"O where are you going with your love-locks flowing,
  On the west wind blowing along this valley track?"
"The downhill path is easy, come with me an it please ye,
  We shall escape the uphill by never turning back."

So they two went together in glowing August weather,
  The honey-breathing heather lay to their left and right;
And dear she was to doat on, her swift feet seemed to float on
  The air like soft twin pigeons too sportive to alight.

"Oh, what is that in heaven where grey cloud-flakes are seven,
  Where blackest clouds hang riven just at the rainy skirt?"
"Oh, that's a meteor sent us, a message dumb, portentous,
  An undeciphered solemn signal of help or hurt."

"Oh, what is that glides quickly where velvet flowers grow thickly,
  Their scent comes rich and sickly?"--"A scaled and hooded worm."
"Oh, what's that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow?"
  "Oh, that's a thin dead body which waits the eternal term."

"Turn again, O my sweetest,--turn again, false and fleetest:
  This beaten way thou beatest I fear is hell's own track."
"Nay, too steep for hill mounting; nay, too late for cost counting:
  This downhill path is easy, but there's no turning back."

Egotist, the master of the ego mist
or some ego antagonist
he is so much there
in the center of a web
of regurgitated fears
recycling pointless
the old cycles of
night after day
life after chaos
but no death
after ego inflation
just a rusty song
of imprisoned moments
or undeciphered gnashing
all character is just the dust
you cannot grasp
grey ruminations
curses wiggling
in times devoid of innocence
the cruelty of a ****
refusing to wither

at the end of his cigarettes
a speck of self
is threading a stratagem
to severe the ties
for the ******* of distance
so that he can continue
uninterrupted
to mutilate his heart

no one can persuade the night
into whitening
like you clean your teeth
of curses
the rest is sadness
the dew would know it.

The poison is in all of us:
Half-smoked cigarettes lay on the side of grainy gravel paths,
crinkly Dollarama bags and glass beer bottles.
We relax on trees
leaning
backs against the braille texture of bark
that tries to speak to us in a language we don’t understand.
We lean back and raise our faces
towards the sunlight dancing between
the leaves of the canopy,
listening to the tires
whizzing against concrete,
but think it similar to the smacking of waves against stones;
lean back and savour the syrupy smell of maple trees
against our tongues,
thinking to ourselves
how grateful we are for nature
as we sit in a paradise of tall trees
their branches intertwined in a space
smaller than bathroom stalls;
lean back and breathe in exhaust
and cigarette smoke masked
behind a layer of sweet antiperspirants
and coconut-scented shampoos
as the wind whips hair against your face.
We take peaceful naps against the undeciphered braille,
but the poison is in all of us
and one day this paradise will become
nothing.
A bed of dirt
blanketed by prickly store-bought
strips of grass.

.
In whisper— shadow sings a song.
My call is joined within the hollows,
Only tiny dimpled crests of the sea,
My voice, for rains, round familiar                                                       As patch into tune of old shattering
Light.  I search for love, sloe in slips
Thru ******* eyes, outcast beyond
And ghostly move into monumental
Futilities of unbearing, leery in flesh
Undeciphered.  Make me one lattice
To bind the wind and mark shallows
Mine as I trudge into black, blue sun.
This song— I sing is for lost keeping,
Hear my hush as it breaks for darks—
And I shall love in box, buried, forgot,
Kept at one sight so grave, remaining
As smudge onto stone burnt in a dial
Etched by firing rays of timeless star,
Hear my song— whispers of shadow.

As it's softly lit,
And an inhale as a breath of life,
With sparks so free and liberal,
Towards its middle point,
Joy and discoveries to be made,
Regrets washed away,
Contemplating the outer spheres,
And many more theories,
Or is it just the town,
Hiding its simple stance,
Under the layers of rainbow,
Is it a progress or mere desperation,
Light in a gray sand,
For when it's over,
It's but trash,
Under others' footing,
With incredible tales,
Misunderstood and undeciphered

.
In whisper— shadow sings a song.
My call is joined within the hollows,
Only tiny dimpled crests of the sea,
My voice is for rains, round familiar
As patch into tune of old shattering
Light.  I search for love, sloe in slips
Thru ******* eyes, outcast beyond
And ghostly move into monumental
Futilities of unbearing, leery in flesh
Undeciphered.  Make me one lattice
To bind the wind and mark shallows
Mine as I trudge into black, blue sun.
This song— I sing is for lost keeping,
Hear my hush as it breaks for darks—
And I shall love in box, buried, forgot,
Kept at one sight so grave, remaining
As smudge onto stone burnt in a dial
Etched by firing rays of timeless star,
Hear my song— whispers of shadow.

Learning the way out.
in between feels like forever
you're darkyears away,
the antimatter
of vicarious personhood.

days crumble upside down
the pain had you butchered
only sparrows forget their stories in the sunset.

the mute carpets keep you company
still life with despair and an apple.
Jesus promised something
-undeciphered-
look at this fallen demigod
you’re a pile of fears
drying in the sun
and the night has no (w)holes to hide
a stuffed puppet
the true form -
unrecognized.

pain is almost a character
roaming inside
tramping blindly the remains of the day
making everything so sharp alive,
look
each cell  has a voice
and you can’t open your eyes:
no space, no name
just a rotten apple
left over from yesterday.
no one came on the mute carpets
and the silence holds on
like a ghost of the future

language gets killed
yet the heartbeats
march  on

In whisper— shadow sings a song.
My call is joined within the hollows,
Only tiny dimpled crests of the sea,
My voice, for rains, round familiar                                                       As patch into tune of old shattering
Light.  I search for love, sloe in slips
Thru ******* eyes, outcast beyond
And ghostly move into monumental
Futilities of unbearing, leery in flesh
Undeciphered.  Make me one lattice
To bind the wind and mark shallows
Mine as I trudge into black, blue sun.
This song— I sing is for lost keeping,
Hear my hush as it breaks for darks—
And I shall love in box, buried, forgot,
Kept at one sight so grave, remaining
As smudge onto stone burnt in a dial
Etched by firing rays of timeless star,
Hear my song— whispers of shadow.

it has dawned
on me again
the time
i attempted
to be manipulated
by the caress
of your arms
down to the
pasty skin
of your legs—
i could sense you
no matter
where you go
you leave
a trail
for me
to follow

then suddenly
it just
came to me
this something
right turns out
to be
a whole lot
wrong
i was fooled
i became tethered—
my thoughts
my say
weren't considered
tough luck
to date
still undeciphered
disordered
and even
misheard

now
as i go back
into the verse
i remember
the first verse
it was me
all along who
attempted this
manipulation first—
and she just
quenched
my thirst

It is in a fold of the untold,
In a soliloquy full of rage on an empty stage,
In an instant photo that goes beyond,
In the wave that tunnels like a cave,
In a place that I couldn’t retrace,
In an undeciphered mark on the Lost Ark,
On a probe that disappears into the sky,
That hides the answer to why.  

Or - this is nothing new -

Right Within You.

through the fog
the headlights of awareness
search for eyes approaching
maybe brown and bursting
dark skin hues
of continents unknown

i stand here
counting galaxies
in an endless sky
where your numbers
come up 33 times
through mystical forces
draw me down to earth
where i once planted a seed
to grow, reach and search
beyond  all arcs of reason
and bring back meaning.

illusion still remains
undeciphered in the thirst
of waiting.

where are you?
who are you?

Author Notes

Mystical and metaphysical. The number 33 seems to pop up at unexpected places, dreams and people and I don't understand what that really means or why it is so. Someone will comment.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 16 days ago

- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11571008-33-by-Marshall-Gass#sthash.vDtOeybV.dpuf

i was told the wind would tell me my name
that could not be spoken, so came the breeze
with secrets undeciphered through the trees
that one autumn of unheard of refrain.

but ever since that labyrinth opening
the walls have been moving and the winter
of eclipsed understanding will linger.
how briefly light comes, when you think of it—

what more could you need to transfigure a place?
the wind is coming from somewhere remarkably
far off to dance just a little with the curtain;

spring and it came all this way to caress a face.
we come from mystery and go back to mystery
and this alone we can say for certain.

sie wann eingeben krähenschar,
                                sie lernen zu krächzen wie.

          brrrrrrp... rülpsen die blitz...
    London en flammen...      ähnlich:
     hängend auf ihr meßerschmitt flügel:
zu total... liebe... unt: zement.
ja.
       for some reason speaking vater deutsche
makes perfect sense to care for:
             tochter englisch -
deine vater, mein tochter:
     ist wenig volk diese tage.
unless i have some
undeciphered fetish
dealing with the movement of
people... m'eh... me as clueless
as you -
  but i'll do the same unto you...
mein tochet...
      funny how i can speak
very bad german and then return
to perfect english (unless you're
my Irish critic) and
perfect Polish (i have no critics
there, being an exile,
i'm technically non-existent).
but it was all about a proverb
an old Polish lady said:
if you go among the crows,
you must croak like a crow...
   that didn't get me far...
the most painful expression encompassed
by Solomon...
       certainty vanities really do
include crucifixes and iron maidens
to depose the king to grovel
in his self-erected care to ask for
wisdom and later keep a brothel...
because it can't be called a harem
once the king ages to 70...
      the *harem becomes the bordell,
no old walrus can compete;
but i like speaking careless german...
i just like the sound of it;
if i'm bound to move to Frankfurt,
i'll start reading die welt
and not write my own crass volkspreschen.

eyes have ears, ears have eyes
on self-absorbed nights
the tree of knowledge murmurs in my veins
and poems rush through me with their wild letters
I chase them away with a smile
I am smitten beyond illusions, delusions and other demons
by a 4 am wave, you know
by a 5  am undeciphered dream
by a 6 am reverie, by a letting go
oh, what a sweet incomprehension,
life´s creativity,
your hands anticipating mine

I feel like I’m not meant for this world
Impossible and overwhelming
The never-ending story of life  
Like Buzz Lightyear
To infinity and beyond
I’m gone and out
To the stars I go home
With or without
You, love
The concept of faith
That I embrace
Inside a metaphorical
Oracle space
Guns are drawn
Lives laid down
The path before us
Is all around
Street corner preachers
Preach more truth
Than your local church speakers
We wait for someone else to save us
But the saviors only work as they are paid
By the ones who create and add zeros to their name
Those so-called heroes now die in vain
Why is it that we live this way?
Who is really to say
If not for God then who?
Suit wearing terrorists
Who justify death over you
Where ever capital can be made
Is the Unitarian way
Say what you will
But your words are the ink to my quill
Technology seems to be
The only progression made
Price over life everything else thrown away
The value of a dollar has us all enslaved
Chaos is order
Yet undeciphered
Balance is inequality
Yet is required
Funny how things mean one thing
But define another
Duality inside the human motive
It’s all a cluster and explosive
The more you know the less devoted
Exposing truths beyond the shadow of a doubt
Our world leaders are crooks
Who destroy the meaning
Of what a human being is about

IN SILENCE OF THE SOUL
(Bijoylakshmi Das)
Breathe not my Dear! In the silence of the Soul,
Earth is asleep and Night's splendour
adorns your feet;
Go deep within your breathless sleep
The solemn silence gives you its sublime kiss.
You are born pure,
The celestial Beauty keeps knocking at your ****** door.

Fear not, dive deep into the sombre depth of the dark,
To meet the Fire of enlightenment afar -
Denied to futile human births
Never ready to keep their inner doors azar.
Let me be reborn to make life anew,
Sanctioned from above, clad with magnificent hue.

There you sit alone in solitude's embrace -
My eternal companion, my Sweet Love!
At all cessation to the life of flesh and blood,
The Lotus-eyed Beauty lisps lullaby by the Grace of God.

Merge into the limitless expanse of the Infinite,
Sings sweetest psalms of exalted Bliss;
Earth is now not fit for you to alight,
Nor to embrace you in her sweet soft kiss.
Born forever in the Eternal Poise,
All in Harmony, all in Splendour -
No more mortal's discordant noise!

Songs of symphony vibrant in air around,
No slightest whisper of man's lips, no more sound;
Music jubilant, mirth profound
Nature is Rapture-clad.
To make Union Supreme,
Oh Dear all alone in Soul's lonely realm
Bliss' invincible King!
Heralding a shifting world's romance,
Changes subtle, sibilations silent
Under One Immortal's eternal vigilance!

Sail on Comrade Oh Sailor forlorn!
Fatigued by the toil of earth,
Grieve not, you are enlivened and reborn -
To rejoice in your new vernal birth.
Silence speaks a lot,
Speaks of immaculate Vast!
The measureless expanse of the Ocean ahead of you,
Plunge deep into it to be a glorious participant!
The fathomless depth longs to lisp -
The One Message undeciphered -
Never put into any human script!

Get not lost in the maze and mud around -
Try to hide our Mystic Play,
The heavenly blossoms send myriad hues
To make journey a grand success and to enjoy.
Songs of Cuckoo alive in the smiles of the Green,
Never bids adiue to the Spring's joyful Qween!

Oh Soul Sublime!
You are born to shine the brightest,
The mortal in the making!
The Supreme rules the invisible kingdom of your heart
In Soul's awakening!
To reach the goal,
Rise above body and mind
To explore Thy Soul!
(Bijou Das, Anand Utsav Ashram, Haridwar. 19.06.2019)

IN UNION WITH THE SOUL
(Bijoylakshmi Das, 20th Jan 2020)
Words float in air in eerie silence of the Night,
Message undeciphered writ by the great Hierophant in His Mystic height,
I revel in the Bliss of the unforgettable Vast recondite,
To unravel the prophecy of the unsullied oracular insight.

Unbuoyed by Mind's vague gestures and vain surmise,
In the auspicious ensemble of divine moments' pleasant surprise,
The Evening iridescence has already ciphered her enlivening episode,
A prelude to the unique journey ahead of me: My Soul's adventure.

In the azure ambience of the all-pervading inane Solitude,
My Soul has taken the flight to the remote realm of blissful Beatitude,
The long-travail of the distant past is buried in the debris,
The body has cast off its mask of transience to begin life anew.

Love turns into the lisping lullaby of the lucent Moonlit mirth,
The brightening brilliance of the silvery beams casts spells of majestic magnificence
Soon life slips into sleep's loving lap in the land of reverie,
Life on Earth in its highest awakening is freed from age long slavery.

The breeze from the distant woodland brings blossoms' fragrance,
The highest manifestation is awaiting for Unforeseen's amazing advance,
The loving Sweetheart's solemn footsteps herald a divine nuance,
The beautiful flowers bloom in the lone ascetic's austere visionary trance.

The Sunrays' glitter even feels ashamed to shine at the Godhead's feet,
Where Joy and Light overflow with endless radiant rays of the blissful Infinite
The dazzling brilliance ascends to the unreachable heights of the sky,
To make man get merged into the Transcendent Vast far away.

The New Hopes find release in the ruins of agony' s despair,
The seeds of dignified elegance begin to germinate in Earth's mud and mire,
The celestial Certitude celebrates the carnival of her charming cadence,.
Life upon Earth gets ennoblrd in Supreme's enlivening ascendance.

The Creation is not a battlefield of greed and Lust and violence dire,
The blood and sweat of the earthly toil is not to be burnt in the abysmal
fire,
It's time to rise to the highest awakening of the apparently unpromising Earth,
Man! Come back to your identity in Soul in the novel Vernal Birth.
(Bijoylakshmi Das)

The day is made of light
And sounds create the night.
In the darkness, a text
Blinds with meaning, regrets
Inevitable and
Burning with bright command.
To find your flaws in agony
And your faith for better in sacrilege.
Then a jazz melody
And written in it, God's undeciphered passage.
Our cosmos, but a wrinkle on God's side
And so I bargain myself into pain
Again and again
Over a girl of my third eye
And no more.