Wednesday, February 12, 2014

A d v e r s i t y

For her I had all the love,
all I could ever
sum up,  generate;
swim in and drown.
Only to shoot up
to breathe
in the air of hope.
And be giddy like
a happy boy,
in yellow shorts-
whistling on
those solitary boulevards.
And smiling, I stayed afloat
in the slow moving love stream;
hitting the right notes
in the thin air,
creating my own symphony
of pure and endless love.
The notes
originating from
the strings of my heart,
and the giant waves
of the mind.
Submerged in thoughts of her,
conscious and unconscious,
My eyes feasting on her
and every blink showing
an evanescent flash.
And I drifted on,
slowly revolving
rapturous and liberated.
waiting for my union with her,
loving her a little more;
holding her vision a little longer,
living the moment
another lifetime.
Until one day a rusted lock
would give me
cancerous vision ..
making my life a giant vista
of space
with howling, screaming silence,
and walls so high, just so high-
that even my paper rockets and
empty bottles
wouldn’t ever reach and
rather would get washed away,
by the apologetic ocean.
Until another day, in another world
someone would find a letter-
blurred by saline water,
trapped in glass.
A letter
in the obliterated vacuum
of a bottle,
smelling of ancient death
and ageless love and
telling my verses to the world,
while asking my questions-
the ones that would have
been answered already.
Till then I would co-exist
with my my dark army
and sit on the broken bridge,
looking at the discolored house-
a waste of space with
chained nightmares.
And just whistle
throwing the bottle down and
wait for the splash and
Fade to white.

Saturday, January 11, 2014


I woke up last night,
with distant bells ringing deep within my head.
The strange silhouettes swaying in the flimsy mist
above the unfamiliar terrain and the strong wind
blowing across from east did not help much
albeit tangible and strikingly familiar
like theosophical discussions.

The deserted tube station
of my mind was still inhabited by
the stoic robust melancholia hanging in thick
like slow moving origami birds made up of metal
rusted, pre-world war but acting like dark matter
soaking the very last shards of light
choking my defense mechanisms
every last bit.
Each time I walked
to the washroom to take the next pill
my eyes squeaked twitching like stage 3 Linda Blair.
Little spurts of pain ejaculated in white balls
of nothingness.
And I smiled with my eyes shut thinking about
you half asleep on the couch oblivious
to the wars woes and wounds

I think
that got me through
like always.

Monday, November 4, 2013

Violet Hour

I stare into blank space,
see a million dark stars
sending injun crypts
in a cursive that rain
on me dousing the sky high
white flames
my pores pour
my adagio in harmonic waves.

I hear my name reverberating
within the cove seeping from
the Mesolithic murals and from
underneath the phosphorescent water
she glides on the placid lake,

I see her outstretched palm.
My eyes don't blink in an eternity.
I accept it and my heart calls out
to the wild the wind and the night
replete with the chaotic history and
histrionics of things events ancient unknown

I lock eyes with her while
she catches my falling eyelash
bending gravity, destiny, time
laughing a languid tempest
with her gaze she levels
me a few million times
behold that magnetism
that pulls me back from
the dense rubble of
stoic devotion.

I swim inside a placenta of disquiet.
I split into a million strands that,
twirl creating the perfect symphony of
enconium that reach her and out.
She bursts a fiery globe of crimson.

I see her all encompassed beyond
My voynich manuscript
My endless enigma.
My mohave venus.

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Life 7.1 - My Deity

Who are you?

Are you my surreal hyper dream
or my compensatory hangover?


My dream,
my musing,
my 'carefree enjoyment',
in moments of crowded seclusion.

An extension of my inner world
manifested as datum-limitless, infinite
or are you my ultimate escape
from escape?

My ageless bi-dimensional in-scape.
My living hieroglyph with myriad suchness.
My celebratory dance for neo-genesis.
My beatific vision, my formless ocean.

Are you my psychic polychrome dimension
in my ultimate hour
of active contemplation
or the triptych of
the three elemental forces
in my m o m e n t s
of silver chord suspension?

My discontinuous consciousness.

Who are you after all?

My beauteous in world of schizophrenia.
My oblong hypnosis to transcendence.
My replicating labyrinthine multiverse.

The giant wormhole to ecstasy
and the ageless womb of serenity.

An extended moment of
a blooming subconscious,
a first rate placid state
of actualization.

The onereic projection of my first prodigious dream.

My train to tangible godhead.

The astral luminescence of
endless hypnagogic visions.

My Selene.
My conjugal soul twin.
My omnipotent delusion.
My stark release from inhibition.
My mystical Mona Lisa.
My Mescaline overdose.
My Epinephrine overdrive.
My flood of serotonin.
My cloudburst of ayahuasca.

The non-entity
the non-knowledge
or the non-being

Who are you...

Thursday, July 4, 2013


Sitting under an striped umbrella by the pool,
I wonder why I am sitting there in the very first place.
Then about the point in wondering [if any]

Afterwards  I blink
try to yawn audibly and fail
chew on the bland gum.

Then I try to burp
move my shades [by puckering my nose]
stop breathing for some time
raise my head
try to stare at the sun
squint hard
start to move my legs sideways [slow at first and then with a viciousness]
whimper [in a moment of induced whim]
let a trickle of iced coffee froth run down my chin
shudder violently,

Watch a sea of humanity
pour in my direction
men women children.

The women gush concern,
the men show interest
and the children.
well they just smile 
and look across. 
[or probably through me] 

With closed eyes I try
to imagine all these unknown faces [a whole set of expressions] 
while the stage light keeps getting brighter 
than the midday sun. 

Until that's all I see 
with my airtight eyes. 

Hands hold grope touch caress 
whispers words sounds seep in. 

A smirk gets born.
welcome to the show. 

I am the guinea pig. 
I am today's entertainment. 
and I am the puppet master. 

I am everything, nothing.

I am your whore
so come fuck me
with your eyes and hands
with the love and the concern
with your borderline desperation
then ejaculate
your lack of
your blobs of
belief [in the flawed act of my staged death]

all of us
can go home