The Shrew

She would cry when not needed

And sleep when desired

She was beyond indeed

Of any deed aspired

 

And with a promise for the yelling

And in place acting for roses

She would complain telling

The story of her only bruises

 

She would fain in attempt to rule

The class of beauties

Who anyhow were as mule

for the bevy of deities

 

She was again a chance to know

What God would undo

On a summer binge in faraway low

Unearth land that is hidden to redo

 

Nothing but the pestilence

And many weeks followed

Till she came out with license

To trick men who swallowed

 

Pride to say nonetheless

That She combats violence

In the face of priceless

Ego that in crib lay resilience

 

To say nothing but everything when asked about nonviolence

 

 

 

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Hypocrisy

What I vanquish within me

Silence and appropriate love form

To see the light and be

Like a stooge of public norm

 

I have curbed what I feel

Love and its genteel sensibility

Call me and I do seal

The fate of myself in complexity

 

She goads me to nothingness

Standing and uttering nonsense

Like the piper dream gone to forgetfulness

Living with senseless sense

 

In loving nothing but oneself as

the dream of patrons

Who stand and praise about themselves

And I in a forgotten canton

 

Stole nothing but love

That is in dearth

for the rosy dove

Who shall inherit the earth.

Divine Touch

What to procure for oneself but

A destiny of Gods would compel

The search for humaneness in set

Is our divine goal to tell

 

A lost city like a lost civilization

Is but in rumination

The Lord Krishna in play

For the likes of Radha that may

 

Dance on the shores of India

About 30,000 years ago

For beginning of love encyclopedia

And around the gates would go

 

The dance of Radha in meads

To the krishna’s flute

The chirping birds would like beads

Of rosary would not refute

 

A single tone of Krishna

In love immersed love would do

Bring the Radha to her feet

Like a singing Koyel would too

 

Repeat the rhythm of Krishna’s heart

Where else has been the lark

As her eyes would dart

And Krishna’s tune would kill the bark

 

Of thorny The love in its gloom

There’s the purple dream in her eyes

As Krishna would bring to loom

The love kiss and all the sighs

 

Of love having fulfilled

It’s transposing need

To sing the song of refilled

Earth’s solemn promise and deed

Child of Chance

I am within nature’s bounty

A child of man and wanted

Love for the sake of society

And within its reach enchanted

 

But a slip of tongue that said

Oh! A man in Oedipus’s eye

was the heaven mislaid

For he bid her a reluctant bye

 

To sugary feast in plenty

Of what is borne

And hidden in humanity

Like a slain morn

 

And with the rising sun

Bid adieu to flaunt

What is pleading with nun

And at silent jaunt

 

I am a child of chance

And in her arms

A true hero of dance

Fulfilled with sodden balms

Prometheus Unbound

On the cushion I chose to sit

Knowing what is for me

Of Divine knowledge

I have only a little bit

 

To impress upon air

My own sound I yell

And to meet the lair

I sing lullaby of hell

 

She keeps quite and tight

While I openly rejoice

The bright clothed night

I greet joker joked thrice

 

I have a painting borrowed

On the money I dispel

She lifts the curtain towed

Only to find Promethous impell

 

I decide to forego painting

And embrace her rather

She is chanting

Songs of her dead father

 

Only he has brought the Promethous unbound.

 

Immortality of the Soul

The soul is immortal is the belief that hardly goes along with the modern construction of reality. The soul is ignored by the modern day theories of existence though Nietzsche has propounded the the theory of eternal recurrence. Nietzsche has failed to convince the modern day philosophical schools of thought that soul exists and exhibits the pattern of birth and death alternating each other. What could be the reason behind turning a blind eye to Nietzsche? May be it has to do with the pursuance of Nihilism during the two world wars and hence it fell away with the succeeding generation of Philosophers.

Even Pythagoras after theorizing with the hypotenuse as the square of sum of squares of adjacent sides fell unconvincing with his ideas of immortality and transmigration of souls. We could believe the mathematical abstractions but the other abstractions are ignored as there is not enough proof of them. The abstraction that soul exists comes from the way we abstract things that are themselves pure abstractions like mathematical figures squares. circles, rectangles etc, yet the abstraction of the soul are not believed in.

Now we abstract time from the present, from the nowness of moment thus we abstract moments after moments of time. Such moments come from fictional substance which unfolds all that we could abstract and in which the time exists, the fictional substance could mean the substance through which time propagates. The abstraction regarding the immortality of soul also comes from the moments we abstract from time. If each abstracted moment is true, the possibility of soul is also true. Nature is part memory and part consciousness. All that consciousness encompasses is stored in the nowness of time, the current moment of which I am made aware by neurons transmitting in central nervous system. From the consciousness I feel reality but the unconscious stands for the parts of psyche that are unknown and may relate to our previous births.

Thus we could safely assume the possibility of the soul exists.

In between the lines

In between the lines I hope to exist

For the charm of existing in undoing many lives

That I am living every day and used to be

Living in otherwise proverbial worlds

Where in sparrows cheat themselves in knowing

They are alive on their own desire

And pigs living in a pigsty of flourishing heavens believe

So I happen to move myself likewise in muddy sloth

The senseless paradise I cohabit day in day out

The ring tones on mobile phones ring more keenly

As if knowledge of infinity saluting Goddess of beauty

I salute the mightiness of mountains standing tall by themselves

And in knowing immeasurable pain nature knocks itself

From existence to existence

Till I see brethren of pygmies and trolls take out in procession

Merciless love that I long to draw from your bosom.