The world is an open book of ideas
only that the heart be receptive
gratitude allows no room for bias
life is brimful of joy and is the greatest gift

Day descends to dusk
mother and child by river
eyes cast on water

Old little cottage
nestled in silent forest
none knows who lives there

Old country cottage
nestled in gentle forest
none knows who lives there

We are not creatures of reason

but verily of mood

we wax and wane between every moment

the bad and the good

Each had somehow been there before
vowed invariably never ever to return
bewilderment all written on their face
they labelled it the 'darkest continent'

symbols, images, silhouettes marked
the scene--  beyond words was the experience
the self felt it was cast into purgatory
but from its own mind couldn't find deliverance.

I speak for the past
  the present is of its making
  its beauty and grandeur does still proudly last
  the now is the begging--

  but for the seedling
where is the plant or tree?
but for the building*, writing
composing-- where would we be?

I embrace the past
the loving and the embracing
in its heart I place my total trust
to the end from the beginning

for I am born of the past
a thread in its weaving
even when cast into the dust
I'd know no dying

Isn't what I write in my diary
     the most honest side of me?

Such is artificial---kindness
       said--only during Christmas

If it works--whatever the matter-
   leave aside the philosopher
   you are your life's author
   you know better

Life is a chisel
we are its raw material

Yes,  I do read
does it make me a superior breed?

Winning and losing
are often wrongly defined
generalisations are insidious
the product of an inferior mind

They are the most lucky
who are happy in their poverty

This is the problem with belief:
    the stronger,  the greater it does deceive

Honesty needs no apology

They spoke too fast
what was that they were saying?
was it minus or plus
or were they just boasting?

Resolutions cause me no rest
they are never solutions

Ripples,  ripples of the heart
do you hear not their each song?
they come together, they break apart
but to nowhere do they wish to belong

Whatever I am

is what I cause

I belong to no one's realm

my life sets its laws

It's a bad day
when you stand
in someone's way

It's a good day
when no one mentions
my name in any way

Life as seen through the artist's imagination

stretches far beyond consciousness and  reason

where over reality dreams and symbols transcend

and language and comprehension is* lost in translation









* singular verb is used as 'language and comprehension' is treated as a single entity

Success--   a dangerous word
it somehow tends to the downward

ENGAGEMENT is the name of the game of life--
it's that latent creative energy that is released, it's like Zen really--
being absorbed into the immediacy, we remove our old habits, our fixed pattern of thinking;  we cease to analyse or intellectualise ; we let go of our rigidities and are different from what we were before-- we see things with deeper insight and are amazed at the discovery.  


We learn so much from the curiosity, spontaneity, naturalness and the unbridled enthusiasm of children.  We have grown up but have somehow lost that sense of wonder which is the source of all our creativity.

Let us then step back and rewire and retune our thinking mode to be more efficient, more productive and happier.

Francis Bacon wrote:
Knowledge is power.

May I say?

Not all knowledge is power
the right type cherishes
the wrong kind damages
distinguish the **** from the flower

It will **** me
for sure-   fame
I would have nothing left
everyone has stolen my name

....yet in my ignorance
this little I'd need to know
the wisdom that is others'
is not what I should follow

Love-- a word we use
all the time
do we hold it to heart
deem it pure and sublime?

The more of the external
          the poorer the internal

Don't volunteer
            then you'd have no tear

Wait for your turn
   life's first lesson to learn

If you need
         someone to follow
         there's none another
          you are that fellow!

If you know your territory
      you would offend nobody

If you dream too much
         and too long
         you are timed-out
         life would be a dirge, not a song

... do you still keep me in memory
    or am I a long-gone history?

... but tomorrow
might be the midnight
of time and tracks
couldn't be found-
you will falter
and struggle for light
and be mocked
by the unsympathetic night

there's no turning back
and you will be blinded
by strange shadows
as they appear and shift
while all around is the deepest black

you will try to speak
but words will fail
they no longer belong
to you--- you will turn pale
in helplessness

it's not fancy nor a dream
neither is it exaggerated drama
you will no longer be yourself
in this phantasmagoria

No voice will be mine any more
   some words I wrote just a few might remember
   there's eternal silence in that mysterious shore
   time and I have split irrecoverably asunder

I am the desolate heart
that breaks in silence--a world apart

I'll be my own teacher
   but to none other

The outside
         should never be your guide

I never aspired to be a hero
       too many have ended in being zero

How could you condemn?
       you knew none of them!

The best teacher says:
I am still learning as I have doubts that I really know;
if I say I know, it would mean that my limits have been reached and I could go no further--in this case, I would be likened to a bird that could sing no more, or a wearied violinist who has played every concerto, a regretful explorer who has visited every shore, or a lover who says:  I know every aspect of love and need experience no more.

Before you can become
first be calm

Every day is senseless noise
give me an enlightening original voice!

I was already obsolete
when I wrote it!

People don't want
       to be regarded 'common'
       to themselves they say:
       for bigger things I am born!

My neighbour is no singer
    like a crow he does caw
    I am the village's best tenor
   honour on me abundantly the villagers pour

You are right, boss
  I am wrong I admit
  (there will be no salary loss
   this should be every employee's wit!)