I sought signs both poorly and all too well,

Temporal desecration, deceived amid allies in a chemical orbit

My eyes, coal-black freezing eggs shivering in the expansive contract

To remain unhatched, their interior activity unnoticed, casings devoid of fissures

They deemed this New World for the whole Indian Ocean, whilst bobbing in a tidal pool

Lonely flotsam, overbargained destination, peered the cobalt with sunburnt backs

Washed in seawater, mistaking the mast on the horizon for the splinter in my cornea

I sought signs both poorly and all too well,

Cornered by God, pushed through into the ethereal,

Found the pattern, heard its airy whisper coat my thought,

Gave in at the threshold, suffered fealty to this breached actuality,

My fey qualities shining, I could glimpse the moon at midday,

Sense the aroma of heartache; savor the essence of autumn’s submission to winter

during awarenesses of spectral subtleties, the heretic’s hints, that waning occidental divination.

Observations succinctly made
Bespeak fresh graves of newly
Interred friends or strangers
Turn on unexpected
Awarenesses of lives now spent.
Right or wrong,
Inexplicably we are torn
In two as part of us makes quick
Exits to fields of forgetfulness, and yet
Some part of us clips these memories to hold.

i remember my fingers in sweaty yours
breath against the glass of separate existences, our bubble of dark air, knowing all that is for us to keep and nothing more
and the way it felt to trap myself in the curves and tapers of your brain
if just for a few moments
just to be aware of your awarenesses
validity eschewing my darkness for that short sip of ticking and tocking
you called it 'time' but i called it 'existing'
and we were shouldered into the corner that day
tongues split and bowed under the slow texture of obedience
and for once my ****** sea was calm,
for once my sea was calm.

WE ARE NEVER APART
The Symphony from far is azar in the lonely air
Speaks of the splendorous surrealist Love,
We are clad in an ineffable Ecstasy
Robed in the aureate attire of the Godhead above.

Our souls are tied in strings of rapture
The glance seized by the skyless Infinite,
Mind no more slave to the mortal physique,
Spirit's realm seeks the Unknown's forgotten height.

We are two little Blossoms to spread the nectar of joy
The uninhaled fragrance of eternal Love,
Two tiny stars shining against the immeasurable sky
Still, on earthly abode we do aimlessly rove.

Two journeys different from two  woodlands different,
Two lines parallel do never meet,
Two contradictions of the One Single thought
Meet only at infinity in His unending Bliss.

Two shores of the shoreless Ocean
Betwixt the soft murmurs of a boundless Nought,
We are vast, profound in the mileless Unknown
Human measures view us as microscopic dots.

With two aims different,
Two lives living poles apart,
The Heaven's immensity  keeps her door open,
Our feet are tied to the soil of the Earth.

Delight most enriched tread in motionless moments,
The pregnant clouds rain the momentous mirth,
The breath stops but death alights not,
We are deathless in an Immortal Birth.

Two sweet notes of the One melodious Flute
Played here and there behind the din and bustle of man,
The two awarenesses of the single Omniscient's Beatitude,
Make us forever bound in the knot of the One.

The futile flutter of our frailsome wings
Of two little Swans in their infancy's Flight,
The Call of the Beyond ever awakes us -
Endows us with the invisible foresight.

Two epilogues of an unfinished chapter
Carved on the large unending stretch of Time,
The masked manifestations of an untrod precinct:
Two blissful notes of the unending rhyme.

Two unheard rhythms of an unsung Poem -
Writ with unseen hues of the amazing Blue,
The rhymeless rhymes with the forgotten prologue
Unveil its classic memorable hue.

Endless is the Journey, the Goal certain
In an unshakable certitude we do meet,
Night is scary, dark and eerie,
The Dawn enlightening awaits us
At Ego's unconditional forfeit.

As in the world ephemeral we live,
We do part, but never apart,
We are together in love forever -
To make our Sojourn eternally alive.
In an Immutable Endless Vast.
(Bijoylakshmi Das, Haridwar. 13 July 2019)


.

Am I pursuing happiness or is happiness pursuing me?
-
Happiness is in the pursuit   so they say;
         the pursuit                 of  happiness,
rather than,  say                      the pursuit
of Truth       or wisdom, or [a pursuit is a quest
       of legendary proportions; soldiers feel this way
       on the point of death in battle;
       transitioning to a new plane of existence
&                                      multiple individual awarenesses;
                                                    ­  the goddess & goddesses      
                                                      feel this instinctively
when a new being forms inside her womb
 [she is it- the awareness & pursuit         of        philosophy               or mystery                          is an                          odd stipulation to
        frame         as the law of the land;           [in god we trust to pursue happiness]
no wonder              Americans are
so ******              giddy;    super-
sports,    superwomen, super
tech,        super stupid [wow,
Einstein would          plotz -]
-
in god we trust
                to    pursue   happiness
&                 the inalienable right
    to bear arms
-
I think the founding           fathers were
high on firewater & chiba; the Indians
weren't stupid;          making those wig-
wearing weirdos see the ancient spirits;
America did art & literature    right b/c art is
notoriously  neurotic & pulled
                         from one's ***:
America birthplace of the Beats, Pinkham Ryder,
Poe, Stein, Dickinson, Burroughs, Me,
                            the Shadow,     the Lone Ranger,
                            **** Tracy, Superman; Bonnie & Clyde
& Al Capone; [                 ]  the disfunctional government
trying to rule by old   pieces of paper  w/ words they
                  can't understand: as for me      I worship
Barbie, Miss America, ******* - u & me [                ];
my personal   of happiness is sell evident;
               I  hold snooch to be self-evident
that all snooch is created equal           in America:
from Las Vegas      to Oz [the myth of white
            America created by Jewish America
            projected onto black America [theater] -
                     completely | [happiness is notoriously subjective:
  how should one pursue this intangible happiness?  
      what about anger, sadness & lust? do we presume
        to pursue      these feelings as well?  
        how about the pursuit of love,                  
        which doesn't make one happy - but there u go |
ignoring               Latin America; [vs. literature]
the Spanish myth of the      Andalusian plains      
                                      Gauchos & Contessas
       from an Old World                      across             the great waters that  
       may as well be outer space;
        Gaelic druid cowboy arises
       [burlesque emerging from the streets
       & underground:                 ***** naked women parading  
       in the all-together              & ragged petticoats, unlaced corsets;
big thighs in  ripped rayon                              stockings        :******
        among ***** drunken men;          
       | making tips,                    selling drinks,
                   [ex: frankly, ur happiness
                   just ****** me of!]        
                   gambling,
                   ******* right there        
          on top of        the tables  & below   to this day;  
gun      play -
pay-offs,                              [integrity, honesty, truth]
        from          the sun;      [if God is invoked
        in the Constitution,
        why is
        Satan not]   |
        from                                    the backyard        
bar-b-cue: drive-by
infants & in all this pretty girls get *****;