I hate the uneducated and the ignorant.
I hate the pompous and the phony.
I hate the jealous, the resentful.
The crabbed and mean and petty.
I hate all ordinary and dull little people
who  aren't ashamed of being dull and little.
I hate the New People
with their cars
and their money
and their T.V.s
and their stupid vulgarities
and their stupid crawling imitations.

I love honesty and freedom and giving.
I love making, I love doing.
I love being to the full.
I love everything that is not sitting
and watching
and copying
and dead at heart.

1365

Take all away—
The only thing worth larceny
Is left—the Immortality—

I stare at walls and see her there

A flower-printed love affair

Her azure-striped and plastered hair

Are cracked but perfect, everywhere.

Her skin of beige, it ripples soft

Across my palms when I get lost

I feel her smooth and supple skin

When I can't think and need to sin.

But here is now, and now is then

I'm staring at my walls again

Each one reminds me of the face

Of fallen angels barred from grace.

Your love
sets up mirrors
on four sides
on which I appear
as myriad,
all  prompted
by your countless
eager imaginations.

Like Krishna
at once I dance
with countless
manifestations of you
in my mind,
Oh! my Radha.


Your brimming passion,
in thousand tongues
sings about my love to you;
how can I be mute
not paying my tribute
with my mellifluous flute?

The desperate scramble to
rationalise; the burning need
to make sense of the
nonsensical, this
all-too-earnest search for
answers, for some guidestone
that will help us decipher
the craziness scrawled on the walls,
a key that might unlock that door
which currently bars the path to
sanity and reason.
We put polls in the field,
conduct surveys, devise
better, more probing questionnaires,
consult eminent
psychologists, sociologists, economists,
go blind on data
tabulated into every conceivable form,
cite studies, historical precedent,
strive for any, any answers
that will explain to us
how we came to
this.

And maybe the reason is
less complex.
Maybe
we got what we
deserved.

In the heat of curious minds we search for something to grasp
Something to burn in the ether

Humans,
Have we really come so far from our Origin ?
Called to return to the Mother
In a flash of light, darkness was swallowed
and the children took notice of their fathers disappearance
Mothers’ held their tears to keep the children afloat,
or at the very least, to create the illusion of safety.

A certain truth that is kept from children,
Even with its good intention
Is the root to the groove of this condition

Releasing my pain with the detachment of identification
Moving forward in the awakened state
Returning to the origins of biology
Why am i here
What will i do
Who will i give
I give myself to this world
With an open heart
with Love