“Change is like the water slipping in through the tunnels to the fields, without change there ain’t going to be any harvest!”
A wish to reach that merciless breath of beauty,,
A wish to touch the coiled tangles, strands of a soul,
A wish to find a way out to let the whispers brush the fated mind,
And a wish for many a wish to be heard,
But only to find that none sound in that mind,
Standing in the graveyard of spirits,
Spirits, we wait to be called home by them,
But its weak, a weak soul that walks on that land,
Controlled by the feeble mind, A mind dimmed by the slashing blade of love,
Narrowed doorways, a struggle to breathe through vest of pain,
Fortitude is to feel the pain, to survive it,
But it threatens to tear through thy flesh,
Trapping it in the pandemonium of treacherous lies,
Lies carved by the human world’s thickening bubble of modals of survival,
Manipulations of tongues, our tongue has destroyed us,
Or is it our mind?
Love clasped in the scarred, roughened fist,
The fist of a dreadful beast, a beastliness of disbelief in love,
A love that emanates from the lonely lost eyes of a broken soul,
From the eyes of a mistress in waiting,
From the eyes of a lamb, from the touch of an innocent maiden,
We no more hear the screams of dying souls,
We no more hear the desperation of a motherless being,
We no more understand love as love,
we care not, we are blinded by the desire for that false sense of reality,
A worthless sense of safety as we following notions,
Safe from being lost in the realm of unknown,
We are afar from the man who became a man,
The man who found fire, who found passion,
Who found love, who found his heart in another’s eyes,
Love is infinite even in its infinitesimal existence,
Yet its flows only in the seas, blows only with the wind,
As man fades from nature, As man alienates his own nature,
Love remains veiled by colourless existence,
It was a foretold destiny to reach the end,
To reach the tombstone that has the soul’s love etched on it,
Yet the cries resound from the garden of forlorn souls,
Demented greed, rising lust, demons inhabit the air,
And sorrow is fodder to all,
To some it is the wine of celebration,
To some it is the poison, They drink in hopes of falling beneath the earth
And some drink in the remembrance of the merciless beauty.
There is a world out there my sweet Lolita,
There is a world without the fiends, without fists crashing upon you,
There is a world where you are wanted, but where nothing is wanted from you,
The world needs your bravery; it needs your face, a sheer sight of innocence blazing through the pain,
But dear Lolita let me touch your pain,
Let me see from your eyes the nightmares of your day,
And cacodemons of your night,
Scared you are, scarred you are, hungry you are for love,
But love ain’t the devilish glint in those eyes,
Elongated Moments have slashed your innocence,
Arrogance and adamancies, rising from will to brave the haunting times,
I see through it all,
A heart of gold, a mind of steel, but graveled by destiny,
Brewing thickened mist of distrust,
I curse the bystanders,
I will the masters of the hell hounds and the brutes crawling up the walls,
The walls of your soul, mind and your home no more a haven,
I shall vanquish them to a path of heated coal, oozing lava and blackened mist,
Life shall be crushed out of them by the angels of hell,
Our breaths might be battered,
But moon of my eye, Let me show you to that world,
It waits with batted breath for your feverish zeal,
Let me take you there; Sweet Lolita, let me lead you back to me.
This is me rambling and thinking to myself.. not a very bright post!
On the earth reside the worst sort of swine and filth, paedophiles, rapists, serial rapists and criminals, terrorists, all fear feasting demons. Among these are the ones whose intellectual capacity and emotional awareness makes them the most predatory of the lot of scum. Evil that just exists for the sake of evil.
What drives this evil? What do they have to gain by it? It seems to be very complex and there are bifurcations at every junction of cause, reason and effect leading to decide if evil is evil. Nothing is black and white.
Certainly nothing quantifiable, nothing that they need, not money, it cannot rise out of helplessness, sudden rage, jealousy or can it? All these emotions can be understood till a certain extent, but these emotions start pervading through the mind and soul of the perpetrator, till there is no place for conscience, need of sorts taking over everything in the mind. But what if they repent after the deed? That would just make them human, we couldn’t forgive them but we could call the being- human. But again the intensity of the act comes into picture.
A murder of a wife by a jealous husband in a fit of rage is different from a terrorist act or a serial rapist. Yes of course, if the murder plotted in advance like I said a man with harmful intent and considerable intellectual capacity that allows him to manipulate others to suit his need, well we can’t forgive him, can we? We will call him evil, mentally disturbed, the mind is an enigma, a dangerous one at that. We are controlled by the mind, but what controls our mind? What controls the conclusions, the intent that is formed? Mind works on signals and there is a multitude of multifarious possible outcomes for the signal combinations. Thus the strongest outcome is decided by the weight of the signal that is the strength and the repetitions of the images or information, which in general means the environmental factors and also disorders?
Joker from BATMAN, what makes him the one of best evil there is if not the best. Isn’t it because he has no laws, he has no cause; his only law is to awaken evil and to test humanity, plotting chaos. The other villains they have a reason to be evil unlike the joker. And To think of it, laws are guidelines, they are laws only if you think them to be. And the ones to who laws and ways of our life have no standing, well they could do anything and in this case it is evil owing to the intent.
For example a terrorist, what can remove any evidence of conscience from his act or mind set? He would have murdered a numerous times previously, he would have been fed with words and images of hatred and manipulated into becoming the unfathomable innocence and humanity killer. This is common knowledge, but that does make him, evil right? Or are they just outcomes of a system that we have bred? Yes, it does nothing to justify the grotesque acts, but understanding the cause and history seems necessary.
The rapist, well his urge is fuelled by the need to feel power, power is food, makes him feel alive. No conscience, here again, but why is it food? I don’t have the answers. But can they be called human? Why I ask this question? Well it’s because I am trying to decide whether they deserve to live, whether capital punishment should be meted out? I have always felt like it should, humans need a definition of “human” if evolution is to head in the right direction. But I was re-thinking a few days back, is the option of trapping them in jails or asylums forever a better option? I am not talking of whether killing is ethical or not in the pertinent cases. But is it of any use, keeping them caged? Does it amount it anything? I have never heard of any change in such drastically evil beings. Should they be put in jails and made to work for some good. In jails well, they are with their own lot, how does that help now? And if we kill them, we ensure they don’t add to the scum, they don’t continue on their path, we set an example but for the living beings to who these laws mean nothing, does it matter? The law and the setting of an example, does it really stop anyone? It makes them careful but does not stop them. I don’t think so. So in that case do they fear death, their own death? So the question, capital punishment or rehabilitation? Again these are questions and thoughts from limited knowledge.
Tell me do you love me.. tell me..
Tilt that sinful nape, that sweet chin,
Look into my eyes and speak the words that embrace your heart in solitary despair,
That are clutched by claws, that are floating in the sea of your blasphemous cravings,
I know not..I know not.. I know nothing of love..
But I drench in the words that sway from your eyes,
I folly to walk astray into the fog where your scent drugs my senses,
I forget the windows that shatter light upon us,
My thirst for you caressed by your unearthly beauty,
But moments are still only in the moment,
They was past before my lips could part,
And have withered now into lost causes,
I speak words to hide my shadows of rising sensations,
I speak tongues to tell tales wrapped in lines of desolate poetry,
All from my crest of lone recitations,
You ask not, I remain mum,
You know not the soul me,
Yet your touch lies here like dew drops on a leaf, You sink in,
The desire, a remembrance stinging like whip on flesh.
Its a string unstrung that tugs me, I fall into you,
Tell me your pain, tell me your desires,
Let me flip the pages,
Let me read the lines imprinted beneath your soul’s ledger,
Let me caress your soul as you rest on my bosom,
I know not…I know not.. I know nothing of love,
Moments foregone, are crisp memories,
And immerse the heart in the quest for a song,
A song that synch’s with its beat,
Hum’s in the soul’s tongue of its melancholy desires,
A song it finds, but with words that speak no answers,
That tell nothing of the questions that swim,
Swim in the reflection of my soul, only in thy eyes
Sometimes you just loose,
Loose to your feelings,
Loose to yourself,
Loose your mind to your mind,
How deep can one sink, to keep floating?
Buoyant forces strand you, suffocate you?
But if you were to sink, sink to the bottom,
You would see what lay there,
You would see the darkness, the treasure that lies in that darkness,
But now you are there, can you live alone in that vast expansion of deep sea?
Can you remain thirsty even as you wade through the depths?
And surrounded by the sweet poison, can you bear the singe and sting on your flesh?
Will the dim wavering light beam entice you? But can you levitate out then?
Or is it wiser to stay in the shallows, breathe the mundane air,
Stare and wonder about the depths,
Imagine but never know, wish and dream but never feel the force of the waves,
Never hear the sound of the soul underneath the silent deep blue sea?
Never feel the treasure with your eyes and your soul?
Never ravish the poison on your tongue?
Sometimes you just loose,
You clutch on to nothing as you fall, only surrender
Silent music of ripples mark your defeat,
You just sink, neither float nor breathe.
Do you become what you hate?
Do you become what you love?
Or do you only love what you can’t become?
Or do you love only your reflection in every grain of sand?
What we carve our souls into, is already a mould,
It has thorns, it has nails, and it leeches onto the images our eyes clasp onto,
Every crisp notion of existence I have was a haze before,
It lay stale, rotting in the fungus that was fed to my mind,
At a time when the world I fathomed to exist, existed in only patterns of right and wrong,
And I chose to clutch the trailing thoughts of others,
I stuttered to express what I did not understand,
I raveled myself in which I bludgeoned myself to believe,
A ferry waited at the end of my dying stammering self,
One fateful night I met the night guard at the bank,
He asked me if I wanted to crossover then, morning the ferry would be gone,
I collected the shattered pieces of my mind; some jagged ends bled my soul,
On the way I tripped on the tightly laced shoes,
Then left them near the old tree from where hung ragged clothes, masks and shoes,
Barefoot, I got onto the ferry and set off to the other side,
To find missing pieces of my mind,
To be in presence of those colors of light,
As the beams passed by my soul, images under the veiled reality would form,
Focusing from infinity to a my finite existence, a surreal view,
Yet an existence where my soul could breathe and could trace the waves,
The curved turbulence that sounded the hymns and curses sung by own mind,
Mindlessness was a destructive interference of rays trapped in a cottage,
Walls camouflaged by words scripted by others,
I burnt it down, but the fire still crackles, smoke still blows in the wind,
A rusted bridge, a path appears every fortnight,
A path back to the village of my dying thoughts,
Though much gibberish, mutters my mind, and obscure images, see my eyes,
I shan’t climb that bridge,
Heart is a nomad, but it resides in this land now,
Though tormented by the unknown, it is enlightened,
But the ground is slippery, is cracked and heated, feet are sore and blistered, and nights are chilly,
Yet the solitude is comforting,
As my fixation with my baffling shell of infinite reality is my cocoon of freedom.
He crawled all the way up the mountain, fire crackled like an amber beneath it through the cracks,
Chained wrists, chained ankles,
He climbed on his knees dragging along the heated path, leaving melted flesh behind,
He climbed staring up at the sky, eyes transfixed far ahead,
In love and enticed by the devil that lay sprawled serenely on the blackened night,
Passing a dead man, a familiar face, was it his own?
Yet he dare ask, “why thee lay there? Hasn’t thee found death yet?
The dead man, dead eyes, croaked in a whisper “where is thee heading to? Hath thee no master?
Is your hell too sweet to live in and was your heaven lost before you knew it, for you head neither way”
“God was damned when he made you and me,
He resides now in my devil,
Evil and godly god each a wing of the fatale angel,
Angel in whose silver mane are tangled lies of a beguile kind,
I drag by knees to the that grey peak of the mountain of carcass, I need mine back”
Dead man smiles, his lips twisting into a wry crooked line,
“You head to the cave of the dead souls of the dead monks”
Narrowed eyes of the crawling man who asks “dead souls of dead monks!Are their souls in the motherly clasp of their god, or have they been set free at last,
Has their freedom been of any use?
Have they found the seeds of dead humanity?
Have they succumbed to the angel’s deadly touch, I have questions for him, she has my carcass, too”
“You must trudge on dear brother, I am a dead man who collapsed before he saw his angel,
I have no answers to pacify thy burning soul or heal thy scraped bones”
Dragging, and gagging his mouth with his ripped pieces of clothes,
Nude in the face of the eerie descending cloud of the angel’s breath,
Would he find what he thought was his propriety, his carcass, his departing fractured soul,
Or would he sell his brittle self to the angel of death and love, and join the dead monks,
I want him to stand eye to eye and burn with the angel in her embrace,
Draw her love from her stoned heart and liven the soft caress in her eyes,
For conjoint with her soul, can he find the answers of god and death, love and humanity.
A random edited version..
Let them be free,
Free in the real sense,
Not taught, yet learning as though nothing is known,
Institutions are built, words of others are scripted in books,
Pavements are laid, roads are tarred, the hedges are trimmed,
everything is clear, everything is pinned on to the minds,
Signals are conveyed, and everything is as it is,
But is anything as it is?
Is there nothing else to find?
Let them be free,
Let them find, let them know themselves by themselves,
The wild teaches you more than the plain grasslands,
The moors where all seems lost, where vast emptiness lies ahead,
one finds ones own soul, one becomes aware of life,
Aware of the sun that sets,
finding a new meaning in the shades of orange and pink,
Yet taught they need to be,
Of oneness in loneness,
Of each animal eyes and soul being the same,
Yet souls dilute in some colours and deepen in some,
Colours we can add, and some shades we have no control over,
Teach them to see things as they can, and not our eyes see them to be,
Teach them to be sans rags of civilized notions,
Notions that only enslave,
God, he was never there,
He was an act, if his act was to make us,
then our act is to make more,
God is an act, is only a moment,
It is to change, change takes form when eyes see differently,
when winds resonate in their own rhythm with the beats of the young hearts,
Teach not how to feel, and what to feel, but just to feel,
Teach them to be free,
To learn and unlearn, to free the mind of known and delve into the unknown,
Drench in the rain, and it might teach you more of the drops,
The world expands, Its an art, isn’t it?
Science is an art, Imagination of the unbridled mind,
Let them explore this art, explore humanity for themselves,
Bind them not, for the ropes make animals out of animals,
They chain limbs,
They make saddled minds,
They forge and serve brittle souls, becoming all that is trapped,
Transcending into all that we fear, all that they fear, or rather becoming fear itself,
Le them be the free souls destined to storm and rise above the winds.