(What happens when love is hijacked and falls apart?) Were you not the one who anointed me with sacred unction, way back then in a time-space when the absolute real love and light was all that mattered and the euphoria was all prevalent! How is it so languished in oblivion, so far from memory that none have the courage to evenContinue reading “What is conviction, when I just can’t seem to convince anybody?!: A poem “
Tag Archives: writing
God never reposes in ashes; he is forever Phoenix!: A poem
(I couldn’t be bothered wanting your fucking definitions of my aspirations! I don’t want any shit from the deceivers who mutilated me! Just get fucked! I have no left wings! Get fucked you imposters, that took what is mine, and want to instill a silence upon me, so that you can defraud me with your thieved (from me) offerings and propositions!Continue reading “God never reposes in ashes; he is forever Phoenix!: A poem “
Can I hear the travestied music in the streets!: A poem
Out on the street with no name, a rookie approached me and asked me a question: Would I name it? It was an alley to posterity! I brushed him aside; he fell like a rock into a puddle. I won’t even name the meteor that fell at Mecca as an omen of my future! You should know that every time I spellContinue reading “Can I hear the travestied music in the streets!: A poem “
Sometimes, I’d like to be my own ad hominin!: A poem
You know to love yourself and respect yourself, is like adamantine, a lustre beyond reckoning; harder than any crystal, should your evil want to destroy it? The char of you cannot even imagine carboniferating to the extent I have over the ages? Should you think you do not want to heed to my rhythm and embark on a relentless fusillade of me, to throw meContinue reading “Sometimes, I’d like to be my own ad hominin!: A poem “
Godspell and Anunnaki-spell: A poem
Unlike what the Gemara is to the Minash, a twinning of the Talmud! The lying New Testament is no holy book of mine! No complement to the Old Testament. But, should I recommend the veracity of the ancient book of Genesis? A book that is enmeshed in half-truths, because of the Jewish exile in Babylon, that borrowed Anunnaki myths! Yes, I wasContinue reading “Godspell and Anunnaki-spell: A poem “
Anne Grey Sexton, your beautiful confessionalism looks stoic, just like my brave self-narrative!: A poem
Do poets share sometimes a twinning as also a contrariness in their ambiguous ambivalence(?)? Like a hearse slowly pulling away in its aloneness (and freedom?); does a corpse feel alone in death or finally freed? Like the blackness of the vehicle that takes it into its sombre grave to be buried into an earth (or into an unimagined dimension more palpably expansive and intense?). What do we think is death? Is it a moment of sobriety, that reflects on theContinue reading “Anne Grey Sexton, your beautiful confessionalism looks stoic, just like my brave self-narrative!: A poem “
My Karma is never wandering into the forgiveness of those criminals!: A poem
Even my broken dreams, over the ages, turned from carboniferous coal, slowly, into priceless diamonds! Even my disillusions became breathing reflections in affirmation of the veracity of the Universe! Even my repeated deaths became livewire, energising the cosmic soul! I am here, there and everywhere! Much quicker than the light, that, itself, takes time to travel I am not daunted by the lightyears, you all try to alarm my sensesContinue reading “My Karma is never wandering into the forgiveness of those criminals!: A poem “
O Ouranos, if only they could remember you!: A poem
(The God that is ours and Nos, we) I have to tell you a very old story – of Ouranos, the sky God, the father of the Titans. Call him Dyayus, Ptah, or Pitah Maha! He was the epitome of progenitive profusiveness. The fertility God! The Omphalos. So envious was the fish of the deep sea of him, that the evil fish not only Continue reading “O Ouranos, if only they could remember you!: A poem “
Moon, I have no mirror of myself in you!: A poem
There is a stark stillness in the air, like as if it was portraying a death! But whose death? We have learnt to believe that Friday is a day of mourning. When do Muslims celebrate their Sabbath? Would Freyja feel ostentated by this? I can see the disillustrious crone of a Moon hold her bloody dagger with her hands behind her back! ButContinue reading “Moon, I have no mirror of myself in you!: A poem “
In my scruples, I have not the conundrum of Sylvia Plath’s fig tree: A poem
I have no paint on my face, though I’ve been clowning and acrobatting in a cirque de soleil, where even the Sun has little to cheer about! And the audience is perpetually dismayed, yet keen observers. I am sitting on the crotch of a fig tree that is asking for me to shake it down, so that all the fruit come Continue reading “In my scruples, I have not the conundrum of Sylvia Plath’s fig tree: A poem “
