Dreams

Dreams,

are scrambled projections-

noise and signals,

(or holographic feeds)

emanating quite randomly

from experiential moments

and raw data-streams.

Waking lives

are autopoetic wheels

spinning rapidly

in tandem succession,

(or horrifying zeal)

to match the speed 

of the calcifying spiels.

Entropy-

it’s the joker in the dream

for whom the waking lives feel

like the empty cup of minds

(or conscious matter indeed)

to become some sort of a ‘thing’

that is thrown carelessly into being.

Are illusions really real?

Is it all 

just an illusion

in our heads 

that the living are,
 a little more kinder 

than those who are
most definitely dead?

That the world 

seems to snugly fit,

the tacit frames

in our minds

so that,

just when we decide
 to be a little more kind, 

it changes itself again,

excavating questions

that were hidden

beyond secretly

bold apparitions,

which have now

made their way 

to the surface of our beliefs, 

for the moment, 

to be here,

for the moment

to be safe?

Blowing WITH the wind?

Deliberately moving

Through the notions

Somewhat composed

Somewhat emotional 

Bags of skin and cells

Travelled well through 

The pulsing dimensions

Of light and dark particles 

Beating frequently to the laws 

of fundamental motions.

Blending with the fields 

They yielded at the signs

Of concatenated equations 

And time-signature mimes.

A rip in time 

spilled revolutions 

of the strangest kind

Some were quite potent

Others—cheap imitations.

But the minds continued to matter 

Thinking thoughts and lots of chatter.

What is this? How is that?

Why believe 

when we can worship cats?

The drama continued

And in fact got fatter

As the winds blew further

From the questions answered.

Speculative thoughts and pointless questions?

What is a Word
floating in a void,
or a sentence
devoid of meaning,
but suspended gibberish,
which for eternity
is changing?

Is it like seeing
without sight,

or watching

without peeking,
or is it the paucity
of cool light,
lurking in the shadows
of a brave awakening?

Blended themes 

and minced fears,

can make such things

seem much more clear.

But who is keeping

an eye on these dreams

that boldly appear

through a crackling stream?

Recipe of Binaries

The maladies 

of nostalgia - 

sweet strawberries 

and red cherry pies.

Before words

and after prayers,

broken rhymes about

how no one cares.

Will the metal melt

as the machines break,

what humans felt

was just give and take?

Watered melancholia 

poured over social media,

baked epiphanies stirred

with tyrannical pop-trivia?

Hand-carved Shells and Fashion Bombs

The plight 

of the sleeping Djin

was abandoned 

by wonder.

The polished

floor glittered sweet

with scarlet drops

of liquid rose.

If the skies 

had opened 

just a little bit wider 

the ships 

would have fallen

from side to side.

But in the down time

of this open kitsch

one could hear 

ancient feet
clap across the bridge.

Morning song

Around the bend

a songbird sings

and the pigeons

grumble low...

while a hollow stick

with a lighted wick

smokes early

in the 

morning glow.

A silent man

begins to speak

his yellow hands 

tremble...

Beggars assemble

and start to sweep...

(a black hole 

had leaked

and left a streak)

while a burning star

just grumbled.

A grunting sound

begins to peak

and a few doorbells

seemed to freak...

The little babies

who were dreaming deep

began to cry and shriek.

Vapor

from the teacup

rose inside the cusp

around a little blizzard

that shouted at the wizard....

Pleased with

it's self

the colored

sparrow fled

into the blue skies

splattered with

new clouds...
And all was well,
so simple and proud.

The Cobbler from Tehran

Those two
were too
fair to
play at
the fair,
but the pair
knew this
was all new
as they made light
of the light bulbs
that bore through
their boredom
when they
were there
as their kingdom
was cobbled
by the cobbler
from Tehran.

Maladies of an insecure wordsmith. The crap I write.

These words that I write that I constantly seem to want to talk about and speak and which I eventually wind up yelling and shouting out loud are perhaps an attempt to draw attention…. No! For sure these are vain attempts to draw attention. But attention to what? something strange? something familiar? something painful or funny? something vaguely specific? something right or wrong, ...truth or lies? Its not all black and white you know. Its great greys and all the colors that vibgyor through this cosmic show. Nothings perfect... and thats the most perfect thing about everything. Everything else is just whispering by the graveyard.

Awake in a dream

""

Beyond this dream 

lies awake a mind.

And behind this theme

what does it find?

These nights and days

are but fluctuating waves.

And our lives are a myth

spun out of time and space.

Below our feet

and above our heads

are we floating in a void

between life and death?

Beyond our screams

at times it seems

Our lives are a tale

of imaginary dreams.

Cling to Be

Cling to the past

to go mad for eternity.

Run fast 

to sit on the top

of a lonely peak 

of insanity.

Don’t trouble 

your mind

just go blind…

if all you wish 

is to sink deep

in your

false sense 

of certainty....

🔃

But if you dream

to be truly free

be confident in this truth

that nothing is

what it seems to be. 

Is it not Obvious?

🎼What is obvious

Is obvious.

The devious

cannot hide

the truth 

that resides, 

behind their lies.

Some say, 

the only way

is to keep doing

the same old things.

But others sing 

that some things

Can't be real,

For only one way

Won't suffice.

That's the nature

of the game

So don't let

The winds blow

Out your flame.

If you play

your cards right,

You will pass

through this night.

Just don't shout

out your name...

Don't shout

out your name.🎼

Go digital

One day

It will all

Go digital...

First money,

Then things,

And then people.

It will all be 

Extremely subtle.

Is reality a bubble,

Hidden under a heap

Of shiny cosmic rubble?

Cats cut cool colors

One fine day, 

the colors of the cool cat

caught the dying rays of irony 

sinking slowly

in the middle 

of the deep blue sea. 

One fine day, 

the deep blue sea

saw to it 

that this never happened again. 

That night

the owl sang

as the wind whistled

and the song remained

but ironic 

till the end.

One fine day

the letter arrived

requesting the presence

for extending your stay.

Golly Mean

wearing these

brand new shoes

who's to say 

that the world

hasn't been 

trodden under

these ageing feet

again?

some days

too many words

have spilled over

these lips

that have quivered

in rage

as the mind was lit.

little by little

the light of the seed

shone through 

the darkness

that could feed

the need

of the runaway 

fiddler

wandering

through the streets.

the humming

continued

as the rain 

poured

over the crude

drumming of the

subdued henchman

as he hung out

by the ghost's

right hand stooge

singing away

her sweet delta

blues. 

After the pause...a Cause

I found 

these visions

on a torn 

piece of paper

left back 

to be discovered

from some 

other kind 

of dimensions.

The writing 

had all faded

but the meaning 

seemed clearer

it was not 

about ascension

it was not 

about decisions.

It begged me 

to reveal

what it

overtly displayed. 

It started 

to unfold

as i watched

it go naked.

It was all

about

it all 

being completely bright…

with a small

black dot

perched

perfectly

between

its infinite directions

and infinite streams.

It was quite
a sight.
it was almost
white.

Post Title nonsense for Vonnegut's ghost.

A splendid bored walker passed by the corner of the beach.

I looked and noticed that she was also looking at me.

We watched each other watch each other for a while.

And then she smiled.

I recognized her from tomorrow.

She will be the one who will smile for no reason.

And yet it appeared so real.

There was no reason to doubt its reality, really.

Nothing is fake here.

Its all real

Its all in our mind.

We never spoke.

She took off just like that.

My thoughts wandered too.

Was she just here?

Or was she dreaming too?

I never can answer such questions.

Before it was time, 

I asked another one:

Where have you been?

I have not seen you in a long long time.

Please reply...

Why?

cycles of life

The water lily had preyed upon its sister.

Her beauty had spread out horribly, 

like blood,

 oozing out from a beautiful corpse.

The birds had ruined their nest,

by building it atop,

 some people's house.

Aroused by the sound,

the humans had found,

the twigs and dried leaves,

woven in cotton and threads -

white and slightly dark brown,

untethered feathers and some bread.

Some preferences have been erased.

But what do you care,

its all the same to you,

 anyways?

Now and then, 

when the colors are penned, 

the voices find their way.

If I had only one more day...

I would have changed it any way.

Heartbeats stopped

at the devil's feet,

who was repeatedly strolling

on that lonely street. 

If I could meet 

just one more god,

he thought 

as he stood

and watched in defeat.

Wet from the brains

of some straining lad.

The devil pushed his feet,

as he pulled out his wad.

Within the treasures

was buried a thought, 

"nothing is as it should be,

but thats all you have got."

The water lily,

she had died by now.

Above,

 the beast

could hear 

the sparrow shout.

She was chirping

to her only mate

about their fate,

and how to go about.

Infinite Loop Cycles in Thermodynamic Disequilibrium

Above the list of several fake followers, there rested a humble being.

In spite of the crises evolving in the rest of the world, beings like him (or her) would find for themselves the part of space that served the purpose of a mellow sanctuary.

The birds were whispering secret thoughts in his ears.

He was only listening to the melodies clustered over the fabric of the worldly chaos below.

Some would have mistaken him for a god.

Some would have shunned him as an outcast.

But such were the times that no one cared for such thoughts and behaviors any more than the wooden posts hanging as relics of ancient cell phone towers.

The world had gone busier than a swarm of bees if they were OCD and high on acid spiked with cocaine and coffee. 

One could just not remain indifferent to the tidal waves of change that were now gushing through history like some battle fleet about to erupt from the shadows of frighteningly ambiguous depths. 

Below him the singularities accumulated in the form of a multitude of restless motions and dreams.

The turbulence of the universe had infected the core.

It was no more like it was before.

Collective minds remained suspended in some washed out medium of colluded conundrums.

Burning deep within them remained a clandestine flame of an image of freedom.

The thoughts were far from here and now.

The crowds were no more indistinguishable from the gassy sound effects ringing in the air as the wind pushed the clouds.

His thoughts exactly. 

Why were the winds moving so unidirectionally for the past few months?

The weather reports seemed like hazy recollections of noise.

The pieces of the puzzle were seriously missing.

The data remained hidden like a secret flame within, safely guarded by the layers of disbelief and doubt.

Only decadence appeared to be the potential solution out of this self-induced Ennui.

The sounds had begun to get louder as he struck a chord on the metal seat he was so carelessly perched on.

The bullet whizzed by barely missing him.

He was startled into action.

The next shot hit him in the head, penetrating his skull and lodging momentarily in the occipital lobe before exiting out from the temples, like some mythical hero emerging out from the backdrop of a dying world.

A clean shot, 

thought the hunter with no name.

After this everything was the same:

The world instantly disappeared.

The view was replaced by a different type of being.

Some sort of a soothing hum persisted.

Breathing was no more an effort like it was just a few minutes ago.

Some sort of suspended animation seemed to shift through his entire body.

2 cells became 4 and within a few days there was a blastocyst. 

Syncopation without Punctuation.

Suddenly. ...

Shockingly and abruptly.

Some may even say....Alarmingly.

Like a vortex appearing in the middle of a calm sea.

The thoughts erupted through the crevices of matter. 

Through the meat.

The soup.

The vegetables and the plants and the animals....

And the Bees.

All living things.

All the noise-

Slightly off key.

Patterns of patterns kept patterning for ever.

Dreams within dreams within dreams.

Forever like a juxtaposition of multiple universes.

Spread out on the sheets of infinity.

Pi times three is free.

The code is suspended in disbelief.

Solubility persists in its wake.

Like the galactic elements of war and peace.

Our times have sublimated into an unconsumed relationship with The Self.

But who is it that we are really seeking?

A lot of people exist.

Of course....they Survive.

Some actually manage to Live through it too.

They make it through their old age

 and their childhood fantasies.

They marry their soul mates.

and post pictures 

of shadows

 kissing behind trees.

Oceans of faces
lined up along the coast of faith.

Who was watching the waters
as the faded grays strayed?

A million sunsets have been photographed
in a matter
of just a few days! 

All around the world, 

there are eyes

reflecting blue skies

and stars
in their gaze.

Burning bright during the day, 

that one gigantic sun.

shines lovingly on the moon.

But this afternoon

has burned out too soon.

The evening took its seat.

Seeing that the night 

was about to begin

by singing in a voice

of a virgin ...
dancing,
to the devil's beat.

Apart from that

if any one
is reading these words

Please give me a shout

or send me a hat

made of stone

 and
without doubt.

And if you happen
to have 

an old bottle of wine.

Please consume it with delight

and we will get along just fine.

So...

Take that note 

out of your coat.

And put it in the bottle

so that
you could
 float
it
on
a boat.

On the Sea, 

you will see...

Me.

Then the ocean.

The river.

The stream.

A dream within a dream within a dream.........

Reality???