this is how i die an array of colours flashed
hippy's tie die shirt glamourized before me
a 60s hendrix tripping vibe
too much deception, not enough communication
silence was the biggest killer...

after all most deaths are silent
and the dead don't speak

but who says they're not listening

a record collection of conversations stored in heathe ledger's memory files , the frontal lobe archives

just like the front side of the incoming car
just like the front side of the quickly approaching cliff ledge
just like the frontal assault i planted on myself,
but my pain is temporary...it is everyone else i know who must bear it  for a lifetime if they discontinue this domino effect

(i'm not talking about domino's pizza)...pizza hut OBVIOUSLY

I ordered the extra large cheese with a side of jalapeno's because this one if going to burn with a cheesy ending

how could you miss it.... i wrote it in my death note.

Once upon a time
and once only
there lived an unsightly man

and though he was very kind and hard-working
no woman got
more than one step closer to him

after a while
seeing he cannot find his soulmate
the man left the village and built himself a cabin
in the woods

all day long
he chopped wood
picked fruit and herbs
occupied himself with carpentry and animal husbandry
and grafted all sorts of trees in spring

from time to time
the villagers came to see him
asking for advice on how to heal their wounds
ordering a door
or a bed
and less often
a coffin

but the man in the woods
though more and more sought-after
was
more and more miserable
as time went by

one day
unable to possess his soul anymore
wove a rope
and went to the oldest oak
to hang himself
but the oak
who had seen so much in its life
but never a man so wretched
broke the branch he was hanging on
then covered him with leaves
so that no one could find him
right next to its trunk

but
underneath the leaves
our man fell asleep at once
and woke up before God
and he said to Him
Lord
You know that ever since I was a child
I have been careful not to tread on ants
or any kind of crawlers
I have not stolen
I have not lied
I have worked all my life
for all that I earned
inspite of these
I am really miserable
that no woman wants me

and the Lord said
I know you very well
there is hardly anyone as kind as you out there
but as much as I love you
I cannot create a woman so unbeautiful
to love you
but
you can

look
from the dried oak branches
you can shape a woman's body
fill it with clay and wrap it in leaves
and I will take care of the rest

so, after he woke up
our hero
worked on his clay creature for three whole days
but fearing she would reject him
he made her even more unattractive than he was

on the third day
he called God
and asked Him to give her life
and the Lord
as promised
blew the breath of life into the woman

seeing this wonder
the man was grateful to the Lord
then woke her up gently
with a kiss on the forehead
she then opened her eyes and asked him:
who are you
and why are you
so hideous that you are scaring me

to which he cried and said
forgive me
I am your servant
The Lord made me like this
to protect you from wild beasts
but I am hard-working and wise
to care for you how I know best

but she closed her eyes
and then he understood
to only care for her
in secret

and as he loved her more and more
her ugliness began to fade
becoming more beautiful with every passing day

soon
a young villager came to ask for remedies for his mother
and not little was his surprise
when he saw the most beautiful woman
he had ever seen
and she saw him, too
and understood what love is
oh, how she whined that night

seeing all this
the man who dreamt too much
told her the following day
look
I know it is time to go our separate ways
I cared for you as well as I could
and I hope you are not dissatisfied with anything
go with that handsome young man
and should you need anything
look for me
if you can bear to look me in the eye
and so she did

years later
while keeping himself busy with a bee garden
the man in the woods felt her presence behind him
but, afraid not to scare her,
he did not turn around
and she cried out:
I eventually learned the whole story
so I came to ask for your forgiveness
and look into your eyes
and the man
who had stopped dreaming for a long time
turned around and was astonished
to see before him
the most unsightly woman in the world
but he did not mind
so, he cared for her
just like that first day
and she regained her beauty and happiness
and perhaps
the man in the woods would have never learnt
why his woman caressed him with so much joy
if one day he did not look in the water of a spring
and see
the most handsome man
there has ever been
out there

❝ a man curses his self-created hell;
   a trap he weaved for himself
   that later on evolved
   into a labyrinth of intricate design

   his choices,
   the basis of his sorrow
   a product of ignorance
   that drowns him
   in the ocean of confusion

   he becomes lost
   in the prison of darkness
   floating in the sea
   of perpetual gloom

   searching for the light
   with eyes open
   but senses shut
   stumbling about for eons
   and eons

   blaming fate,
   God,
   circumstances,
   but never himself ❞

you are not the first man
to take off my clothes,

but you are the first man
to see me naked while
my clothes are still on.

There was this man. At the metro station.
He held his head up high
He looked at the sky,
Splitting it up into fractions.

He had bloodstains on his shirt.
He was sure that I wouldn’t see them.
But I saw them. And the more I looked,
The redder they got.

My God.

I didn’t know whose blood was this.
But it was fresh and red like roses,
Like a woman’s kiss on man’s lips.
There was this man. And his chaoses.

His hands were shaking. They were old,
Flawed, wrinkled. Pimples
On his forehead reminded me
That one day he was a boy

And all he had was dreams.
And bloodstains on his jeans:
He broke his knees
While trying to seize

The moment.

He owned it. Now his shoulders
Bend over. His shirt is just as old as he is.
And there are bloodstains, redder then
His cheeks.

So there he is. He sits at the metro station.
Wondering why the sky
The ******* sky
The blue-but-not-red sky
Is splitting up into fractions

And why his hands got redder.
He better
Still be a boy with dreams of joy.
But bloodstains are all

That matter.

'I' am the Universe's Eye, the metaphysical self, the Bliss Divine.
Transcending the realm of the ordinary and familiar-
I am not just the Mind, nor just the Matter;
But everything yonder, as well as in between;
Spaceless and Timeless, 'I' am the Light within.


Neither am I born, nor shall I expire
Not from Adam and Eve did I transpire.
Neither words nor intellect could ever describe;
I am not the one from God's forsaken tribe!


In the cacophony of life, which is another delusion
My ****** existence is mere illusion.
Where is my life source and where does it end?
A Supreme Consciousness manifestation, I do comprehend.


I am the Gita, the Bible and Koran,
The twilight sky, The early Dawn.
I am the God Particle, the vibration of an atom;
I am the Lightning in the Thunderstorm;
I am the supernovae and the penetrating Black Hole;
I am  Infinite- an extension of The Whole.


Wordly attachments bind us to the cycle of rebirth;
The soul is hence born on this earth.
In stillness and silence, find the real 'I'
Extinguish the manacles of the menacing 'My'.
Solve the eternal question- Who am I;
and there shall the foundation of our Enlightenment lie!

Tanaya
10/10/2020

When he’s standing in your doorway
Clean-shaven, distanced,
Recognize that once he was
Scouring the cracks in the blacktop,
Picking pansies with the weeds
And clumping them together to declare
The love letters he had written along the sidewalks,
Blue chalk sprawling beside her walk home.

And one day he was standing before her desk,
A medley of a bouquet lodged under his fingernails,
That he took to be the most beautiful piece of art.
Lips slightly chapped, chest rising quickly,
In a moment of unadulterated courage he ****** his arms forward
To present the best offering he could.
And all she saw was the dirt.

i often wonder;
how lives the poor man.
i noticed him there
by the bridge.

his skin was burnt
by the coarse light of the day;
i gaped as he stood there
in a ragged attire.
i know im not to judge,
but he didnt look too decent.

now, he walked away with his dish.
a coin or two,
he'd receive
if the bountiful felt pity.

i often wonder,
how strives that poor man by the bridge.