When a door opens

Twinkle like a star,

Shining so bright,

Over a billion dim-lit nights.

The smoke gets denser as the day grows cold,

The lips puff and puff till finally,

We’re all old.

Everybody that you see

Everybody around me

You , maybe,

Everybody has the same mind,

The mind to get a little bit off their mind,

To be a little less lonely,

To have a warmer hand to hold,

Than the one they’d rather forgo,

Look and see,

You, maybe me,

Everybody just wants a taste,

Of the 15 minutes, to try as others fail,

To make it last,

15 wholesome hours,

Yet seconds to minutes to hours to dust,

Everybody wants to share a puff.

Look everywhere, see it in the eyes,

The light that stays beyond radiance, beyond temperance,

Beyond rationale, beyond the sane,

The light that reflects hopes and dreams, the shine

That can bring any son of a bitch to their knee.

Look closely, see what you get a chance to see,

I took a look,

I have seen,

I simply want a chance to close my eyes,

To grab my own hand, the one denied,

To get a little bit higher, to grab onto,

A dream more solid than money, than fire.

To scope the sight out of the minds eye.

I simply want my drugs, honey,

I don’t even want you!

Something out of a story book

I heard a tale told the other day,

Of one man and his lady fair,

And how they loved each other,

Day in and day out, they lived in bliss

For each found in other the missing truth.

Parables are false, came a cry from afar,

And even the golden one, shields the true rot that lay beyond.

Parables are false the duo cried,

Found in each other the eye of all demise,

And despise each other, they did,

For in despicable terms, each had seen the true face of the other soul.

Parables are false, yet for the life of any,

Some seem to make rounds more than many.

Parables should be brought into light, the light

Of the beauty of dying.

How all of any efforts at parabling, lead only to a propagation of misery,

For loss and unbecoming are the true nature of any path worth pursuing.

Parables are false, cry the critics of life and its flimsy sway;

Sad, that the parables they can come up with,

Merely deserve a muffled yawn.

Parables are false, came a shout from afar,

It was the jack of hearts and in his hand,

On the one lay a mug of ale, on the other,

The finest dame, as laughter endorsed both their beings,

And in essence they became the parable solidified;

Here maybe some parables are less false than others,

Perhaps the false nature of parables is the true nature of triviality,

Being exposed to the sound of laughter and rhythm.

Parables are false, said you,

But I never believed it, not for a second, it,

Can not be true.

I like to bring about the tale of

Which brings about a thousand tears, and the odd shout

It went as such, as the jack of hearts settled in his seat-

In the land of sunshine and dreams,

The night had lost all shine, and hope of bringing up a dream,

One girl, of age young and wit many,

Came up to the sun and asked if there could be any chance,

To dim the lights, her kitten needed a break from the sane sights,

The sun in glory and resplendence began

Never can this be, little one, for I am the personification of

Happiness, energy and truth,

And in my land there can only be laughter and love,

Not in my land do you get to pursue,

The dark arts of the night, for she is a wily ruse,

No, here in my domain, you will remain and in jest too,

For all you see is all that is, and we can forever remain happy in this land,

Of florescence, joy and beauty.

This left our little lady with many-a tear,

Her only dream was to help her companion the cat in any endeavor she desired,

For friendship is a thing costly to pursue,

And more fragile than a glass heart in the rough deserts of,

Sunshine and no more bothers.

The cat whispered quietly to her friend, the young one in front of her

Leave me be, I have failed as a friend,

This land of happiness is not for any who is true,

I tried to bring you the joy you deserve, alas,

I didn’t think of the price that each of us must pay at last;

So go, little one, go and find another, and be with them forever more,

My love for you is tainted, Its broken like ocean shore.

The girl now in tears too many,

Ran long and far,

For she could not leave the hand of a friend behind,

Till at last she stumbled and fell,

Onto a deadly pale landscape

Where everything was quiet as hell,

Here she glanced about and saw so many

Of the one she had left behind forever more,

Yet replicas were not to her liking,

She wanted to bring the reign over to her friend,

They would bask together in darkness.

On the lonely house on this quiet night,

She knocked the door for quite a while,

And on the sixth such try, came a sound from inside,

Who be it? Who hath come to receive guidance from the broken shore?

The voice sounded hoarse and scary, yet

Something belied a softness inside, a

Fragility with which she was much familiar,

So she posed a question to the lady here

I have only one request to make of you,

Come to my home and bring the beauty which you

Have here attempted to enfold.

The darkness shook wildly and a cry came from afar,

The sun was being dragged down,

Yet all the while the girl drew closer and closer,

To her friend who stooped atop the land of both

Night and day, and as the sun was dragged down below,

He was garbed onto another form, one that would never know,

Permanence and would change form abruptly,

And would find few who loved the quiet beauty,

In lunacy the three began to live,

And thus ended the peculiar tale

Of the cat the girl and the moon.

Parables are false, came a quiet whisper,

There is room for two voices in the bed

Of the parabler.

Parables are false they whispered to each other,

And remain there forever, in a slice of

Time they broke apart. Quiet for want of any upstarts.

Parables are parables and to this effect,

We continue to forever play our parts.

An Other day

Like so many the day began, in fear and loathing

And began thusly, by a coward eyesight

A misty pale night and the body needs some stimulation

You know how moulds set into moulds

And thus forever lay, in agony and cacophony

Yet just a bit of finesse to clear the cobwebs away

Hell is a short ride a stop to nether lands,

Where few dare to step foot for the loss and laughter of many

Here began the tale of two tails struck by time

And lost to fate, the two tales of a single tail and

The coming unstuck of the one to any.

The cat as always came up to the stage

Used to by now of being devoted astoundingly

Sitting square and tall and hunched slightly

Allowing the eyes to rest on a single stare

And beginning to let fear slip away to the sound of an evil note

A tone brought about through violence and greed

The cry and the scream

The incessant need for propogating and repeating

Yet in all this scene that began to unravel

This yarn about greed and instant foibles

And sarcastically pleasing words used in malice

And genuine attempts at just being and loving

Again and again.

Losing all sense of serenity and becoming directly dived into

By a fresh and naïve eye, there are few such

Remaining in the here and now. How pleasant it is to know

That weith a single blow to the mind we come back and zoom in
In to the truth that emptiness is invalid

And help need they to be brought into the foray

Losing the train of thought repeatedly

Hurrying past signs of worry and scurry

When all at once all the angels stand up and say

Welcome back to here and now what do you see

That in the one lay the many, the infinitely many

It is pleasant to know that this plane does not enforce as a rule suffering and agony

Yet to experience it now might not be a terrible symphony

To play along to for a while at least

Yet the finger seem to lose grip for a while and attention

Became the wrath of all the demons.

Begin the sun to raise

The platform of night to day

And in this subtle energy purvey

The glory that glory begins; says

The night cometh slowly but overused feelings

Are here for all eternity

Why not saddle up for a long ride

We await any sense of any hope inside

And in this irony

Art came out and began to shine.

Sedation

The whole of the sum is related to each and every part

The major part being the issue at hand

Feeling too much, so much that it requires a regulation of feeling;

Of saying no infinitely

Of letting go of the body momentarily

And surviving in bliss. Feigned ersatz bliss

Yet numbness is all that we have left

And all we ever aim for

Numb is all we require to be

Acceptable in society

And after the sixth pill went down

Numb came on and was greeted

With novel ecstasy, swept away

By the gregarious baggage brought on by the numbness

And all that’s left behind is selfless selfness

And in such a state we begin to hear

The rationale for all our problems

The ear

The thinking ear is difficult to dawn upon

And once entered leaves never

The issue with reality

Numbness is a virtue agreed upon by many

And emotions are the wastes, the excesses,

No one wants empathy

Not here in the land of few, the land of many.

Yet in numbness the words seem to flow irreproachably

With no tear being shed over the enormity that

The body seems to present in other states.

Tripping out on the sensation of numbness

And nothing. That is the goal of human society

To be manageable and polite

Puppets in essence without a puppeteer in sight

Alas, for the ones who see

The puppets can be shocked rather easily

With hints of violence and disregard

Guarding the seems

And here we find without any difficulty

The truth that life has left all the ghosts behind

Replaced with a heavy heart and

Heartbreak symphonies to be heard

From near, from afar.

Of course, there is always the choice,

To choose an emotion and prey on it

To our own delight

Yet selfishly do we choose

The ones that lightly bruise

And do not cost too many thoughts to be thought

Of sentience, of independence

Of justice and liberty

Of feeling for another instead of the self.

And slowly the distance grows wearier. And the numbness sets in heavier.

And the fingers want to be set free, if only for

A simple moment, a moment in glee.

They wish to say-

Here we go again, trying so hard to be something we are not,

Blurring the vision out is comfortable to some but not to us. Not,

Yet begin as we do always,

We seem to find here a certain taste of the mystery

Of yesterday. Baggage that we did not choose, unagreed upon by all.

Non consensual overbearing stream and strings

Of reality bubbles, suffering being prolonged.

Instead of dreaming and reaching out towards the

Sun. The burdening of consenting to non consensual reality

Is a hassle at best, and to make the cogs tick just fine, just in jest

We must embrace the numbness the galore of never here,

Never

Now.
Secret

That perspectives can change upon command

Its easy try it with me

Everyone is a zombie out to kill me.

Good.

Live here for a while

Act spicy act nice act

Accordingly.

Again

I am the starof this show and everyone is an actor

Disguising the true emotions so I never know.

Good

Act thriftily, act lusciously, act preciously,

Take control.

Finally,

Everyone is in their own goddamn trip

And nothing you ever say will ever change that trip.

You can join the trip of someone else

But never will they bother to invite you in.

Act friendly,

Act like you’re acting. Act.

That is the secondary poison.

Now, you know,

Whom to, do you go?

Stay by yourself or do you wish to welcome change?

Perhaps like the lonely cypress,

All you desire is a sunflower, in an ocean of

Hyacinths. ‘Tis simple, the remedy, is-

Blow a desire into the mind and begin to live in someone elses
Fantasy- that too is another chance to beget more strife than not.

How would we proceed?

Ask simply, primarily, if you could be obliged to fit in

The tiny space called the mind- brevity destroys true intention

As does sedation, yet in this playground,

The rules have long since changed and to hitcha ride,

The thumb must be raised up, never down.

Aye, it wouldn’t be difficult to give it a try,

Yet as wonders tends to make the mind wonder,

Everyone knows that no ones knows, and no one

Knows,

That everyone does.

Finally you see, that all this is another game you wished to play,

Only now its with yourself,

And islands are scary to inhabit, enjoy the ride while it lasts.
Hypnotica dreaming

Swiftly as a feather floats below, the scene shift

From night to opalescent glow.

Time seems to have played another of its

Delightful pranks. Lets the seconds fly by, we deserve this gift,

Our gift; of wanting more than we can afford,

Of selling ourselves short, and pulling in too many reasons,

To kick the gutter with malaise and ignorance. Seasons,

And then some more, unfold and we are greeted yet again,

By the soft luminescence. Breaking apart at the seams, time

Seems to be getting angry now with our entitlement our privileges

Our greed for too much, much too many.

Yet here lies the true innocence, of realizing that

The one is insignificant, but for the torture,

Rape and pillage they beset. Yes, in here we believe we are the greatest and

Wisest of all, unable to pick up an overdue call from reality inc.

Instead, we run amok, stare longingly only to spit out the ink

From all the poisons we just drank. Selfish poisoning is the only true kind there be,

And when one is all alone, one is connected to the entirety

Of

Human existence. For time is our final challenge. The master

To whom all submit. I propose

Rage, rage, rage against the slipping by of time.

In jest we may say the words,

Gone in a blink of an eye,

Well, in sincerety sayeth I,

No longer shall these eyes of mine blink.

Of course , these poison have turned me into a hypocrite;

Others, I trust seldom,

And even if I am intoxicated, never myself.

For the greatest enemy of yours?

No , you are not, you can’t begin to fathom the nature that you enlist,

Nay, the villain in all our tale is lady time,

Taking from each of us

A single grain everyday.

Never do we realize this, till one day,

I wake up and look myself in the mirror,

And finally caught up with the game that time plays,

Wrinkles from west to east, like a setting sun,

Freckles, too putrid to adore,

And ofcourse the eyes. The final ploy of lady time.

They disguise the truth of the body. They deny

The simplicity of pain,

And finally when the only meaning left in life

Is to look back at it,

Come the time for the eyes to truly shine,

To call in an audience of everyone

And laugh at the behest of the senile,

The weak,

The once powerful and now swindled out of any such guise.

Tick, tick , tick, tick,

Tick.
Maybe a chance at happiness, finally

No, of course not. It’s gone to the point,

That fooling the self is just fooling everyone else.

The answers remain dormant inside,

Waiting for a chance to let loose on the powers of the mind.

Behavior is the true bigotry.

Raise a group of Buddhas and watch the world flourish and

Police departments dwindle. Their stations would slowly turn

Into sand. Bliss and numb are the same with a different perspective had,

Each way. Both work, both fail, yet the smell of

Grapes and petunias in a summer eve,

Might just make the journey worthwhile to be in.

Even if it’s just a short stop on the way to

Hell.
Pools

On the surface, a shimmer, a glittering reflection,

Bright and joyous, taking in health and sending out vibrations

Of happiness and joy; no hint of the trying tribulations,

Segregate the bad from the pure, into a lonely section,

No hint of which can be seen,

Not by the eyes of the heart, no,

Eternally blind, woefully ensconced, it has been,

Far too long and too short in between,

That we can only reflect the reflections,

All of these truly break the soul into star dust, too fine

To see; The moonlight bouncing in trebles and clefs all over

The harmony of the water bed; pale luminescence.

Beyond a veil, layeth the other scene.

The sunlit twilight

On a roof, far away from here,

While the moon begins her shy ascent,

The rays of dusk finally begin to dawn.

Soft heat and gilded waves

Bidding adieu to marching men,

Giddy at thoughts of pale luminescence

And all the fun therein entailed.

Sinking into tomorrow, the waves draw

Soft and slow to the tip of

Your toes; soon this one will end,

The tune of marching men and

Mad artists crying for any possibility of holding on

Will come rushing in.

C’est la joie de vivre.

Upon Closer Inspection

With certain scrutiny must things be observed,

Cacophony and ruckus enter and the message- preserved.

But what if it weren’t?

In the fine speckles between

Black and white

There remain the ever infinte

Gray; there we last, there we perish

And there come all the words

Out to have a dance. In the middle ground, there can be an

Upper and a below there,

The most important fact remains,

That facts do not go out to win over days,

They do not seize the victory from the hands of effervescent

Moon tides. Tha phases that change the oceans, the seas,

The phases that replace the faces of the one we see,

Beyond all the suppositions of an extant reality,

There lay the scent of rosebushes

And change. There lay the answer we all are out to

Foray. Foraging bittersweet messages and ephemeral

Timelines we understand neither what goes on and

What never will. Yet in spite of all the cadence,

There remain a note to be sung, a tune to be brought out for all

The ease to be found in cold winter morning,

And warm summer evenings. The play and change of seasons,

Like the ticking away of a soundtrack, only too familiar

To our own ears ensure that when the moment has subsided

When the eyes regain normalcy

When the angels drop down from high above to right back here,
There is the assurance that beyond good and bad

There lay the entirely brilliant expanse of

Existence, along with all the anger and frustration and fear

Gripping too tight on wrists to weak and petite

To show that if belief is strong, belief remains there to win over the

Bitter tide of another day.

Alas, all for naught,

As nothing can last longer than nothing, and elaborated attempt at

Trying to allay the elixirs and ethers we could never grab on to,

Only now do we realize,

That the true ally is but the one true mind,

And when fear is set on then the mind is played on and on in

The same and one

And only

All encompassing

Earth shattering

Tear inducing

Hurt supposing

Fear.
Restless

There is an ache, it has been known,

And this ache persists. There are ways

To leave and let go.

Simply not all there, simply not

Trying hard enough.

There could be other times and trials to be fought

They are all parables from another reality.