Musing on my Muse.

I will sing those lullabies and I will kindle the fire,hence
the wall fill fall, the armor shed,
I will, jump the fence.
Not for who you are, not for who you were,
not for who you will become,
(the universe is awake, regardless of what you stake,
and the pain will succumb.)
Each tear that has fallen,
and every moment that was sad,
will be dwarfed in comparison
to the magic to be had.
The trees have wisdom and the wind has wrath,
and they are in tune with the universe,
and committed to their path.
I was whole discordian
till you had come along,
and then I had no choice,
but to see the order in my song.
We'll rediscover Wonderland and
Xanadu, and
Shangri La,
explore the insides of our minds,
and then,
travel far,
further than our foresight can perceive, my love,
We will live the fairy tales,
we'll milk each moment from this life, my love,
till that life force fails.

Preservation.

I was sitting beside my headphones and across from a madman. On my right, beyond the ledge lay the contents of my frame. For a moment there I spotted a glow, behind the clouds and swore that the unnatural had come to visit again, but the moon, in reminiscence of some quirky British musical comedy, sprung out and revealed itself as the source behind a few layers of oddly shaped clouds. The sound of the rain was fulfilling. it filled me with a sense of life, but I sat there, fool like, writing this. But this was only after I had felt this life that I decided to write this now. And now as I write it I am forced to notice this chain I am caught in, on finding energy, and then trying to preserve it, in words? I imagine mother nature, an imaginative manifestation of our idea of mother nature perhaps, creating this light and sound show. This show of energy, the reveal of the hand. The all in. She's got Pocket earthquakes with a tsunami kicker, and We're sitting there with a 'ka-ching' high. High indeed

Tapestry

Weave a dimension, spun with words,
with sound in time and lights in herds.
watch the hawk enveloping,
with shadows a squirrel that strides.
And as the plot is developing,
the squirrel scurries away and hides.

I am a tree.

A silent quiver, a rumbling sway.
I am a tree.
Sit beside me, stay.
watch me breathe, watch me breathe.
Slow down.
Now see. See me breathe.
I have been counting. I count.
I have been counting.
I am white. I am black.
You see green.
That's ok.
A silent quiver.
I am a tree, astray.

Excerpt. Charles Bernstein. Professor of English. UPenn.

WHAT MAKES A POEM, A POEM?

My lecture is called “What Makes a Poem a Poem?” I’m going to set my timer.

It's not rhyming words at the end of a line. It's not form. It's not structure. It's not loneliness. It's not location. It's not the sky. It's not love. It's not the color. It's not the feeling. It's not the meter. It's not the place. It's not the intention. It's not the desire. It's not the weather. It's not the hope. It's not the subject matter. It's not the death. It's not the birth. It's not the trees. It's not the words. It's not the things between the words. It's not the meter-...

(timer beeps)

It's the timing.

The Ballad of Akoumman Mahn. Part 3 - The fall of Mahn.

That summer evening of yesteryear,
moonless, and blind, Mahn did fear,
all those choices he had made before,
he learned there were some he regretted less,
and some, he despised a little more.
with his shades of morality aging to black,
he had given up on faith, 'I do not lack
on qualities, there are so many, of my own,
why then should I, the universe condone?'
He spoke to himself more than to me,
I was a mere  mortal, what help could I be!?
coiled and controlling, the serpent in his mind,
had made him believe that serpents were kind!
words of mine were etched on cement,
they fell from my mouth and away they went!
Falling far below Akoumman Mahn could hear,
but Akoumman seemed to have his head on, clear.
He played me a melody, an ancient invocation,
of smiles and tears, a ceremonious recitation!
of majors and minors and notes in time,
an ode to joy, a tune sublime.
He played for himself  to hear, more than for me,
for I was a mere mortal, what would I be able to see!?
'Life is a burden' I heard him say,
'its redundancy should be packed and thrown away!'
'I have done things no other man has done,
won victories that had never been won!'
It was an attempt to convince himself more than to convince me,
after all, I was a mere human, I should have been left on my knees.
'Don't talk to me about order Bog, don't lie to me about the mind.
don't mention the word karma Bog, it makes you seem unkind'
The hatred seeped through the atmosphere and made its way towards me,
I turned and took a step away, to be hateful? I'd rather not be.
'This universe that you believe in, there are no patterns! I don't think its true'
The universe is a mirror, don't you see Mr. Mahn, now it doesn't believe in you.
Mahn disregarded what I had to say,
the fortress in his mind was there to stay.
Mahn, I am a mortal, a mortal I shall be,
but within the limitations of my mortality,
I will always choose to be free.

C'etait ici.

It was here, just the other day,
right before I was asked, to throw it away.
It had lingered and combined,
with these memories of mine,
subtle metamorphosis, per se?

I watched it bloom and it did grow,
roots! leaves! a bud! but you wouldn't know!
I imagined the flower it could be,
a flower which had been nurtured by me!
A new addition to that garden of mine,
in which were growing wild flowers divine.

beautiful little things, I fed them everyday,
they grew, they flourished, they withered away.
but you aren't much of a gardener you said,
'So what, if it was here? I'm leaving now, so shouldn't it be dead?'

It was here? was it not?
it seems to have been a passing thought.
In this labyrinth is locked away,
a voice taught to answer when I pray,
and ask 'if it ever existed, was it ever here?'
To silently whisper 'C'etait ici, monsieur.'

The spin.

There is an old being, idling astray.
In yesterday, tomorrow and far away.
Behind the symphony and amongst it,
here and there, whichever seems, fit.
it stumbles around time and space,
teasing the gods and the human race.

Well, thats the inherent nature of the spin,
inside and outside, without and within.
To ensure, that at least something is afoot!
To ensure lies exist, to challenge the truth.
To ensure that Icarus could fly through the skies,
but also ensure that he may soon fall to his demise.

Some victims soon, noticed the static,
hidden behind the breeze,
they recognized it, as the erratic,
and decided to bring her to her knees.
the hunt was aimed at cornering the spin,
and reinforcing order, so frail,
but cornering her, they didn't understand her grin,
till they found order behind the veil.

Release.

Blue and green, inside a stream,
of stars and dust in lotus hands.
serenity, in a voice that spoke,
of looking after me once the dam's broke.
An image planted in my brain,
to keep me grounded as i spun insane.
The twisted messenger heard my plea,
he tried to give a reason to me.
'In order to be a re-port-er,
you have to be at the site of war'
Red and black, they show their face,
asking a question, an answer they chase.
They try and make me shun the green,
by offering the unheard, unseen,
fame and fortune I heard them say,
but green for me, is the only way.
I have a net, to catch me when I fall,
I will fly with green, with green I will crawl.

Construction.

The monsoon moon hung close between,
Bog's abode now and his abode to be.
As all anchor's were lost in the waves,
he asked me to dig both our graves.
I told him of the signs that be,
'the signs don't care for you and me'
he said as he took me by my mind,
'symbols are ruthless, unkind!
the symbols speak of the amusement park,
and the roller coasters with caretakers dark,
and a little baby that was put upon,
that fateful ride, shall soon be gone.
The failing serpent has all venom lost,
you think you have won, but with a cost.
The serpent was to give you force,
now you sit, with knowledge coarse,
of all that the serpent can choose to do,
but you chased it away, your serpent, has left you.
But I will you, a new serpent build,
fresh from the furnace, by the light man's guild,
It needn't be strong, it needn't be sure,
but it will be an honest serpent,
that is the cure!
This blind serpent, it will help you see,
beyond this vibration you choose to be,
The symbols then would be of use,
now, till then, they will confuse,
So leave the signs alone for now,
let's build you a serpent, with the temperament of a cow.'

Lost

helter skelter running dreaming crying feeling dying breathing living screaming flying healing falling rising burning freezing shouting. Need some mint.

Damn.

When a chemical makes you fall in love, you know you have problems.


Rewind, erase, delete.

It's all gonna be just fine.

Inside.

Containment and acceptance,
in carbon and calcium.
The jailers are away!
No need to lock the cages,
the prisoners, want to stay.
A loss of love, lust, limb and breath,
disastrous, democratic, delusions of death.
Plant a thought here, plant a thought there,
make serene little Ruby watch the show,
make terrified little Ruby stare.
Why fear the unknown? Why fear the fall?
Why fear the heights, the pain, rebirth et al?
Fear the crimson, embrace the pain.
Or fight to keep your tools, in vain.

Aham Brahmasmi

My car is me, I am my car.
My dog is me, I am my God.

Everything IS the same.

Time, intense, wears me down.
Life, intense, wears me down.

Alchemy is ironic.
For gold is iron, and iron is gold.

open your Chakras and merge.
Aham Brahmasmi.

Sound.

Alpha male warriors succumb,
to the sound of raining metal.
His brother beside, silently hums,
"Look here, this wound's fatal"
To literate the agony, seems sinful.
Wrong.
Here is the Lizard King.
justifying it with a song.
Creations of anger, love, grief and joy.
See him swinging,
and shredding his toy.
Unspoken thoughts sung by his axe.
Vibrations of revolution,
created under swift cracks.
Noise! Love! Music!
Drown now. You're not empty anymore.
The songbird takes a poise,
and melody fills your soul.

The emerald fairy of dreams, and nightmares.

Intense conversations with
the emerald fairy, of dreams,
and nightmares.
I don't want to,.
Breathe and learn.
Violet wisdom and crystal thoughts.

Strolls beneath the shy moon,
to capture, the afterlife.
Like a scavenger hunt,
for bleeding stones.

A search for World War II,
and it's planes,
and guns,
and murder.
Genocide.

This factory of lost souls, ahead
angry construction workers.

The dark, empty holes in the building,
look at me and ask the same question.
'What is it you seek? If it's fear,
step inside!'

The woman pass us outcasts within a mutter.
They giggle,
after a distance.

The afterlife seems far away,
but the train is on time.
The ground lights up,
as the dust ignites
bars of light,
through the fences.

Etch the image in your mind.
For there goes the train to freedom,
Afterlife, on the other side.

Turn around and walk away.
Reality awaits.
Goodbye, Emerald fairy.
Of dreams, and nightmares.

The Invisible Pedestal

Thrones of fear....
crowns of dust....
ignited minds, crying for lust...
the neighbours faith, down to ashes...
just breathe...live...
haven't you wondered why you dream,
don't you know how this answer ends?
Isn't it strange that love hides in the strangest places?
Isn't it strange that one person can change your chain of thought?
BURN....its all for the good.

Helplessness. Revolution.

Revolting screams ended the peace of the night,
a beginning could be near.
through the dark emerged a ray of light,
which ended the ignorant fear.
The people gathered 'round the hall,
one cried 'its time for evolution'
the dictator within felt, suddenly, small,
'alas, its a revolution'.

The soulful Cod.

little Ruby, on her third,
found a little fish.
"oh hello little girl" She thought she heard,
"would you like to make a wish?"
Excited Ruby shouted out
"are you a present from God?"
The fish rolled its eyes "What's that about!?"
"I'm just a magic Cod!"
"you might ask for love and happiness,
or a little mug of joy.
Tell me what you desire most!
Come on now, Don't be coy!"
Her little mind was in confusion,
What did she want most!?
She was offered a little pill of illusion,
but she preferred jam on toast.
The cod, little odd, little fish had a smile.
"do you want a perfect world?"
Ruby took a second, and then, a while,
"The concept is a little old."
"A world without chaos and delusions and fear
might seem really fancy, but, a bore"
The little fish now sported a sneer,
"oh look, there is a door"
the cod, little odd, little fish, stood up,
Lo! A pair of legs!
a face, two hands, two legs and a cup,
into which he poured two pegs.
"now, young girl, Do you want to know,
how this sunshine water tastes?
here, have a sip, I'm not a foe"
yes, he said that straight-faced.
A sip of that liquid was too much for her,
she wanted him to leave.
He added some sugar and gave it a stir,
"Come on, don't be naive"
She wanted this illusion to end,
"I wish to see the truth"
Suddenly her perception, started to bend,
and the cod man carried away the fruit.

The resurrection.

30 minutes.
Father Mahn's life had boiled down to his last moments. His evacuation was due, in 30 minutes. 29.
He had prayed for this. BEGGED for it.
Being a rich curate had it's quirks.
He was going to free himself to travel and watch the resurrection. Yes, THE resurrection.
25 minutes.
Dr.Liao had changed the way humans would see the world, literally.
Earlier in his life Stephen Liao, at the time a budding physicist, came to the realization that it was IMPOSSIBLE to transport Mass across time. What was not impossible however was to transport ones soul. Now all he had to do was separate a man from his soul. Simple.
20 minutes.
Akoumman Mahn had been a religious, God loving man for as long as he could remember. all his life he wanted to be with the Lord. Even in The late 21'st century when the group of elite scientific thinkers residing in the 'Thrile Zain' district of West Germany theoretically proved the non existence of a 'superior force', he Didn't lose hope.
The last thing he ever expected was the fact that the very same technology that he had learned to despise, was the means through which he was finally going to meet his master.
15 minutes.
Liao was stumped. It could not be done!
Each human he tested it on died. Well, technically thats what he wanted. I mean, all death does is detach the soul from the body, and thats what he wanted! But how to manipulate them to travel through time?
10 minutes.
Sri Vasu Vaiddya had guided the meditation of millions of students. After a certain level, guided meditation could guide the souls of the students out of the body, around the room and back again. It was a revealing experience.
When Liao first approached him to teach this technique to a machine designed to create time portals for thought, lights and souls, Vasu laughed.
"Chinese and their technology!"
He stopped when he saw the cheque.
Those were enough circles to guide his soul into agreeing.
5 minutes.
Father Mahn had dreamed of seeing the shepherd's rebirth.
Finally. FINALLY.
Liao had told him that he would automatically be guided to the nearest body of a recently deceased member of the time.
2 hours before the resurrection of the son.
Mahn died and was born, again, approximately 2000 years back.
He could barely breathe. Parts of his body were hurting him tremendously. his wrists, his feet his abdomen.
He felt like he had just been crucified.
He lifted himself out of the 'container' he was in and burst out into daylight, eager to see the lord.
"He has risen"
Mahn could not locate the source of the voice since people rushed him from all sides. He should have followed Liaos advice of making sure the surroundings were empty. His wrists still hurt and he now realized that they had holes in them! He could barely walk since he felt that a part of his legs was missing!
You see, fate had an unusual way of working things, as Mahn later realized.
HE WAS THE RESURRECTION.
without Liao and his technology, a belief would have died before it was ever born.
Mahn, you poor old puppet, You were not religious, just plain old narcissistic.

Ballad Of Akommun Mahn - Chapter 1 (Faith)

Akommun Mahn, with nix to lose,
chanced upon his lost faith.
"Hello Mahn, i have a friend here,who,
might help you get rid of that hate"
Barefoot Akommun looked around,
and saw none that could be seen.
" Be gone, knavish faith, you filthy hound
or I'll wipe your existence clean!"
Faith begged Mahn to take him along,
"I'll help you reach your goal"
But Mahn went away, singing his song
about how faith's ways were getting old.

Thus, faith, again he lost
and therein was lost all hope.

How my smart friend is stuck in a time warp loop.

My friend's Stuck in Britain for the past six years..
But i know the truth. He's been stuck only two years... over and over again.
He put together all the money he had and went to
trick the people who BUILT the time machine into giving him a free ride.
Talk about ambition!
His theory was, that he'd pay the guys, go back in time, and come back just a second,
before he gave them the money, and would walk away!
All of us had thought that was smart, so he jogged on.
Evereything went according to plan and he went and saw
Hitler, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix and this little kid called jack,
jack nicholson. and he told jack how he should try acting.
All those fond memories... he'd never had a better time!
And then he was tired and wanted to go back home,
and rest.
so he came back a moment before he paid them....
and forgot that he ever went.
So he paid them again and
Evereything went according to plan and he went and saw
Hitler, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix and this little kid called jack,
jack nicholson. and he told jack how he should try acting.
All those fond memories... he'd never had a better time!
And then he was tired and wanted to go back home,
and rest.
So he came back a moment before he paid them...

And this has been going on for the past 6 years...er 2 years.
But in my time....
My smart friend....
he's vanished,
vanished to walk on till lunacy.

The creation of "evil" :p

Evil is created by the God-man,
to have something to be protected from.
"THE EVIL HAS COME.....so take refuge...
I'M SAFE. i believe in God!"
I look on as he preaches faith
and tells me that i have sinned.
He tells me my eyes are filled with hate
and I'm the reason his God was pinned!


Then he lights an unlit candle,
with the power of his mind!
I ask him what use that would be,
when i put it up his behind?

"IF THAT DID NOT IMPRESS YOU,
I'M SURE THIS ONE WILL"
He took my bottle of water,
and an empty chalice he filled.
"Now keep your eyes on the laden cup
see the water turn to wine!"
I said "thats well and good father,
but i rather, like champagne!"
He glared at me with bright blue eyes,
"HOW DARE YOU MIMIC THE WORK OF GOD"
I apologize, rather sincerely and add
" and the wine tastes a little odd"
This enraged the bishop, I guess he
muttered a little curse.
"I'll compensate your troubles father" and
i take out my back pocket purse.
"Do you know it's illegal to pretend to be
a holy man"
I tell him, as i handcuff him, and put him in the back of my van.
He finally realized he was done for,
and gave me a knowing nod.
And in deep rooted irony, looks
up and says "HELP ME, GOD..."

Midnight Maladies

These journeys were woven like none,
with the hills, and the trees and that.
Run to the tip of Zeus's blade,
and travel, once again.

Two shades of fear will experience he,
who swims in rivers of gold.
One, of the chimera, swimming along,
another, a darkness.
His own.
Drown in the depth of this fantasy,
and travel, once again.

In the shade of the wall, i seal the deal,
while my kin are running insane.
"Look through the little diamond, my sick, young friend,
be with your kin, again"

Running Out of La Scala i see,
Pavarotti on the stage below.
he waves his arms, glaring at me
and the audience, discove a bone.
And then another! A whole framing!
i run as the muscles appear,
the skin covers it up, with red eyes flaming,
the boar squeals, it looks at me, it sneers.

Prelude to Pain.

He got the shades on the eve of knowledge,
Black and thick and hallucinogenic.
His desires were getting out of reach.
Blacker...thicker...blacker...thicker.
GOD suddenly started making sense.
"This is right... and this is wrong" he heard.
"who said that?"

"these glasses have a voice father"
"it's your conscience my son, It shall protect you from doing wrong"
"it hurts!"
"you'll grow into them, in time"

He did. Like all of us, in time.

Now the sun was yellow, the trees were green.
Perfect?
PERFECT.

As he flew down one evening from the clear blue sky,
He crashed into a passing thought,
And broke his shades of morality.
Not fazed at first, he carried on.

Blue eyes... Pink sun.

"I CAN'T SEE! I CAN'T SEE!"
His thoughts were in chaos.
Not bound and controlled by those shades anymore,
The animal was free.

He sought and sought till he fell asleep,
tired, as he was.
His dreams were wild, wild and free,
there was no limit to what he saw.

He woke with a new found feeling,
alien... but not alien enough.
The perfect masterpiece now seemed aquirable,
His ally should know, so he went in search...

Black eyes... the crave for immortality.
"I want to live forever"

"Let me help you, my friend... Bathe in the music of The Wolf, till then.
Mozart shall show us the way..."

Violet Pain

Blue eyes… pink sun…
Crimson reflections.
He was quick as rain, orchestral coordination.
The arrant gestures, the impeccable symphony.
Both paws, fortified.
This moment was long anticipated for.
Each detail considered.
Amadeus called the shots. Third note, slice left.
Splatters on the wall.
Modern art?

Black eyes… violet pain.
And the music goes on…


The second movement resurrected bog,
He felt the presence inside him. Fourth note, slice right.
The flawless steel threw back the pink and brought forth darker shades.
It was but a moment ago that reality had dawned on him.
Nothing could be perfect.
“Not even you, dear friend….But I shall try”
And the music goes on…

Black eyes… gone pale.
Love stained the walls, the canvas shed colour.
“Look at me.”
Black eyes… gone pale.
“LOOK AT ME”
Black eyes… ceded.

And the symphony was over.
The canvas mortified, murdered, but alive.
“Thank you, dear friend… thou shall live forever”
The love stained walls smiled at the thought.
Mozart had shown him the way, all along.

Hope.

"Order destroys the beauty of creation"
Beauty? as opposed to what?
"murder, revenge and law, of course."
The Synchronized dancers please your mind
and eventually,bind
your thoughts to protect.
Jack, still in the box.
Hedonism hurts, don't you know?
Mr. Kundera told me so.
Where will your hunt for comfort end?
It'll burn, or be buried, or be fed
to the vultures, that swarm above,
waiting for humanity, to share their love.

Yet, for comfort, I thrive.

Run in circles and play the game,
run, run around the flame.
Look above at him, the guide.
Alas, he's here too, running beside.
If you break this cycle,
all order shall end.
The world will chain you
for the rules you bend.

But there is hope,
beyond land and sea.
Beyond the women singing with glee,
beyond the lovers caught in embrace,
beyond the holy men praying with grace.
There is hope in the ancient lands,
in the green forests
an the untouched sands.
Spit out the apple,
be born again,
into the womb of silence.
And stay.