Exploding Egoes Goes without Exploring...or Explaining

There is music in my mind,
and painting on my fingers.
Poetry is my voice,
and an ocean is my skin.

I live in skies....
full of infinite mystery.
so many reasons and whys
to think about reality - for eternity.

I have a countless emotions to feel
and I am very desperate to be real.
I have this intense desire
to forget myself
But I also have an equally strong urge
to simply remember Me....

But I am as much in love with You
as much as you are in love with your Self.

I am extremely old
and I am also brand new.

I hate it when I am unable to love.
But I love it when I am unable to hate.

I can fly far above
and I can dwell deep within.
I am the author of my own story,
But I am also the reader -
my own critique,
of my personal history.
I agree -
I am full of my self
and I am constantly Me.
But in my emptiness is you
and I imagine you are an endless sea...

 I love "you" more
than you can ever see.

There are waves in my mind
and colors in my eyes
This is my poetry...
for you - a gift from me.
So are we really distinct...
you and me?

enuff of this stuff

I'm about to shout
and get the hell out,
but I doubt if such plans
are about to sprout...
into seeds, stems, shoots, and fruits.

The weeping willows
have resorted to pillows
talking out their voices
through impersonal prejudices

These spaces
between words
have meant a lot....
and much more
But why
do I even care
to share with you my chores?

I'm about to laugh
and tame a sane giraffe,
but I doubt if such stuff
exists or is bluffed.

The taxidermist's tale
has failed to regale
the poachers of the east
who have basked in its shades.

The hunters have found
the food of the gatherers,
while the little ones paid
their dues in blue feathers

The fathers have mothered
their children for so long,
this song is about to blow
on the tip of your tongue...

State of fate at the gate where the great arrive late....

At the very least

I can say, "Come on...share the feast"

These are times like that. 

The fun never ends...

and the best part is always about to begin.

So what happens next when the wall is left without a word to be said?

Well,  the climate somehow appears to be less dense than it was before.

Layers of information have succumbed to the surface of these stones.

And therefore -

the mind is the most incredible thing to contemplate upon. 

Absolutely unbelievable.

Simply fantastic.

After all without the mind there is no glory nor shame 

no curiosity no knowledge.

Without the mind there is no ignorance or greed, hunger or poverty, time or eternity.

There is no such thing as uncertainty - without the mind.

The mind is the source of all questions asked.

The mind is the fertile soil for thoughts to play an infinitely open field - countless possibilities and answers to endless more queries.

Mind is where money is and mind is why matter exists.

Eons of human history exist in the mind.

Enough about all this already. 

Hope you don't mind.

But after all

You are also in my mind.

Hell, you are more in your mind than mine.

Is there any way out of this dream?

Fortunately NO!

Even nightmares wont suffice.

This is a continuous stream.

Swim with its flow

- the possibilities are suggested by the roll of your dice.

Circular circles encircling the circuit

the music shook the container

in which the big stuff banged.
most likely,

a countless such quantum events,

exploded from this cosmic vibration. 

the patterns,

of smoke and dust,

syncopated with the rhythm,

of this divine continuum.

the scintillating waves,

of pitch and scale,

were enmeshed

in the harmonic expression

of this eternal song.

there is no organism without an orgasm. 

incidentally there is no orgasm without an organism. 

Its circular

and its full of nothingness.

It is interconnected

to the very end 

where infinite other beginnings commence.

Let them say which way

But the seven sized man

has an odd-sized van

he can never be the same

with his half baked brain

the wilderness of ties

had widened his smiles

the walking stick sale

had heightened his pain.

The bitter sweet maid

had paid for her pride

the wide eyed boys

had lied when she cried

the little one inside

had reached out his hand

to stand on the edge

of his sight just to hide