blood poet

we want life by the neck

we want that extra more

re-engineer the reward pathways

and short circuit the rules of delight

reinstate whats wrong and whats right

we are right

as contentment is a fable

contentment is but chemical lock and key

though dont take my word for it

i live a tale you see

i see all those shadows as ghosts

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

well its a world

and it turns on us all

just the same

sometimes youre flush

and sometimes youre down

you may be on the crest

and you may be on the lash

it will take you where it may

that is known to us all

its all good

and it all passes

it never stops or waits....

for anyone

we many times took things

that were never ours anyways

things we never deserved or earned

----------------------------------------------------------------

iam a lover closer to theft,

ill suck and leach

and leave you bereft,
a poet closer to blood than ink.

the shreds of being triangulate

tabulate.....whats left of my torque

my will's guns way out date..........

my uncarved fate

----------------------------------------------------------------------

yellow morning

my baby in a beige light

i love beige

you know that right?

-
and that i love u in beige

and in all the shades of earth and sky.

-
the ones reflecting on waterscapes

makin them shimmery sexy and nice

do u know that?

and i love your cool skin

and how some parts yet reserve warmth

designing landscapes of contrast

on your back and shoulders.

-
do you know that only with you

have i contemplated the structure of water,

and the fluidity of sunrise ?

i know you know

-

i have seen life and my self

departiculate and reassemble in magnificence

do you know that you have

reasserted my immense faith

in The way, The truth,

and the given breath of life

-

i know i'am rediscovering myself

finding what i know is mine,

things, people and ideas

i had left behind

medicina cerebra

the new music sweeps my body and heals
the flood gates open
we all start to glide
we are on the plateau after all

this is the land where the pharoe died
and on this playground
he ritualised just as we are now

the remnants of past sessions creep in
as we are delivered comforting sounds
and sneaky under handed beats.

we revel and sway
all is in harmony
and the stillness seems unfathomable

the mind as many times before
is led to wonder
why the fabric of everyday life
is not as seamless as now

the magic is lost
as the clock ticks
and sleep invades
and you wake up with just glimpses

heaven gives glimpses

as if telling those who are blessed with those glimpses
"what are you waiting for, lift the veil, experience the truth"

showering conciousness (note and word)

showering conciousness

sowered with drowsy jello,

play reptile and barely escape

the morph with sleep

a tough call

to dodge a bullet

before it is more than kinetic,

before it is more than a sigh

pregnant with exclamation

trepidation

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

i send you this part

because it sums up and echoes

what i told u about not regretting (the experience).

and the deal i learned from it

how when i told u

that it taught me about primal instinct and survival

as well as patience.

about waiting out,

about depravity,

about the spectrum of pain and pleasure

about the gusty sands that separate them,

about how one flows on to the other and back,

about how to derive relief from everyday things

i never once knew that music was such this healer,

an enhanced creation

a turnkey door opener,

i do now

that and many other things

about and from different ends of the spectrum,

and of course the void,

i learned about nothingness

the serenity of its peace

and the darkness of its death

but there is nothing more to learn,

the mind, body and soul frequently talk of this

but who ever listens?

for long enough anyway ?

and that is why i think

it would be grand if u should read it.

it says something to the gist of ,

" i boarded at a time when it seemed

that all my sentience was thirsty for this,

from before i ever touched or knew of it,

and i quit at a time

when my cells could no longer

play host to it "

" i shall now look in to the real paths, never mind the shortcuts "

woke up to missing you

now that the day has come closer

i cant help but muse

how times apart affect and change

............... shape the times together

shape your curves

in a mind crowded

with furnace noise

available items

and impatient clients

affect in the background

but come to the forefront

better and improved

like after taking a week long

break from exercise,

your body comes back

vicious and savvy

-------------------------------

now that the day has come closer

i imagine the ways

i will make you convulse with pleasure

and contort in delight

i fantasise about lying next to you

thinking of nothing

just letting void in

chemical keys unlock

with this beautifully laborious door opener ;

touching everything with everything

tasting life on your skin

will dream of you

---------------------------------------------------

goodnight iam falling asleep

feeling you close to me

screaming inside from desire for you ;

the scenes from your day play in my head

and reel

will dream for you

--------------------------------------------------------

i dreamt of cats dressed as dogs

who spoke like men

---------------------------------------------------------

look at you, all there

in all your cream and blood

dark passages thumping inside

white with the light

of the everful void of absence and presence

its you and you're really there

under me you are lying ,

your scented realness, breathes on my face ,

the days apart fade

Dial 1

i want hope and i want it to end
i want the penultimate to give way
i want to know it stops
that the ticking isnt real if it isnt incessant
i want to know the role this plays
i want to find out it serves a greater wisdom
that its part of a truth
that there is a channel

didnt think of that

(stylish kids in the riot)


feeling out
spacing the narrows
finding sight

turning straights
erasing labels
hating names

what may seem like is just for now
could be all the heavens truth
a truth is a truth if it expounds extreme boundaries

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

lets dress art up like a hippie
adorn it with pendants,oriental threads
scented oils, anklets and the works

lets take a trip to luck
fix its wrong doings
take whats ours and leave it longing
but not care or look back once

lets hold a burning gun
to our heads
and see who freezes first
who realises the ease of the situation
yet the heaviness with which it is carried out

lets look for signs
and be aware of the sounds
let us not forget to breathe
deeply and freely

let us not be scared of the fifth drive,
fugue states, or quasi permanent mind shifts
let us flow

left me feeling alien..........................numb

on the creative process and such (inspired by jo and sim)

start writing ,
once you begin
and start spinning art out of your experiences
and start getting the satisfaction
that comes with accomplishing
something so beautiful
and knowing that that beauty
is in fact your own life,
there will be no stopping you
some are capable and destined even
for greatness through their writing
those who are talented and full of life

the pen can move whole masses
in any given direction
and can also provide
a source of inspiration for individuals ;

something enough
to awaken a person
from perpetual nod
it can help people
recognise their calling
as well as other things
that one hasn't taken
the time to discover

so start writing and let it flow
whether good or bad or mediocre
you will keep writing till you find your voice
only then can you truly start
being creative and play around ;

when you get to the "your voice" stage
all you have to do is think of good ideas/feelings/emotions/experiences
and put them down to paper
to the best of your ability
using your voice ;

they could be the perfect poems
or discordant and unapproachable essays
that are only perfect for the situation
and the people involved,
and so may not transcend
and may even leave some
feeling out-side
with no way to get in.

------------------------------------------------------

yes my recent pieces
have been very personal
but they always have been
all that means
is that you need to take the time
to put yourself in the poet's shoes
if u choose to,
or if u have the time to

the last one you really liked
had been no different
as far as im concerned:
well, i guess maybe you liked the old ones
because you were aware of the context
and maybe because their vulnerabilty
was so apparent
and impossible to miss

but the way i see it
is that vagueness (to a degree)
and personalisation
are essential components
of good prose,
in my eyes.

you may sometimes relate to what i say
and find it beautiful,
but i may sometimes alienate you
and thats fine.

you may somewhere down the line
reread that same piece again,
only to find it
relevant and touching
this time around,
that too is fine.


when writing poetry delve deep within yourself
almost to the point of drowning
and then swim back up quickly
for a gasp of sweet life
and a glance at outer reality
then delve back in again :-)

for localism is the key
to the heart of universalism