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Who writes of me
without pad nor pen
or scribes with sharpened knife
a belly of lies unfastened from sheath
deep that bores the core of heart?
Illusions swift they swim
in waves as shoals
spawned from
tiny minnows.
I play guitar unpolished
red rust of my finger tips, bleeding
no school for this, still I wish
I'd somehow gone or sang with
my mouth unbound and loud
sang like a deep well of bells
that rang each day and I had come to listen.
the jhoola is damp from
evening rains
still I enjoy swinging under
misty twilight skies
the moon beaming a toothless grin

Funny how it all feels so real
solid, permanent
I’ll always be Sonya ki
in this familiar body,
surroundings and place

I gaze at puddles
of silvery water glistening
over the garden beds
visions from the past float to the
not too long ago I was living in
Arkansas, and before that the big apple
childhood memories of my mother’s
comforting voice and soft lap
eclipses the other images morphing
into a cascade of ever changing
ephemeral moments in time

If nothing stays the same then
what is it that resounds through
the hills and valleys of my being
like an eternal echo

That fixed point where the sun never rises nor sets
Splendor enthroned within
Immortal witness

“Consciousness is neither inward turned nor outward turned nor both
It is not undifferentiated, it is beyond cognition and non cognition.
Not experienced by the senses nor known by comparison or inference,
incomprehensible, unthinkable and indescribable,
pure consciousness, the real Self, the cessation of all phenomena,
tranquil, all-blissful, one without a second,
this fourth state (Turiya ), the Atma (Real Self)
(Eternal Witness)
is to be realized”
~Mandukya Upanishad
Only a desert of blowing dust
a junk yard of weathered metal rust
the brutal blare of scorching sun
the cold of winter's raining snow
an ever changing, tricky season
a killing storm without reason
only a metaphor to explore
the hot and cold - of you
that I deplore.
Mighty Varuna
God of the Sea
and sub-marine spheres
You visited me
mounted on Your strange dolphin
ancient makara dragon

Sacred, secret eyelids
of evening
flash open
cresting across the cobalt

Our ship gently rocked
softly cradled
wind and wave
whisper Om

From fathomless depths
You gush forth
in ocean jewels
and seaweed

with colossal form
hewn of surf and stars
I beheld
Your awesome darshan
and tasted the salt spray
of Your breath

My heart is forever
a garland of
pearls afloat
at Your
Celestial Feet

*Paste the link below:

In my darkest days, I held you beneath my warmth.
You indulged me with your feverish hunger.
You embraced me with your piercing emotions.
You were immune to my changeable disease.

I came to a realization that you were my muse,
the best rainbow I received……….

You told me that I was part of your soul.
To me you’re the fuel to my rusty engine,
The energy to my thirsty being,
And the light of my darkened soul.

© Pax
What gives you, who gives you,

who've exchanged your humanity
for a senseless existence
and desire for death -

this right,

to come and **** and maim
the unarmed and helpless,
innocent women,

and children?

armed to your teeth,
against the defenseless weak?

is this strength?
is this a religion?
is this how you attain heaven?
Shocking and appalling attacks on innocent civilians have been carried out by Islamist terrorists over the last few years - Mumbai, 26-11-2008 and now Nairobi, 21-09-2013. There is always a pretext. Always an excuse ready for their actions - 'your country is invading or occupying our land'. Their apologists should just shut up and acknowledge that no such invasion or occupation calls for this kind of senseless violence, and that these guys are criminals whose poisonous campaign should first be shut down.
Torrential downpour-
Dry, morose, barren buildings;
solitary tree.
I wrote this one rainy day when I was lost in work and suddenly peered out of the window on to the walkway below: there was just this one tree left in the central part of the courtyard, surrounded by tall buildings all around, and it seemed to enjoy the rain the most!
It's 10:51
My Philosophy of Science class
Wasn't supposed to end until 11:15.
There is 39 minutes until Accounting.
I don't like this.
Because the cafe will be too full
It would cause a bad attack.
Because I was dumb and didn't take
My anti anxiety meds.
So I have to sit down on a bench in the hallway.
Stairs are a wreck.
My knees just shake.
I took too much of my friend's adderall
Because I never went to sleep.
And I needed to do all of these assignments
And exams
And papers
And swap tragic life stories with Becca
And I only picked at a piece of watermelon for breakfast
And now I have the shakes.
And I'm either really ******* hot
Or really ******* cold.
And I don't know which one.
So I'm just wearing a really warm sweatshirt.
Isn't this great
I'm too tired to talk.
But we can always
Just stare at each other,
And get drunk in a dimly lit room.
Or not.
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