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K Balachandran Jan 2020
A trail of smoke rises,
A died down pyre,broken clay ***,
Crows eat scattered rice.
In Hindu funeral ceremony,which is largely symbolic a  terracota ***,symbol of mortal coil is broken by the son who leads the rituals.Crows eating the rice and eight other grains is considered suspicious.
K Balachandran Jan 2020
I bat both eyelids.
She attributes motive and winks.
The right moment to think!
K Balachandran Oct 2019
Distraught, with alien invaded heart
I partied with the night in my thoughts.
Dark, distant and silent as perceived, yet
She was candid,  sweetness personified.
Let me taste swigs of wine from her cup
Sung me a lullaby of  ethereal starlights
Dreams plucked  from nights, she gifted
Weeded out nightmares deeply embeded.
On a dream boat chosen,I set sailed alone
To an emerald island at the middle of
the  ocean,
And made up my mind never to sail back.
Adamant I was not to be out of that dream
Beloved,  ******,  night conjured up for me
With the twist of  her psychedelic finger.
K Balachandran Sep 2019
The spider, in many hues rules.
But I never could understand
The complete operational rules.
                                    Still I have
Unflinching  faith,like no other
On the spider, that it knows
The rules of transactions inside out.
I am in the web of a clan of
Spiders, day in and day out.

I just lie supine in comfort  
And let my song bird fly high
In the sky blue oblivion
Of my mind, listening to
The singing of the bard of
The absolute, transcending limits.
        I am more and more lured
in to his cave where light is present
By its physical absence.More and more
An innerbeing after substence
In the company of this siver luminous.

She comes alive, fire risen from smoke,
Her red hot eyes capture my truth quick!

The spider sitting on top of me
And working on me with
Her oceanic mind that seethes
Agile vaginal muscles, I picture
Is still reading "Every Women"1
From memory; I just feel it
as each of the steps to the
thousand petelled lotus is
left behind one by one.

My silver spider
who flies with me from
the conjoined base of
"Mooladhara"2 at the ****.
If she is the fire, I am the sky.
Hear the silver bell she rings,
In mind's eye I see how her
Silver strips gleam, wet with sweat.

As we step out to the garden path
The green spiders of thick foliages
Waved at us.Golden spider of the sky
Hanging low beamed at us.
1."Evcery Woman"(A gynacological guide for life by Derek Liewellyn-Jones)
2.Mooladhara means "the root and basis of existence" according to Tantra Yoga, located at the ***** one of the seven primary energy centres of human body.
K Balachandran Sep 2019
It's my most favourite life game,
Leaving you behind with no particular aim
In the midst of a charming thing we perform
And keeping you waiting  till the time,
I choose to be  back again!

Did you ever notice it yourselves?
(If not what's the point of telling one?
I may ruin the pleasure of not allowing
Not to see what one naturally do not see)

I've  freed myself from the vagaries of time!
An esoteric art in what avatars are with me.
I may not return to you in an
Expected time frame or plane.
I'll spend  time the  way I wish,
Taking as much from the chest of universe
and add a fine twist to it.
Wouldn't you call it making poetry?

I've bandoned all expectaions time,
Imposed on us by  its lenier progression.
I may keep you waiting for long
You may think,  as you are now not that girl,
But a wildly bloomed tree waiting for me, The migratory bird on its usual sojourn!
You are eager to offer your best of fruits,
I peck at it with atmost care, and attain,
An 'Ananda ' pure and simple
And gift you a perfect Buddha smile,
That transcends the warps  of time!
K Balachandran Sep 2019
A swarm of bees hum?
Thrilled earth receives cumulonimbus sting ;
Mind is on a swing!
K Balachandran Sep 2019
Evening rain raises pitch,
Insects and frogs in sprit match;
Nature's impromptu jazz
Pitch  rain   insect  ffog
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