It's been long said in ancient Sanskrit texts,
"Yatha twam karasi,
Tatha twam bhogasi."

This roughly translates as 'As you sow, so you reap.'

This is true to the core but it's neither unconditional nor is it surely possible for you or me to be happy tomorrow even if we do good today. You might also have observed that sometimes you don't get exactly what you desired and yearned for when putting all your efforts. I will explain in the text that follows.

I am not Superman or a Godman blessed with super powers. I just believe in humanitarian virtues of course for all my life. And I don't despise the idea of theism. As some other people among the readers and their respective circles even I tame the same ideology about God having created the universe and then let us take charge.

I don't get involved in worshipping the creator, but I do thank that creator for having created us all. But how do I keep myself away from the various types of evils? The answer lies within.

What I identify as evil or deleterious to anyone or anything else, I don't do that and I totally despise all of it. Doing so I am aware that what I have been taking to and what I should get into. Whether it's my career or my love life, it almost totally depends on me and my Karma. The remaining few bits also depend on time and third parties who can affect my life greatly or maybe a little.

I don't know about what they quote other "Spiritual" people about and I feel that each of us can have our own views about time. I don't feel the urge to read about spiritual issues written by some well-publicised so called "Spiritual Gurus or Dharmatmas" who talk about out of the body experience.

The next time you think about some problem posed to you, your relative or a close friend, do try the following:
Just get out of your own mindset, think about the issue from a neutral point of view with your sixth sense (common sense) in right place. You're bound to find out the best way for solving it; let it be life or let it be any matter related to it.

Blue wine in a glass chalice
for him to drink after *******.
He'd rather welter in earthly pleasures
than confront his disciples now.
The sheep has a lost shepherd.
And he'd like to take a boat
back to his earlier self
and find out what he could have
otherwise been,
where he could have
otherwise sailed.

Some Decisions:
1. Fewer poems would be written by me daily.
2. I'll concentrate on strengthening my career.
3. More self-centric motives will be my priority.
4. I'll make my parents feel proud about me.
5. Friends will be chosen extremely cautiously.
6. I won't forget and forgive people's mistakes because I'm not a fictional idealistic Godman.
7. I will truly hold on to the above six decisions.

Maybe
deep in your godman
waiting in the core of your spirit being
There’s an apology for me
Your soul had yet to meet it’s pressure point
Your best features still buried
in the unconscious dirt that clings
to every human
It’s not something I want presented now
Not a crystal I want to hold
so I trust it’s sitting in your heart
As God turns all your mistakes to gold

they came from the woods equipped with vindictive teeth
and they ripped my skin off and my internal organs
they scattered ubiquitously and left me for dead
but i am no mortal, i am a god of my own design,
and i will take my retribution on them from the woods.
i drag my body through the thorny bushes and sticks
and up the hills and down the valleys as mountains tremble
to the ground and fall as pebbles from the stormy sky
and my claws dig deeper into the soft belly of the earth
and she screams in agony at this **** of her soil.
i drink from the river and find shelter in a dead horse
and lay its still warm organs where my organs were before
and there i sleep until the sun appears and again i drag
this useless body as forenoon becomes afternoon becomes e’en.
a starry sky offers itself to me but i cannot navigate
with this pallid tepid light illuminating nothing of this environ,
so morning again i drag and i drag this sack of skin and bones
and my teeth chatter in the cold and my breath becomes angels
and they dance for my amusement as i continue up broken hills
and there before me is the city of a thousand lights
siren calling me towards her open arms and seedy *****
and i roll down this steep escarpment and paralyse my hands
as i grab these rocks so jagged like mica or quartz or flint
and now my hands are gashed wide open and blood
smears the path i took but that does not matter because
my enemy lies before me in this city of a thousand lights,
a city that refuses to sleep to man or beast or godlike dead.
i slide unseen into a school and wait in a closet until the morn
when all the children fresh from adventures as robin hood
and his merry men running wild and rampant in the woods,
who found me sleeping and with their army of vicious teeth,
they ripped my skin off and threw my internal organs away
and now i lie in wait for them so i can cut off their skins
and i can disperse their internal organs everywhere
because you don’t disturb the gentle slumber of a tired godman
and don’t expect the godthing not to succumb to blind rage,
so as i lie here and imagine all the horrible things i will do,
i cannot help but laugh a laugh of a beast on the cliffedge of death
but i will always get my requital and **** what needs to be killed.

The godman also had
an underbelly.
He lost his vision,
came full circle.

Now paper lamps
float in rows
on tear effect.

An underdog―
becomes a horseman,
follows the royal buggy
with a naked king.

The verdict was
very simple.
It was a nightmare.

Wanting to die young
hairy and unbaked,
not telling the truth.
It was a savage vendetta.
The crowd was not on your side.
In manic intensity,
they shouted― death to the veils
in holiest dip.
I repudiate the presumptiveness.
A super religion gives birth
to a devil― another godman.
In chains, I will carry
a cloud. Very disquieting.
There was no water.
The seeds crawl―
underground in the wake of earthquake.
Collecting the tears to grow.
It is a blank summer.
The fat spiders open the eyes.

It was a free fall.
A plot seems to thicken.
I would never know.

Perhaps I will not explain,
how the test tube baby
slapped the sky.

The fun of unknowing
the secret of
a cold-blooded ******.

Suddenly the streetlamp
goes off. Night cracks
open to release the animal.

How a godman
becomes a werewolf?
The shadows are hovering.

The evil city? You
become the smallest
light.

The lamb did not save
the godman. I was
praying loudly.

It was falling apart.
The concept, the belief
the palace.

Years roll by. Until
the priest was shot down
on the street.

You marvel at the
turning of the mountain.
How do you climb down the salt?