Don't ever ask me what am I, an ancient story
of a battle lost to remain in the realm of the sublime,
unmitigated grief that visits, again and again,
reminding the journey of pain though galaxies,
far of yore to the days of present.

In a moments of desperation I discover  the bard,it could
be rather told thus, he meets me at last, as was his wont
Bard, celestial lover, before my eyes you appear thus:
I see you holding in your hands a magic lyre, so rare.
that goes on strumming non- stop, to bring birds, the tunes,
that lives in far parts of the universe,even unknown  to most,
they do vary,have colored feathers;memories living in
different layers of my consciousness,always buzzing like a beehive.

I am the single, magic , potent, word, a mantra
that in it's kernel carries the , seeds of eternal, "I am that"

I hear the speakings of the words,that brings to life
experiences of different kinds,on their beaks some one
carries ripe fruits, the result of long days of sweat and tears.
Each fruit has a flavor distinct,each word carries a seed
that will grow to be a mighty tree,many birds would roost.

Bard you are a wonder,tying past and future with one string
of a lyre converging in the heart beat of the ebullient present,
you easily transcend the three, and every other dimension
of time that mingles in your heady brew,unrivaled it stands.

You breathed gin.
This is blood for you.
Your hands held your hair and your eyes shut.
The alcohol lulled your brain to black.

It escaped your veins,
Diluted by 37.5% truth serum.

Gasping at the
Divine realisation
Where slurred lips
Contradicted
Your once straight-faced,
Certainly-certain speakings
Of your very crooked lie.

So crooked, it wound his heart around yours.
But that ball of yarn unravelled in an instant.
And the jumper you knit together,
Came apart
Stitch by stitch.

In my fogged memory,
I had choked myself that night
With a bottle and a ball of yarn.

An oracle possessed by a spirit disquieted,
                                   he contains a world unknown even to himself,
a poem gets written by itself, within himself,
                                     organizing material eclectically on its own
from roots to crust, essence of experiences,
                                    mingle with hopes, fears and yearnings,
creating alloys of emotions, welding words to mean different,
                                     fixing formations and evocative images,
when he stops contended, unfinished yet, many parts in dark still,
                               then the readers get themselves invited in to the thickets,
disentangle the vines, make way through the foliage thick,
                 hanging  branches and twigs,  light falls in the darkened corners,
the poet and creator, the oracle himself, sits looking at the flowers and fruits
                                 bathed in a new light, on what the subconscious spoke,
when he listens,  the singing of the birds acquires new meaning,
                                  sound of the running brook has a rhythm not familiar,
that take him to the sea, where all end in a swim, like in a dream

1
*Gongs and drums sound rambunctious,
a wild rhythm tears the silence of the night,
a slow number first, then in quick time
racing fast,everything ends in a blast.
his self control lost, he dances like one possessed,
in the moon lit places and shadows alike.
This angst is not his alone, he feels,
as if mad at the way the world these days is.
Freedom of a special kind, it was, catharsis,
drums sounding mysterious, made life different.
                               2
Once when he and his girl were making love
deep in his veins drums rumbled,
and he couldn't but stop and listen,
she was curious,"What is this, what do you listen?"
smiling, he resumed his dance
thorough the valley and plains, like wind,
to the tune of temple drums,
his hair flying and sweat pouring  like rain,
she could catch the change of rhythm
intense love was there, in the depth of fury.

Then, they ended up panting,then lying quiet.
holding each other tight,she said;
"you are like one possessed, fantastic,"
but he had felt the presence of a third,
he felt in his bones,
a benign female presence, who is she?
                      3
The oracle holding a sword with a shining blade,
wearing a red silk turban and a white **** cloth, told:
"It's the possession of a woman, a wild spirit,
her songs and dance were snuffed out
at a young age, when it slowly emerged,
it happened at a time we don't know when,
a kindred spirit, your tumult suits her soul."
the oracle was in a trance when he opened his eyes,
"Not a curse, a blessing, symbiotic it is"
the oracle  threw a bit of holy ash on him and said:
"Well son, in you Devi, the mother goddess
is pleased, this spirit will survive,
her speakings will come out from you,
all will be just fine, being kind you received her,
so pleased and contented she is, wouldn't disturb"

They walked together, the woman without a body
to fulfill her dreams or sing her songs,
at times of loneliness the drums sound,
she comes in to his tumultuous soul, he makes her alight,
in their entwined destiney, he sings her songs, they dance.

There is a city in the world with a torn out street,
Where the people are torn between their lips and teeth,
In broken homes, on salted shoulders,
With rasping tongues and crackling lips

Ouroboros Ouroboros
Soroboruo Soroboruo

Sulphurous distaste of the mind,
Degenerate, disintegrated air,
Vile of thought and thistles,
Effervescent on streets of doubt

Like lampposts at twilight
Held warm at winter’s heart;
Luminations blind to noise
Of pearls and furs in perfect poise

Weep Salamander, Weep Salamander
Weep, Weep, Weep for
Alexander

I who sat upon the throne of Kings,
I who spat at the Wise Man’s speakings,
I am king no longer but of the ground,
And nobody kneels for me.

Zosimus
Swept the desert sands,
In hopes to find the garnet stone,
He found nothing but a lump of coal
And on the sands he kept on searching
Till he found his heart at the bottom of a snake pit
At the bottom of the snake pit
Prying love with solemn hands, he could not differ
What writhes and pulses in the stirring dark?
He breathed the song of ash and crept into the fallow wind.
Heartless and filled with venom spit,
He lost his Pride at the bottom of the snake pit.

On the rocks where Jonah stood,
Clay feet and hands of glass;
Let the waves break against him,
In hope that they might chastise him

Pleading,
O Mother O, do not forsake me
Please Mother Please, let the water take me.

In the bell jar,
The Nightingale discords,
Hallow, softly broken men
The man of Crete leads with a heavy heart
Yet cannot still raise his arms
Rome was not built on Martyrdom

So swear sinister, by the left hand
Stain your feet with the hearts of men
Lay your fingers bare,
So that they may come again

Dance on marble floors
Where the censers used to bow as they did before
Time stood vexed in amber jars
And watched the silent skies pour unto silken crowns
Their tranquilla doves and emeralds sparse
Lay decadent on marble floors
Where they never danced, they never poured
They never sang a single chord
Melancholy nature is,
The truth behind
What is left unwound
The rest is all a lie.

It is no fault in time
My Masonic Mind
Chose to purge the world from the inside
Of a child’s heart
Checkers, Checkers
A Chequered floor and Chequered Sky
Drowned Jonah’s world in Red and White
Cleansed the bell that sounds at dawn,
Eyes as wide as shadows long
And with the spectral dust come tears.

In the end,
What will be left at all?
But Blood upon Vermillion.

The crow sings of what was and shall be
The crow sings of fear and fright
Come! To my side, gather now children
Its fearful call shan't touch your blessed ears behind this wall
Come! Partake of your lessons. Imbibe of wisdom divine
Seek supernatural sanctuary within these sacred speakings

The ****** prowls, crowding at the door
(They call for sacrifice. Who? Is the Snake worthy?)
Come! Summer thunderstorm, mask the screams of the Snake
(Where is the Priest? Shall he not bear witness?)
A shriek punctures the eve as warm rain washes the blood of their hands

The vulture sings of what was and shall be
The vulture sings of hunger and madness
Come! Fall nay into despair, my innocent few
Bare not its beady eyed gaze but yet bury your sight in me
To the other side I'll gently lead, hand in hand
If only your humble servant I may be

The door shudders violently. The committee calls for blood
(His Word is empty. We are beset and the cycle begins anew.)
Come! Winter snowstorm, hide those tracks of the audacious few
(Where is the Priest? His hollow words won't save him)
A knife in the back. The door slams shut and stills.

Bright white silence
Blue wavy chants
flames of roaring red,

on white, blue bled,
bluest red or white?
let it get sorted out
whitening bluish red
in rapid slashes over
reddened bluish white,
all  wriggle like eels
bond the way
it is meant to be,
Jackson *******'s blue poles
whisper in white and red
"kindred spirits
come home, tiptoe in"

Time marches through
the path seasons clear
mixing paint and
painting cave walls
never stops,
murals speak in many
cryptic tongues
day and night;
the denizens listen.
cave men and women
in their ritualistic dances
try to forget this
cave wall speakings,
could they ever succeed?

arrowing words,
whispering lips,
shotgun words,
freudian slips,

words as weapons.
cutting delicate hearts.
****** syllables.
bruising brains.

what power we wield,
not ever knowing,
the cost.
less often gain,
more often at great cost.

but, for the moment
of retention,
between,
careless thinking
and hurtful speakings,
push the pause.
because,
the words that have slain.
mayhaps be the ones lodged
within your brain.

He crafts the finest ever made

soft speakings of verse and prose

delicately hammered like finest gold

each fragile link formed and forged

by mind and heart with love and and woe

Words together in finest beauty

birth shimmering chains of golden thought

with pauses hung 'tween glimmering links

like iridescent shimmering pearls

Deep hued gems dripped from tongue

dance in jeweled and sparkling splendor

to decorate this work of art

hammered from the wordsmith's heart

Sages speak of a steep path that's narrow
and difficult to ascend for humankind.
T'is true, for I have often read it in books
and heard it in the speakings of the mind.

To overcome the passions of this inertia
mixed with my own thoughts reservation,
is a cumbersome thing that does pull me
between sluggish grief and brief elation.

When I am in my solitude, I choose
to drift along with the dread riptide
of the moment, whilst I am striving
for the peaceful beach at ebb tide.

When I am between the shore and
the  violet  horizon, I revel in Time,
with the music of the spheres like
a dervish spun to a forbidden rhyme.

I dream of the beloved and the adventure
somewhere along my minds' bold travels.
The person and the secret place where
all of this old lifes' conundrum unravels.

I lose all of my attachments, until I am free
to be married to this manifesting destiny,
which haunts my dreams and drinks up me
Or all of my Self like a weeping willow tree.

At last I have surrendered to a perfect grace
that has annihilated me; then there is Love,
bringing unity in the diversity freeing me to
attempt the ascent, & kiss the starry sky above.

A very earie building, with the river behind watching.
The time don't stop, for the birds are your watchmen! They peer through your eyes, as the tree's smile uncloaked!

Desperate folks gather at the pool, alcoholic drink to quench, no mentioning of lunch, just the bees to flutter their stinger's! Nights grow older, neighbors get bolder. Some pestful so babilling, and vain speakings..

Sneaky seedlings spring to new life abroad, some here dress with class, as messes they make of their ownselves, what slobs!!!

None here for intellectual conversation, just horrible *******'s to drowned out your better ideas!!

Sneeze lightly friend, for they can hear you in the sheet thin walls, this town is emptied of malls, just liquor store barrage!!!

Such a mirage...

I want a wedding like togetherness, where readiness is overtaking, and your breathe you shall lose...

From that purest love joy that is!!!

No one wants to be alone, nor forgotten. They can forget others well, having no sense of care, but those who do have kissed kind hearts hurt so delightfully. Tearing and shredding at your morality, your sanity... is this what you desire? Heartbreakingly painful intimacy when you don't feel anything. The ****** can only bleed for so long when sacrifice has not been made. Desire, lust, need, want, claim, capture, devour. I want you! I want to kiss your lips to make me happy for self-benefits. Trying to care is... difficult for the human mind. Can you really be bothered to let me have a kiss? It's simple, I promise. Each kiss shows how well you care about me.

  Do not make me feel like anything.

  A peck is all I want and that's it. Share your love with me, I will do the same in return; equally passionate. Let me grab your face, press my fingers into your oily skin, and devour you like an apple. Chewing slowly, but generously. Traveling magic sounds surrounding us, dark glooms suffocating. A train screams against the tracks, rushing winds blowing our clothes. We stand so close to the bullet, but it does no damage. Green pastures want us to tame them, but we choose the toxic city life. You, me, in my city dreams, let us dance. Hazardous fumes scraping our nostrils clean, they want in immediately. Picking, inhaling. No! Get out. You are not killing our future babe. I slither up your arms and hesitate before I beg for your acceptance with simplicity.

  Be my bird and I'll be your snake that withdraws from hunger horrors.

  Your kisses will qualm my intricate reptilian cannibalism.

  Repeat! Cannibalism. Let me devour your love with ominous speakings.

  Please smother me with your attention, let us share wondrous memories today. I do not want babes I've decided, but only you. I want our souls to be bound together in marriage. Allowances of a pretzel to show our romance united is a treacherous pleasure I need. Our animal ate the pretzel. Escaping into my realms and waking in the morning, I plan to think of only you. So easily in love, you already have my heart. Vanish and friends will be agitated hearing me moan about your missing ambiance. I will do nothing in the meantime, and wait for your return. Promised plans, are not so promised when you're the only person who's on my mind. Cry, oh cry is all I can do.

  But I can't help it, I love you so much. My so's and my much's mean it well.

  I hope you don’t forget me someday. I can't fathom to think of being left alone. My fathoms of loneliness are on jury duty, but I wish they return from the seas, free of a witness charge. Darkness, galore of shadow stepping winds. Crawl over the hills, dance on the strings, exhale through holes. Play the song of loneliness to set the mood, the ambiance, everything. The heart is no longer seeping with love but thick sadness. You've sent me into depression, how dare you! Eliminate yourself from my eyes, your presence is banned. Forcing myself to forget you are an odd sin. Why would I and how could I? I adore you so.

  Love me... let me hear you say you love me once, but not twice.

  Each head turn, I always think you're there with me. Can you really be there and a ghost greeting me? Won't life be easier if I see the image of you? Visualizing your frame is not meant as seeing your face. Having my heart quiver and deteriorate every second I am gone, you are a fool to be reckoned with. Come, return, quickly. A portal is waiting. Dramatic fear, dashing opponents, tipping over love scenarios. Sinking sinking sinking? I don't know at this point anymore.

  I miss you, come back, don't leave me.

  Over here I'm wandering blindly into the darkness, falling into solitude. Dear white knight, won't you do something? Guide me in the right ways, or else, I will return to be claimed by an unspeakable force. Unpleasant pleas of safety measure terribly. You're not good at maths, are you? Guide me! If you won't save me, then I am done being kind to you. You are a despicable human being... get out, get out! I never want to think about you again. Just leave me be and allow me to walk in shambles and prison clothes. My times are now mine, not yours. Who were you to begin with? You were really a mistake, weren't you?

  Shoo, leave. Rid of yourself, you... good riddance.

  Do not ever enter my life again, continue your own path of self-loathing stupidity and remain irresponsibly foolish as always. You were really big for nothing. If you had caring eyes, you would notice someone genuinely cared, but you chose to remain in the sunlight. So be it then, a choice is a person's will to do. You may not see this, but, kind loves turn cold 'cause of people like you, putrid filth. They were better off without you anyway, your crime. I can fathom about my loneliness whenever I want, but it'll be a blessing to have you gone for sure. Silence and end it, midnight ramblings of lost love and liquified dreams are no more.

  **** them all, and fall in love with rotten fakeness that doesn't inflict pain.

  Engage it and be engaged. You want to marry and be married again? No problem, love is fine. Any usurpers will be demolished as speckles of dead skin cells. Pull it off carefully, carefully. Rip it! Pull it all away like furniture hidden for centuries, take it away, tear it off, expose it, reveal it, LET IT BE SHOWN TO THE WORLD! Unused profanities of the word 'fathom' work so well in sentences. If you can't fathom the thought, then why are you here? Shouldn't you be next in line waiting for prescription refills? That being aside, I'll take my leave and ghost into the sun. Goodbye.

here's a thought...
most of you,
would not send
a child out into the world
without a name....
but you will a poem.

                          *is not a poem,
                      merely, the child
                          of your heart's  
                             speakings,...

Candy soaked and rhythmic
see the words they make no sense
But the feeling that i'm feeling
I swear must exist


time is fully passing and the feeling is profound
like my atoms smashing every time i move my mouth
and speakings coming out, like it wants to feel so proud

but its only atoms smashing when i move my mouth

Have you forgotten
from where you came?
Do you mock
the once sacred?

The original form,
the holiest vibration
and wholeness
of mind

so familiar
and so loving
it leaves
no room for confusion

vibrations, chemicals
radio waves
and frequencies
all attempt to pull us
from the divine
state

though those who glimpse,
in whichever medium
the certainty of
absolute truth

no intellectual guessings
or maps or scripture
it's a present reality
of one form

glimpse the hints
of galactic speakings
and chase them
with all
your might

now when I am aware of the Gaze he has
and my old habits of following someone's eyes and where they
lead to, resurfaced when I thought I buried it
in my backyard by that tree and then I would walk
to the park, by the swingset I'd stay a bit to think,
a bit to talk, a bit to escape: from something that we don't know,
when I escape what do I run from? when I say I face things
what do I face? are you facing an illusion? where is the
enormity within the tire tied to a tree, a slide that features
somewhere skidmarks from sneakers: my old crayfish planted in the
garden in the middle of the baseball field and cleated sneakers
run whilst imprinting paws into the sand: thinking of where
your mind wanders, what body it glistens and glides over,
"something you'd like", and this must be the truth I swallow
of human intimacy: what is intimacy when I must share you too?
how can one interact with the World when nothing came from
tractions and wrong transactions, the song replays in my head
in a vacuum, in a vacuum it'd be June with the time at noon
no sight of the moon all over again, perhaps:—I'd rather not—open up your heart to other Beauties, selfishness and greed
take over my own speakings, but did not Diotima say
to truly appreciate the One we must see Beauty in All,
in all Flesh, in all Things, in all Matter, seen or unseen, hidden or
exposed: but I think we can give a false guise over the illusion
of the flesh: let me think, just let me think that I'm the prettiest
to you, if this is not the case then there's an ocean of Flesh for you
to choose — I prefer to be the muse