on moonstone slab Manmata flames again
from out of ashes rises, gloating unfinality of Shiva's dance
reincarnate offering of endless Self
in Lakshmi's avatar
a fateful prince's heart to lance

and lanced his heart her visage did,
                                                     though with vaster pinions fully pierced was she, in depths
                                                          ­                                                                 ­                 without rivalry~

his lust was sharp to invite solitude,
but easy to conceal,
he imagined cupping her against him,
scoured memory of upward glimpse,
inch  by  inch
with added imagery, invention moulding her
beneath his grasp
from forehead curls along
glowing skin and eyes
to curving, palatially appareled ******* . . .
her open lips . . .  her hips
--but after, merely to dismiss
and even sleep a bit
and quip inside at irony
to be at mercy
of a girl in flowers
when he with arrows demons lay to rest
(though she would, within the selfsame hours lose her wits ;)

in cityscape descried the triad:
gold dome gifts for sky
in shining generosity
Mithila's people overflow with joy
exuding free abundance carelessly--
jewelry loosed on playful street
from overkeen embrace, is left to lie;
loss in ever-present wealth nigh obsolete

musth of elephant, froth of steed,
floral garlands tangle, line and mix
for clouds of honey-bees to lick their feast.
a bustling of virile acrobatic populace--
symphonic mux of chaos tressed,
metropolis of idylls coalesced;
drums, races, grinning faces flinging courtship,
smirking merchants under wigs
bathers splash exotic fish to flit and weave
while ballads sift for higher pitch of love

from elevated terrace ladies prance
and watching from an inner spire
the princess spies her prince--
emerald shoulders, lotus-petal eyes
Vaikunta hidden from their mortal sight
but straining recognition there,
a union ageless as the stars
inspired suddenly another first:
Rama's transfixed stare she feels and meets,
strangers locked entwining glances
--fated simultaneous-- electric heat   like
from a planet sparking for the taste of outer space --
the lightning burns its mark ensouled
in blooms beyond her ripe, anthophilous form,
verdant visions planted in the rays of light
between two instant loves
to slip inside the eyelid entrance
and evermore impregnate with a glory ill,
as separation wills,
to colonize throughout with other Being there
phantasmal yearnings of entrancing elegance
--from dawn of time instilled, akashic script
of binding hurt with joy in love's embrace
condemn desire to a writhing term
when not imbibing such togetherness
a worldless crypt preferred

and so as swift as gymnast flip to fall
the heart is gushing toxic lack,
epic ventricles the viscose tug
in fluid inspiration wrote of Sita's
sudden addict gnashing inner plight
while slips the sight interred within the crowd,
as if a sorcerer the cosmic sea to play her destiny:
the waves inside enraged to overwhelm
the sudden coral crust beneath the swell
an unmarked seaside's lavish drown unto the land
and reeling send this fragile ******
into wilting, her floral haze to drooping fell...
        in revelatory crash of passion's oceanic weight...
attendants pamper uselessly
--from swoon to mood irate
to wait until the next appearance of her mortal god
the only one to sate the shameless need
entwining up within a clenching wrack of milky fits
from bed to sweaty bed they take the burning maiden~
the outer sea inflow in calming dusk meant nothing to the agony of new romance
                       sequestered in hymenic fire, dawning brilliant
                                                       ­                                omni chakral pierce in rays,
                                                                ­                                                              tot­ality relentlessness
and therein descry a wholeness
  yet unregained
a hopeless birdsong careless as the wind
in caring strokes of pollen redolence
for forest ears an endless vibrate mate
of elemental ease the simmer float
upon the dukkha broil paths embroidery of karmic
cookery the godly recipe invoked,
gibed her without cease,
****** flare eternal guna coals to stoke
and spite her with their peace,
for her attainment only next to he
the moon communes the message blinding clear
amid the ghee her girls would light in care
to soften her despair -- but only aggravate her state --
and so by dim refracted moondrops set,
in only gemlight, Sita basks in pain
her gaze entrained by night obsessively
while overhead the crescent hook beams
freely in to fertilize her all-too-chastely girdle there,
petals wilting under body pressed to slab of stone
as mounting groan on groan intones her writhing questioning
of whomever he could be to cast her moaning so
a deity in maidenhead unwitting of such otherlife
left by endless, anthrocosmos' whim to ache, and alone
in wonder scream abandonment from aether poise
confusion reigning noisome nescient choice


















.

Everyday caught
In the labyrinth of mind,
I am,
Where dreams,
And desires
And lust,
From nothing
Conspire something.

Destination: Canada Water.
The next station is Surrey Quays.
Doors will open on the right-hand side.
Exit here for Goldsmith's College.

In the cerebellum
Fragments flash cerebrum bright:
Wheels in tunnels burn,
A neural screech amplified deep,
As waves of electrons churn,
And in multiple places keep.

This stop:
- My birth -
Is in Westminster!

It’s time:

Do you love me?
DO YOU LOVE ME?
          Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

In the space-time continuum,
The labyrinth is forever,
Within a fourth dimension.

It’s time …

You love me, right?
YOU LOVE ME, RIGHT?
    Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

DO-MI-NA-TION
DEATH FREE
DO-MI-NA-TION
ASH FREE

Lost in the labyrinth: a journey to an exit.
The Overground train pulls!
And from floor to ceiling,
Between vertical orange pins,
A medley of languid listless limbs lulls,
       Seated hips,
       Angled legs,
       Dangling feet,
And neck-less heads,
Lost, ghoul-like,
The disconcerted move doggedly on,
Everywhere somewhere; but forever nowhere
Through London's hills and bogs.

From  STOP to STOP,
In the labyrinthine network,
In tubes splayed out on cubes,
Of bright brushed viscose comfort,
Overhead, the ads exhort:

       Top Up Your Soul,
       Fast Forward Your Escape
And
       uSwipe
       uSwitch
       uSave

Like these,
A hundred escalating messages,
Each more insistent than the last,
Compel, enough to distract,
So man’s desire enslaves his heart.

Its time…

         You love, right?
YOU LOVE, RIGHT?
    Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

DO-MI-NA-TION
DEATH FREE
DO-MI-NA-TION
ASH FREE

How? Why?
Has bacterial sludge,
Built these edifices of glass and steel.
This labyrinthian cage,
Whose walls race up at the speed of light,
While the inner commuter flame gutters,
Everywher, in multiverses,
Supernovas explode in showers.
And for a moment, in the moment, The Overground chromatic glows.

New Cross Gate, Canada Water, Southwark.

Lit and digital and LCD:
        
  ALL CHANGE, PLEASE.
  THIS TRAIN TERMINATES HERE

A few automated steps, and:
       Southwark,
       Green Park,
       Then Baker Street,
Appear, fade and disappear.

Now walking down Belsize Road,
On the evening of the
Super Gibbous Moon,
As it rises high over the Ziggurat dimensions of the Alexandra Estate,
And all is blood orange at dusk,
As I, a slinking silhouette,
Make for the event horizon of home,
For surely given, and taken,
A few more bends, another turn,

It’s time, again.

         Love, right?
         LOVE, RIGHT?
    Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

DO-MI-NA-TION
DEATH FREE
DO-MI-NA-TION
FREE ME.

To the event horizon of consciousness,
To that black hole at the core.
In death's star-like eye,
Embrace, pass through,
(Fear not),
On, through the labyrinth northward,
Entering and exiting,
We go awhile, a little longer.

Stars, my Stars,
Again, it's time.

You love me, right?
YOU LOVE ME, RIGHT?
Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
DEATH FREE.
LOVE!
BE,
WINGS FREE:

     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL

One more stop:

       New Bond Street.

GET BEYOND
DESIRE,
BEYOND THE LABYRINTHEAN LIE,
CONSUMER, DIE!
BE
MATERIAL FREE.

Last stop:

       No-name, this one:

BE:

     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL.

SAY IT:

     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
     DEATH FREE.
     LOVE!
     BE,
     WINGS FREE:
    
     WE ARE:
     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL

When you bleed out for so long you forget what it's like to have a pulse.The sensation of dust dries the bones, hollows out the eyes, and makes breathing a quantum equation you just can't bear to think about.

Thoughts become brittle, your heart beats over time, double-paced, trying to fight against the slipping sands in your viens while playing time keeper to the beat of a drum.

You become stripped, barron, naked before the Almighty God and beg for Him to just wet His finger so that He may cool your cracking lips.......... But there's a chasm between you two.  Between your higher functions, ***** and brain, between your salt and soul.

You remember what it's like to bleed deep red instead of grainy grits of sediment. You remember what it's like to be made of something lighter than desert. You remember what it's like to be cut, having yourself drip to the ground instead of blown away in the breeze.

It's the letting of blood that heals you. Blood letting that removes the black,  viscose, oil burning through your arteries.
It's blood letting that clears the thick smog of cigarette smoke from your lungs.
Blood letting... Gives you back a mind made of sanity, washed clean of the ashes of yesterday's burnt memories.
I'll tell you how to pick up and walk again... If only you'll let a little blood

Our minds warp,
Twist into viscose vapour.
Our bright minds in labour,
Know too much to speak.

We are evading
We are evading

Bright minds evading,
Bright minds escaping

This world is only artificial
What we see is commercial

Travelling through ******-warp, We see the Sun and Moon,
The Eyes of God, move through the diseased space, Immune,
Impregnable to God’s cloak;
Yes we see you. Yes we can.

I was born
Skull shattering
Bled from the bone
In vitro
When my burnt lip bit you
I was bubbling from the knees
The viscose pus beneath the skin boiling
And you ****
He pulled me through dirt, onto curb side, smashed jaw
Caked with stomach acid
Drowning on the car seat
They sat their leering at every corner
Through radiowaves, they drool each pleasure of theirs
But here I am, choking
So I lost the key today
So I lost the key today
So I lost the key today
Cold fingers, skin shaking, through netting
I hide from you
Your thick tongue comes slamming to the edges of my body
I have no words
My mouth shuts for your
Baton bashing
Black boot
Skull shattering

Cold dead grasp of a
decaying zombie witch.
Harlot in youth, grows to a
Dead diseased *****.
Green teeth protrude from
Dead black gums,
Infected festering flesh
Swollen with old blood.
Run Run Run, until your bones bleed
Crash to your knees, listen for the horde.
Wait to be ripped to bone.
Enjoy the silence, no need to scream.
Rotting nostrils flare stripped of skin.
Red eyes filled with blood stained pus.
Yellow nails, packed with dirt
Open sores, rash ridden pores,
Leaking viscose fluid.
Reeking with filth
Foot steps quake the ground
Their scent fills the air
Your caught in their stare.
The devil rings the bell
Thirteen ‘o’ clock,
Your trapped in the,
Cold dead grasp of a
Decaying zombie witch.

Broken features washed in silver
All the streets are shining.
Vapour trails exposed to sunlight
Fading like a promise.
Time moves like a hungry panther.
Viscose slow and silent.
Roaring faintly in the distance
Calling me to silence.
Eyes still burn so clear and distant.
Nothing else remembered.
Sound and senses don’t respond.
Memories no condolence.
Time moves like a fading flicker
Just the turning of a film
Does my weakness make me angry?
I can’t quite remember.

need to write
something
to soothe
my soul...

write now of
skies, the perfect blue
of the smell of salt
tantalising on the zephyr breeze

write to ease
a heart so tired
so mired
in daily crud
so stuck in this viscose mud

need a day
far away
from the
maddening

a day in the green
and verdant places
see no other faces
hear the stream
make it's way
from source
to sea

need a day
to follow path
to pond's
to be tickled
and embraced
by young palm fronds
to watch nature thrive
need this badly
to survive

need a day
to recover me.

Veil of black viscose
Curtain for the widow's tears.
Shades the world in gray.

Irate clouds leave my mind overcast.
Forming a tempest in my hyperactive right hemisphere
even though I beg them to fade into calm like
tums in a glass or pop that’s lost its fizzle.

Unsympathetic,
arduous reminders of memories sweet - forged in permanent ink.
Or -- hope that this period of uncertainty too shall pass.

Either way, my thoughts have this sort of
morphine fascination with the tension deep inside me.
Internal addicts getting high at my demise,
Or -- a tolerance break hiding behind a viscose curtain of grief

Either way, I feel like I’m dying.
Or - maybe I’ve never been more alive.
Cause you know, pain is often perceived as pleasure
Stimuli are weird

Maybe I'm just afraid.
Stricken by the thought of separation
from what brought me to comfort
and losing part of myself.

Terrified of the ambiguity associated with change.
Terrified of giving my all just to end back at the start.
But existence is neither
cyclical, linear or spectrum-based
it just is.

I’m in control of nothing.
Which is the most liberating feeling
but also what’s rendered me paralyzed.
I guess I’ll just have to wait.

Feelings, I think, are fluids. They sway; twist and turn with ease. They come in all tastes and colors, light, viscose, and all in-betweens. They can be contained, spilled. They’re often prone to leaking, and with enough pressure, they’ll burst.

Feelings, I think, like all fluids, can suffer drought. Some fade with no remnants to be found. Some, may it be to one’s dismay or comfort, leave something of smell or taste, maybe even a memory of color or an everlasting stain, behind.

I wonder if indifference is the sand sea in this scenery. The demise of all that’s felt, no trace nor sign remaining. I wonder if it can overcome the fiery, glowing red of blood-thick anger, the melodies sung in pastel by infatuation, perhaps even the droplets of pitch-black fear that echo loudest.

If so then I truly wonder why indifference exists. What the loss of all feelings accomplishes.

My apartment has too many candles, so that’s the right amount.
You could sleep through the apocalypse and arise refreshed
and peckish. And you’ll just know where the muffins are.
My terrarium has a name made out of teak and jade.
Several worlds abide where I hang my nocturnals
and I’m lousy with stars in a batch of dark
the size of the Mind.

as I reflect i deflect and wonder where the arrow went, that pestered me.
i speak for the trees like a Lorax on a ******, but with fine penmanship
and quaint masteries. i learn the language of moss
by twilight and beg aeons for an hour
of Clarity… stumbling to Port
as I aright my Ship upon a proper Maelstrom
as viscose as a black diamond
on a candle’s
mind.

The mind cracks in half,
Spreads thick
Like egg yolks
On granite
Viscose
Slow
        Moving
Enveloping
        - Bursting -
Here fears,
here doubts
And there, there the yearnings  

Eyes splinter -
Flutter like butterflies
In flight,
Greet dawn
And there - hunger strikes,
The eagerness  
To feast on skin,
To lap at the salty brine
Of     your    humanness,
A need for thighs
Gripping
At my jaw line

The moon tucks herself away
Behind light,
And sky meets day
And I, Pavlov’s dog -
Salivating
Alone in bed

Slavery is making a comeback
Nobody seems to mind the setback
The return in democracy
Just fill out the needed bureaucracy
And you too can become aristrocracy

Aristocracy of fake renown
But real blood drips down the gown
Sewn by tiny hands
Childhood drips away like sands
On hollow lands

Polyester,viscose,elastane
Half-hearted activism doesn't banish the bloodstain
Where went all the abolitionists?
It seems we need a lecture on what free volition is
And a demonstration of how embedded abjectness is

Have we ever abolitioned this?
Seems that history books all live in a bliss
Place to place it's either hit or miss
Will we ever get rid of this abiding abyss?
Freedom is just a make-believe kiss