A Pisces Man

A Pisces Man

A Pisces man, you were born out of the bowels of the sea;
rose up in the ethereal atmosphere of this earth
to wear the crown of deadly thorns,
deadlier far than barbs of fire!
You descended from the petty height where the petty humans hoisted you to suffer.
When the wicked intellect demanded of you
that you pay the price and liberate them with your blood,
you quietly descended and retreated in a long and deep meditation.
The root was the mystery which you discovered
once again taking a dip into the inner being.
The surge of your energy reached for the true crown
and from there it erupted in waves of synergy ceaselessly.
It spread everywhere; it spread and soaked the fallow, burning soils, pouring down the waters of your divine understanding.
The secrets of the ancient earth, stored in the pyramids, were brought back to light.
The Third Eye opened and scanned the vast world of humanity--the Third eye which opened and would not close.
The Third Eye opened, is what links the wisdom of the deep seas, the suffering we bring, the plunge we take into the heart of the being, and find our roots in the eternity.
That was the script you left for us
in Life in Death and Death in Life.
Image shared by Feeldemano Lemmo

A Feather

A Feather

A feather in the breeze I am wafted in the silence
of the heart of peace.

A boulder from high on the hill
I tumble and hit the ground,
a thrust of my own vanity.
A rock of Sisyphus,
I am restive and earth-bound,
Do your best; I will not budge;
You will never lift me up.
Target me and I 'll brace myself up
in all readiness to vanquish you.
Surrender , and I will not forgive,
entrenched that I am
in my dogmatic certainty.

Catch me unaware;
come from nowhere;
like a feather wafted in breeze.
Caress me when my armor is down
without letting me know what it's all about.
I will forget the earth's gravity; I will shed the loads of vanity;
light as a feather, thin as a petal, wherever you go, I am ready to flow.

Door-handles Speak

Door-handles Speak

Door Handles
Glass, mortise, pine
door handles for all kinds.
Door handles to shine
in a world that has no place
for grime and dusty shoes and hungry dogs.
Door handles to proclaim your status and declare your might
to the lowly men in dirty collars.
Door handles to secure your place on earth so long as you are here as overlords
of  treacherous empires
gloating and oozing in the glamour of your dubious opulence.
Door handles as leverages for cronies and stooges
Door handles that scare and keep off the multitudes grieving,
Door handles that hide alarms which go off
at the touch of a stupid armed robber who will dare to attack and try
to break the door open.
Door handles that will set off an alarm loud and clear
while you are able to sleep on your king-size beds without the help of a tranquilizer--
We manufacture them all.
'Dirty Hands Off'.

Just A Wall

Just A Wall

Just a wall and a shadow
and an irrelevant mood,
a bird perched on the branch
on an evening in December,
A day glorious, coming to an end, as if for no reason,
and tears falling down, as if for no reason.
That's how happiness randomly comes,
like a day ending, for no reason

Just a wall the image : courtesy Hector Merced

A Prayer

A Prayer

We kill the thing we love.
The greatest pain and agony,
comes from the thing we love--
the source of sorrow of having to let go;
that is the thing we fear.
For the fear of the sorrow of losing,
we refuse to hold the thing we love.
The ecstasy and agony,
living and loving,
one cancelling the other, signaling death.
Deep in love, we forget to live;
and love gone, we cannot live.
We learn our lessons early,
trying to possess what we love.
Refusal to share what we love is the first of the lessons we grasp.
As we build our sand-castles to perfection
and look at them with satisfaction
we also become aware that a bully is lurking behind
to jump in and flatten them in glee.
Not wishing to see my love's labor lost
I turn around and
raze it flat in the sand where it ought to belong.
It's not my refusal to share what I love;
it's denying my enemy the thrill of the triumph, the triumph he would otherwise  claim, of killing the thing I love.

Our goals shift, the sand-castles and toys
change places with our ancestors, land and progeny.
The aggressor is always lurking behind.
Battles are fought, spilling of blood and carnage.
We fight to save what is ours.
And the thing we love is the living thing,
not castles of sand we would fain destroy rather than see them perish at the alien's hands.
Do not get implicated into a war;
but stay involved with what you love.
Your world, your earth, needs your love.
Your suffering will not be in vain.
Suffering is life.
You are involved, not implicated.
You have no choice but to take up the challenge.
Take it up gladly.
That's not clinging; that is love.
Spread it far and spread it wide.
The road may not end so soon.
Walk till the farthest end.
Walk and do not stop.
Walk till the hope sheds light on the path;
walk until the enemy is conquered , not defeated.
Walk till the energies of the unseen universe come to your aid and take you onward. Let your journey be for love not vengeance.
Walk till the word vendetta is removed from the human vocabulary. Let the baton of love pass from one hand to another. That's our reality and that's our truth.
This is the carol I sing
from a lonely beach of sand
where once I built my castles
and destroyed them
before the sun went down on them in the dark.

Sushama Karnik

Unsorted Bookmarks

Dec 17, 2014

Unsorted Bookmarks

When I thought you were lost
I did not know
I had to be left by myself in this void
 for you to be able to come back to me.
I waited long
in the wet sand
soaking in the rain and the sun.
When the tide was low and high,
I waited for the sign,
wishfully, and hopelessly picked up shells and conch
to read a name I knew was lost, erased from the scroll of time.
Just then I saw these marks, hollowed in the sands
pointing to your presence here,
 just before the dawn, just before the tide rolled back,
washing out of my mind all the traces of the words you spoke
when you did not mean to utter them at all.
As I neared the marking with a hallelujah,
I did not know where to turn.
There were footprints in the sand of someone who walked in two directions, all at once,
 simultaneously east and west,
and I did not know where to turn.
I saw that they  moved mysteriously
 in east and west alike,
leaving me in a doubt once again,
which path was the lost one found,
and which path the one that led me away,
led me away from you.