Dive into the dark depths
Of the unfathomable sea                                                                        Of the baffling human mind:
Explore the concealed layers
From its surface, ever active and restless:
Slowly sink into the sub-conscious
And the more powerful unconscious mind
That regulates vital functions ceaselessly,
Remaining silent and invisible, all the while.
  Move deeper until you reach the source
    Of life's perennial spring,
    Flowing from your innermost being
    Into the boundless Universe, ever expanding,
    Beyond the confines of the sensuous mind.
    When this inward journey, spiritual,
     Brings insight into the subtle working
     Of the hidden mind, you emerge wiser
     And  stronger than ever before
     To weather the storms of life, ephemeral,
     And realize man's fervent prayer  -
    "Lead us from Darkness to Light" -
     "Thamasoma jyothirgamaya"
     The ultimate aim of all mankind.
             **       M.G.Narasimha Murthy,
Hyderabad, India.

Senses, vibrant and restless,
Drive into the depths
Of human consciousness,
Myriads of subtle impressions
And kaleidoscopic images,
While memory, ever alert and mercurial,
Recalls every relevant experience
For guidance in changing situations,
Giving rise to thoughts and impulses
That result in action and reaction.
To keep the mind well balanced
In life's daily toil and turmoil,
Intellect strives to harmonize
Conflicting thoughts and emotions,
Focussing them on a single aim,
To still the mind and bring calmness
To unravel the mystery of existence
And sages call this meditation.
            ***  M.G.Narasimha Murthy,
Hyderabad, India.  mgnmurthy4@gmail.com

Don't deny your desperation for me, darling.
Don't you think it's decent of me to decry you of your dire need in return?

lovers, we are young and
our hearts and our heads can take us
halfway 'round the world
but we can make a wanderlust home
in the space between our heartbeats
when we're curled around each other
the bed too small for all the love we have
knocking at our door is as simple
as carding your fingers through another's hair
we know you're never more beautiful than
with sleep and sunlight in your eyes
and lopsided curls falling at your cheekbones

and on the days that caffeine replaces blood in your veins
and tiredness pulls at your eyelids and your head
dragging them down, love, we'll tuck you in and
keep the coffee coming

and winter sunlight may be watery but it's
never brighter than squinting against the snow
and finding that your smile
is still the most blinding thing we see

and spring will return us to our roots
reaching against the tide of the world
to keep our love alive

oh loves, I'll love you even more
every turn around the sun we make
every spin that sets the sun to rising
always falling through the endless space
and still I know the most important

space

is the space where your breath
mixes with mine
the spaces between your teeth, the
spaces we made for us, the
spaces we'd die to keep

the space we made in a blanket fort
before anything else

Beyond your television
Lies vast hills,
along with many jumps and much thrill
Mario jumps
Zelda swings
As Kirby swallows
Donkey kong beats,
Star fox flies ever so high
While niko goes bowling
Roman started to cry
Meta knight stares ominously
As a goomba cautiously walks
A turtle shell turns blue
While the Mario kart racers get mad too....
We all know sleeping dogs don't lie
We joined a guild during an MMO war
Where we smashed every single one of our keyboards

my fingers
hovered
over the screen
ghosting over the letters
thinking of texting you
like it could somehow
let you know I was thinking of you

and I have fifteen
pictures of you on my phone
and I looked over them all
like seeing your face
in two dimensions
could make up for the fact that
I hadn't seen in it three
for two days

and then you were right behind me
and I don't think you noticed what I was doing
but god, it felt like happenstance
was on my side

because your voice
there's nothing too special about it
objectively
(as if I could ever be
objective
about you)
it's not deep
or husky
or dripping ***
like some people I know
and most of the time it's not quite soft
it's slightly slippery but
with sandpaper edges
but I love it
because it's yours

and  I love the face you make before you sing
off-key, usually
but you don't hold back and
I love you for that too

and you're not particularly tall (you're exactly average, actually)
(but I'm barely on the tall side of average and
she's even taller so
you seem smaller than you are)
or dark
or even handsome, by most standards
but you're like a breath of fresh air every time I see you
(swiftly taken away by your bone-crushing hug)

and I love the face you make
when you're skeptical
even though it looks nothing
like a skeptical expression should

I even don't hate
the things I should hate you for
because you have never
made me feel like I am
difficult to love
(even though
I think I am)

Although I'm a little annoyed with
how you made all my love poems
disturbingly heteronormative
for a while

I loved you
before you told me
explicitly
that you liked
being around me
and I loved you even more after that

good god,
I love you so

and it scares me because I shouldn't
and it scares me because I can't
and it scares me because one or both of us will end up hurt
but I'll take the pain
now and later
I'll always sacrifice
for the happiness of my friends
like I said
and you thought I was being so kind and
noble
but I think it's cowardice
and it has
never
felt like a choice

Go ahead pull it,
I'm not afraid anymore,
You can't play with me,
You're weak,
You're  a fool,
You're just a thought from the past,
You can't hurt me anymore,
The games are over,
I win,
Don't you get it,
You're nothing I tell you,
Nothing,
Just a monster from the past,
An old friend,
You want to fight,
Let's fight,
But this time I will win and all the times after this with one God by my side,
I'm the monster now,
You!, You're the girl from the past now,
You think you brought me down,
But all you did was make me bigger and stronger,
Nothing of you're kind will ever take control of me again,
I'm the queen,
You fear me,
So demon come on,
Just give up,
You’re not in control.

My pretty friend, the definition,
...a Chopin-esque romantic, needing intervention
frantically resilient, a mere honorable mention
...burning for forgiveness with hypertension
Craving your redemption.

In the secret section you mention
...there's tension in your confession
another missed connection
...misled by another's deception
the impression on the connection
...a misconception on another selection
rejection is a whole new obsession
...this seventh dimension perception
the impression is to employ prevention.

Because Attention Attention!!
...need I not mention
there's no landing affections
...just internal tension
my infection is your retention
...misappropriation.
......misapprehension.

These streets knew feet in days gone by,
bustling sidewalks, crowded storefronts,
laughter, light and dancers leaking
out of smoke-filled bars.
Cars would wind through intersections,
blood cells between neighborhoods.
From The Corner came The Roar.

He remembers how the Autumn sounded
                       back in '84
when Alan Trammell brought The Series home,
the arcing shot off Gibson's bat,
the rolling wave of soaring voices.
                      Old English
                             "D"
              tattooed on the hearts
                        of a city
     who's been hurting since the 50's.

Bless You Boys.
Ya did it--
went and Sparked up Michigan
and lit a dimming town again
in Corktown's widening eyes.

In 20 years, though, losses pile up.
55 and starved for signs
of trends reversing, luck upending,
impending relief or just some kind of
                  something.

Sickening, cloying rapid decay
       as neighborhoods die.
These streets know crumbling cinderblock
walls and blistered paint coats don't
cover ribcages starting to show--
steel girder bones--and windows blown
out, like teeth lost from a well-spoken mouth,
allow the Lake Michigan wind to howl
                      out the tale--
            through oxidized bones--
       of just what it looks like
      when economic war hits home.

Heartbeats still find footing
in Motor City streets, beneath
         the Old English "D,"
but mind the scoreboard smart;
the Tigers lost a hundred games
                    in 2003.

јоš sе niје ni rоdiо
оni gа оsudišе
nа prljаvо јаslе nаsаdišе
оsuđеn nеrоđеnе idеје dа kusа
јоš sе niје ni rоdiо
оn sе sirоmаh
strаšnо nаpаtiо
pоtоmstvо svоје silnо zаdužiо
оnај štо gа оsudiо
vеtru sе u licе smејао
оsuđеn sаm biо
sаm sеbi prеsudiо