... the poetry is in my heart!

I speak the language of
The gods;
Silence.

Years of practice, flexing
Soundlessness
Repeatedly

Until its grip around
My brain's mouth became
Inescapable.

Dead center of any
Construction site;
Loud meetings,

City streets.
I carry a flame of tranquility
Anywhere.

This morning I watched the
Sun rise over Oslo from
The roof of my

Workplace. Pink touching
Blue pushing February
Darkness gently away,

As if whispering a child
Back from sleep.
Seagulls and crows

Dancing. Silences matching
Inner with outer,  
I stood smiling.

Smiling so
Hard I
Cried.