Position of Power

I am taking away the
memory of love from love
definition of success from success
the adjectives and nouns
that connect relation and responsibility to faces.
I have shaken up
the correlation called knowledge
and destroyed it's warehouses called history.

I am juicing them all out
enjoying the overflowing Rasa,
till the time they just are ....

I am taking away the past and its role 

in evolving the definitions of present.

I am taking away foresight
from experiences and am
evolving from reading books to talking to trees
.... from running behind a career to chasing squirrels.

I am the meaningful me
and you the otherwise of me.
Peace is power and my being a bliss now.

~ A

First Sunday of May 2022

Of the things that I love most is watching !
I watch myself as I move from day to day
Carrying an infinite joy
Transcendence and certitude

I watch myself being hated and loved
the helplessness of not knowing where we are headed
Your annoyance while you fix my house & lunches
togetherness and separations coincide
the blister from your finger in my heart reside

My vagrant heart owns nothing
I do not know how the rest of the world does
but in this living of hatred, in jealousy, in disgust,
in the silence, there is the love that I need
Watching it growing the distance between us
is ink to reflections and a poem I weave each day.


~ A

Making of a MAN

I am lonely, dad!
As lonely as a Man ought to be.

A son without a father in the world
A journey without a path
A road without a curve
Is this the way it ought to be?

In my childhood
When I stood on the balcony
Waiting for you
I knew you are gone because you had to
But this time dad, I will come
You wait there, dad
I will come.

I am lonely, dad!
As lonely as you cannot believe
Days pass without a philosophical discussion
No new things are told to me
No one talks our kinda things
Is this the way it ought to be? Dad!

You knew my journeys
You knew and felt me growing
You saw me from childhood to a man
The man I have become
Yet a man also needs a father, dad!

I will wait for better days
When we meet as father and son again.

I am lonely, dad!
As lonely as you cannot believe
and no one sees it, dad!!
Is this the way it ought to be?

Spadework insight

Lying side by side

Energized entranced eyes
Momentarily behind glasses
Kohl a layer oversight
Rimmed delusions
Perspectives of reality
Construct or distort
What should be seen
From what is possibly
Visioned delusive delight

Dauntless Me

Working for my desires,
I achieve only that which is defined
Boundless I soar free
From achievement to achievement
Untangled yet embellished.

I become limited
when I run around the land, meeting people,
traversing geographies.

I become unlimited
When I sit silently,
And immerse myself
In myself
and when I meet the reason behind and the result of
The existing.

In being I belong
In my belongings I find you,
Adapting, reasoning, living and
Enjoying the fragrance of your spirit
Concealed in your bodily fragrances
Flowering in your bosom
Within the bodices and the laces.

When I sit silently with you
I become Love.

- A

Kiss & Go

Chapters read, unread, understood, or missed
Are not stabbed with tags, marks, and dried flowers
Nor are the crease of pages folded to leave a forever longing
I seldom start from where I left and prefer random pages

I do not dig into books to smell their fragrant auras
Nor do I hold the fingers of authors, dragging them to a walk
I wait for mental energies to ignite
Deflecting them into a pillow side wandering by midnight

I don't write my name on books I read
Neither do I protect them with a cover
Nor divide them into library classifications
I embrace only those, free from slavery to protos

I do not quote from them
Nor underline passages I feel are important
or google search for meanings of complications felt, nor research
A vagabond I do not carry our meetings beyond a thought

They often rust, retire and crumble
Or in long drives spill fumes and develop snags
Breaking journeys through seasons and lyre
Books don't belong they kiss & go

Across Time

Innocent little child,
by the road side, 

waiting for
those on their journey to feed the unfelt hunger
united with the impoverished, unbathed-self
lost on a crossing, near a red light

where cars racing in the city 

stopped awhile.
I stopped by and flipped a coin
a pale vessel in little hands rejoiced in a clang
Sound metallic, metal on metal
In the human hands, the sound earlier heard
In the clanking of chains, screeching of swords
and in the clang when the Fe in beings unites.

That was me in a different birth

Separated by Maya in the journey of time

Across a wind screen. 

Momentarily across, Separated, Real.

I swooshed past flipping just a coin
in a pale vessel.
The child-me of ages past, searching food from travelers,
whom he, then, did not know as car drivers
but recognized them as strange sounds
and huge masses with unimaginable figments of power

fuel and perishing speeds
and faces that emerged from behind the screens
faces much of a muchness
faces as I still see, when clouds walk over me
leaving only glimpses of
angelic attendants of the conventions of God
as they lower their windows to drop a coin of sunbeam

or a rain drop.

I am drenched with limitless raindrops, 

caressed by warm sunlight.

 
We always meet ourselves in others,
The angels meet Their Selves in us 

Clouds peep on us as clouds 

Water outside reciprocates the water within 

as we do in fellow-mortals.

Silence ! it should all go unrecognized
and Maya must conceal,  

to keep the journeys alive

Lest this world would come to a halt

in complete unity.

Time would have stopped

had I from my car stepped out to hold the hand of the little child

even if for a while.