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May 2016 · 994
Light and shade
K Balachandran May 2016
A still pool dreaming,
Meddling wind on it's surface,
Ripples voice protests.
Apr 2016 · 1.1k
Enigma
K Balachandran Apr 2016
At a table set for two,
        in a quiet corner,
they sit across;
       an emotional sun
sets acrimoniously
       behind them.
She goes on munching
     something in silence,
never once lifting her face,
    to make the picture perfect.

He sits there, like dumbstruck
    not a single moment
taking eyes off her pretty face,
    as if, she'd vanish if he does.

Entwined in a
      mutually absorbing deliquescence?
Or each one beyond
     the reach of other's mind?

Over a cup of coffee
    going  too cold, to drink now
an intrusive character
     idling on the table next
staring  alternatively at both
        inanely wonder:
"The beginning or the end?"
Apr 2016 · 1.7k
When you fail to notice
K Balachandran Apr 2016
A seed pod explodes,
Ears of the forest perk up,
Mirth in fertile earth.
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Sky is a taut, grey net spread,
at its  best in creating panic,
relentless day a brutish marauder,
drained of color of every kind, bleak,
even thought of you distant, my nectar
plays hide and seek, I am plunging
in a hallucinatory spin, down, down.

From inside a furnace closed
with a tight lid under which heat
in it's fiery glory permeates
like never before, a full- throated roar,
without any sound it travels around,
in waves after waves after waves,
to scorch every single thing under
the blood thirsty sun, on a hurried
march for revenge,green turbaned
trees and scarf adorned branches
changed all those embellishments
gone bone dry,now stand apologetic
like kids that made bed wet and caught
red handed, shrunk in shame and pain.

Narcolepsy reigns, drowsiness
day and night, like marijuana haze
follows.
            This summer makes its name stick
in bad books,making T.S.Eliot look
shame faced for calling one past tame April,
uncharitably the cruelest of it all.
But this, this is an unbridled wild horse
none can in no way do anything to stop.

When even the last drop of water from
the pond evaporates,sunburn peels the skin,
sun stroke down people, who are unaware,
cruelty of April, becomes monumental.

Perhaps in few days time May could barter
that bad name from April,I'd easily guess.

Buildings , in rows and rows lie, til horizon,
like blood drained corpses all though the day,
the  appetite for life, they evidently has lost.
Song birds on flowered trees, have gone mute,
doves scamper, dart in to the air, with hope
to get few drops of water  from somewhere

Kindhearted few fill water and feed on containers
for stray birds,taking cue from the practices of forefathers.
Change in climate is an ogre, that could with bare hands
smash pompous attitudes  and other human constructs!

Will there ever be a limit, to the red eyed monster,
avarice, we all pamper, within our inner courtyards,
that forces human beings to to do "Harakiri"
like a proud Samurai does with his own sword.
Harakiri-Ritualistic honor suicide by the Japanese "Samurai"
warriors who  value honor above any thing
Apr 2016 · 5.6k
Jealous wind(Haiku)
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Up on the cliff face,
Mountain goat's acrobatics.
Wind's hands undermine!
Mountain goat is a sure footed climber commonly seen in cliffs and ice.
Apr 2016 · 3.4k
Sin and Redemption
K Balachandran Apr 2016
When I have a yen to sin , I do it with my unbounded pen.

Thick black ink turns blood, spills in a mysterious patterns,

And it simultaneously writes my own redemption.

My spirit undergoes a transformation,sings freedom song.

In this unreal plane of my action, I become  superhuman.

Every word that swims in the deluge of emotions quickly,

Sends SOSs, incessant, demanding sublimation.It's done.

I pay heed and then find,  I am in the word's possession.

That decides, what would be my next course of action.

I stay firmly put between agitating emotions and imagination.
Writing could be  divine, or on the contrary sin by proxy..
It liberates, redeems, makes it possible to sin with impunity..
Apr 2016 · 1.6k
Mother night
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Darkness swaddles moonlight,
Bamboo groves sing lullaby,
Love moves the still air.
Apr 2016 · 612
Cross over
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Neck deep in water,
Darter bird suddenly flies,
A pure zen moment.
Darter or snake bird is a tropical water bird.The body remains submerged as it swims and the slender neck alone is visible above water.Like cormorants it has wettable feathers.
K Balachandran Apr 2016
He was then just twelve or thereabouts,
The precocious filly in unconcealed heat,
who incessantly professed love to him
every time  looking  as if she is
either getting asphyxiated
or in acute spasm of some kind
gave him pains regularly,
in no way love related,
in that tender age she was
such a fire ball to let her anywhere near.

Then he had to let his kitten out of the bag,
he fancies someone else, not her,
this one was none other than
the one she loved to hate, day and night!

She exploded all over the place , in a second!
a sort of guy fawkes day fire works! no less!
spewed fire and brimstone, reservred at hand
caused by frustration,an only child really knows

he told her, it's a sin
sticking a pin on her antagonist's chin
and then pricking him with it again,
and again without any logical reason
letting blood to make a dotted line behind them.

He could see pre- menstrual strain,
playing havoc, build up her anger,to a level higher
he was sympathetic to such plights
a girl has to deal with alone,
and all the while to be concealed, from the eyes of others
he  did everything to cool her temper.
Once in control of her volatile emotions,
she smiles and tells in a matter of fact tone;
"If a grown up, I would have sure
got both of you killed for betrayal,
count lucky,you two, I am still a kid
though menstruating and look ripe,
mum and dad won't approve
culpable homicide, by their only kid"

He was stunned by the glimpses
of the criminal mind yet did appreciate,
her excellence in circumspection. bless her!

"I can get you arrested for the conspiracy to ****"
intervened his ferocious sweet heart.
"You don't even a moment consider,
this poor chap is younger than us both,
you tell me what prevents him and I
falling for each other, not just a predilection this
for wild ***, hormone driven at this age,
as your ****** up mind would want you to think,
now tell me how  it betrays you , miss hothead?"

She demanded, the other was still in rage
"Lawyer materials show early promise"
now he muses  amused, looking back  at the episode,
two brilliant legal eagles , announcing the intent!


"my only sin your honors, consider
is to be in love  or not falling in love?
Am I not entitled to have my choice?
though I may be an underage kid?"

When time tells you it's tale,  you sit pop eyed!

Now and then he catches up with those two , belligerently brilliant,
thinking criminally so early they easily acquired legal plumes,
legal eagles in same law firm, fighting for other things, not love
even now both treat  him badly, for being what he continues to be
a media vulture, flying above tearing in to their cases ferociously.
K Balachandran Apr 2016
City lights sparkle,
A concrete jungle on fire,
A stunned full moon.
The panoramic view up to eastern horizon, from my sixth floor apartment balcony in Bangalore city.
K Balachandran Apr 2016
In this layered darkness,
deaths are mere numbers
carelessly scribbled on
a blackened wall, unnoticed.

Grief is left out in the open
like orphaned children,
no one bothered to count
as it has no significance.

Isn't it  meaningless
as darkness festers still.

Every war claimed won,
leaves behind heaps of
mutilated corpses, that
in nightmares of living,
get up and walk speaking in tongues
with blood letting bodies falling apart.

So many concealed graves are
camouflaged, hidden from the eyes
of the people,whose time is precious
to waste  for such things as war crimes.


But these blackened graves break
the hearts of countless families,
where laughter dies for ever,darkness stalks.
Faceless loved ones of the killed,
widows and children uncontrollably cry,
cursing their lives  for this walk through the dark.

Every love life is an invisible bound book,
of many stories of pain, recounted in tearful details,
not easily erased, but much more lives are forgotten,
like cattle killed during long season of celebration,
when people eat, drink, and make merry till they faint,
sleep long hours to sedate their consciousness heavy
with guilt for what they do repeatedly, remorseless.
WE unconsciously participate and abet wars by being in the side of violence.Be aware!
K Balachandran Apr 2016
"Amour is the most intense kind of sweet fever,I can vouch that
When it's clandestine, the effect on victims is much more acute"

As the trembling example of that condition, she whispers in his ear,
Between adventurous  samba steps, every one watches agape.

"Don't you know merciless girl,that's what makes me go pale quickly
in your presence,this illness is mutually induced, that's for sure"
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Dear star, neighbor of my broken, but adamant  singing heart,
All I wished here in this life disguised as a journey man
Trekking through the meandering wild, forest paths,
Extended moors and misty, dangerous marshes,
Was rooted in the faith that we would meet and connect
With our inner fire and get to gather together our band
The cosmic adventurers at large,each in a disguise  willed.

I kept on searching for the parchment, the papyrus scroll,that has
The secret missions of our lives encrypted, in an ancient script.

Yesterday at night a thunderbolt told the truth,like in days of yore
In pouring rain standing on the river side,wonder in my eyes,I got
The glimpse of a cauldron, floating down in the surging current,
That has all the answers we seek all though this journey fantastic.

As if by magic, or is it a plan we never know the karmic reason,
The scroll of papyrus came flying and sat on my hand, like happened
To many before us, I am sure, and I guess, knew nothing to do with it .

Come home soon, let's learn from this scroll of man, who we are
And the cryptic code  will tell us our kinship with all lives around.
Part of us is in the realm of fantasy
K Balachandran Apr 2016
And then I  woke up in an ethereal hour,
As the sublime scent of a wild flower,
After roaming through many many lives,
As insects, birds and many kinds of animals,

When I by chance stumbled in to her eye
It was love, with out knowing who or why
In a  moment I mingled with her deep sigh
Such was the  alchemy, we soared to a level high

Later after many lifetimes of stars and many cycles,
Held within the depth of a dream, I realize this:
All I now need is a piece of tranquil blue sky,
to dissolve all clouds of avatars, be immortality, never to die.
Wherever one goes in whatever forms, (even if transmigration of soul
happens or it's just an imagination) is there any salvation, without at least a whiff of love in the air ?Love-consciousness-immortality would have made  a nice passage through the quagmires of worldly affairs.
K Balachandran Apr 2016
I talk to the water and the spring, it's deeper source,
without words, it heals me, I receive the benediction,
to clouds and seething sea waves too,I, my eyes speak
transcending mind, I reach out to the gentle forces of nature
send my thoughts to plants and animals, they are very kind.

"Would you keep quiet for a while?"
I hear my request to myself as if I am somebody
different, from what I wish to be.I am astonished
at myself, it's the ability to commune with silence.
I go back to the mind of nature wordless, in meditation
hope that I would be the one I wish, the elders
have told us all that is to be done.Needs to be just the link.

I want to stop my babbling that makes
words lose their, inherent potency
I get this nagging question, repeatedly
do I respect the word, utmost
and be in it's ring of friends and lovers?
the fewer you use words
I feel the word will desire you more
But how do I forge the emotional bond
with each word I woo and make my own?
I seek the answer in 'Aum"

I invoke a word to come out of the beehive
of my buzzing brain, a cosmos,where they
compete with each other to fly out to forests far
in search of flowers secreting honey, dense  with pollen.

I hear the drone of the word, on it's journey
to distant gardens.I acknowledge it's clarity of intentions
purity of singular thought which fills heart with sweetness
the bee, is a 'brahmachari' single minded 'yogi'
after the ultimate meaning;I, wish to  let the word be and with it
Brahmachari-one who takes the path of learning to realize supreme
reality, "brahman"
K Balachandran Apr 2016
She made me cup my hands, softly
over her heaving full  *******, a gesture,
a tender moment when  she received
the first intimations of her motherhood,
we were awaiting, this moment, any time
she  never had known a  tenderness like this.

Just then I heard the billowing black clouds
loudly blowing their auspicious conch shells *
announcing arrival of good tidings
impatient clouds, at that time burst out
in torrential rains, cooling the heart of nature and us.
the seed I planted in her, fecund earth, lying in wait
with  her life blood and hopes
she too was lovingly watering it,
only a mother knows how to do it the best,
the water flowed through two streams
the milky way and the holy Ganga river
fiery star dreams and watery abundance
the mother's wish embrace ice and fire
in measures varying according to emotions.

Lifted my eyes to hers which were flooding
in a happiness, words find difficult to express,
like tender vines her hands circled my trunk,
we, man and wife who sowed our seeds
together in self oblivion are on immortality's steps!
wind, water, earth, fire and space, from you comes
our descendants, with eager eyes and singing voice!

This union, is a ritual divine, what hymns of Vedas
extol as fire sacrifice, to transcend the limits time set for us.
Now she is the enchantress,moon coming out of clouds,
we merge in a passionate kiss, our boat  moves in to the
cosmic stream, a flow eternal,without  beginning or end.
*.In India, blowing conch shell is considered auspicious in special occasions
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Blasphemous black cloud, though robust in look, just vapor proud,

You borrow belligerence from swirling west wind's boldness,

Remorselessly you prevent the Sun's extent of rule by limitless light,

You are malevolent to the world to whom sun is the only visible God,

Benevolently ruling the earth, synchronizing the cycles with his moves,

You only have a life too short, not fully aware  of your  own limits

Or taking in to account, the effulgence of the sun sustaining all,

Why rebel, ever thought about the result of such an impulsive act?
Know thyself  well,  attain inner peace, by accepting the truth.
Apr 2016 · 1.1k
The birth of a mother
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Two protruding supple *******--
on much toned down
lactating, tender *******,
swollen, in anticipation
of thirst, awaiting open mouthed,
      
---are gently pushed in between
pursed, eager, fumbling lips,
of the newborn, who in no way knows,
what happens, in this world of strangers.

When milk in one is fully drained, as if by prompt,
it's the turn of the other full one, he knows.

Each one is avariciously taken in
by saliva dripping cute baby lips,
instinctively discerns it as "Mama dear"
even without opening tired  eyes
that fear the rushing, hurting light.

Motherly warmth, the distinct scent,his nose smells first
the bonding felt, when held close to her  warm *******,
incessant flow of lukewarm milk of love;
aren't these enough to make her presence felt
in the baby's nascent mind, that craves for a  mom?

This is the  precise moment, of the 'new born mother'
Mother, the flowing milk of life, protector, care giver.

As if in a dream just began to unfold,
the new born, like a bloom disarmingly smiles!
Closing her eyes as if to join in the baby's dream,
the mother suckles the infant in self oblivion.
The meaning of the pride written on her face
in hues of crimson, only a mother could fully discern.
K Balachandran Apr 2016
All of it started with the  smile of a flower,
which was an  answer to my wink to her,
then a wind brought her scented thought, to me
to mull over, smile again was the answer, I gave.

Thus began a chain, animals, birds and words,
soon became the links creating lilting tunes,
stars at night chimed in, their magical words
crafted by many hues of pulsating light, delighting us.

Even pain had a heart rending rhyme, a dying star
in the candor of that moment told us truths concealed,
a telescope distant would take her moment of  glory
for records,she fell, showering in to cosmic chasm, magnificently.
I whispered this to her ear, she was willing to join the chorus,

"Aren't we like the elements of nature, braided together,
just reach the core, through many ways possible,
make yourself  this clear for ever; we together make one,
it'd naturally dawn,  if you've nothing to jettison,
those unwanted baggage  stuffed, does nothing for one,
when one gathers this truth  much delight dawns,
love travels at the speed of light, you are just a beam."
Wink at a flower, get a smile in return,get astonished,
let loose love balloons, make the world a colorful place
Bala
Apr 2016 · 688
Incongruent Love
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Even sensing
her presence, as
a wafting fragrance
makes me dense.
But I get as light
as a feather flying
gaily over hills
fueled by
self contentment
when I carry her
in my heart
day and night.
Apr 2016 · 15.9k
The witch and the Peacock
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Was with  a salacious witch
      with amazing quick silver tongue,
Confidence personified
   she challenged me to chase her,
If I so wish, not in words.
 Her liquid eyes and gestures,
made me mad with pleasure
by the time we reached the peacock hill.
Peacocks, big  blue eyes painted on feathers,
   each, was in love with her, it seemed.
Danced vying with each other,
 to please her, while she winked at me.
As if to say"They'll **** each other
  to get my glad eye"wouldn't I feel jealous?


Helpless, I did surrender to her spell,
 like others in the line, in my front and back.
When just one touch of her index finger,
  would evoke magic, I'll get
Transformed to a young peacock
 of  exquisite beauty, with blue green plumes
none have ever seen before,to flaunt at
others of the ilk, on seeing it they'd back out.


Such a witch is one of a kind,my mind
    whispers, it's she who assures me this,
On the full moon night, due in a week
    we'll fly to the far away  hill where
She'll be with me helping to build a nest,
turning to a peafowl herself,
She'll lay a dozen eggs,
yes, in  to my ear, she says, this is only later,
h
When, she with index finger will
   gently touche me and proclaim, thus:
"This is the peacock I enticed and  
   with my witchcraft ,bound  for life"
In the middle ages overt sexuality of women sorcerers caused the fear that witches steal, penises from males and keep in boxes.as souvenirs.Such fear is rampant even in present day Africa.
What a chance trek with a mercurial witch who offered to be the  guide to a  peacock hill, would evoke?
Apr 2016 · 1.1k
A shameless lover
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Hold obliquely this bunch of flowers with that smile,
to you my gift, "Exotic", your eyes acknowledge it,
you know how to do it,  so that the selfie we post
would turn many a head, invite likes, though reluctant
needs to be counted as bullets pumped by jealous minds.

Now  listen to this mandatory advice, once more
I shouldn't desist, voicing this in any case.
Don't be generous to me, expecting nothing in return
as I am  your lover, in fact I myself am an exploiter,
who is shameless. isn't it the order of the day?

I am aware, it's bad karma out and out,
yet can't help it, let's be open about it,
now tell me this, how much can I bribe you,
for a grand kiss next, today's last perhaps.
K Balachandran Apr 2016
hill  
                                               ant hill
                                          an ant hill
                                      a perfect ant hill
                                 a perfect ant hill it was
                               a perfect anthill erected
                        a perfect ant hill erected at will
           by ants and ants and army of disciplined ants.
     ants of many kinds, sizes and colors erected an ant hill
the design was grand, nice to look at like a cathedral,functional.
we love the ants for being so versatile,co-operative and creative
Do ants possess minds, ability to think,organize, put decisions in to actions?Or do they just have an instinct,prompted by nature, how do they receive it?Even if we are yet to find out such secrets,many of us are skeptics."All this is like the crawling leaches, inscribing  letters on smooth surfaces, inadvertently" they vehemently argue.And there remains the million dollar question,seeking answer:even tiny ants,could make millions of their ilk do amazing things, why oh! why, the most intelligent of living things, at least replicate the feats the community of ants, at a scale, proportionate ?If these disciplined insects, in spite of their small brains could be a great example, why can't human's be like them, behave more responsibly , take charge of their own destiny, construct, not destroy. Every ant hill in silence, asks us many questions,  we walk past pretending that we heard nothing, that could disturb our peace.
Much studies have been done on ant behavior, but would humans ever  be  as organized and industrious  like these insects, supposed to be at a far lower level than mankind?
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Under the thick dreadlocks of tangled forest trees,
gathering wind swirls with a desire uncontrollable
whispers  wildly wicked things, intensely  stimulating,
in to his ears, when she stood leaning over him, like a vine.

He had an impulse wrong to control this sudden whim,
not fully understanding where from the mind of the forest
it comes, though this yearning from the deep, is elysian,
he doubts, will this coiling up serpentine lust stifle love?

From head to toe, she was trembling like a leaf in wind,
and he thinks what's for her to fear, at this moment,
when he looks in to her burning dark eyes, a tremor
wakes up the dumb lover, he sees the reason of her sighs,
and involuntary rocking and grinding of *****, in rhythm.
They tumble on the grass, at that instant, rolling on he finds
himself riding a wave, that behaves as if it will decide the rest.
transformation from love's flight of fancy to the salacious  explorations
is a moment often embarrassing to look back..
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Flickering candle light, braving wanton winds,
adds an unexpected melancholic twist;
a losing battle against formidable odds ends.
Though meant to make us feel romantic
even at the worst imaginable end chapter of it,
a doomed love that made moon beams burn,
itself bogged in morass, caused volcanic burst
in callous minds that walk backwards in time
who did everything to stop us dead in our tracks.

I am not blind not to see the quivering,
drops of tear, in your once much adored eyes,
I won't see any more after crossing this point of no return.

Doesn't this look like the perfect **** they had,
a story, in the middle brought to a deliberate end;
we can't stop it anyway, except acting out our parts
that we didn't see us doing  til this moment.

All we could do is this, give a loving burial
to this doomed love, let romance be the theme ,
in candle light we'll quietly cremate it, may the  remains of it,
ashes wind scatter,be the salt of the earth, for ever.
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Wind,the agent of change,
         you at first was far off and distant,
                    A constant drone of bees, not much!
                       they paid no heed to those rumblings,
                  Your power was counted
                      insignificant,they kept the curtain drawn,
Down, intact, trying to
             keep you out of the house of darkness.they kept.
                    But the suppressed put
                     their ears close to the ground, listened,
Aware of your intent, they
        patiently waited, watching your unhurried advance.

Giving  talkative leaves ample chance
        to speak their heart, first, tickling trees, caressing clouds,
You changed the speed,
          rustling sound soon became persistent.
                 Shouting slogans, hand raised,
                    all the plants and trees expressed their anguish,
Insisted, a change, justice for mother nature,
           stoppage of torture of , animals, birds and bees.

Wind, you act as an unswerving  friend,
                creating awareness , is  your intent.
  and fight the rot , naked profit motive, relentlessly,
                 by now every one knows the injustice,
festering fiercely  in the core.
                               You drive the clouds and spin them about,
                                        rain by and by  gains strength
                                   It pours now in torrents, all untruth
                                      comes out in the open, face the ire,
                             the true power of the protests, eye of the storm.
Wind, you boom, give a clarion call to clean,
          revenge all the injustices, perpetrated til now.
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Every butterfly, knows this in it's inner being
and yet each forgets it, as soon as it starts flying,
the sweet warmth of each flower inviting him,
honey and  nectar abundant in the beginning,
the wind speed  that takes him to the bloom--
such happy things ,soon will become  a dream.
Never forget; the tides will turn.
Apr 2016 · 5.2k
Hurricane over the lake
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Sheer passion, laden layers after
dense layers was the lake,deep blue,
His hidden heart was all aflame,
in anticipation of her, his hurricane,
the wildest girl in town, hard to get,
yet he acts placid on the surface
one'd see just gently billowing waves.

The hurricane has never known any
such guile,  hiding passion.Her eyes
wide and *****, flashing lightening,
cloudy hair disheveled and flying
she comes heavily down on her passive lover.
rebounds to come back with more force
that'd tell how intense her passion runs,
churning water goes up in a swirl and
dance with her passion,how spectacular
is their union, sky and earth look on
with bated breath, this ebullient *******.
K Balachandran Apr 2016
I fell from the mountain peak, I climbed alone,
in to the blue depth of her lonely heart, frothing hot.

She feigned surprise,"Do not know how this happened"
I remembered seeing her creeping in to my thoughts before.

Was it a conspiracy we both hatched together,a subconscious plot!

Did I slip and fall in to her expectant heart,waiting warmly for me?
The way to a maiden's heart and the secret of a man's craftiness
are unknown; we decide our love, is to be accepted, with an open heart
Are we spooked, trapped inside the logic of a Salvador Dali painting?
Apr 2016 · 1.4k
My Red Riding Hood
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Your windswept wild red hair, *Tantric fractal,
spreads forest fire in my thoughts,to the far end,
how far can I  go on keeping this endless raging,
a dangerous arsonist in my mind's chamber?
Unchecked, unbridled, not quenched,
shimmering fire with a thousand ember eyes,
come burn my ardor with the essence of red.
my red riding hood, on this Tantric bed spread.

Your passion, unleashed as unkempt wind swept
red cloud  of hair,assumes the forms of our love
now a cascade of water from mountain, after new rain,
splashes all over my mind's fecund landscape,
day and night imbibing the effect of your red wine
anointing  cool, love balm, I get inebriated.

Your red, fluffy,earthy textured, magic coiffure,
becomes  a sea of infinite calm,in my stormy nights.
I whisper to air"I want to taste the salt of her earth,
I want to swim in the confluence, her red flow commences,
If I'd  be buried within the red earth of her dense hair,
I'll be resurrected, re imagined by her as her immortal lover"
Tantra-ancient Indian esoteric practice,seeking to channel the divine male/female energy to attain' siddhis'(supernatural attainments) and "moksha" (liberation of soul)
Fractal-It's the geometry of deterministic chaos,also describe the geometry of mountains, clouds, galaxies etc...
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Not dreaming anything tonight,

tired of perambulations I decide.

Just want to sleep in your bed

forgetting every thing except

the starlit sky and cosmic clouds,

from where I and you did descend,

on the wings of a mystery, that still continues.

Your bed is soft,  the best healing spot

I have ever known, in this troubled planet,

I roll on to the soft heat from your body permeates,

and yet again become aware that you are the best thing

that  happened in this wanderer's journeys through moors.

Remember the first time I heard your name whispered,

resounded  within my bone marrow

and wondered about the magic it carries with it.

We walked a million miles in a second,

and crossed a life time in a day sometimes,

we are calibrated in perfect synchronization,

we understand with a smile,with  our souls it  resonates.

The sunset whispers the secret: go in to the light, eternal.
at the culmination of the dream, eternity beacons.
Apr 2016 · 1.6k
Unknowable
K Balachandran Apr 2016
"Sky!"
"Why?"
    #
Human brain, intellect, knowledge, wisdom, logic etc has limits.
Transcendence is a  channel available to experience the incognizable.
Apr 2016 · 756
The Find
K Balachandran Apr 2016
After what seemed  eons
he heard her saying this,
        gently patting his chest
        and wistfully looking
        at his withered rose petal lips
                      "You need to slow down,
                        be incisive, gaze, just not
                              with two physical eyes
                                master your senses, all five
                        if you want to see clearly
                      what truly transpires
                beyond mere words and actions"
         those frenzied moments
of love, despair whatever, intense
he somehow felt part of his, cherished,
                 But did they deliver?
             never did he regret a GURU's absence
                 still hoped in a deeper layer of psyche
                           "He would certainly come..won't
                              decide against showing up"
                      Still he was waiting
                           (looking at the directions wrong)
                             when she was with him,
                                     his lover,finder of path too, for a long while.
                              None had ever seized him like this
                                   and emphatically said such a thing
                                                   Now he could see
                                                     more clearly with focus
                                            as if the blazing sun appears
                                            when the clouds are driven by the winds.
             He heard the words of wisdom
             a woman like her can better discern
                because his light and darkness reflect
                on her screen of love, better,
                                essence-mind- bliss
                              "Sat-chit- Ananda"
                              where cosmic waves
                              make their presence
               At that instance he decides
                 to let go pretenses of every kind
                       he felt expansion of consciousness
                          a feeling words would never learn to express,
                         with stars in attendance he slept
                      cleansed himself in the waters of milky way
              frenetic drum beat of heart
              vanished as if he is no more
body bound, free to fly anywhere.
         wasn't she just predicting that
         the slow dance holding the hand
         that masterfully guides,
           it  begins
                            from this moment.
Journey towards the light of enlightenment is not intended without a Guru, a guide who could take the seeker sure footed through the path.
The deep yearning from the giver and the receiver culminates in the mysterious moment of find from both ends.Finding the Guru designated for one is the greatest moment in the journey of the  seeker,chanting
"From ignorance  lead me to essence,
from darkness take me to light
from death lead me to immortality"
Some times the Guru one searches endlessly  through long road would spring surprises like this...why not learn the path of truth from one's lover, friend, neighbor, subordinate and be humble?
Mar 2016 · 1.5k
Incomparable Love
K Balachandran Mar 2016
Show him your knife, oh! lovely killer, he wouldn't mind,

Seeing your weapon of destruction before the bull is felled,

How much should he suffer,not any more swiftly bring to an end

Was your's love?In such ingenious disguises, how clever!


Well polished and sharpened is the weapon, such meticulous care,

For the precision expected, never ever you missed your target.

A gleaming cutting edge, you sure want to make him proud.

Now I  see this clearly, the magnificence darkness processes!


If a sanguinary end of love life is thy pleasure, may thy will prevail,

Yes your love has been expressed tarantula like , from the day one.

The dark angel, with a vengeful gift, you are, the dark bloom too.

Yet another martyr of love, all his pain equals to your one searing kiss.
Mar 2016 · 880
In to a time warp
K Balachandran Mar 2016
Minty fragrance of the gently
stirring morning breeze
buzzed something in my ears
I have a vague memory that
it carries deeper echoes, than one hears
but what exactly,how to decipher?

Musky scent from a wild orchid wafting
had an intimate thing
to remind me from a day distant
but still melting my heart at times.

Do I hear that sound,
flipping of a slip
while youthful shapely legs
does a spirited jig, spreading verve
making me sit up mesmerized,

The sultry breath of someone
still too real and couldn't erase
from the memory tapes, do I feel
behind my neck sowing goosebumps?
What is this, time travel, I can't believe
from here, I slip in to a time warp, irretrievable.
K Balachandran Mar 2016
Dusk is busy with her daily bit of frenzied painting,
in the western horizon messed up by dark, fat, nimbus
with an intense wish to make it look strikingly different,
from that was in display yesterday and the day before.
The colors appear in fluorescent flashes and in the next
instance changed in to mixes of more  ruddier hues
suggesting a separation, an invasion of black  night long.

The beating blue waves of sea are all red with empathy
and the sun is pleased to come down for an ablution
in a sudden change of mind, swims to self immolation.
K Balachandran Mar 2016
The  ghost town yellow evening, I did wake up
in a dream, was strangely familiar, painted by him,
Vincent Van Gogh, in flames of creative fire, who else?
kept  it a secret, until I've stumbled in to, as if it's a well.

I fell in love with a girl in a yellow sunflower gown
on it were sea waves swirling in his signature style
in the blue sky, below her waist was  challenger deep,
I held her by the waist, like smoke in a flux, she swirled,
it wasn't in here and now, in the past or in future.

I wasn't present anywhere, just a thought sowed,
got embedded in her brain. This mystery of us,
Van Gogh's echo and the creative universe we did exist
wouldn't figure anywhere except when we meet.
Mar 2016 · 1.9k
Night in her many guises
K Balachandran Mar 2016
Night appears in an avatar
of a sweet chaperon,
coming with a lovely dark gown
to dress the shy, blushing evening
cajoling her for a slow make over,
she implies, it's better letting
the will of darkness prevail.

Now she is a perfect charmer
night, lets her long dark tresses
loose, that flows in waves
down through her back and
caresses her rotund proud buttocks,
adding to her silent grandeur,
till the next spectacular day breaks.

Night is an ace  temptress
with full moon at her side
as an irresistible  magical charm
to sway even nature, catch
the sea in her net,
of attraction and makes it  dance,
bewitching night makes
the stars in her coiffure gleam.

Night is an agile courtesan,
having royal patronage,
eyeing you wistfully,
hellbent upon her this day's conquest,
her amatory skills one can tell
will be *****,she is classy nevertheless.
In her boudoir, women are salacious,
hungry men too dance to her tunes,
what you gain after a spirited
amorous duel, is the gift of dark eyed night.
Mar 2016 · 754
There was a river
K Balachandran Mar 2016
There was a river, near  my village home
a perennial silver memory of my childhood
in which my mind  still in hallucinations swims,
a life line once ,no more exists,  because of our sins
alas no one recognized her might,when she was
alive and full, roared  tigress like through ravines.

From above the hills, a girdle of gleaming silver
comely like a village belle on her way to the market,
in that jungle village they never noticed her charm
or the amble through rocky paths and an occasional prance

From the hill roaring aloud she jumped down,
ran through the sand bed in mirth, on  both sides
coconut groves and rice fields performed welcome dance,
but times changed, they daily removed sand in truck loads
as we watched in pain  the river turned to a mere rivulet
one day the river became a myth, a tearful story to tell.

There was a river once for our childhood whims to swim
for beauty in the form of lush green to come, stay near the stream
a river of plenty that we thought was ours  for all the times to come
it's now a distant memory, seems like an unreal  sad dream.
Mar 2016 · 905
The sting
K Balachandran Mar 2016
The bee I did like,  buzzed around me in circles,
with a nice tune, and  tried her best to impress,
as I wasn't a flower, just bloomed and could'n't offer
nectar even if I wanted ,because I have exhausted all by now,
such devotion, I guessed is because of misplaced affection
or result of some confusion, so  I prepared
to say good bye to her.

                         but I did underestimate a  bee's frustration
she  came direct to me and stung with all her vengeance
left a thorn in flesh that spoke of unfulfilled desires in general,
But the pain I thought, I deserve though could plead
not guilty in any court. Oh! her sweet vengeance is an enigma,
let her feel good about it, leave me to  nurse my paining spot,
no more  friends with bees as the season of flowers come to a close.
Mar 2016 · 854
Thought is the abode of God
K Balachandran Mar 2016
The diamond studded dome resplendent
we know as thought, is the abode of God,
the throne he sits is the most powerful
of seats, here he is alert all day and night,
if one invites Him with an awareness what it means,
His presence lights every  nook and corner of
each  thought's origin, path and culmination.
See a mouse and it's nemesis a wild cat
play together in peace like long time mates.

Just the result of a thought changing
it's course, moving like the God of peace.
"Hail  the God seated in the diamond  studded abode of thought"
Kumaran Asan 20th century Malayalam language poet of Kerala, India.
Mar 2016 · 1.6k
Arabesque
K Balachandran Mar 2016
At it's ecstatic heights,  life is
a splendid display of ballet moves.
I watch you fly high precariously,
stopping a  beat of my enamored heart
with  an astounding move speaking beauty
and dexterously land statuesque,
in a graceful  arabesque stance.
Defying gravity with amazing ease
you create beauty none ever dreamed,
so kaleidoscopic, appreciating it means
touching the eternal with one's being
in a fleeting moment, get transported.
For that, one needs a mind as sharp as
razor's edge and constantly pirouetting
360 degrees embracing  you at the
speed of light, before you turn to a
lightening flash,of different wavelength,
all over again and begin the next cycle.
Arabesque is a ballet position, in which the dancer stands on one leg(the supporting leg) with the other leg(working leg)turned out and extended behind the body, with both legs held stright
Mar 2016 · 585
The other life
K Balachandran Mar 2016
When the harvest was over,
                 grain and chaff separated,
the birds congregated
                 around the barn had flown to lands distant,
the grains even from the last of stalks
                  were sun dried and filled in granaries,
it's time to set aside all other things
                 to take up the one passionate thing.

From it's true inspiration, beauty's intoxication,
                    poetry begins it's wild run, no holds barred,
the other lives of him as a man about town,
                   lover, son, father , partner of a woman,
a singer of the soul's wanderings,
                   a seeker of truth, at last takes an ecstatic turn.

The many lives he lead, the rough riding days
                         on the road, seep in to the words he collect,
now writing poetry becomes more than a game
                         of chess, an equation that balances life and death
that allows  a peep, in to the abode of immortals.
                             poet looks at life, still a changing  apparition,
                mysterious one with an enigmatic expression
on it's face and ask,"Show me all you can,
                           it would make my day, what else one can demand?"
K Balachandran Mar 2016
I am your favorite fruit,
from the tree, this morning
you've freshly plucked
with a visible delight,
driven by an avid desire
that moved your dust coverd
pleasure seeker part
still kept alive, astonishingly
though you are no more
that young adventurer
once  you enjoyed being,
and have turmoils to handle.
You kept me safe in the
favorite nook of  your kitchen
not before caressing a bit
feeling my texture and
inhaling elating  fragrance.
you wanted to sit and eat this fruit
you did covet, so much when
you are free from daily grind.

But it's already sunset,darkness creeps,
there is no chance of a respite
for you, you easily forget
that there is no tomorrow,
perhaps you keep the thought
away,though you know
the things work out only today
as you want it, but can't help.

But as a woman of many parts
you may think it doesn't matter
you can throw the fruit out
before the night advances
hissing through your teeth
"Oh! it's gone to rot too soon"

I would still exist in the neuron
of your deeper brain, a sweet wish
unfulfilled, a little  eclipse in your
inner sky of many bright suns,
a neuron twitches continuously
independently, breaking the tune,
but yes, the world exists for both
it's sweet and bitter disappointments too.
And it necessitates taking life after life
to fulfill such small desires
and clean up, smile with contentment.
Mar 2016 · 1.2k
Lessons on Ego
K Balachandran Mar 2016
1.A walk with one's ego

"Take your ego out for a walk", the master asked, all aspirant monks
one monk who took his pet across the river left it there and returned
the rest after a nice walk hand in hand, brought each, little wet but
rejuvenated, missing master's word in it's real sense altogether,
only for the wise one, the door opened, others had a lesson, painful

2.Tending one's ego
Two  monks , still not ready to part with
their egos,tended both the way each deemed fit ,
The first, so obedient, followed his ego  like a lamb,
one other made it follow him with it's strange requests,
a third the first one to **** his ego with his sword of mind
kept smiling seeing the misery of both still not bold enough.

3 Catty

Ego, was her, fluffy black pet *****
her show piece, she always loved to pamper,
crafty was the creature, hell bent  to keep
her reputation as an attention grabber,
the fact was this, the cat and her mistress
were thoroughly insecure, borrowed colors,
caterwauling in the sound of screeching tires,
she mated with Tom cats that came in jumping walls ,
her mistress was entertained, felt proud,
so ego grew large to the stature of a feline 'top dog',
it's metamorphosis made her owner too bloat up,
Ego one would have to think is her alter ego.

4.I won't ditch my guide dog

Every one thought she was nice, why so egoistic
gets her way every time,  projecting her larger than life ego.
"Well it's my guide dog to get around, as I am one blind person,
I am not yet a renunciate on a quest, I chew my bones too well"
Mar 2016 · 3.7k
Illusions
K Balachandran Mar 2016
He is an underwater being,
who left behind a life in a lovely land,
adapted to the demands of marine myths,
still an alien, largely frowned up on,
enamored by the coral reef rendezvous
they first met and hopelessly
fell in love.
                    She is a cursed mermaid,
that wants him to teach her only this
as a love gift; flawless  moon walk
through the night sky of ocean depth.
Mar 2016 · 2.4k
Ego sketches
K Balachandran Mar 2016
1.Emotional obesity

Her enlarged ego, she proudly wore
as if it was an impregnable armor
what an observer could see was
an emotionally obese siren on the prowl.
her mate too was thoroughly
compatible  to her,
when they danced, two enlarged
egos rubbed in a way really wrong.

2.Ego trouble
Every ego is different in shape, size and measure
but in essence all egos are capable of making troubles.

3.Killing ego
Killing ego isn't about blood and gore, it's good riddance,
that's the way to make light go euphoric, proliferate.

4.Ego goes in to a bag

Every individual ego soon  finds on its own,
an equally capacious ego bag to carry it around.

5.System breaker
When an ego problem seeps in to a system,
it'd establish it's nuisance value; helps to easily sell it.
Mar 2016 · 2.0k
That kick ass cutie pie
K Balachandran Mar 2016
You are
incipient
brilliance,
I eagerly covet,
unendingly
ebullient,
seems to be
in boiling point,
evidently
prurient,
an unfailing
euphoriant,
for me
a constant
element of
wonder
day and night,
But yes
I must not
forget this;
you aren't
an organic
compound
sans side effects.
More of a
a kick ***
designer drug,
that adds an
extra sense
yet, without
a legitimate
name to call it.
Aren't you
a hallucinant, though
yet to be invented,
I am hopelessly
addicted to.
K Balachandran Mar 2016
You sit in silence, on lotus
deeply meditate, in the end
recount the tale of life, simple
for a moment,in a nutshell,
the sky of your mind is clear.

But materials of millions
of light years in our tale
is beyond retrievable limits,
on that no confirmation
is needed, simple logic will
tell you that the life you live
couldn't be an isolated one
every one of the neurons
of your brain, is a star in this
thickly braided, interwoven 
 universes, that die and take birth.

Before and after simply
must be there, but, as it is
out of bounds for the senses,
limited to a time and space
we are groping in the dark.

So what now, don't you
want to go beyond --
in to the ocean where
human logic can't stand,
and end the intergalactic
expedition with light
and darkness as references.

Break the final barrier
exploring  the universe within,
decide to be the light
undiminished for ever;
embrace enlightenment
breaking the golden chain
that ties down,  desires.
Mar 2016 · 3.3k
Kamasutra Zen
K Balachandran Mar 2016
Lazily I sit naked on my favorite  carved antique chair,
by the writing table, fully immersed  in Kamsutra zen,
the randy one barges in, with a smile,euphemistically reprimands:
"Man, have a heart, your ****** is being unfairly wasted again"
He wasn't woken up to the applied ****** economics,
till his counterpart poked fun of wasting resources
that obey the "law of marginal diminishing utility"
.(which in short means , it's sweetest at the earliest)
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