i am drowning in your many waters
sea and sky reversed
like an inside-out TV
looking up into the depths of your you-ness
i want to be deeper
i want to go deeper
i want to know deeper
i want to we deeper
i want to wear your body like a self
and look at me
which is you
the mirror is the door

Given up, deluxe in Essex
Cornwall, seaside Fortress
Stonehenge, felt the Vortex
One Vision, one idle Apex

Kiss the Haven Sanctum ******
Diligently Lingers the Finger Remix
Vibrate the ring tho Rung Her Nexus
Into New Blue , You beg the Context
Of seeming NonSense, hum my Edifice

I'll give You This, oh humble Tread
I've past the Veil, many lives I've Led
Memory to Full to sustain, Unfurled
This Nomenclature not of this World

Do you want Me? Come then, Explore
Rich, sweet, then Sour, Drink More
Intoxicate, bubbled deep risen the Core
She is Ancient, She is bled, of Iron Ore

Cleanse your Palette, taste must never
Mix, or coagulate, congeal, or Root
Fluidic Fauna, Flower Sauna, Resolute
Cleanse, release into Her, Ashen Soot
Absolute Sanctuary, must enter, Barefoot

simply complex pieces of string strung together
you and i, the two of us

colours added in a euphoric mix
of what is and what ought to be….

strands of speech
fluid actions

i feel the f  l  o  w of you over me

a woman of colours
I want to colour you

your blank canvas
my ******* strokes

you are my mood
my muse
my motion

Time is a raindrop
      Falling separately
Never landing in the

Same location.


But puddling in an
    Inevitable
gathering
              of
         Singugular continuity.

Grey blankets the sky,
Cradled sun is winter rapt,
Life waiting to spring.

I'll never be solid with the fluidic
relationship of our evaporation.

I lapse towards you never wanting
to be without a touch, but I fall.

Why cant a embrace you without letting
you go, before we graze momentarily.

But in our sorrow a gleam of light shimmers,
and I linger between fluidic and rainbows.

I just want to fall towards you, but this is
a silent gaze never reaching you whole

There were whispers among those that heard
echoes through others voices.
Spilling vacant lots of urban mythes of what was
perpetrated in different places but never was an
ounce of truth weighted upon breath.

I had a spoken version of what I was envisioned as.
One had been a breath away from my features, I had
let him linger in a purgatory of thoughtlessness to
who or what was being purposed on this moment then
he became a architect of my latest art form or death.

[The Hang Man]
Before I let him speak his truths I had ended his momentary
glee at the thought of my expulsion. We cant have that can
we, I'm an urban myth of what was perpetrated on the
fictitious thoughts of others belief that they were but an
ending of what had lead to this inevitable closure.

Now silent gazes I look at, each and all see that blink in
dejection of what is inevitable. I give them a moment of
saturated hope hands stretched out as if to help,
but there terminal in this existence and I play that final
grim moment of what is another note in my book of what befells.

This is no different, he was a moment of relaxation on my
imaginative moment, he was a tapestry of creation, a choke
hold of no trauma was the recipe of his unconsciousness.
I prodded his stomach in playful jest, wakey, waskey
dead man walking, or barely standing shoud I say.

I spoke words only heard once different upon those l looked upon

"Can your breath escape the suffocation of this knot
that lingers around my life,

[Needle work]
Like a moment frozen, erasing the time between the realities
of contemplated normalcy and the fractured whispers of
imagery that stains my mind. I see the world in a perspective
of not colours but emotions and I step off the precipice of
reality and I see clearly.

"I am a kite flying on the ceiling of my coffin,

But everything that rises must fall, collapsing beneath the
boot of authenticity, and vibrate motifs shatter to behold
existence, I tremble under the offence of the rope that binds
me as death smiles in satisfaction of my eagerness to rise above.

Telling me that I am but a needle in the tread of wasted time,
I am a balloon punctured with feathers and I am exhausting
his time as I linger between the steps of here and nothingness.
Awaking in a hospital bed I vow to never be here again.

Its tied around my arm, and I'm vacant, sober of regret but I
must rise like the kite I am, flying above morality I will never
fall. Until an aroma of disillusion lingers and my string is finally cut.
I am not embraced in deaths palm, instead I am a patchwork
of regret and for eternity its sewn into my fibre I am no longer a kite.

[Pills Drowning The Silence]
I wonder around the halls of my mind, looking in rooms of
forgotten memories the faces scratched out and vacant.
I speak to them asking why did you do this, and as the
deformed emotion looks at me no visible motion but
laughter reverberates through my mind and I grasp at
my mind and scream in censorship of those in ear shot.

I count them on the side like sheep over a white cloud that
covers them in the bottle 1-2-3-4-
                                                      ­  5-6-7-8-9-10...
                                           ­  40-9-38-37-36
So many sheep that wish to be jump from that bottle to
my waiting taste buds. Sugar coated moments fall like
raindrops down my oesophagus coalescing in the
pit of my remorse. I feel them fizzing away bubbling away
in my memories and I giggle in as my eyes stretch open
and time slows down and I hear the voices in my head clapping.

Oh well, everything is a moment and mine is slowing down
and I can actually sleep peacefully, not be tortured by the
concussion of repeated images of your motions in my head.
I smile, I haven't done that for so long anger was my angel
and she cut deep into others. I hear these singular words.

"I ingest the purity of the world and slumber evermore,

[When The Flames Consumed]
I looked into the word that lingers between light and darkness
I saw only the reasoning that all obscurity was a moment of
purity that became blistered and corroded. Liquid was just air
in fluidic form, Untaintedness but when it became enveloped
upon my being I was drowning between the voids.

I was neither alive or dead, I was submerged in the suffering,
screams that echoed around my form but nothing was exhausted
from me. But others that were sieged on the sight before them,
I told them my sorrow, telling them with the formation of light.
Without a word I was enveloped in the words of chastity.

"I am but ash in the flames of my agony,

I watched the others that never knew I perceived what they
were going through, they were my "suicide kings,
I treasured ever moment of their ending and the suffering
they endured was not be questioned, but they were kings
upon the bones of men. My offerings never suffered they
were kings in the thrones of pain and now they are free....

The Rabbits hand weaved on the circulation
of the air, vivid rainbows were eroding from
his palms. I tried to catch them but in vain I
was slumbered within a vacuum of nothingness.

I sneezed and the rabbit had evaporated into clouds
above my reflections. Tick-Tock went the clouds.
like they were counting down to the inevitable
disablement of there being, I bathed in there innards.

My Conciseness was assaulted with this kaleidoscope
of tiny speculation drumming inwards soaking me
with uncensored reality. I was awaking to a hued
refection that I didn't want to inevitably react too.

I pondered momentarily, then took a partaking to that
which like an ocean waved upon my cognition.
I was once again flustered in the degradation of all that
was reality as it disintegrated in to fluidic chaos.

PROLOGUE –

Silliness becomes a later suffering, if only tinkered by potion –

PART I –

A contractual moment whilst halos best remain hung on the hat rack since devils taste so much better. Bitter but belated, ritual yet related, so to in avoidance, fleeing anything that’d mimic life, “ideal;” perfect being a, “nine-five,” during which, “monkeyed with,” comes to a peak and a valley’s once more, a lack of control. A tailspin wherein one truth can become just a shy more intangible mere seconds later – We can see it, we can smell it and we can almost touch it – so allows the specter, the hand holding drink, and later, permitted, for our nakedness to play once more.

PART II –

Four more down and a few gin-fueled gestures later, we stumble upon but one edible truth, an apple and, “sin,” repeated thousand-fold – so succumbs you and a parallel I atop our empty and, “precious,” wants carnal. We masticate and learn to destroy the TV – naked, begrudged and bent over the boxes we worship. We annihilate the machines. We profane the dependencies; placation and participation wrought this artificial coercion, once a friend and now an object – a disdain, a thievery, a prison, vicarious and to be avoided by all costs.

PART III –

Human interaction and fluidic free choice soon become the new, “in,” the primal addiction amongst the bottles of tequila, *****, and plain-old beer. Our grinning, in the flesh and not in pixel, must and will rise like the places we’ve so very poisoned. Here and now, we care. We have to care, because if we don’t, it’s all for nothing. So we top the night twisted, simply breathing, where the smog isn’t seen, but it’s there. We top the night tethered, where the rain doesn’t burn, it believes. And we top the night innocent, and among stars, both in the sky and entangled the heart beating my right,

EPILOGUE –

For the time being, just being, where all seemed right, a little twisted, but wiser nonetheless.

We are in a abundance of  fluidic obscurity.
    Tidal forces collect the stones of creation
                     weaving them upon the shores
                                             of static boulders.

Melodic in there rhythmic causality.
        Caught in the gravitational flow
     within the onyx oceans of forever.
There are ripples in the static, migrating.

Luminous moments breath below
               the murkiness stirring life.
                   Where a crest of nihility
washes many away, but life lingers.

Like fireflies they perforate the tides
of eternity, breathing for moments
               before expelling there beauty,
to once again create elegance in a sea of darkness.

To find the serenity of the motherly womb, to submerge in the fluidity of silence, here one can learn to honor their experience of life as a precise pronouncement of each moment, and sense ALL presence as if it were in suspended animation… One must release, let go and dive into the unknown to seek out undercover, underwater….braced and insulated in its deep protective cocoon. To cross through the boundary of known (air) into unknown (water) one must accept the transmutation of the senses which naturally accentuates and morphs our awareness, mainly allowing one to experience the perception of time not as an intangible lightness but rather as an encompassing heaviness of each moment (the timelessness of the moment).

It is in the stillness of this immaculate silence that one can recognize and revel in this Power so mystifying, The Power of complete fluidic unity, The harmony of moving together as ONE. Here is the revelation revealed and the recognition unquestionable. It is here in this spiritual space where one has truly submitted oneself to honor GOD’s immaculate depths.

Within this acknowledgement one becomes able to appreciate the irrefutable resemblance and likeness of this experience to the unity of the shifting energies expressed in the Ethers that is GOD above. There is no fear of wandering aimlessly as you are now moving with the coherence of the cosmic tides forever. In this rapture one experiences transcendence and drifts profoundly in the Knowingness.

Reflections of calmness and turbulence,
Mirroring the phases of life with clarity
Flowing along streams, rivers, creeks and oceans-
Carrying along with it, the folklore of humanity,
Sometimes muddy and crystal clear in other places.
Shallow at times and somewhere unexplored depths;
Calm and flowing with ease; whereas strong undercurrents,
Also, threatening to wash away the natural habitat;
The duality of the calm and fury unfathomed-
The very essence of life can wreak havoc for humanity,
Its fluidity can take the shape of the vessel it’s in
Making way for travelers in ships, and also drowning them;
Its depths thriving with millions of forms of life,
Also can become a grave for the same life on earth;
Never have we been able to tame it or understand,
Sometimes icy cold and sometimes boiling with rage,
It has the power to even wear away the strongest of barriers;
It’s in being fluid that lies the strength to endure everything,
Embrace and resist all the challenges of life with fluidity.
Traverse the ups and downs that life has to offer,
Make it the confluence of all the experiences good and bad;
Wash away the barriers along the way with the undercurrents,
As your strength lies in the fluidic course that you choose.

© Amitav (Radiance)

Lost in the fluidic movements of Keats
Feeling each line, steady rhythm ‘n beats
Sending my head spinning, beautiful tune
Swooning all love-struck hooked on the spring moon
Glancing gay-fully over hill ‘n yon
Silently anticipating
the breaking of dawn
brought back in a flourish reading aloud
tears well up as I destroy this old shroud
keeping me locked up so tight…life, no air
thinking repeating rhyming couplets
lead only to despair
but here is a romantic from days past
creating lovely pictures that do last
with only his words, ink, quill, and parchment
thoughts, ideas, love, being different,
setting them free on wings of written word
allowed then to soar, spectacular bird
then to perch on tongues of well-spoken men
let loose on the world, set free once again
travelling sounds delighting each sweet ear
giving peace to downtrodden… far, and near
offering some solace to the forlorn  
on the darkest and coldest dreary morns
these sounds which fly so high, brighten the sky
swirl in the mouths of our loves when we die –

Tempo of rhyme that has a distinct
             taste of perpetual numbness.
Where the rhythm of our moments
 counted down in  numeric breathes.

Antiquated concepts as in the fluidic
                         verses of where we are,
                                      Where we were,
                              and our culmination.
Momentary between noise and silence.

We are all constructs of visible passing,
within all are finite chimes
                     in the existence in eternity.
The chimes of passing never really ring,
        But shatter within, ending our time.

Glamorous promises
Elusive lies
Slip through your lips

A broken sigh
Troubled exhalation
Escapes my lungs

Trembling hands
Pleading touches
Weakens the will to hold

Teary eyes
Realize
Redden with despise

Fluidic hair as the wind rushes
Feelings dissipate
Nothing is left, just expired mushes

One is a poet of verse,
                    no longer entangled
         by past misconceptions.

I'm a man of fluidic verse,
                            I weave the mentions
          of my reflections on reflective verse.

Some can not shed a
             thought
                    reflecting
in the pools of there
            subconscious

What seemed
                   fluidic
                        malleable
neither applied to this
it was a skin of
                      rigid refection.

If one does not open the regressive
estuaries of the
                             cognitive
reality they wonder in,
needing to shed the epidermis
of retired outdated reflections.

Like a tainted mirror they will
slowly fade from the fluid of
mankind's endless potential.

Changes in the water
Seems like it's a flood of fluidic thoughts of mirrored doubt
Hate ranges from learned to raucous
The breath that engages warfare
Makes people cautious

I saw a luster lady,,
Actually a body,
Concealing myself in my inner shady,
Hiding the body too in the glady,,
Focused only on my moody,
****** imaginations of the body,
Wasn’t accepting the original,
Only being visceral,
Like the random flows of tidal,
Half ,random and glidle,
Rejecting other images of the same body,
Not seeing the whole with what I was being ready,,
Smearing myself with my own mind of muddy,
Constructing what I already have shoddy,
I’m some fluidic noddy,
Not seeing the entire sphere
Getting tear,
Wallowing in Smear,
Receiving back my own jots and gear,
Claiming of being some seer,
Sinking in stinking shadowy beer,
Not even deserving a jeer,
Isn’t it all clear,,
That body isn’t my object as a seer,
But my own smeary fear, projecting here,
Turn inward,just recede,,
Removing precede,
Stop intercede,
Enough trying succeed,
Just concede,
Not only what you’ve believed,
But also the one who has deceived,
All the time claiming nothing but mislead,
Don’t just read , precede,
All that you see in the tiny Mirage now Recede.