On air

On air

On air as though one bird

Is Flying to its nest

Here I come Nepal

Four years of floundering

And for flourishing

I flew

And today on, the air,

I normally breath

I am traveling, 

with, balloons of 

Green blue yellow and purple

My mind is to rejoice

For I am on air

Flying like a bird

Back to its nest

Here I come Nepal

Tree

As low as rocks

And as tall as sky

You stick out before me

Strong and still

in Silence, Tree

Purple, red, green, yellow- all colorful

Buried underground, you have championed the greatness of light

Oh, Chlorophyll! What wisdom you've got.

Mighty Tree: all start small.

A little bit here, a little bit there.

Tiny flowers sprung up on ground.

In time, you grow big- what an inspiration you are.

Then you flash your color

Attract the bees, or perhaps the butterflies 

May be the purple one,

Whichever you choose.

Tree! The all compassionate one:

Not only do the bees buzz

But humans too, who sometimes

Even bug you.

It's the way we go around- all because of you.

You, who feed the goats and cattle, and insects and animals

And we who feast on them, or suckle on what's left of you.

What a being you are, tree!

As humble as the rocks,

As profound as the sky,

And as great as the light.

True love

True love

What is love without lust 

And in absence of return, a love

A world full of people

Of opposite sex

Of attraction and distraction

And only one is special, one love

One heart, a soul and mind

Together in harmony

A peace of moment

Blossoming as though a flower

Only this is in heart, felt

Like a sense, it can feel

Every step, every second

Every breath, if full of the kind of

Feeling. The kind of touch,

A heart can sense, feel and be moved.

A Love not of any kind but true

The lament of a perfect soul

Even while the whole world echoes along

It's a shame one can reverberate alone

Even in the brightest of hours

One can sense darkness, in shadows cast

Whilst close to perfection one can yet regret to refrain

From that which is not done

What soul, what heart, what light

Emotions like tornadoes neglet all the rest 

That- which all aspects mentioned-

'Tis all this soul has to lament

Just

From today I shall live

Knowing someday I shall not be gone

That every thing I have

Shalln't be there

That the people I meet

Will never be there too

That I am just living "A life"

Life that is beautiful, crazy, painful and precious

Will not be there anymore

From here, I choose.

A life of water

The life of a tree

The life of me in just

I water, I bathe, the tree I live by

And air I breathe

I shall be thankful for

The thought I am

I shall be one with the rest

In peace and and in whole

I hereby shall live simply

Breath simply, eat simply and

Be the tree I am

I shall renounce the matter that does not

Content in pure heart

With necessities met

I shall be joyful, happy and in peace 

I shall be just

The most difficult puzzle

We live in a world that there is no clue about

Not of our existance

Not ...

Not...

Driven by our will

We do 

"What is will?"

What drives it?

-Mind

What drives mind?

What, who or what part of consciousness decides to put the thoughts in ones mind, that come about?

One is simply a sustainer or a "demolition-er" of thoughts

That come about

What is it that Really drives me? The force? The "what ever"?

That was always there since ones birth.

In other words:

What is it really that drives my consciousness that the end product it a thought

I really don't know, but I am curious so, to start with:

Is it the light, beauty, pain, pleasure, or

Simply the laws of nature...what ever that could be, which I am bound to.

I fucking don't know, and understand not of it.

It seems to me that itself nature is the biggest puzzle.

Awestruck

A transient being has awestruck me: felt sublime, with, as though sky has fallen upon me. And me falling apart, as she departs.

The begining

In the beginning

There was nothing

Silent and dark,

Heaven Nor hell

Before living or dead, time or space

Before God, there was nothing

Just nothing.

420

Something that is nothing

In Air

Brainwaves

Matter

And a sudden awakening

Consciousness

Dissolved in 

Smoky air

Stuck in

Between time

Space and

Self

All just

On a puff

And there I go

Mona Lisa

The utter silence of her smile

The subtleness in her eyes

Says it all, but softness

By lame silence and subtle weakness

Quietly peeking through ones eyes,

Through the observer,

She proclaims a place in ones heart

Seeking from one corner of emotion to next

She steals every breath out of him

Building a kingdom from it, she claims the heart for her own

She smiles; she knows about you!

She is kind. She is Godly

Yet, her smile stings you in the face, with ambiguity

As though by heavenly gift,

In one way or another

She becomes a part of you

Knowingly or Unknowingly

She loves you

Suddenly, as though by will, or, by force

She holds you and drags you by your heart

Is she deceiving you!?

Touching the soft spots in every corner of your heart

She sits calmly before you, in comfort

With glare in her eyes

Now that she owns you

Boldly, she stares at you

By delusion or illusion 

Or by love or lust

Like she has just poisoned you

At a place that is perfect.

She takes a moment

And reflects upon you 

the most ambiguous smile

Of all. . .

Social Network

What a development, a.. evolution, of life! There is more to, than read books or, say meet face to face I mean, "What's on your mind?" says facebook. What did you post today? say I. That's how you socialize today. Not to mention the amount of spams you get. What kinda tube did you share today? Sorry, I meant you-tube! Or you forget to try out the google-hangouts, instead? No wonder birds don't twit as much these days. Some day, men might as well hoot. By the way, when people start complaining on media it's called "barking!!" So, wurf! Wurf!

Mind

It's a wonderful world, but only if you think so Thoughts that are us thoughts that may be true thoughts that maybe false thoughts that make us alive "You can eat an ice cream" but the taste is in the mind What a mind boggling game Who needs an ice cream? When you can imagine Or, even dream Or, one can imagine that forever What a mind! Mind that is you mind that is me mind that is all What a wonderful world.

The Art of Life

An ocean without water

A beat-less music

Or 

A pen without ink

THAT,

is how life feels,

Without purpose:

No love

But love is art,

The purpose, as art,

-to create what you love

The meaning of your life

Color, butter-fly,

Jingle-bells 

humming-bees,

      Or,

THOSE

rain-bows!

Which make you wonder!!

-'Tis art!!!

Strange and Beautiful.

If it's what makes you alive,

'Tis love,

The art of life

At least, that's what completes my ocean with water

Fills my pen with ink

And completes this poem with

The art of life

Just Thinking

Simply thinki------ing

..............boxes....matchbox.

Butterflies............

No,.....stars...

What else?

Stones!

To think is difficult!

Dream World

2/14/14 12:30 am

'Tis the story that God has not told 

Taking place inside the mind of himself.

Before his creation, he imagined of it.

Silent and dark,

Heaven nor hell

There, before time and space

Bound by the power of God, there was nothing

Merely a formula, locked up in a chamber, in his mind

Where only souls dwelled

Who knew not anything, but pure happiness. 

With only one source of joy, the mechanism how the souls could exist, a reservoir of pleasure was contained in the simplest of laws.

The secret, the souls be in perfect unity for such a thing to work, or else, chaos would grow upon them.

Before the so called big bang, there existed this realm where only spirits could roam in God's mind.

There were only three laws. The spirits could wither add themselves, divide, or multiply. All the good pleasure in the world without even having to work for it, was all theirs. Neigher living nor dead, they were purely free. 

Imagination and dream were their reality and each one could rule their own world. They lived in dreams where anything was possible.

Anything they imagine would happen to them for real. They lived in the highest state of mind. Until something went wrong in the system. The formula that held everything broke. Dreams shattered, and spirits were trapped.

Everyone should together was broken when the spirits multiplied so many times that, it broke.

The division diluted the unison of spirits, that the almiry power could no longer hold the point together. As a result, matter exploded from the point and the spirits got trapped into the very fundamental level of particles as sub-consciousness.  In this way by default of God every thing was empowered to come together, although the force of matter gave the tendency to repelled everything.

Based upon the different kinds of matter that trapped the souls, feelings of fear, anger, jeaulousy, pain, love, and gracefulness were adapted.

By virtue of God, everything kept of uniting again from atoms to elements and elements to micro and macro molecules, consciousness could exist between matter and soul. 

Thus humans, plants, and other livings by the code conduct of God, the sole purpose became to unite back the matter untill a singularity is reached, and the souls would be free again.

Bending Words

If I could bend words

I would build a castle 

Out of H

On which I'd spell E

And an E'mpire would rise up from the ground

If I could bend words

If I could, I'd breathe out clouds of letters made out of dust

Into the air

If I could,  I'd blow them  into a barren land

 And turn them into twigs of "Y"s and L"s on top of a range

Stars of x's would twinkle in the sky at night

Just above the trees, with leaves of p's and q's

A rising sun would set on the other side, where apples as Q's

Would fall on ground of lofty V' W' and N's, upside down,

On a meadow as green as the letter G

Words made out of rough letters would then fling out of those trees 

Like there is beauty  in mumbling 

A newly born child would cry out those words

Until the sun would rise, the apple would levitate,

The Empire would collapse

And words would bend

Until, there would be 

No more letters to spell .

Duty

Duty that is, simply doing

Doing, to be

To be, that is to exist

It must go on

To be

To exist

To do

Duty in its true form

Forget the future

Forget the past, and the rest

Don't even bother

Simply do what you must

To be

To do

And to exist

Goddess

Heaven's fallen on earth

With the elegance you wear

God remorses his creation 

The angels who bewitch beauty

Even they envy the grace on you

Denying your existence

I pray to you, for you

Clouds of thoughts form before me

In mind, in me, the rest, and right in front the World

I kneel before you

For you proclaim a throne

Which only Aphrodite once held

The charm she held on  gods

And now you bewitch me

Charm me

Squeeze the lust out of me

And claim my soul

Truly, a heavenly creature 

must as you,

Are a Goddess 

Before me

Heavenly Star

I have been sitting on a rock,

Gazing at the stars

With wonder in my mind

And I wonder about you

Between the rock and the stars

The water I take, the light, the rays from the sun

 I see even see you at night

And water is there no more

No more than the light at night

Everything changes, everything moves 

You are still there 

In my mind

Everywhere

Floating like an angel

In the air

On my mind

And I don't know how

I don't know

I wonder why

Reason

Everything that is there

Must be there not by chance

But for a reason

It is there

At least we hope for

Or else it would be stupid

Why else could it otherwise be

For everything is there, to be

My Valentine

Simple natural beauty has its own essence

Ignorant I am when it comes to romance

Love being something completely unfamiliar to a heart,

Hard as a rock, like mine

Until you, my dear:

Love,  love is beautiful!

How can I describe .  .  . 

You, my valentine, are a rainbow

Pure and Colorful

Oh, Lovely lady! The most beautiful song of all

Like I have no words to say

I could listen you speak all day long

Like, the favorite day of my life.

You, my dear, are the most beautiful of all!

How I wish I could convey my love to you.

Let me try, in the simplest of words:

Like the heat in a cold winter

The sugar in a coffee

The air I breathe

Everything!

Oh! Gosh,

I lose my mind when I look at you:

Your eyes are of a goddess, so genuine, mine shies away

Goodness, the first time we met, you took my breath away.

I have daily problems of my own

And the deadly notion, that life sucks!

But, with your presence, it's just like a silent night

You are, as though, a candle who brightens my day!

Birds are cute; nectars are sweet

Like a cherry, your red lips taste

Better than any cherry, and

Are cuter than any bird. 

Thus, I cherish our love.

With soft kisses, my moments bliss

Sprouts of joy spring upright 

The roses of love, blossom within my heart

How wonderful! 

Your hair flows long like a seamless river 

With a gentle touch, by delight: the sunrise, the ocean, the sky, and the galactic stars-- all vanish-- which compare none to the pleasure, the softness of your skin.

Rocks, hills, mountains, and plains-- they are mundane-- your body being

(Infinitely) more to explore

You are a fire, my rock star!

Tick tock,  and you slow my clock

My love, you defy the laws of my universe

My valentine, you are the awesomeness of my life!

The Tale of a Ghostly Mountain

On one of the darkest of nights in November; in the middle of a dying jungle of banyan trees: two brothers are cowardly awaken by the sound of a blood-thisty raptor. All three, who are in an old bus, unknown to them all.

The third brother, who stands still, in front, gazing across the window is all lost in mind, but knows little to speak of what has just happened.

There is nothing outside the bus, but darkness.

Evil is spread all around, for they are on top of a mountain- the ghostly mountain!

A crow caws; it shatters through the window; the three brothers close their ears in fear. "The sound that woke you two up," whispers the eldest, "It is not to be disturbed for we are in a strange land now, a land no one should have been."

He then walks close to the window, slowly,  with a knife in his hand, and turns his head at his brother Sai.

Sai, the youngest of them all, trembling in cold, wispers into Wanga's ear, "Wanga, what's happening to us, tell us for the two of us remember nothing, but returning home. And now we are here, hungry and cold, on an alienated place, no where close to home." 

Misty clouds fill the air. Aki, the middle of them all, who is leaning against the wall, closes the door in despair. He coughs on his left hand, and is ill with some sort of disease that causes his blood to turn black, and he is feeble.

He falls down on the floor as though dead corpse, and tries to hide his knee with a book. Only then does the other two realize he is injured. They move towards him.

They take away his book. Blood drips down from his knee and he cries aloud in agony, "Something big is wrong! We should have never come here. It is all Sai's fault."

"Would you shut up Aki? He is only 13," yells the eldest. Sai brings a first-aid kit with tears in his eys, and Wanga cleans the wound, wraps a cloth around his knee and speaks to him, "Feeling better?" 

"Yes!" he answers with a breath.

While this takes place, Aki in tears watches the window. He sees on the window, face of n old widow. The glass shatters. She smiles at him with her cannine teeth; and, in an animalistic high-pitch voice says to him, " Good boy!"

Aki takes few steps behind until he feels the touch of two hands on his shouder. They shrugg him up. He recovers and is heard, " Look at me!" It is his brothers.

Once he comes back to senses, he tells his brothers about the widow and suddenly the wind starts to blow. The rain starts to drain. And not only that. The thunder starts to strike. Eventually, the bus slowly moves, and finally starts to slip down the hill.

They realize the bus is no safe heaven to them any more, no more than the dark night. The eldest  holds his brothers hands and starts to walk outside, ahead in the rain. Aki traces the path down the hill with a torch light in his hands, untill he hears the sound of a feet walking towards them. He looks back but no one is there. Right then, he hears it even louder. When he is about to look back again, he falls down and is lost in the drain.

The eldest still has the youngest in his hands, and still walking, they search for the last. Alas! He could be dead. They search everywhere but find him no where. At last, they find their way back to the bus again. The bus is upside down, and many broken glasses and metal pieces are lying around.

As they try to sleep in the bus, the rain stops, the thunder stops,  but the mountain suck their blood from the soil, from the air,  little by little, from everywhere. Is it a dream? A nightmare? No one knows, until the eldest wakes up and the youngest is there no more. He is curious and depressed and tired and hungry and angry what has been happening all night. 

As he slowly opens the bus door, it starts to make a kinky noise. He looks back at brother inside, he sees none, but skeleton of many young fellaws. One in front has a knife in his chest, the other on his right side, one legged. They both lie prone on the floor. Wanga takes the knife out of his chest and boom, the little one kicks him hard on the chest. Together the two pack of bones drag him by the leg, out the bus and down the hill.

The first rays of sun fall upon them. Out of a sudden, the skeletons then break apart like a falling tree and turn into crows, falling down on the ground. As Wanga starts to run towards the gate, the ghostly mountain along with the crows, slowly melt into the soil. Objects start to turn greener, richer, and warmer. When the ghostly mountain sinks completely, he barely escapes from the gate. 

Outside the gate, he yells out, "I am free, at last!" Suddenly, he hears the sound of a crow again. He rubs his eyes in disbelief, realizes he is still in a bus. He happens to find himself  sitting in a school bus with other kids, with a female driver in front. She suddenly turns her head, stretches her ugly face towards him, and says in his brothers voices, "Who wants to go to the Ghostly Mountain?"

WHO, WHAT, AND WHY?

WHY THE WORLD AM I WHAT I AM? AND HOW AM I, I? HOW DO THINGS AND NOTHING EXIST. WHAT IS THE POINT OF ME BEING HERE. WHAT KIND OF A PERSON WOULD NOT KNOW ABOUT HIMSELF. WHAT IS EVERYTHING, AND WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON? WHAT IS THE POINT OF EVERYTHING? WHY AM I SO DUMB, ABOUT ME, ABOUT EVERYTHING, ABOUT NOTHING AND ABOUT YOU, HIM, HER, THEY AND SO ON? WHY THE WHAT SHOULD I CARE, RIGHT? WHY SHOULD I NOT?WHY AM I NOT THE ONE THINKING IN HIM OR HER, AND WHY NOT, WHAT ARE YOU? TO THINK OR NOT TO THINK, TIS' NOT I WHO IS WHAT IT SEEMS, IT SEEMS LIKE SOMEBODY IS DOING IT. WELL, WHAT DO YOU THINK? WHAT IS THE WORLD REALLY ABOUT. WHY IS HE HERE. IT DOESN'T EVEN MATTER. WHY IS SHE HERE?WHAT EVER. ANY WAY, WHY ARE YOU HERE? FORGET IT. I AM TIRED OF ASKING QUESTIONS. WHAT'S THE POINT, RIGHT? SERIOUSLY, WHO THE WHAT ARE YOU? AND WHY AM I ASKING?

Waterfall

Strange as it seems  

Like a stream that falls off a cliff, striking

Falling! I feel the cold waterfall, all that it becomes

Lost  in droplets and splashes; drumming of soil I hear

In the depths, I fall 

Into a forest. Ah! The smell of roots!

And a rainbow appears next.

Below fall; above forest, I let go off my soul

Causes much pain or anxiety or a dream

This dying hope, a magnificent dream 

What a joke! Like a cold wind-blow!

I am lost in this fall, a turmoil   

Water that is life, as it falls  

 A fall that is beutiful, in eyes, but blind 

The fall so harsh, that sucks  

The hope, the rainbow, that springs upwright

The drops  disapearing into mists; moisty air  

That surrounds me, that hunts me, curses me, and that punishes me 

All that I live by   

So much to live

So much to thrive

What a fall.

Poet vs. God

Dear Lord,

The voices of nature so deep that when one hears

It cuts one by the ear

The feelings of love so  wild that sensations are benignly  ruined

Oh, mighty Lord. The cosmos and the stars! My soul was all yours.

Thoughts are active as electrons, atoms, and volcanos erupt

Everything vibrates; clearer than ever, brighter than eyes can see, or one could imagine.

Into a never ending cycle of  structures and deformations, life and death.

Now I am a part of living, now I have a brain, and ears to listen: speak to me nature!

Hail your storm at me and to the living dead. Show your self and dance 

To the suffering, voidless love, and sensations and deaths that are yet to be formed

To the wrath of what you have become, sing to me the song with the most demonic voice of all.

Now, that I have everything! Everything I own. Everything I know.

Lest you shall become, more I shall be.

Open as a mind can be, wide as wings can fly

What is there that I cannot be!

Your life, the knowledge of everything, the soul, is all that you can be.

For I am a part of all that is yours, a mind of my own, is all that it takes

To give a blow at everything. Not shall I remain, not shall the rest be,

For that is all you can be, not become, all that you are.

You have become ruthless, incomplete.

I stand before you, a mortal, to challenge, to die,

To fight, to feel the depeest of thoughts, come what may,

What structure, form, deform, or law you hold, you order, show yourself

I shall have my self to you, the imperfect being on you.

I shall pass it onto those who seek to know.

Your mistakes, the flaws, in creation of this beautiful world, for us,

By your default, shall collapse onto everything, everytime, every second.

Oh! Mother nature, how weak can it be?

If by prestige you are perfect, by name all that is good, could you not design well.

The perfection you desire is all but fake.

Why do you even let me be, an imperfect soul as I speak to you

Of your imperfections, throwing right into your face

Like a candle that is about to die, a bridge fall,

A touch numb, love hatred...

Or are you that funny, my lord.

To tease the crap out of mortals, 

To quote, "ignorance as bliss"

To let us yet crave for truth.

Truth or stupidity

Life and death

Sensation or numbness

Feelings and submission

My ruthless poetry or your imperfect creation

We shall see 

Come what may

Lord, show me if you are!

With love,

The poet