Let tears come easily to my eyes
And laughter always be in my belly

Let helplessness and joy always be strumming softly 
Let me always be unable to ask why.

Let facts always be paramount
My irrevocable identity with the universe  too loud to permit other noises of defensible self worth

Let me think only when physical change requires
And never to make of myself an object that then needs.

Let my set of values never conflict; let there never be civil war
let me never be able to mistake 
What anybody thinks for what I am

Let me live and die if necessary
But more realistically then figuratively

Let me never move a single step
Never a moment pass
Let not an iota of energy sizzle but to glory all
that free will brings to pass

There is a sin in this.

Low Birth is a fact
We have all suddenly woken up in a body and mind
that doesnt obey us.

That creates emotions it itself doesnt like
That resists the facts it is presented with
in order to create a fantasy where the world and itself both
are reduced to stories;
ever changing  inconsistent  neurotic narratives that bring no pleasure to anybody
lest of all; ourselves

The sin
is remaining this way
Shushh... a secret
there is this thing called an inside, lets say
even though we know not it 
what with so many distractions and obstructions
like depression and ambition and even 
the state of the nation!
its there, and That! is the secret.
its there and if your nice to it...
if you listen to its pain
if you listen to all the deadness and rejection of self that you have programmed into it
without flinching
it will blossom 
and the defused pleasure which pollutes the world; then, when you are in love
that defused pleasure will pollute the world so thoroughly 
that everything that you perceive, everything that passes through your insides to reach you
will be radiating/ reeking of it

this inside, is the most powerful quality of life measure 
that anybody will ever measure
but dont tell anyone this secret
let it, if it will, leak from you to the world
and let them ask, where does this smell of love
this stench of joy
where o where does it come from

What would i?
let me be only a safe space
safe enough that all the rusted biting knifes you wield
the poisonous barbs you must needs cradle to yourself
and call your wealth; your opinions and self-damaging beliefs
they all can be put away
and a new life of ease
be born 

The undead

Mar. 8th, 2016 01:30 am
Have you heard of the Undead?
those who, dead, still walk?
those, who's hands still move, though cut off
still crawl towards whatever 'tis their unholy purpose?
I am one of those
See still does my mind speak
when nothing needs to be said
unholy strivings towards seriousness
towards purpose

but comfort
is a thought which sits beside;
side by side with stillness
with the irrelevance which no event can impregnate. 
the thought;
"it all rots"
my hands too with rot away
as they already are
this darkness called self with be subsumed into this...
dare i call this lightness.. lacklusterness?
this ever flowing nothingness that all perception can barely stand out in for a moment
no anger ever was which could be for two moments before sinking into this nothing
this ever flowing ocean refuses to take a form; any form
let my teeth rot away into nothingness
let my soul rot away into this ease
so nothing nobody never
 It's not survival that you seek

Even if, by chance, you survive

These thousand thousand roads you cross
These mad mad drivers in the same intersection as your legal right turn
This barrage of flame retardant and cholesterol thumping down your food pipe
you will off yourself
as inevitable as the death of the Sun
you will inexorably , will to off yourself come 80 or 100
and perhaps call it dying of old age, peacefully in my bed.

Stop pretending then
that these jobs these chores and these realtionships
intended to propagate this survival 
consuming vast amounts of this boundless energy you reduce to this puny matter of survival 
are in any way important.

In these scant few years you allow yourself
find out who it is within you
who wants to die
to rest
and i swear
it will be difficult 
from that moment on
to stop dancing
 An Image:
Thorny Poles stuck to the ground; 
one labeled Depression
one Anger
one Boredom
Another Approval from mommy

Seeing them; Someone rushes to them, clings, bleeds and cries
O im depressed! O i need love! Ah i am in so much pain

instead of

Jul. 18th, 2015 01:59 pm
Instead of fighting over; why didn't you come pick me up
fight over; don't you love me?

Instead of getting bothered over; why does he want to talk to another girl
bother about; who am i regardless of being unloved by the world

Instead of making sure; i am surviving
make damn sure; im enjoying

Who knows
you might end up laughing so hard
there might be nothing left in your head
nothing nobody never!!!!!
 What kind of idiot am i that i wanted peace!!!
its like trying to go forward by going backwards!!!
If i actually wanted to feel good
i wouldnt bother creating all these demands;
that you should be like this towards me
i should be like that
and the world as ever would merrily and depressingly carry on
never never never would i insist that i feel good! 
would i?
 Things exist for you only if you acknowledge them to be (real)
What about this huge bundle of opinions about me
and thoughts about me
and feelings which feel about the things i think about me?
if i did not think them would they still be?

 To be truthful in an arbitrary point of view manner;
every problem i have ever believed in
has been, in many different specifics this;
i want to change what i feel;sense.
unable to do so
unable to carry around such a huge impossible never ending task

 Who died and make it king?
this ninny of a voice in my ear
giving these tinny thoughts authority on how i should feel and do and say?
i buy into complete revolution
into everlasting complete rebellion
i label it swaraj, now,
And declare its one line manifesto;
ignoring ridiculous voices telling me how i feel!
 Who will go back 
and get enlightened?
i must say- what a waste
So many things to be ignored
id rather laugh then cry!

Unable to imagine very well
unable to conjure up processes that serve no purpose
i cant understand this method of understanding the rules to be followed to achieve well-being
when nothing can keep it away?!

No wonder I cant get attached
and worked up about tragedies and successes
or even apologetic (except perfunctorily) about my nastinesses and bad temper 
no wonder i feel there is nothing to do and nowhere to do it in
in order to feel what someone else feels
i first have to make an object and then have it reflect back at me what feelings i claim them to have!

with good people i feel good
with bad i feel bad
no doubt with strangers i will strange
and with friends i feel friendly
good coz i said so!
bad coz i said so!
strange coz i said so!
friends coz i said so!

i see
no attachment is possible
meaning; no attachment is possible with myself- the self i create out of words with i use for myself or others also created out of words
how could i ever get attached to myself? 
just because language posits an i and a self?

"No no 
mere baato ma na aana!
no no... "*

*A Hindi film song ive forgotten the name of 
 No wonder i dont feel enlightened
nothing ever changes
is another way of saying
i never change
is another way of putting across the observation; i sense.
The root function.
not i am not i will be; I sense!


Jul. 15th, 2015 01:46 am
 Here is the most powerful image i have ever known
"My mother dies, my father is buried under the rubble, my shop is gone 
and my kids? its like they never were"
Still; and everlastingly still;
my eyes function as they did
my ears listen
my nose can still smell

"my body no longer functions well
i keep being in pain; my ears are going deaf"
Still; and everlastingly still
whatever i sense; i sense
 everlastingly; everlastingly
nothing can be because nothing can change
because? no because
underneath its all the same
 overground is imagination...
I dont have time to waste
no time to sit around and think
therefore I take action
Decisive firm goal oriented action
with a clear objective-method-plan
-I sit. think and figure it out.
So i needed an excuse to stay at home.
i needed to stay at home since that is what i felt i was and am suppose to do
Since i needed an excuse to stay at home-  30 years old -not making a living
and me, my ego, refused to stay put without an excuse
So my dad developed liver cirrohisis. 
now hes having a miserable time and i have a cast iron excuse to stay- while hes around anyway
Interesting aint it?
No guilt just a sense of how all-totally-correct existence is functioning...
i needed an excuse...

 Im not interested in my needs my wants
So they wither away

Im not interested in fights and duties and sadnesses
So they wither away

Im interested, totally interested in my freedom..feelings joyous no matter what or where
So i am

 Exuberence!!! Thy name is friend!!
Thy name is the way to die!! so happy!!

All in all the time
unable to contain this which is inside
it comes out so Strongly
who will tell me to control?
who will tell  me not to drink deep of this THE FOUNTAIN OF LIFE?
He who does, does not live, he SUFFERS!!
I cannot BELIEVE i put a COMA is this POEM!!!!
WHO CAN STOP EVEN FOR THAT MUCH TIME???????????????????????