More than Words !

Caffeinated soul- craftsmanship dominion  mummification catacombs metempsychosis  (illuminatus), 32 degree, Osiris.  (Spotless White)  House of Delilah !!

Perhaps, poetry straddles between the science of knowing, and the art of writing. And I am not sure how to confront puzzles. The worlds viewpoint, ideas and experiences. The array of thoughts, forms and technologies. Disguise of morality and prosperity, founded upon the language of pragmatic thinkers. A remarkable aim of finding cognitive semantics. As electrons we meet in electronic disguise. A degitalized era of art and fantasy. A striking rejuvenation of thoughts and philosophy. Missed connections, and existential poetry. The cacophony of imprinted verbatim. The struggle between privacy and piracy. A lost generation. And the new age prophecy. Reality perfected and projected with crafted imaginations. An encounter with the god within. A hope to reach out to the world and tweet about it. A hinted invitation to everyone globally. I am as drunk as anyone can get, and as sober as one can be. A direct deeper play of structure. This might be

kinetic kamerad  kindled koi knitting kelemenopy  kankish koan  keraunoscopia  kinship kindled kef  kelter keck katabasis  killers kissers kook kah knockoff kantikoy  kinky knavery  katzenjammer knell kindred keen kinesthetic kitsch  kindled kisses 

By the fence of clear sky- he finds an unusual lopsided shape. His eyes are restless,  legs imprinting confinements  hands exploring dreams,  a sudden bloom,  full-stop. The hankering of words leaving him in a perpetual coherence,  a slow break. A sudden collapse. Her heart was an artifact.  She, 'an alien'. She came, experimented and flew away.  For him, the arrival was the end. This is the paradox of decorated hearts. The desertification of soul  where conquerors-  are just beggars. Something like that,  nothing more. Muffling snow in her eyes. Her wings, her dissolution.  Her presence, her absence. And importantly her lucidity. Now go, she says.  Where to, he says.  Anywhere she says. He does,  He is now her'e. She is nowhere !!

Wittgenstein said,  that which can be shown,   cannot be said.   Oh, how true he was. How true I am. Words are like carbon.   Some mix to form stones and papers.   Some are rare diamonds.   And I am sapphire.   Oh, how egoist of me to say so. For I am, what I make of me.   A god in disguise.   Or, the devil deceiving. Mirror oh, mirror.   Show me that which is not beautiful.   Every detail, every function.   Don't misjudge.   Don't be lost. There is none. Is there ? Life is transcendental.   Beauty is universal. Yet, humor is not acceptable.   But I have to say.   This mathematics is unusual. Gravity is sweeping me of my feet.   For me, that's magical.   And time is optional. And she is a philosopher.   My analogs are irrational.   Her eyes are rational. So mirror, the beautiful mess is   such a wonder. And I shall hold on to her.

Dimensions are shadows- of the recurrent trio of heart. Happiness, sadness  and beautiful emptiness. Heartbeats transmuted to love. Love governing the faith. Faith ruled by treachery of lies.  Lies carrying the karma.  Karma, overshadowing the life.  The repetitive cycle.  Heartbeats transmuted to love. Recycling karma.  Ad Infinitum. 

The seeds get  confused of trees- Dear brother,  why are you here ? what for ? Infertile soil hoping for miraculous life- Little struggles, her fingertips, rugged pine trees. Dear brother,  let me survive ! If this planet had a heart,  it would beat faster now ! Her eyes on temporary delays   his eyes stuck on her eyes-  for a while,  for a little while.  Tree's are illogical ! Plato said: 'Let none ignorant of geometry enter here'. She would get admitted easily, for she knows the patterns.  And her presence is matchless beauty  and inclined accuracy.  Dear brother,  Why are you bad with reasoning ? Branches unfolding- word-mongers hovering around.  Shaft of irony and beauty. Her notions of probable causes.  Infinite structures. Objectification of her labyrinth. Dear brother,  Your poems are dead.  Where's the ceaseless flow? The seeds must have known, Nietzsche's 'theory of

I am not sure,  if the man mows the grass, or he mows himself.  For the heart knows no reasons. It itself is an- extraordinary undertaking.  Followed by the highly  and lowly instances of oppositions and truths. And while mowing the grass, the man stumbles upon 'love'.  Love is the only food,  made without any recipes, he says.  The mind echoes- 'Love is the abyss without any end' 'Love is the abyss without any end'. Love is simply an error of disguise,  you are everything and nothing, the grass says.  The mind echoes- 'Who is to love if lover, is the absolution of love itself'.  Yet again, this is a genuine tragedy. She was never to be. While she was a person,  she was just one. While afar- she becomes the universe.  The seen and unseen,  The felt and un-felt.  No more pretensions left.  Just the mower and the mowed. The heart echoes- 'This is a genuine bliss'  '

A definition out of the book.  Or the absolute fact in itself.  Each tree, a lifetime lived.  Love is the power,  beyond tyranny of attitudes.  Hearts dedicated to- purposes and convictions.  Yet, unconditional.  Someone once told me,  Love is endurance. Something deep. Something lasting.  Someone reminded me, 'equations are predestined'.  15000 battles and wars fought,  in just 3000 years of history.  That's humanity.  That's us. You and I.  Yet, we call ourselves,  'the defenders of peace' 'the advocates of love'. That's the Irony.  A human has limited experiences, for that alone-  you don't need to be economical.  Expand and explore.  Experiment.  Don't be guilty about what was.  Live today, live free.  If not you will- seldom be misjudged and misguided. 

So slowly when the pain creeps into you bones. Chilling the entirety of your soul.  You start hallucinating.  No more light.  No more sound.  Your heart starts beating faster.  Each step reminds lifelong disasters.  You fall down harder.  Harder than ever before.  You have known migraine pain.  But this is stronger.  Even sharper.  Its cuts through your soul.  Makes you formless. Lifeless.  And you realize that,  promises are always better in words.  And when in the morning,  You find few minutes of sleep.  You need to wake up.  Wake up now.  This is the migraine call. 

It seems to me that, Art and Creativity, is the journey toward trans-humanism. Where technology is the basis of growth, and imagination is the basis of unlimited universal access. We are cyborgs with beating hearts. Our devices are the active part of our being. And in so many ways we are the part of the worldwide mechanics and technology. From a light-bulb to an artificial heart. We have reached to the point, where natural and 'what is supposed' to be unnatural, find the perfect synchronicity. We are the cosmo-immortals. Humans, have always felt so, deep within. Philosophers, Yogis and Prophets have always tried to explain that. But today we live that lucidity. We don't need to be religious, or spiritual. Our life itself is a grand majesty. We live the continuous epiphany of 'here and now', while connecting with 'not here and not now'. Its a part of our daily life. The question for me, is if we can live it well and to its full potentials. If we can f

Once upon a time, there lived an earphone. She was painted in white, and made to sound just so right. But one day she died. The thing is like some puzzle pieces, she could not be solved. So, forever- she remained unsolved. I met her, in her soulful grooves. Hastily she said her words, her language improper, improbable. I only had silence, my language, swinging with metaphors. Her sound always frolicking- traveled to the distant land of my heart. But one day she died. With her he died. C'est la vie. Photo Credit: http://indulgy.ccio.co/xE/a3/J5/274719645989722626EYRYluFnc.jpg

T'ai-Chi; means the beam- sustaining the roof.  The curvy roads,  leading to the sacred Talisman.  Where, his roof- sustains her beam.  Abracadabra. She awakens her 'Genii'-  The Genii Says,  'I shall grant you three wishes'  She says, let 'Aphrodite' be her consort,  in this eternal journey  where every curve speaks  a thousand words: of silence to his soul.  Let her voice,  be his epiphany. The gift beyond Dionysus's wine.  And finally,  let him imbue himself in her.  Where the mystical Talisman- survives the falling of the roof, and vanishing beam waves.  Finally the lovers meet,  somewhere in emptiness. 

Tantra has always remained a very mischievous topic. For the simple fact that, tantra identifies life as the pure form of bliss, and not suffering. For a practitioner of Tantra, every situation and every happening is a great opportunity to understand the ultimate.  Let me just present a story, for understanding how absurd tantra can be.  "Once there lived a great yogini. Her name was Laksminkara (provider of fortune). She was born in a royal family in Udyana (modern day swat valley in Pakistan). The king decided to get her married at an very early age. But she refused to get married and left the palace and went to practice Tantric meditations in cremation grounds. She did so for seven years. And finally attained enlightenment. Her own brother King Indrabhuti, was her Tantric consort, guru and student. The villagers soon started to scorn her for having sexual relationship with her own brother. It is said, she cut her head off, and paraded through streets to demonstra

Eyes infectious of wonders, Yes, I wonder.  Her smiles reminding  of altars, of gods- of beautiful intoxications.  Her hands freezing,  in the epicenter of summer.  Her inferences standing- illogical with troubles.  Who is she I wonder ? In her heart, a metamorphosis: changing, transforming transcending all of my heart's ember.  Her felicity,  reminding me of autumn,  in disguise of december.  This ethereal imbrications, of woebegone adventure.  This ripple of emulation- fizzle of repetitions.  Her penumbra derivations, jilted with mellifluous  divinations.  Erstwhile, in his heart- the galaxies are moving forth.  The lovers elixirs,  of her dalliance with  my thoughts ! Photo Credit: http://www.wallpapervortex.com/wallpaper-35258_1_miscellaneous_digital_art_hipster_triangle_post_modern_abstract_minimalist_art.html#.VEHaQvmSxHo

Sometime dim lights,  penetrate the whole universe,  as the bleak symphony  of cold october- her visage hides the charm  of ten thousand suns   in her hearts september ! She is windswept by love  somewhere lost,  in her own clouds of existence  this bleak emptiness this desolate melancholy  inflates her with confusion,  all but confusions.  Yet, by the doors of her pure heart she climbs up the dismal woe's her eyes, her nose, her ears speaking of the forgotten lores, this uproar shakes the universe  and her own seashore.  She hides inside her integrated layers,  found now, lost now,  here now, not her now,  that's how she is,  the flag of some distant forgotten monastery,  mystically dancing in her  own symphony !!

jammed jacobin  jabberwock  jaunty jumps- jumping jest  juvenilia  jugs jacuzzi jumpy james  juicy jane  jiffy jumps  jettatura justifying  judgements  jazzetry jerking off jane   juggins  joggling jaws  jaunty jumps- jumping jest  juvenilia  Photo Credit: http://crispyclicks.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/Surreal-Girls-Images-14.jpg

the virtue of contemplation cannot measure the disinterested truth for slavery of mind is the inferiority of the created self   this metaphysics, this theory of knowledge  is the bitter combination of numbers and shapes squares and cubes of dual and non dual lovers this tale of shapeshifter lovers,  obstruct chemical expansion  heating up with puzzling breasts and leading to the philosophical buttuocks   for the faint moment, 'lovers'- feel the transmigration of soul offshoot of outer world  euphoria of inner world  her 'natural flowers' brings forth the peculiar intellectual threads  a turbid medium of drinking from the vine  the divine source of creation  which, for some might be a sin,  for some might be an art the spectator within is just an illusion,  dancing between the cross-border  of religion and reason, bringing forth:  'the sphere of thoughts'  'the thunderous emotions' 

if 'I' ignites idyllic implosions imploring iceblink ickle 'iconosm' irrelevant ilke infinity illimitable I'ness illuminism  in irrite 'isness' 'I' imitates introspection   impregnating interpolation  illusory impostors  ignorance is imprisonment  in inimical insurgence  immovable identical imitators  'I' is impermanence illuminating in impossibilities  interstellar iso-chemicals  inserting imaginations immediateness 'I'ness' is intercommunion  inbetween inscrutable 'I-stratas'  improbable iconism  in-which, ignorance is imprisonment  ignition is illumination ! Photo Credit: http://www.katrenee.com/

she stands straight,  submerged sanative satan's saltire solacious shoeprints samel sounds  sangfroid sanctiloquent  sanguine sighs  scolograptic steps (shoeprints) synchronous sleeps  scopic sweater'puppies serving sweater'muffins  superfluous subliminal subjugation  sweet' salty strawberries  semilunate septum  solacious shoeprints skinprints  sacrilegious smiles symmetrical singers   saddlebags submission  satisfactions songs  salacious skin  scintillant satan  sexual submission spontaneous syntagm  satanic synod space surfers  satan's solacious shoeprint sophist self  super solitude  sweet' salty strawberries sweater'puppies serving sweater'muffins  seductive skinprints  surfeit smiles  Photo Credit: http://ackland.org/files/2012/03/ccm1_041601.jpg

heavenly hearts  high hallucinations hollow heartstrings hakenkreuz heavy halation hamate heartbeats  hamshackle  her'rear, her hips, her'haunches  hyper hypnotic  hairy home  (hair-pie) he high, he hysterically high  hypnagogic her his hyperbole hurtling  hyonomancy  hypnoid  her hastate heart haurient  human hypural heaven  hankering hypolimnion (hullabaloo) (hissss) hyperborean human  hymnody hearts hylarchic hymns  hovering hovel  her heartbeats  hwyl  hipped hammered  his hard-on handcuffed hearts  her hatstand hips headtrip (hellbells) hypnotic him hypnotising her !!

genetic gods  genuflecting geeks  genuine glitches  G-Spots goofy gullible girls glebous genes  groomed gods grinding galaxies  grooves  gratifying groovy galliard  glittering genes  graphic greetings  gyrovague gypsies  gynotikolobomassophilia genetic gyrus  god's girth genetic grimgribber gnostic gloomy goblins glum gestures gardening god's graveyards  gesticulating genetic godheads  generalizing genuine groans  genetic gods  genuflecting geeks  genuine glitches  galvanized genetic G-Spots god's groans  gloating gorgeous goddesses !

Zeus, as the universe, is the construct. The basic carpentry of the creation. He is the play, he is the drama, he is the illusion. The Vedic sense of Karma, and the Greek sense of Drama are identical. Hence he is the supreme Maya. He is the organism, the basic body, the kundalini. He as the Avalokiteshwar closes his eyes, to play as the 'self', that we are playing right now. A continuous and constant hide and seek. A mystical game of knowing and not knowing. The night sky is his past. Our eyes his present. And our exploration his future. Carl Sagan once quoted that the 'Telescope's are time machines'. In that sense our eyes are time machine. We create, we live. We project our own nature to the universe. Zeus is the Brahman. Veda's state, 'Sarwam Khalvidam Brahman', which means that everything that exists is the Brahman. Pythagoras of Samos, hence introduced the discipline of Self Remembering to his students. A continuous effort of uncoveri

One mirror,  infinite faces,  perfect & pervading,  containing soul containing god,  impregnating universe him and his  to essence of hers god in god,  nothing more  nothing less,  travelling roadless,  she who loves him,  he who loves her,  thau both one,  one mirror,  infinite faces, Nirvana ! Photo Credit: http://palliumindia.org/cms/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/image1.jpg

For, I am just an endless character,  so many roots,  so many branches,  but one tree.  You and I,  we are connected to those roots.  That wilderness,  that lucidity.  Projection and perception.  Faceless. Photo Credit: http://www.4artgarden.com/surreal-images-by-rhdas.html

faceless forms fibonacci fractions frail faces fighting fools  flat funky flukes  facinorous first father faint faqirs filmy fuckers  f*ckMcMuffins  fallible fathers  following fables  fabricated faceoff  flirting forces  (fur) (fur) (fur) (fur) faltered faces  feckless  father's father faces  front fumbles factoring flintlocks  fired fairies  fleshless faces filtered  feeling fields  floating fishes  fathering fireballs  flashes fueled  flooding fumes  firefighters  fighting faceless father  fin !!

esoteric expedition  encircling ethereal enigma  erotic epos- elemental eccentric embodiment euphobic eyes  existential ephemeral epiphany  eviternal eversion euphoric expedition evolving eupathy- ending essential enoptromancy  exuberant epiphany emicating éclaircissement esoteric expulsion  entrancing exceptional  expedition  embryonic eclaircise  electric exodus: ecstatic equitable equation  emberlucock ennui etheric expansion  esoteric errors- erasing ephemeral expedition exploring existential essence  entertaining empirical  eikonological expedition  effulgent eruption  esoteric encapsulation endless expedition endless exists exitless ends

Humans are like paper planes the void of deep blue sky wrapping Earth like plastic bags where they fly and listen to the songs of life. I don't need earplugs Universe is enoughly plugged in into me and into her heart heart beats, pumping up the spaces for neurons to explode She and I, we are entangled in quantum space this is what poets call  'love' unwrapping the atmosphere in Zen Beats created by the mixture of air, the bees and humming bird. And I know, every blink of light and heat, follows infinitude of dark and cold her eyes twinkling this moment lightning up like all those stars sometime floods my being with constant rainfall from her eyes but thats beautiful because the forest grows as she cries only tears shows the beauty of rainbow, the beauty of light. You see, there is no, Ying and Yang; there is only Ying Yang, thats the tao of life the great act of playfulness of hope and hopelessness its a

First of all, Sanskrit is not just a language dictated by religion. Sanskrit is a free, wild and natural language. Just like 'Namaste' is fading away amongst us, and 'Hey or Hello' is gaining popularity. Sanskrit is also fading away. Yet, Sanskrit remains an enigma to the world. For those who actually try to understand what it is all about. Sanskrit can truly be called a language of miracle, love and science. I am very grateful, that my primary language is Nepali. Which is a branch of Sanskrit. But I am also sad that during my school years, no teacher ever tried to make 'Nepali' look interesting, fun and scientific. And I could not see the beauty of 'Nepali language' during my early years. From Kindergarten itself, I was taught to move from 'Ama', to 'Mom', and 'Buwa', to 'Dad'. But over time, I have matured enough to understand the beauty of Nepali language. Which is a part of the Sanskrit Language, in Devan

To my lover,   You are poetry,  without words without meaning without me,  even without you; my love,  you are a poem,  and the next poem,  and all the poems,  ill ever read,  see, listen or write; my love,  you are the poet,  writing colors of feelings,  egoless beings,  in my thirsty identity my love, you are all that I know,  all that I feel,  all that I think of,  directly or indirectly  the deepest voice in my conscious and subconscious mind   my love,  you are the poet,  writing absolutely nothing,  but drenching every detail  of all of life,  with every notes of your song,  your poem,  your being  my love,  You are poetry,  without words without meaning without me,  even without you !  Photo Credit: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJf9OocGMnizT-wsUvIEf_zxazjA-XiQthKglp_dnsNfi2tcd7HvP4IG3b3ERgCUNbRyeIMIDNx-3EtQO8FoZMLRIer5GSaDCqHciCzthqJZxsQRWCf