The Portrait

Quietly it lay in its strangeness

appearing both living and dead

speaking a myriad of dialects

neither lovely nor repulsive.

 

The trees came out leafless

with a spidery arrangement

hint of fury was carefully hidden

by the surrounding still murky waters.

 

A supple breeze hovered around

it was hot and humid

carried neither odor nor perfume

it was bizarre but oddly exciting.

 

The fine gray sky carried a promise

also passed odd blinding longing

a sickly sweet anticipation

of discovering and exploring everything anew.

 

Fear

terror

all seemed evermore missing

Or was it just self-fed illusion?

 

 

 

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Soul Food

In the desert there is no water, but the mirage suggests that there is such a thing as water. In the shadow there is no reality or substantiality, but from the shadow we can understand that there is substance and reality.

~Bhagavad Gita

Inspiring Quote

One should not limit his progress only to the point of moral codes.

~Bhagavad Gita

 

Someone’s Watching

Helpless and hopeless I lose to my senses

I know I have the weakest flesh,

And I am unlucky enough to witness,

This is my chaos of existence

 

I keep blowing away every single ray of light,

Innocently I surrender my soul to the shadowy,

And wear it so comfortably like an old hat,

Even the town’s drunk seems contented with it

 

The land feels dry and hot in my feet,

As I desperately search for the scattered grass,

At least to assure myself that I will see that ray again,

Or even hope to get help from that who’s watching

 

My life is as fragile like a petal amidst dry lands,

I feel it receding like a boat on a shore,

It is getting away as in violence,

I only need that trifling mound of love

 

The world vibrates with piercing punishment,

Today is harder than the day before,

It is a strange sad mortality,

But the desire to live burns inside me,

It bursts like an over-flared balloon

 

\

Trapped Voice

He thought that in time, his mind will protect his sanity,
From mounting storms and chaos raging through his flimsy heart,
This rose, whenever he was close enough to experience her scent
In a second he was plunged into a state of enchantment

He was floating in the nothingness of the moment,
It bathed away all his old scars and made him new,
He was waving goodbye to suck desires,
He was a child of oblivion

It was a time to listen to the rhythms of his blinded heart,
He was spell-bounded in the amber of that delicious moment,
Never hesitating to wash all mannerism and pretenses,
Time was never guided by any system

The beauty in her scent carried silent power,
It was warm and had cherry blossom,
His black knowledge hinted that his time was here and now,
And it made blood to throb fiercely through his veins,

He was tired of waiting and wilting through cold days,
He was going to finally tell her about his black desires,
Even with a benign smile he felt disillusioned and lost,
He was unable to control his sensibility and emotions,

He wanted to tell her how much he needed her,
How much his days passed without any purpose,
How much he dreamt, wished and hoped for them both,
But the dryness of his throat spurted empty words,

He couldn’t do it!
The truth was too heavy!
He had failed yet again…
To save his trapped voice

 

Soul Food

You have to learn tolerance in the face of dualities such as cold and warm, or happiness and distress. Tolerance will free you from all anxieties regarding loss or gain.

Cold Dreams

My eyes are becoming instantly wet and blurry,
From a haze of dust blown by the indiscriminate wind,
A radiant and red cloud of dust is dancing above earth,
I can’t tell whether to let my tears loose from dust or from what I feel

My heart is bleeding with a mixture of feigned hope and fear,
Like the swaths of struggling flowers that are experiencing nakedness,
Under the piercing blades of sunlight and unforgiving, harsh wind,
We are all part of the chaos that legitimizes our own existence

My desperate and wounded efforts have turned out to be a maze,
After directing and navigating tirelessly to places unknown,
For I heard that is where my dreams lay in silence waiting for my hand,
But their cruelty is marked from their absence from my searching eyes

The cruelty of these cold dreams is as hard as the day before,
This vicious cycle has made my eyes hung heavy with exhaustion,
The world can smell and even taste my brokenness and defeat,
As I slowly get covered by the black and gray sky that appears evil,

Now, the wind has gone up from gusts to gale,
I am hit by brief twists of shadows passing and going,
Scraps of orphaned green leaves are leaving shuddering trees,
This terrible reality threatens to carry me outside of time

But I stand still and demand a wind of myself,
I want to experience the physical chaos that resides within,
Fears and sorrows are honoring the pragmatics of my cold dreams,
I know this is a cruel phrase that enjoys preying on hope,
But cold dreams have blinded and exhausted my adrenaline

 

Whispers of the Sun

She had practiced walking from her dream,
She made quiet and measured footfall as the fall of petals,
Her eyes were dark, soft and romantic as those of a poet,
And with every new twist, they widened with new wonder,

A mask of concentration was spread all over her face,
It was as if she was willing for every wish to appear,
The soft early wind pushed her forward despite herself,
It fired her desire that was beyond thought and sweetness

The path was filled with deathly hollow and an infinite narrowness,
Every turn carried a strange mystery that only seemed to deepen hers,
On her sides, lay ravishing splashes of colors from standing tall trees,
They had began to flower, orange, yellow and green coloring,
The perfectness of the beauty they represented was too real!

She halted amidst her steps to fight back the tears springing in her eyes,
She was unprepared for the cascades of tears dripping her cheeks,
That morning was so freshly new that she could see her breath,
The beauty, tenderness and love of the universe surprised her

She willed her strength of discovering the meaning of her life,
She was searching for her happiness and that is all that mattered,
She was beyond the tyranny of time and was floating in it,
She was completely and totally absorbed in the vision of her,
The golden-yellowed strings of sunlight reflected that vision,
They were slow and achingly beautiful like the tunes of a violin

Inverted Blue River

All your dreams became inverted,
You can’t grasp life’s inverted chances,
You are now trapped in the inverted crowd,
The majestic view of your life is now inverted,

All values and symbols of power appear inverted
You caught in a labyrinth of inverted situations,
This is not how things should be!
In silence you shout over and over!

You had a clear view of how things should be,
In vain you mirror images and shadows,
Signs of the purest kind of love,
They are remote and enigmatic

They make your heart grandly sing,
As you sit alone deep in the woods,
You get lost in the pitter-patter of the blue river,
Eyes closed, you release your heart, body and soul

You do not realize that the blue river is inverted too!
So as the trees that house the inverted sleeping birds,
The attractiveness of everything is pure bliss,
All you needed was a worm-view to see clearly

The barbaric spectacle of this world,
But also the strange beauty,
It is red but also radiant,
Splendor that calls and traps your soul!

The Promised New

A particle of gold is worthy to be called gold,
Just as the salty taste of a drop of water from the vast sea,
I, endowed with all the qualities that entitle me to the universe,
Every minute measure in me is part and parcel of everything universal

I can feel the earth’s slow vibrations surging me forward,
The unseen yet real black power seems to shift everything,
Everything seems to be moving yet in reality not moving at all,
To places and experiences that are emblematic and intensely unreal

There are many paths each with its’ own doors to different experiences,
The paths have dancing flowers that are unshackled from tangles of leaves,
They contain a sense of indescribable gentleness that makes me forget,
And they are faded into different shades of colors that glee under the sunlight

I am walking in a world that is neatly balanced between dreaming and reality,
Fast images seem to slam my mind with mixtures of hopes and fear,
The meaning of these paths lies in the secret doors of experiences that awaits,
Trying to find these meanings present yet another experience that has no name,

But I know I have to choose between old spells and the promised new,
My face is decorated with double edged expression that betrays my dilemma,
But I force myself to grow away from self doubts that had held me down,
A firm refusal to be schematized and trapped again into old timely patterns,
I know positive power is only realized in its’ penultimate moment of blackness!