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K Balachandran Oct 2014
Within the blue expanses of your left eye
I see colossal expanding galaxies
white dwarfs, black holes and exploding super novae
vie with one another in the other eye,
expansion and contraction are created by your winks
to complete the picture of a universe without an end
oh! mother of everything, this wayward son is
only a spec, he dreams your vision, conjuring up immortality,
he traverses through labyrinths non existent
in the outer space, in his fragile space craft to reach
the galaxy in the shape of your heart,
this is all I can hope in my interstellar voyage
now undertaken, with my heart drumming
as the back ground score.
And you feel me
Lost in lucidity
But sometimes life ..
Is a struggle
So now
Out of it all
Do you see me after all?
Or again
Am I in an infinite complex
Dissected by concepts
Never in regret
But to Lose lost
Is lost in it all
And lost for a cause
But if I am you
And you are me
Then why
Fight?
Decide
And realize
My love for you is infinite
And your soul I kissed.
From hell and back
And you knew that
Saw me in it all
Loved me after all


I feel you ... I hope
Shayla Jade Oct 2014
I left my home, when I left Mars.
I left my home among the stars.
I've traveled long, I've traveled far,
but I've never been to where you are.

The sunshine in your eyes is gone,
I see the dullness of the moon.
Faintly illuminated by the sun,
the two always in tune.

For I belong among the stars,
away from all the streets and cars.
Everyone has battle scars,
prisoners of their own wars.

You call to me, your name Hermes;
quick like silver, Mercury.
Surrounded by your energy,
indebted to all of your mercy.

I see it written in the sky,
everytime we say goodbye.
Two souls intertwined as one;
I'll see you when you see the sun.

For I belong among the sky.
My wings are clipped, I cannot fly.
It's hard for me to even try,
'cause I don't know the reason why.
Kenshō Oct 2014
Cast out were his alien dreams;
Aspiring and confident he did leave.
Fiery ground of thunder burnt his home;
As he alone cast out for that void,
perceived through his singular glass dome.

Adventure had caught him lonely
But peering out from his craft
his pupils did glow!
Circling fiery molecules hovering to and fro!
How could he now transmit and show
Reflection of scale small and macro!

Fumbling, his fingers did try
To articulate the machines
Imprinted of his native language.
"Calling Cpt. Crow!"

Sending the signal the results did show
A break in the wire and a fuse did blow.
Barricading that soul far and deep,
A minuscule solar flare
Emanating a glow!

And from that earth looked upward team and crew
Saw idle in that gigantic void a singular golden hue

Distant but true was the connection they all knew.
cast upon the void
Taking Flight
Soar Off The Ground
And We Were Lost To Be Found
Fly Above Commotion
Fueled By Emotion
Transition To The Ocean
An Abyss
Of Bliss
Because The Sky I Kissed
Let Me Drowned
There Was No Sound
Just A Geometric Playground
Dissipate Now
To Euphoric Dust
Empathy
And LSD
Ritually
Taken So Compassionately
Passionately
Lucid
Confused By This
Cosmic Dream
Tore From The Seams
Pathless
But I Let Go Of This
Let Go
Just To Flow
To Melodic Assumptions
Melody Had Me Elated
The Light Sensation
Liquid Creations
Creating Aquatic
Sounds Of The Sonic
Vibrations
Vibrating
Dilating
Pupils Dilated
And It Reflects Back To Me
Reflect The Patterns To My Moves
And I Move With The Motion
Loved And Infinite.
Wuji Seshat Oct 2014
To write poetry is
To create philosophical memory
To adjust the commentaries

Of all souls, to just one voice
To strip the inequalities
Of existence, of their mass
To write poetry is
To erase the written

Transforming what we have read
Making alphabets contemporary
Fluid, mystical

To write poetry is not just art
It’s neurological reprogramming
A quantum gesture to
The nature of beauty
And Meaning itself

To write poetry is
To return to an absence of meaning
The meddlesome mind forgets

The natural order of nature
To reduce layers of narrative
And return to a total peace
And a grand vision of the universe
As a talking thing, exchanging energy

In a physics of existence
To write poetry is to love the unwritten
Endings that all concur

To identify with the sudden
Rupture of beginnings
From which all thought originates
To write poetry is thus
The silence in between the words

And a solace beyond thought
To free oneself form the memory
That is an impression or a scar

On the mind, blankness is an ideal state
To observe time and space without attachment
To love existence independently
Of the personal conditions of one’s life
On the letters of your poems

I observe a black walking cat
A woman that must question her heart
To find the answers, without
Speaking we are a language
All we feel and do is a kind of vocabulary.
K Balachandran Oct 2014
The stars fallen
on the still water plane
of the lake
dreaming the sky every minute,
sizzle,
like the effect of cooling,
smile to themselves
thinking about the amazing
translocation,
from the foaming rapids of milky way
to placid dark waters deep down,
from an illusion of light years
to another, of transient reflection.
lie still for a while
taking stock of things:
isn't the real on the same level
of what we count imaginary?
when--
all the fish from secret depths
shoal after shoal after shoal
curious about the newly arrived
lightening bugs, that pulsate,
try to get closer,
propelling themselves
through water
like torpedoes sensing targets
wanting to gobble up
the whole galaxy,along with supernovae and black holes
thinking. "for us these planktons are an easy game
now right here, in our sanctuary,when we are starving"
stars, like frenzied school kids
after the last long bell
swim helter-skelter, ride
the unruly waves,
try to make it to the shore
but find dissolving altogether
was what was written on the book.
Anyway it's a"LILA"
a cosmic game illusory
all a grand opera in which
*Shakti  and Shiva play
transformation game.
But the big fish
ruling cosmic  space
with appetite voracious,
moves across galaxies,
crossing light years in a flash,
obliterating whatever is the matter
Shiva-the male principle/matter.  Shakti-the female principle/energy
L M C Oct 2014
gazing blankly, but thoughtfully
toward the rising sun
with tired eyes, empty pockets, hearts sick with denial
he never thought it would turn out this way
she did and
so it went

skimming the brinks of sanity
while skimming the crystal water
with shimmering stones and
damaged dreams

glaring at the sun glinting off the water
you think of how far you've come
and how much further you must go
and you think to yourself

life and death are one in the same

black holes never existed, he says
event horizon, that from which
nothing can break free
would be
an anomaly

the cosmic visionary says so
we adhere to all he alleges
no questions asked

she smiles and replies,
ask no questions and
get no answers

in that case, he says
will you be my antidote?

I'll keep you free from malady
as long as you
keep questioning
K Balachandran Sep 2014
Plan A: there is none as such;
though unflinching ego makes
complex calculations, concludes,
reassures it is best laid for sure.

Plan B, hence has no actual relevance
A mountain river, life is, it rushes
the way the cryptic GPS message directs.
If you ask how it works, try to understand
the intricate organic correlations, involving factors
that  even a super computer can't process
but your mind would, somehow easily tell you
in a clear voice, if only you are ready to  listen.

Every best laid plan is merely a wish
the more profound is spoken as a prayer
words addressed to the voice inside, that listens and acts
fulfillment then, is an emotional construct
you need the scent of that flower to inspire life.

Who says the cosmic plan is mysterious?
One who walks the karma path right, even when eyes closed
knows how to reach where one is headed to.
The truth this: one leads oneself, so keep the inner eyes open.

Subtle wishes that bring smile on the face of thy neighbor
are much more meaningful than selfish desires
One is just a cog in the cosmic wheel
Egeria Litha Sep 2014
Picking black walnuts
In Asheville
And shipping them
To Nashville
Road tripping
And using my magical hands

Like when a farmer
Is ready to take
His vegetables
Finally away from
The earth
Ripping roots
That took a beautiful
Process to create
And strengthen

Like an umbilical cord
Being cut
Disconnected from
Where the baby came from
Mother Earth

When it's ready,
It's mine because it's time
And I deserve it
I feel as if the universe is telling me to wait just a little bit longer before my manifestations appear.
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