~ TASTE BUDS
Papillae degusting
The juices of your orgasm
While frenetically
I reach for the aperture
Of a thousand desires.
I want you -
Always.
~ This is Poet's Heaven: you must browse and...linger...and find your pleasure
Bilingual Hindi/English
Hindi/English Bilingual
Fiercely, you fall into me
Lovers brought to ecstasy
Love is uncontainable in my existence
The rays beam through my skin
Sending it out to all
Love is attainable from my deep heart
If you are not afraid to wade in
You shall see it overflows
Love is unconditional that I give
For to me, love is love is love
And therefore ultimate acceptance
The following poetry is a glimpse inside my true soul
Light of Being
In a moment of serenity
I saw the brilliant light
Of a higher being
How it shined so bright
I feel this presence with me
Always by my side
Watching always over me
Keeping love inside
I shall hold it close and dear
For it's the light that guides me
Aware the light is always there
And I am living free
Love's Power
A heart so deep and true
Possessing light for all to see
I'll step out of the darkness
If you come with me
A love so pure and real
Powerful, so much
Let it flow inside of me
Cleanse me with its touch
A friend to hold me close
A hand to hold in mine
All I long for, so much more
A kiss to stop all time
A dream of us as one
Your eyes, they hold my sun
I want you to warm me
With the beauty that I see
Inspiration
An Artist or a poets dream and I am both you see:
Someone to make you believe
That life is for living and love is worth giving
Be inspired by the blue sky
Watch the clouds as they float by
Be inspired by the moon
By springtime flowers sweet perfume
Be inspired by the stars
They guide you wherever you are
Be inspired by music and dance
By the hope of love and romance
Be inspired by what you hold dear
Be inspired by those who care
But most of all, this is so true
Be inspired by Y O U!
Soul's Mirrors
I possess true knowledge
Not the kind you find in books
Knowledge of the heart and soul
Not judging by first look
I possess the answers to life big mystery
I found it deep inside my soul
I have found the key
I possess the things that can make this world alright
I can see the beauty in the darkness and in light
I can see a person for who they are inside
Just by looking at their eyes things become much clearer
I possess the knowledge looking into your soul's mirrors
Outside Of The Fire
If you choose to live your life
Standing outside of the fire
You shall never feel the heat and warmth that you desire
Outside of the flame will leave you cold
Your heart and soul will be hollow
Dance in the fire all of your days
And your pain shall be easier to swallow
All it takes is love of yourself
You can find it deep inside of you
In the center of life's fire
To thine own self you have been true
For The Soul
My passions are infinite
It may not seem like torture
But in sense it truly is
Passionate about life
Not enough money to truly live it
Passionate about love
But no place to give it
Passionate about art
But who can see it
Passion in my heart
It just seems to break
Passion in my soul
I see the light
This is why I am tortured so
My soul needs the passion to be whole
Compassion
In this world it seems to me we have so much to give
My wish is to help the world in this life I live
If someone is hungry, I'll feed them
If you need some blood I'll share
If you are sick and all alone, call me I'll take care
If you have a heart that's lonely
And want me to understand only
I'll be right there and show I care and do all that I can
When I walk down the city street
A homeless man begs for money
I gave him some quarters and it hurt my heart
when a lady said, Don't be stupid honey
Live with compassion inside of you
Put yourself in the other guys shoes
Drifting
In a dream you reach out
At last my soul receives the love it has been seeking
Glorious illumination
Taking flight in unison
Dispersing love and light to all of humanity
Abolish The Negativity
The power of many
Is greater than the power of few
The strength of love
Is greater than the strength of hatred
Together is better
Than isolation
Unity soars higher than singularity
We are all special in our hearts and souls
Abolish the negativity
Love, live, and rejoice in the beautiful things
For if we do, the hurt and hate will not survive
Dream Of Unity
Being of lightI perceive your sound
Feel your presence all around
Whether working or at play
I feel you with me every day
Guide me to a better place
Universal love and grace
A place where people love and give
Making life so nice to live
Being of light, you have the power
To help me through my darkest hours
When I'm feeling beaten down
You shine on me and light is found
I'll keep your light inside of me
And pursue my dream of unity
Beauty Of Love
Love is uncontainable in my existence
The rays beam through my skin
Sending it out to all
Love is attainable from my deep heart
If you are not afraid to wade in
You shall see it overflows
Love is unconditional that I give
For to me, love is love is love
And therefore ultimate acceptance
I have travelled the whole world, consumed by an inner fire I cannot decipher yet. But my disquiet and restlessness hasn't abated: I'm still as impulsive, angry, emotional, and discontent as when I was first born into puberty.
But when I compose poetry, oh when I compose! When I write I seem to become universal, in an orgasmic, a-tonic, mental masturbating sort of way that pampers my deeper requisites for sensual freedom and awakens the genius in me.
I am actively thinking, while I write. While I'm writing for you and to you, the anonymous reader.
All active thinking is more than a mere linking together of images and conceptions. Can you intellectually connect with me and perceive the genius?
Genius: his messages take shape in the secret depths of the soul...
Philosopher Galton wrote that "what is generally meant by genius is the automatic activity of the mind, as distinguished from the effort of the will. In a man of genius, the ideas come as by inspiration; he is driven rather than drives himself."
It is a gift of the gods... Plato, himself a genius, suggests that creative thought is a kind of madness sent upon men by the gods in accordance with some purpose of which they and not we are conscious. Being conscious that I am not really a genius, I should be satisfied with my intuitive mind, as intuition is the basis of all thinking. The intuited idea is operative throughout the whole process of the collection of facts, the brooding over them, the gradual heightening of the tension, the sudden release and the slow and steady mastery of the detail by the elaboration of the conceptions and judgments. In any concrete act of thinking mind's active experience is both intuitive and intellectual. If you wish to be my intellectual connection, in turn I should be intuitively your medium for manipulating your higher sense of existence. Accept?
I mean: do you accept that?
It is a mistake to think that the only qualifications for elucidating truth and fulfilment in life are purely intellectual. Only those whose lives are deep and rich light on the really vital syntheses significant to mankind.
Shouldn't we do our part in the synthesis of our life? Let's be creative then, if we cannot be true geniuses. Let's be alive and expressive in all our senses.
Artistic. Yes.
The work of art is the crystallization of a life-process. Grab my hand... shed your skin awhile, and be an artist with me, just like I want to be an artist with you, unlearning to relearn -- just like Socrates said.
Is this my electronic virtual crisis? Since I've just about experienced any sort of intellectual crisis available to man, I may as well have a cyber-crisis online!
(sarcastic laugh)
I've been like this since birth, so no bullshit. It's actual awareness, finally. A wanting for aesthetic achievement. My mind is in labour and craves for sustenance from the whole being. No more crap from others.
Now read a poem, for chrissake! Or write me a poem...
This is the prayer I understand, no other.
True poetry which is rich with a world of suffering and experience, has the fullness and mystery, and depth and authority of life itself. It is because the poet sees so intensely that he is able to communicate to us his feeling and judgment. The creative spirit and its activity are so unlike the conscious mind that the latter feels itself to be inspired and raised above its normal power by the breath of spirit. Can you bear with me a moment about "inspiration"?
The inspired souls speak from a centre of consciousness that has transcended the limits of its finitude and so claim an authoritativeness which is not within the power of the normal individual to bestow. They do not think so much as thoughts come to them. Hey, you see how close we now come to the concept of "genius" as Plato sees it? So, perhaps all hope is not lost. The poet believes that his work is due not to his intellectual skill or imaginative boldness but to what he calls his inspiration.
I feel inspired. My reader, if you do exist, you've got to believe me: I feel soooo inspired I could initiate an atomic fission by just composing a haiku verse!
But DO YOU feel inspired? Well, do you? Ever?
Since inspiration comes to the poet's life and fades out of it regardless of his inclination, he traces it to a power more unconscious than conscious. To the ancient Hindus and the Greeks, the poetic exercise is a religious act, and the poet invokes his muse and begins with a prayer. Ever read Homer? It is always a dialogue between the daimon and the psyche. The authors of the Vedic hymns regarded themselves as channels of something greater than they knew, instruments of a higher soul beyond themselves. They do not so much create the contents as contemplate them in their moments of deepest insight. Plato in his Symposium suggests a similar view. Aristotle says that the poet is either "happily gifted by nature" or "a bit of a maniac". Dante says: "I am one who, when love inspires, take note and as he dictates within me I express myself."
Isn't all this beautiful? Yes, it is.
The poetic experience is but momentary for the veil is redrawn and the mood of exaltation passes. The poet attempts a translation of the ineffable experience into words. While poetry is in the soul, the poem is a pale reflection of the original, an attempt to register in words an impression which has become an image in memory.
Here, dear virtual reader, I falter.
Here I have my tragedy: cannot ever be satisfied with my "registrations". There is something incommensurable in poetry, eluding my expression in words. The poetic temper is in all of us though only a few develop it. The poet has the gift, which fewer still have, of communicating the experience by words of immediate power which compel the wandering mind to respond to his appeal. It is truly difficult to translate states of soul into words and images. The success of art is measured by the extent to which it is able to render experiences of one dimension into terms of another.
The difference between a poet and a non-poet is that the experience of the former is larger and his verbal control greater. And an adequate control of technique is essential to the poet. Even in the act of composition the poet is in a state in which the reflective elements are subordinated to the intuitive. The vision, however, is not operative for so long as it continues, its very stress acts as a check on expression. The experience is recollected but not in tranquillity. Poetry is the language of excitement. For in recollecting the exciting experience, the poet recreates the conditions of its happening and identifies himself with it. The spell of the experience is still on the poet and under its influence he employs intuitive words and images which possess emotional value more than logical meaning. While poetry is not the vision itself, but only the image of it, still its quality depends on the degree with which it calls up the vision.
Let us then be poets together, and call up a vision to share....
... The following pages show my caleidoscopic vision, hope you'll enjoy it and contribute --- if you are truly out there... Merci bien