essences of fire
and ice
        keep wanting
to burst out of me
it is so hard to know
where to end
how to start
           the rivulets
    the torrents
           turn them on like
                   a waterfall faucet
they are there,
the opposing elements
lurking, ready
just under surface
waiting to ooze, pour
secret inner filth
spilling endless
crusty lava
onto the naked
rough-hewn floor
along with purest
of lightbeam

hard to pinpoint
the moment
I knew I loved you
what love
is actually supposed to be
bubbling and frothing beneath
              ice floes, melting
                         hot wax sliding
                      I do not know how
                           to prevent this
          dripping exhaustion
of elongated membranes
from imploding
into the truest
form of encapsulated longing
sharpened pangs
spit-roasted
upon the fibers
of my brain, of my heart
my pain in stop starts
stop no go on
I can't take it
I want it all
can you feel me?
I want it all, I say
thrumming hotly
down
      to
           the last
wild drop
of
  eternity

Because I could dare to believe,
The angel Lennon stooped for me,
The contact between two kindred souls,
And eternity,

We quickly flew - he knew not slow,
And I had climbed his wings,
With passion and with ardour,
Most cherishable of things,

We passed the earthen angels bright,
Blake, Buddha and Ganesha,
We passed them diligently working,
With Love's light enmeshed,

And then, upon a lightbeam,
We met Angels of the sky,
Chasing light that follows,
Where those bonny Angels fly,

We paused before a God that seemed,
Like Shiva, bright, supreme,
Painted like the cosmos,
With pallet got from dream,

And then to cosmic churning,
To hear divinest truths,
The music madly burning,
With beauty rare, forsooth,

Since then - I am an angel too
Guardian of the South,
Feels good to me that I strove to fly,
Right back in to spiritual health.

You are part lightbeam
You are soft as tulip petals
I have so much tenderness for you and
I am so scared

You have such lovely people and I am not here to ruin that
I only want to be here for you
and to share life

I am not unaware that
I have not always been here
I don’t know what to say,
but that I am here now and I am here to love

i find it discouraging to adhere to atheism, namely due to the fact that atheism argues against: mental disorders and finds too much infantilism in a debate worth having... what is so ******* infantile, when the actual infants don robes, fake catholics, and their fake kippah in the form of a zucchetto... or the humbling hair-cut known as the monk's fried egg of scalp: tonsure? the clergy pretend being jews... i'd prefer to talk to a jew about the jew-fakers.

i still find it unimaginable with respect to islam:
how can you be so audacious calling
a religion "original", then the blatancy
of plagiarism is rife in it?
      what is original is the immediacy of the schism,
now, that **** is original...
it was going to happen,
           the persians were always going
to call the arab sand-****** camel-jockeys out
when the chance came...
            it was unavoidable that the persians
would answer the arabs:
           you seem to have mistaken us...
we're above you!
          we have a longer history!
            we cherish art, not sand dunes!
you ******* quick-clipped dunces!
         islam is original in only one aspect:
the quickness of a schism -
  besides that? it's audacity dies a sudden death...
how can you replace satan the apple
and imagery metaphor whatever you like
and woman: with a mere japanese etiquette
of saying hello?
                                 come on,
let me counter that...
                 it's not that satan didn't bow before
adam when asked...
                           let's revise that:
when god asked satan to join the choir
   he was like: you don't preach to even one
member of the choir!
       satan didn't refuse to prostrate himself
before adam, he refused to sing for god.
             the logic was:
                 an elephant stepped on my ear
from hearing you talk, dear Elohim...
i found like a bent trumpet...
                        i'm baritone and can't sing
in tune with the other angelic *****... oops...
or oops bounce twice then twice oops...
take it or leave it...
         i'm sure you'll find ample volumes
of cat stevens down on earth...
   mm mm... shoo shoo, or is that sufi?
  lightbeam followed by a moonshadow,
leaping and hopping on a moonshadow,
and if i ever lose my hands...
   i will not have to work again,
my eyes,
  colours run dry...
away away, hey hey, away,
i will not have to cry no more...
                         the part where you try to be
funny is synchronised by the realisation
that you're not being smart...
        or perhaps the smartest thing
every attempted was done by an intelligent
man: pretending to be an idiot...
    i never know which is true.
the ridiculousness of islam is its blatant
plagiarism...
                     i don't know how they got
away with it for so long...
     at least the greeks disguised the tetragrammaton
in the accounts of st. matthew, mark, john & luke...
which means that two of these four
accounts are almost identical, resembling H...
           i have to admit islam has a number
of + inventions,
       like washing your hands and feet and face
but leaving the genitals dirrrrr't'e...
                            for the puritanical thinking,
shouldn't we wash those areas
before praying / imagining a deity?
                    it's just the blatant plagiarism that's
so ******* glaring,
            i can't stand the audacity of treating
a plagiarism as the original,
a tactic employed to replace the original with
plagiarism...
                 and some sand-people trying to
topple over the persians... like the persians
would budge... like **** they would...
             i'm actually happy in reading into
the history that the schism didn't happen for
theological reasons, other than how:
un-honourable the prophet was in the affairs
of family bonds...
                                a prophet of breaking
promises...
                             best to have promised
jack-****, or in the least: an exhausted mule.
- and like i once said,
  if the ****** was illiterate...
who wrote the first verses of the koran?
wasn't it the highly literate *khadija?
     might as well invoke the second H since
you're going to surd the first one, i.e. khadijah...
didn't she write the first verses?
                       i could write many odes
to this women, who was turning in her grave
once the illiterate son of a goat
started becoming a spoilt brat, audacious,
  and unlearned in her teaching him of
the authenticity of being a merchant...
     i'm just rubbing my hands,
waiting for the fat scoff pigs of arabia to
sip their last drop of oil and start playing:
the fiddling thumbs game.

A lightbeam came down to your crown
As your gentle fingers caressed the keys
I knew it would be extraordinary
You bowed your head and smiled
I sat on the edge of my seat

Then as if someone was whispering notes
In to your ear, you played
My heart tore open and I smiled
With my whole being
Tears ran down my face
Soft, happy tears

What your music told me
Will remain a mystery
Sure I could ask
But I'd rather not know
In stead I will come to hear you play
Let your soul touch my heart again

Alone
Amidst this fortress
Battle is gone
My Lightbeam
My shield

Love is so tender
Among this hell

Dreams of attaining
Immortality

Love is more than just a feeling
This Virtue is a decision

To Love or be Loved
Not a question anymore
So I leave

And bid love goodbye
For You
Evermore

I keep myself suspended in thin air
Through my weak arms,
Pulling the rope in a pulley tied to my hips,
Trembling muscles, fearing eyes, missing voice,
I see the ground getting farther
As my hands force me up.
I'll hit the soil, but when?

I suspend myself in a road
Between two cities I recognize,
But stuck in a middle town,
Unknown, bizarre, half dead,
Waiting a never coming repair,
A volatile gasoline to move me,
The guidance to be back on track,
But I get used to the town,
People suddenly are acquainted,
Unstrange, polite, mannerly.
I'm suspended between those cities
By a thin web of limits,
My lack of imagination,
My despise for shortcuts,
My eyes closed to any opportunity
(Received as an horrendous spell).

I'm in betweens,
The half way,
The dissonance of the division of a semitone,
The missing particle of quarks,
The dark half of a lightbeam.
I'm suspended, panoramic.

I'm not myself anymore,
I'm not myself yet.

Dear friend,
You walk with me and hold my hand
On days there is no sun
for me
No rainbow on grey sky
You listen to my agony
Even wipe my tears when I cry.

All you do to make me forget
To make me smile again
I know I always can count on
you when everyone else
has left.

You’re also the first to call
and ask me “friend how are you”
The last to leave my side
In the darkest of my days
You never walk away.

Dear friend you are very dear to me.
The best friend one can have.
You really are my mainstay.
A lightbeam in my dark.
I want to let you know
today and say
“ Thank you”.



Shell✨🐚

There exist
a tipping point
in every matter...

It's when the chaos inside
crosses the threshold guarding
the last post...

It's when the people
who otherwise are weak
become so strong
that they could move a mountain...

It's when the beginning of the end
begins
(for every misery,  scar and pain)...

It's when they left
nothing to be lost
but a lightbeam at the end of the tunnel...

It's when the monsters
dread and tremble
for the reckoning to follow...

so let it be known
to all the tyrants
there's only so much pain  - they could inflict

and
in the end
'Karma' does the rest...