AN INTRODUCTION TO INDIAN ART IN VERSE  
By Raj Nandy : Part One

INTRODUCTION
Background :
The India subcontinent and her diverse physical features,
influenced her dynamic history, religion, and culture!
The fertile basin of the Sapta-Sindu Rivers* cradled one of
world’s most ancient civilization, (seven rivers)
Contemporary to the Sumerians and the Egyptians, popularly
known as the Indus Valley Civilization!
The Sindu (Indus), Jhelum, Chenab, Ravi, Sutlej, Bias, along
with the sacred river Saraswati, shaped India’s early History;
Where once flourished the urban settlements of Harappa and
Mohenjodaro, which lay buried for several centuries;
For our archaeologists and scholars to unravel their many
secrets and hidden mysteries!
Modern scholars refer to it as ‘Indus-Saraswati Civilization’;
By interpreting the text of the Rig Veda which mentions
eclipses, equinoxes, and other astronomical conjunctions,
They date the origin of the Vedas as earlier as 3000 BC;
Thereby lifting the fog which shrouds Ancient History! +
(+ Two broad schools of thoughts prevail; Max Mullar refers
to 1500 BC as the date for origin of the Vedas, but modern scientific findings point to a much earlier date for their Oral composition and
their long oral tradition!)

On the banks of the sacred Saraswati River the holy sages
did once meditate, *
When their third eye opened, as all earthly bonds they did
transcend !
From their lips flowed the sacred chants of the Vedas, as
they sang the creator Brahma’s unending praise!
These Vedic chants and incantations survived many
centuries of an oral tradition,
When Indian Art began to blossom into exotic flowers like
Brahma’s divine manifestations;
With all subsequent art forms following the model of
Brahma’s manifold creations!
The Vedas got written down during the later Vedic Age
with commentaries and interpolations,
And remain as India’s indigenous composition, forming a
part of her sacred religious tradition! *
(Rig Veda the oldest, had hymns in praise of the creator;
Yajur Veda spelled the ritual procedures; Sama Veda sets
the hymns for melodious chanting, & is the source of seven
notes of music; Artha Veda had hymns for warding off evil
& hardship, giving us a glimpse of early Vedic life.)

IMPACT OF FOREIGN INVASIONS:
Through the winding Khyber Pass cutting through the rugged
Hindu Kush Range,
Came the Persians, Greeks, Muslims, the Moguls, and many
bounty hunters storming through north-western frontier gate;
Consisting of varied racial groups and cultures, they entered
India’s fertile alluvial plains!
Therefore, while tracing 5000 years of Art Story, one cannot
divorce Art from India’s exotic cultural history.
From the Cave Art of Bhimbetka, to the dancing girl of Harappa,
To the frescoes and the evocative figures of Ajanta and Ellora;
Many marvelous and exquisitely carved temples of the South,
And Muslim and Mogul architecture and frescoes along with
India’s rich Folk Art, enriched her artistic heritage no doubt!
Yet for a long time Indian Art had been the least known of
the Oriental Arts,
Perhaps because from Western point of view it was difficult
to understand the spirit behind Indian Art!
For Indian Art is at once aesthetic and sensual, also passionate,
symbolic, and spiritual !
It both celebrates and denies the individual’s love of life,
where free instinct with rigid reason combine !
These contradictory elements are found side by side due to
her culturally mixed conditions, as I had earlier mentioned!
Now, if we add to this the constant religious exaltation,
With the extensive use of symbolic presentation, from the
early days of Indian civilization;
We have the basic elements of an Art, which has gradually
aroused the interest of Western Civilization!

The further we get back in time, we only begin to find,
That religion, philosophy, art and architecture,
Had all merged into an unified whole to form India’s
composite culture!
But while moving forward in time, we once again find,
That art, architecture, music, poetry and dance, all begin to
gradually emerge, with their separate identities,
Where Indian Art is seen as a rich mosaic of cultural diversity!

(NOTES:-In the ancient days, the Saraswati River flowed from the Siwalik Range of Hills (foothills of the Himalayas) between Sutlej & the Yamuna rivers, through the present day Rann of Kutch into the Arabian Sea, when Rajasthan was a fertile place! Indus settlements like Kalibangan, Banawalli, Ganwaiwala, were situated on the banks of Sarsawati River, which was longer than the Indus & ran parallel, and is mentioned around50 times in the Rig Veda! Scientists say that due to tectonic plate movements, and climatic changes, Saraswati dried up around 1700BC ! The people settled there shifted east and the south, during the course of history! Some of those Indo-Aryan speaking people were already settled there, & others joined later. Max Muller’s theory of an Aryan Invasion which destroyed the Indus Valley Civilization during 1500BC, supported by Colonial Rulers, was subsequently proved wrong ! Indo-Aryans were a Language group of the Indo- European
Language Family, & not a racial group as mistaken by Max Mullar! Therefore Dr.Romila Thapar calls it a gradual migration, & not an invasion! The Vedas were indigenous composition of India. However, they got compiled & written down for the first time with commentaries, at a much later date! I have maintained this position since it has been proved by modern scholars scientifically!)

SYMBOLISM IN INDIAN ART
From the ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic to the Cretan Bull
of Greece,
Symbols have conveyed ideas and messages, fulfilling
artistic needs.
The ‘Da Vinci Code’ speaks of Leonardo’s art works as
symbolic subterfuge with encrypted messages for a secret
society!
While Indian art is replete with many sacred symbols to
attract good fortune, for the benefit of the community!
The symbols of the Dot or ‘Bindu’, the Lotus, the Trident,
the Conch shell, the sign and chant of ‘OM’, are all sacred
and divine;
For at the root of Indian artistic symbolism lies the Indian
concept of Time!
The West tends to think of time as a dynamic process which
is forward moving and linear;
Commencing with the ‘Big Bang’, moving towards a ‘Big
Crunch’, when ‘there shall be no more time’, or a state of
total inertia !
Indian art and sculpture is influenced by the cyclic concept
of time unfolding a series of ages or ‘yugas’;
Where creation, destruction and recreation, becomes a
dynamic and an unending phenomena!
This has been artistically and symbolically expressed in the
figure of Shiva-Nataraja’s cosmic dance,
Which portrays the entire kinetic universe in a state of
eternal flux!
The hour-glass drum in Nataraja’s right hand symbolizes
all creation;
Fire in his left hand the cyclic time frame of destruction!
The raised third hand is in a gesture of infinite benediction;
And the fourth hand pointing to his upraised foot shows the
path of liberation!

It was easier to teach the vast untutored population through
symbols, images, and paintings in the form of Art;
For a picture is more effective than a thousand words!
The Dot or ‘bindu’ becomes the focus for meditation,
Where the mental energies are focused on a single point of
creation,
As seen in the cotemporary art works of SH Raza’s
artistic representations!
Yet the same dot when expanded as a circle becomes
wholeness and infinity;
The shape of celestial bodies of the cyclic universe in its
creativity!
The Lotus seen in many sculptures, on temple walls, and
majestic columns, denotes purity;
A symbol of non-attachment rising above the muddy waters,
retaining its pristine color and beauty!
The Lotus is a powerful and transformational symbol in
Buddhist Art,
Where pink lotus is for height of enlightenment, blue for
wisdom, white for spiritual perfection, and the red lotus
symbolizing the heart!
This Lotus symbol also finds a place in Mughal sculptural
carvings and miniatures;
The inverted lotus dome resting on its petals, forms the
crown of Taj Mahal’s white marble architecture!
The trident or ‘trishul’ symbolizes the three god-heads
Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva;
As the Creator, Preserver and Destroyer, in that cyclic
chain which goes on forever!
The ***** stone of Shiva-lingam surrounded by the oval
female yoni symbolizes fertility and creation,
Usually found in the inner sanctuary of Hindu temples!
Finally, the symbol of ‘OM’ and its vibrating sound,
Echoes the primordial vibrations with which space and
time abounds!
All matter comes from energy vibrations manifesting
cosmic creation;
Also symbolized in Einstein’s famous matter-energy equation!
The Conch Shell a gift of the sea when blown, sounds the
ancient primordial vibration of ‘OM’!
It’s hallowed auspicious sound accompanies marriage
ceremonies and rituals whenever occasion demands;
And pacifies mother earth during Shiva-Nataraja’s sudden
seismic dance! (earthquakes)
Dear readers the symbols mentioned here are very few,
Mainly to curb the length, while I pay Indian Art my
artistic due!

A BRIEF COMPARISON OF ART:
Despite the many foreign influences which entered India
through the Khyber and Bholan pass,
India displayed marvelous adaptability and resilience, in
the development of her indigenous Art!
The aesthetic objectivity of Western Art was replaced by
the Indian vision of spiritual subjectivity,
For the transitory world around was only a ‘Maya’ or an
Illusion,- lacking material reality!
Therefore life-like representation was not always the aim
of Indian art,
But to lift that veil and reveal the life of the spirit, - was
the objective from the very start!
Egyptian funerary art was more occupied with after-life
and death;
While the Greeks portrayed youthful vigor and idealized
beauty, celebrating the joys of life instead!
The proud Roman Emperors to outshine their predecessors
erected even bigger statues, monuments, and columns
draped in glory;
Only in the long run to drain the Roman treasury, - a sad
downfall story!
Indian art gradually evolved over centuries with elements
both religious and secular,
As seen from the period of King Chandragupta Maurya,
Who defeated the Greek Seleucus, to carve out the first
united Indian Empire ! (app. 322 BC)

SECULAR AND SPIRITUAL FUSION IN ART:
Ancient Indian ‘stupas’ and temples were not like churches
or synagogues purely spiritual and religious,
But were cultural centers depicting secular images which
were also non-religious!
The Buddhist ‘stupa’ at Amravati (1stcentury BC), and the
gateways at Sanchi (1stcentury AD), display wealth of carvings
from the life of Buddha;
Also warriors on horseback, royal procession, trader’s caravans,
farmers with produce, - all secular by far!
Indian temples from the 8th Century AD onwards depicted
images of musicians, dancers, acrobats and romantic couples,
along with a variety of Deities;
But after 10th Century ****** themes began to make their mark
with depiction of sensuality!
Sensuality and ****** interaction in temples of Khajuraho and
Konarak has been displayed without inhibition;
As Tantric ideas on compatibility of human sexuality with
human spirituality, fused into artistic depictions!
Religion got based on a healthy and egalitarian acceptance
of all activities without ****** starvation;
For the emotional health and well-being of society, without
hypocritical denial or inhibition!
(’Stupas’= originated from ancient burial mounds, later became devotional Buddhist sites with holy relics, & external decorative gateways and carvings!)

KHJURAHO TEMPLE COMPLEX (950 - 1040 AD) :
Was built by the Chandela Rajputs in Central India,
When Khajuraho, the land of the moon gods, was the first
capital city of the Chandelas!
****** art covers ten percent of the temple sculptures,
Where both Hindu and Jain temples were built in the north-Indian
Nagara style of Architecture.
Out of the 85 temples only 22 have stood the vagaries of time,
Where a perfect fusion of aesthetic elegance and evocative
Kama-Sutra like ****** sculptural brilliance, - dazzle the eyes!

KONARAK SUN TEMPLE OF ORISSA - EAST COAST:
From the Khajuraho temple of love, we now move to the
Konark temple of *** in stones - as art!
Built around 1250 AD in the form of a temple mounted on
a huge cosmic chariot for the Sun God;
With twelve pairs of stone-carved wheels pulled by seven
galloping horses, symbolizing the passage of time under
the Solar God !
Seven horses for each day of the week, pulls the chariot
east wards towards dawn;
With twelve pairs of wheels representing the twelve calendar
months, as each cyclic day ushers in a new morn !
The friezes above and below the chariot wheels show military
processions, with elephants and hunting scenes;
Celebrating the victory of King Narasimhadeva-I over the
invading Muslims!
The ****** art and voluptuous carvings symbolizes aesthetic
bliss when uniting with the divine;
Following yogic postures and breathing techniques, which
Tantric Art alone defines!
(Both Khjuraho & Konark temples were re-discovered by the
British, & are now World Heritage Sites!)

Artistic invention followed the model of cosmic creation;
Ancient Vedic tradition visualized the spirit of a joyous
self-offering with chants and incantations!
The world was understood to be a structured arrangement
of five elements of earth, water, fire, air, and ethereal space;
Where each element brought forth a distinct art-expression
with artistic grace!
Element of Sculpture was earth, Painting the fluidity of water,
Dance was transformative fire, Music flowed through the air,
and Poetry vibrated in ethereal space!

CONCLUDING INTRODUCTION TO INDIAN ART:

Indian Art is like a prism with many dazzling facets,
I have only introduced the subject with its symbolism,
- without covering its complete assets!
After my Part Three on ‘Etruscan and Roman Art’,
Christian and Byzantine Art was to follow;
But following request from my few poet friends I have
postponed it for the morrow!
Traditional Indian Art survives through its sculptures,
architecture, paintings and folk art, ever evolving with
the passing of time and age;
Influenced by Buddhist, Jain, Muslim, Mogul, and many
indigenous art forms, enriching India’s cultural heritage!
While the art of our modern times constitutes a separate
Contemporary phase !
The juxtaposition of certain concepts and forms might
have appeared a bit intriguing,
But the spiritual content and symbolism in art answers
our basic artistic seeking!
The other aspects of Indian Art I plan to cover at a later
date,
Hope you liked my Introduction, being posted after
almost forty days!
ALL COPY RIGHTS ARE WITH RAJ NANDY
E-Mail: rajnandy21@yahoo.
    FEW COMMENTS BY POETS ON 'POETFREAK.COM' :-
I have a vicarious pleasure going through your historical journey of Indian art! Thanks for sharing this here! 2 Mar 2013 by Ramesh T A | Reply
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The prism of Indian Art is indeed has myriads of facets and is an awesome mixture of many influences some of which you list here so clearly - a very understandable presentation of symbolism too - -thank you for your fine effort Raj. 2 Mar 2013 by Fay Slimm | Reply
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Oh what an interesting read with immense information capturing every single detail. You painted this piece of art with utmost care. Truly, it's works Raj…tfs 2 Mar 2013 by John Thomas Tharayil | Reply
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First, I have to say, the part about the lotus symbolism reminds me – My name ‘NILOTPAL’ can be split into ‘NIL’ meaning BLUE and ‘UTPAL’ meaning LOTUS. So my name represents wisdom (although it contradicts ME.. LOL). A lot of things were mentioned in the veda and other ancient Indian texts that were way ahead of the time Like the idea of ‘velocity of light’ got considerable mention in the rig veda-Sahan bhasya, ‘Elliptical order of planets, ‘Black holes’ , although these are the scientific aspects. The emphasis on contradictory elements or even the idea of opposites in Indian art is interesting because India developed the mathematical concept of ‘Zero’ and ‘infinity’. Hard to believe Rajasthan was a fertile place but now it possesses its own beauty. It was great to read about the Natraja, ‘OM’ and the trident(Trishul). Among symbolisms, Lord Ganseha is my favorite because a lot is portrayed in that one image like the MOOSHIK representing

The Crickets cackle “crisp,”
With an only interruption, being I,
Atop dust, whisper and
Desert highway.
I’d tell you if I were running,
But I’m not quite sure, not yet,
Leaving the Coyote to eat,
Respite, and devoured,
The singing Crickets,
A’howl later,
To deliver answers unimpeded.

I have a faint memory –
A snake’s grip promised, via hand and
Crystal contingency,
“Wiser,” once bestowed, the mystic;
An epic complete, atop 17 years of thunder,
Steel stained crimson,
Street stained whimper
And forever remaining,
“Under-construction.”

Symbolic a more relevant scaffold,
½ bamboo and the other steel, the tower,
Note ‘fore me, it’s only purpose –
Elsewhere, and anonymous,
While I tap my belly to some
Melody we’d once enjoyed;
Maybe something by, “Coltrane,”
Or maybe not; but music we’d both
Recognize and reminisce too.

It’s an awkward alchemy of sorts,
As the Crickets, post-mortem,
Persist if only to chirp, and the Coyote mulls.
When the dust continues to cake.
When the whisper finds newer ears.
When interrupt’s abrupt, erupts,
Pacifies and interrupts again;
My precious distraction –
An amnesia loyal in away from, “then.”
Somewhere beyond, “there,”
And onward, “anew.”

Even through stormy skies
Sing songs of calmer days
I swear when cold and cloudy
Passion pacifies with sunlit rays

Looked at you, my frosty armor melted
No place warmer than your eyes
Daydreams and illusions don't come close or compare
Gut filled with air from fluttering butterflies

I discovered home in your embrace
Your love is thawing my ice
Your presence is a welcome heat wave to my Winter
In your strong arms I found paradise

I romanticize humanity until what's left isn't even human.

I cook up fallacies about legal aliens and add a dash of cumin.

Your chef tosses salads in the pasta section of the grocery store.

Devil's just as confused, with a ***** and an apology at heaven's door.


You don't know, and no one cares where eggs go when they die.

Godzilla thinks of a car full of clowns like you would a sardine pie.

What happens when an elephant gets alzheimer's and loses keys?

Does the paradox consume an entire circus of trapeze-act-fleas?


I ruin birthday cakes by blowing off the frosting instead of the flames.

How I do that? Count backwards from backwards and say my names.

Bittersweet love anthems pollute the brains of conscientious dames.

Heavy metal doesn't pollute, it pacifies rage quitting from soul-******* games.


Out of the woodwork comes a limp ***** that would work,

Long hours only to find he'd pay millions for a Miley Cyrus twerk,

Which is worth about as much as an all-female circle ****,

Unless you add strap-ons, so strap in and lap up the knee-****-smirk.


It is unwise to handle scissors when one is being cutting-edge,

Because your accountants will dangle themselves off of a three-storey ledge,

When you cut up the ledgers and make light of, that is, burn, the evidence of pledge,

To the monkeys in your think-tank mailing feces to the upstart farmer's hedge.


Now I know you're sick of rhyming and of poems and of liver culling whisky,

But I must inform you of a pirate's missing eye, I've bought sight of something risky,

I implore that when this song and dance is done, you'll assuredly miss me,

Because I've told you everything about depravity, hence forth you must kiss me.


Beacons of hope shine much like cantankerous silver in the moonlight.

If you're a werewolf that will fill you with hope and with immeasurable fright.

One day the world will admit that I'm awesome and impoverished to boot,

Because when the song and dance is done, what's left is just an ounce of loot.

I don't know why I feel this way
when I see your eyes slowly fading
in the four corners of the room.
You were lying in a king size bed
staring at you losing senses
I see an angel sent from the heaven
I love you when you're asleep

You, lying with your lingerie,
this tempting feeling
it's so ****** but I like too much
wanna kiss you slowly
wanna feel your lips with mine
fresh and warm
a tempest feeling yet sublime

This oozing feeling of pleasure
makes me forget all my pains and sorrow
from the coldness of the night
turns to warmth like sudden distress
of guiltiness that's hard to treasure
Oh! Babe!
wanna feel your caress
wanna feel your wamth
wanna feel your body
wanna feel you touch

The strands of hair all over the pillow
stretch of glory along the horizon
of innocence on a meadow
like ties on a kite
makes you look more ****
wanna hold you tighter and tighter
but I can't hold on too much

It's not that I disrespect you
but watching you sleep pacifies me
like a dangerous drug
it's hypnotizing, heavenly, addicting
wanna stay longer, a little bit longer
I don't wanna lose you girl
Holding back my emotions
Just to watch you sleep

This oozing feeling of pleasure
makes me forget all my pains and sorrow
from the coldness of the night
turns to warmth like sudden distress
of guiltiness that's hard to treasure
Oh! Babe!
wanna feel your caress
wanna feel your wamth
wanna feel your body
wanna feel you touch

It's not that I'm a maniac
I'm just a manic man over in love with you.

I  was awaken by the song
Playing on the radio
The librettos are familiar
To my ever longing soul
So I get an old photograph
Of us together
I put it on my chest
Close to my heart
As the melody pacifies the air
My soul  sways again
Ah, it is always you, my love
The reason,
My *joie de vivre

Pain stays permanent,
Permeating through time;
The pinch of loss,
Can never be sufficed.

Pain surges periodically,
Often high in tide,
Crashing on shores of sympathy;
Bund that gap,
With all your might,
These sensations erode,
Cutting in the shape of your soul;
Gorging away your sane.

Pain pangs often,
Reminding of the times gone,
But in that memory,
Find inspiration to go on!

Pain pacifies loss,
Whence you derive,
Your reasons to smile,
In memories so close...
Dormant relationships bloom,
An evergreen garden!

stuck in my head again,
nothing seems real.
life sheds its skin
on my lazy boy chair.
flashing pictures on the tv,
pacifies the pain.
as long as I keep the thoughts at bay,
the darkness sorta goes away.

remember the insults
you spit at me?
I do.
never stopped to think,
something else could be wrong.
you always say it has to be me
so you put on your shoes,
pick up your things,
kiss my head,
and close the door on another day.

you suffer for my torment.


©2006 Dead Men Publishing

Tell me where I can go, he said,
just get me out of here.
Give me truth in every form, he said,
be the answer to my prayers.
Listen to this man, she said,
his poison words will taste so sweet to you.
I'm not going anywhere,
anyway.

Hero's the wrong word,
but it calms his mind.
It's what's steadying his hand.
A rationale so absurd,
he'll take what he can get to silence the voices in his head.

Give me something to believe in,
cuz I don't believe in me.
Give me something to hold on to,
and I'll cling tenaciously.
Listen to these men, she said,
their words of death will seem so wise to you.
I was never taught to care anyway.

Hero's the wrong word,
but it calms his mind.
It's what pacifies the guilt.
A rationale so absurd,
he'll take what he can get to silence the voices and he says,

I'd buy anything so I don't have to grow up poor.
I'll go anywhere for you, I'll walk through any open door.
I'd do anything to feel a part of something more.
I'll **** anyone you say to feel fear nevermore.

Hate is a strong word,
but to him it comes as easily as fear.
And fear pervades his soul. He's so far gone.

i know it pacifies,
national socialism was experimented
in germany,
but national capitalism took over,
you have a McDonald and a KFC
in Slovakia and other places...
it's not killing people,
but it's definitely numbing them...
they have no chance of a cultural
uniqueness, this national capitalism
has america in BIG PRINT seen
everywhere, and china in small
print worn everywhere: MADE IN;
which basically means everywhere
starts becoming a lookalike alike alike alike
*******, hence the emergence of
internet shopping, everyone becoming
like the rich kids: pool, snooker hall
and all other social functioning distractions
enabling congregation under one roof,
with richy rich over here, having to pay
for a ******* too gluttonous to do it himself;
hey, it's just a muscle kid...
the clergy have a monopoly on the *****:
esp. if it's all girlie girl girls.

****! Her choices establish tragedies
The key that fosters felicity long since marred
But now she’s found the freedom she so passionately sought
It was gifted to her as a straight jacket
In the colour of her choice

Every evening she sleeps within such paraphernalia
As the solace pacifies her in classic tones
With the cushioning characterized as a mirror
Emulating the shape she has so flawlessly taken

Two years in the knapsack
And to your very eye I am the poster child
For used condoms and tampons
Am I not worth more than fish?

There is a timid storm
On the unfeeling airwaves
I am the furniture
That lines petty stairways

There is a furious calm
That pacifies the antique
But I lack the intelligence
To be unique.

It is you,
In the hallway,
That heavy oaken scent
Which fills a confused corridor
With echoes, with lament.

Ambiance tears asunder,
A weakened personality.
So I ask who’s turn it is

…To make the tea?

I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly that night.
And even more sorry to know that you had the shock
of finding my ’not wanted on the voyage’ body.
The useless carcass I left behind.
That shouldn’t happen to anyone,
to find your lifeless partner by your side…
That’s how you’d see it anyway.

But me? I’m off now into the wide blue yonder,
never to return. Not as you knew me anyway.
These are the rules I’m afraid.
Apparently some people do come back.
****** Spiritualists & Clairvoyants… They make us all,
up here - seem like part timers.
Not that I wouldn’t… But it’s complicated.

There’s a kind of apprenticeship,
a protocol to follow…There are still rules
even in death. There has to be a trade off.
No pain… no anguish…
And, you can just dip in and out of your old
family’s life - PAs… Personal Appearances.
That’s what 'Head Office' calls ‘em

Pacifies the loved ones that you are settled.
In the dying mode of things that is.
Really what you’re doing… as a soul,
is waiting for a suitable donor body
then you're born into a new family!
That's the way it goes!

To end on a lighter note… Kind of makes you wonder
why there aren’t more child prodigies around…
Maybe only the smartest ones make it back! Who knows?

All that knowledge gone to waste… Just saying!

I keep the TV on, because when I do it feels like I'm living.
I keep my browser running, because when I do, it feels like I'm feeling.
I keep my movement low, because I'm slow, because I'm softer
and I burrow deep beneath my sheets to forget that I'm a daughter.
World's potential rages, shapes and faces overwhelm me,
and I'm screaming silent for the quiet that I feel like I am missing.
I want to touch you, see you, hold you, speak without restriction.
But I numb my mind in sounds and lights, so that I can slip away.

Over-stimulation cradles what craves to be kinetic,
pacifies the glowing inside craving open air.
I cannot move, I cannot go, I'm too afraid to ride the ride
and so I'll sit behind the lines
and participate by watching.

And here we'll watch the world together- and also so alone
would that I could
rip free the bandage
and leave my ***** home.

and the internet praises the introvert and tells us we're secretly deep.
And we dress our wounds with wasted time until we fall asleep.

And in my dreams I'm running, fighting, TRYING SO HARD
to break free.
And in the morning, I shudder, shake them off
and dim the light in me.

And day after day
back, here we go,
back to the flickering screen.

I grow to despise all
which bring tears to my eyes

it's happened too many times now

I want nothing but your nonexistence
no happiness or sadness

just nothingness

I want apathy, I want disinterest
I want permanently handicapped empathy

I'll get there eventually

I'm losing faith that there's such
thing as hope, or faith for that matter

it's all drab around here, really

I try to pacify my bitterness
but my bitterness pacifies me

I'm taunted by the irony

I've lost count of the times
I've been made to feel so foolish

I'm getting used to being embarrassed

All you well-to-do women
with whatever is in your head

Keep respectable distance

your energy is better spent
on one who won't slowly with time

unravel at your feet

I can agree there's a lot to
hate about those who you pity

the ones who feel as I do

you see them vulnerable and
you feel in control and powerful

it disgusts you that you had no choice

you'll soon loathe as I do
and your niceness will be tarnished

I'll loathe all even more

I feel no sensations other than
some exhausted discontent

it becomes your true companion

I welcome it all at this point
there's no point to finding a point

maliciousness just exists, I guess

you or I are no exception
I know I'm feeling quite awful

I want to share my suffering

but it's for me and only me
my one and only property

my holy suffering

I'll carry it with me
exclusively

I cannot be one with this world
I won't adhere to what it requires
It shall be forced to my own will,
or I will exile myself willingly

with my suffering,
in pursuit of the only thing
I am truly entitled to

Amongst,
the rhythm
and teeth
I thought,
it pacifies,
quietly
so quickly.

see now
how tightly,
our arms
have been
tied behind
our backs
(and it was
us who
bought
the cord)

and yet,
i flail my tongue
still,
hoping to
trap a square
that could
neutralize
all that
sad acid
rotting in
your gut

we
know
nothing
of the brain
and even
less of
the heart

but I feel
paralyzed
enough
to reach out

Skin like porcelain
Ivory, milk and honey
Your kiss pacifies

We Are So Lightly Here

“So come, my friends, be not afraid, we are so lightly here
It is in love that we are made, in love we disappear
Though all the maps of blood and flesh are posted on the door
There’s no one who has told us yet what Boogie Street is for”
Leonard Cohen “Boogie Street”


                                                     <~>

my body, my eyes, my entirety, tattooed, with a city map,
here, at this exact place, our eyes glanced, our eyes closed,
who among us does not possess such a living guide,
memories presented in a 3-D versions, constantly edited.

placed your hand on my privacy, bid you enter, not a dare,
more an invitation to risk, become a true love of mine,
share exhilaration, desert valleys that pockmark unexpectedly,
changes us to we, regresses, you and me, post-survivalists cut.

2 gather, modify highs/lows, meet & peaking@peculiar tunes,
ever embraces residuals a sour film upon our lips, a puzzling,
what excites, pacifies, returns us street corner, X’d our map,
glances exchanged across an empty street, seeing each, not.

bumper-stickers of crosses
commemorating a Jewish hippie anarchist
are flanked by mantras of violence the hallmarks
of ambivalent compliance celebrating
barbarism the State’s chief contrivance

my fill-in-the-blank is an American serviceman
note here that it doesn’t matter if the individual in
question identifies as male female or non-conforming
they are a service man as if the
erasure of gendered complexities somehow
appeases the intricacies of humanity
beneath a blanket statement of hyper-masculinity but
i digress

my fill-in-the-blank is an American serviceman
reinforcing the spiritualization of militarization
in syncophantic intontations of
god bless our soldiers
and only ours
forget about all the other men and women
and children cursed by the pox of
foreign aggression and endless war
they are not our concern
on the contrary
they are just an obstacle in our path
a minor speed-bump we must summit by summoning
chauvinism and stepping on the throats of our enemies

dominance is our souls’ sole objective
we don’t have time for notions that might
challenge our hallowed perspectives or our
holy war in the most sacred spot in all
the world we cannot be deterred by the images of
broken bloodied babies on Mediterranean shores
‘cause the decimated dead with decapitated heads
only fan the flames of conquest
cultivated by the corrupt

i suppose i shouldn’t be so surprised
after all you did adopt an
instrument of torture to remember your
savior by when a dove of peace and
fraternity would’ve sufficed

your distinctly American Jesus stands shirtless
with a chiseled six-pack in camouflage cargo shorts
wielding a double-barreled sawed-off
shotgun in each hand he’s
white and rich and arrogant
as he trades blows with ISIS and
sits in consternate judgement over godless atheists
barking out damnation from the right-hand of
the lord our god the king of kings
salvation reserved for the predestined elect
necessarily limited to Americans his
chosen elite in their promised land

if only he could see you now
that same martyr you bless with one breath
before spewing vitriolic hatred with the next
what would the prince of peace
riding on a donkey
have to say to
bigots racists and homophobes

would he find the
stones you spew and shove
them back down your throat
the way i’d like to

no i somehow imagine that if your Christ returned
he’d interpose himself between you and the LGBTQ
and suffer the brunt of your bitterness
turning black and blue beneath the blows
willing to die for the least of these crying
abba father
why have you forsaken me

if the Nazarene came back he’d
overturn ballot-boxes in houses of worship
masquerading as venues for the 2016 election
he’d realize Sanders is no socialist
that Clinton is grotesquely hawkish and
i like to think he’d tell that fascist Trump
to *******

he would stand instead with the poor
and oppressed with men and women
of color at Black Lives Matter protests
smoke some quality kush with the dejected rejects
and comfort the back-alley addicts with
a soft word or warm hug to serve
as a reminder that the Kingdom of
Heaven is not above but is
built brick-by-brick in the day-to-day
interactions of compassion between ordinary
humans with an extraordinary capacity to
counteract the lethargy of apathy that
pacifies the populace and turns us into
cowed wage-slaves bowing in acquiescence

the rabbi would march to the gates
of the white house
and occupy the front lawn
to triumphant shouts that
rendered unto American Caesars
precisely what they deserve

a non-violent mass resistance of
leaderless and highly coordinated
civilly disobedient dissidents who
value dissent and populist movements to
voice their disillusionment at abject
apparatuses consolidating dominance
in order to remind the 99% that
in the words of one romantic

we will rise like lions after slumber
in unvanquishable number
we’ll shake our chains to earth like dew
for we are many and they are few

yet as much as i am loathe to admit it
Jesus of Nazareth was executed two
thousand some odd years ago
your god is dead and he cannot save us

if we intend to contend with the forces of
depravity that inculcate humanity with
putrescent fantasies of self-aggrandized zealotry
we cannot sit on our hands or
bury our heads in the sand and
wait for someone else to lead us to redemption

salvation keeps us looking down and shuffling
along suffering chained to our lack of imagination
rather than looking straight ahead
into the eyes of our taskmasters
and irrevocably declaring
we will lead ourselves

we have it in us to build a better world in
the shell of the old and raise a
culture of equality and liberty
provided we don’t buy into
all we’re told but
if such a dream could ever
triumph we must find the courage to
brave the cold winters of repression
that surely lay ahead and pour gasoline
on this ugly specter haunting our planet
before lighting the torch and tossing it
onto the detritus of misanthropy

watch it burn

come
huddle close now
gather ‘round
keep warm
if we stick together
we can brave the storm gathering
even now to purge our
peaceful non-compliance

as we carry the conflagration
to every nation to
each corner of the globe
we will overthrow the
ghost of governance

Pain in the Mind makes for interesting expression;
Sometimes frenzied, other times over-cautious.
Nonetheless, it's usually genuine,
if a little
disproportionate.

Pain in the Mind is like a wildfire:
it destroys the peace and quiet
removing the luscious vegetation of Mind
and allowing for renewed growth
tomorrow.

Pain in the Mind is transient, as is Joy.
Both have their purpose, they are tools,
but when one pacifies you
rather than motivating you,
then it is a burden.

I am not immune to my own rants:
I am my closest point of reference.
Inescapably so, in fact.

I'm taking my
time with this one.
I'm going far below
it all,bare with me.

The fear and
the anger level
off the risk,
the pistol and
the black cat
provide  me
with composure.

I can still see
it all,
the blood on the
floor,blood
on the memories.
Still feel the tears
as they tumble
in the darkness
of the void.

Have you ever
confronted what it
is that hurts you
in the dark.
Laughed at the
magnitude of your
needs as you fulfilled
the hard times
with all the
wrong things.

I'm venturing
deeper,
there's no turning back
now.

The last words
she said to me
still echo behind the
high.
Failures pass me by
as I remain loyal
to the hunger.

They celebrate in order
to escape.
I burrow deeper into
the tar, chase it all
down with the
cheapest bottle
of the highest proof.

The ringing
of the rush
and the calming of
the fix
taunts my soul.

I continue to
jot it all down,
I allow it to
act as a mediator
between my mind
and this hostile
world.

It pacifies these
terrors,
these desires
and allows me to feel.

I'm pulling back now
the purpose has
been served.
And still I
refuse their
pill formed
cures.

The memories
are still alive
and for this
brief moment
the pain has
ceased.

Dear Eve,
The beat of my heart
The gasp and sigh of my lungs
The conversation hid under my tongue
You are my passion.
My everlasting light.
The promise of dawn that pacifies me through night.

Eve,
I am nothing without you.
I am nothing without the balm of your fragrance,
The compassion of your embrace.
The warmth of your smile.


Eve,
You carried my burdens on your back
You bared the weight of the world
You birthed my sorrow and pain
I bled and drained you for my gain.

Eve,
Will you stay by my side?
Will you promise?

Eve,
Will you smile once more?
Do I deserve solace?

Eve,
Forgive me.
I welcome my fate.
But I can’t accept yours.

sun begins
bow to sleep

sets sky
in vermilion haze

present me
with palmful

of touch     touch
pacifies palm

could be lined
with sunshine

happy lemonade
threads

The happiness is gone
The bliss is nonexistent
And the well of dreams has run dry

What used to make me so happy
Has faded into nothing
As I feel nothing

No pain
No reason to cry
I'm not that hurt

Just a drop of dissapointment
Diluted by the satisfaction of
The "I told you so" directed at myself

My old ups and downs
Have mellowed out into
Complimentary pros and cons

I suppose this was the end
Of something great
But of something awful too

This is what I expected
And shall expect going forward
All my joy gets repaid with pain

The beautiful moon recedes
The tide pacifies
The bipolar night is over

Now I can resume living
Without burdening her scheduale
Not feeding off of her radiating bliss

My night no longer spent
Playing my mental albums of her
No longer filled her lovely smile

My morning's no longer wasted
Wishing the dreams from last night
Could come true

It's funny how love dies
How the process hurts so much
And then your reward is nothingness

There's no way to amend this
Even if one of us wanted to
It's all already over

"Dad, can you Google a sum for me?"
the protagonist cries
and an echo of classrooms
and chalk dust
and taste of sour milk
grab my senses.

I remember the grey days stretch
as we carefully drew out three quarters
of an upturned box placed
carefully over a number
too big to count on our fingers.
Then we pulled each digit apart
like legs from a spider
until the monster was tamed
(or break-time arrived).

I pretend to use the Internet
and explain.
The wisdom did not directly come from me
and it pacifies.
Later:
"...and for frequency tables
the teacher tells us to use calculators."
she concludes, incredulous
there was ever any other way.
And I am as ancient in her eyes
as Henry Briggs was to me at her age.