Philosophy · poetry in motion · Psychology

The Ego

I gallop on a horse,

returning from afar,

fields of knowledge,

distract me for,

food of thought,

My ego is in saddle,

love belongs to me,

and in this world,

I behold nature,

as pure as water,

of the holy being,

my alter ego,

dresses me for God,

and returning from,

the communion,

do I think,

another thought,

of God’s Kingdom,

In Eden’s backyard,

where my Ego was born,

and Id grew to dispel,

what cannot be played,

my voice on a,

gramophone record,

I became a singer,

and love knew,

no bounds,

till the ego,

withdrew and,

all was gone,

And I became,

a monk forlorn,

idle on the hills,

my ego would,

die they say,

and I would,

never be reborn.

love · Philosophy · poetry in motion

Timeless Love

Time is endless like in a thought,

spoken by the sage is thoughtless,

Nothing extinguishes fire but water,

While wind surges fires wild in forest,

The inner eyes thank the mighty earth,

For the birth of body devout as it seems,

To the roots, the body clutches like a

mighty flower that flowers in water


Nothing is permanent but time,

Salutes to its manifestation in

Thoughts of a sage, silent and aloof,

There are a beauteous form and nothing,

exists but the atom and the self without atom,

Is the soul of every man when on the,

mountains nothing sweeps silence but,

thin air that dwarfs ego and love is born

Philosophy · poetry in motion

Why is there an appearance of something?

I reflect upon the universe for I am conscious in an advanced manner as consciousness reflecting upon itself. Then why do things appear as they are instead of revealing the true nature of themselves? The car appears to be as it is rather than revealing itself of various components which no doubt is revealed on closer inspection. But why to inspect closely why not car reveals its essence immediately when we see one?

The things exist according to the laws of Quantum Physics which forbids to reveal the truer self unless closely examined for the universe was created with a contingency plan for the creation needed to project itself into the future as is proved by Science, the universe is expanding. The expanding universe indicates there was a contingency plan in big bang to project far into the future.

Now when I see a car, the car is not only meant for the immediate moment but has a contingency plan for it exists for the future too. Thus we see the appearance of things rather than the essence of things as revealed to us. This is the reason why the man took long to invent computers. It was hidden in the contingency plan of future. Thus we could say we abstract things from the future and all the things man ever need are present in the contingency plan of big-bang.

art · Philosophy · poetry in motion

The Red Skies

I was born in Russia with a twist for the tale of love,

who would elope every now and then in the zone of war,

It was never a silent place to leave the kids home alone,

and venture on the streets to stalk the police like a ranger,

with a monkey-head and piercing eyes, the skies are redder,

and redder with the writer hardly saying anything he wants,

while the scientist wants freedom from the moribund earth,

The war has its own hero and its own zone which succors power,

in the hands of the privileged, who let the dogs out, he asks?

Champagne on the ice in a dilapidated bar which sans a singer,

There is scaffold looming large for those who see red skies,

and demand a zone of their own they could have fought the war,

with Nazis on doling out life to those who swap fear with fearsome,

Till Charlie switched on the TV for the war to end and damn it never ended.



love · Philosophy · poetry in motion

Love for love’s sake

In the glow of afterglow of a tulip,

morphs shape into destiny,

never questioning the faith in a sublime tonal value,

of the imperceptible you, the blue water of the seas gushing.

the sensation of love flowing through is the cause of all love,

that I love you in the very essence of the thing,

is the answer to fallacies logic compiles,

in hosting itself in another soul,

the imperceptible you is the last sentence,

of racing towards God’s perimeter,

in calling goats a goat of spirituality,

hardly ever munching the words of passion,

I declare God is effusive of civilization,

that we hardly reconsider in knowing each other.

the gambit of a pawn brokering in the silence of the room,

when hardly anything moves but the essential being,

of King conquering the counsel of the world,

He is now no longer a rascal sleeping under the night sky,

that he too has the dreams of making king crown the glory,

of a pawn broker and love for love’s sake uniting.

God · HOLI · Philosophy · poetry in motion

Vodka Pyre

`What would you call the lovers? lovers after all,

No loose names but she was called Natasha of the village,

Getting drunk on the vodka pyre was a roofless world,

the lovers would dump cigarettes into their mouths as,

tar would burn the pyre of love echoes for ill gotten hearts,

They would wait in the open and a studio for the walker,

who would chase the love of his life on the vodka pyre,

Drinking  and loosing a part of self to fire in reflections,

indeed is a bold move till his love broiled like sunlight on the hot tin-roof,

There is a dead monkey for the ghouls of winter,

Drinking Vodka with a potato tart while snow languished,

in the headquarters of Nazis running through Petersburg,

He would’t spare the Nazi girl on Vodka Pyre, an oath to,

be with her through yes walking, walking, walking,

till she gave up fumes of fair cheeks reddening,

like turnips under the dead winter  lit her thought,

once gain on the Vodka pyre, drunk  on the sly he stalked her.


art · Beauty · Philosophy · poetry in motion

The Powerbroker

In  boding love lives a lifespan of Powerbroker,

Who aligns with life at its foot hold,

And deign nothing more than the luck that portends,

itself as becoming a laughing stock in the association,

Of Italian saints now celebrating their existence,

in a bar readily cherishing  the material of love song,

that  he sang in mortuary the day her beloved died,

and to reconcile the fate to film on the screen,

where Hero lies and lies about truth of gravity,

That nothing binds him to the girl in spotted frock,

who frolicked like an angel in the arms of a devil,

half representing the work of  a Philosopher,

Daring to control the engine of poetic machinery,

stop-gaping now and then varied thorns among roses,

that he picked the rose and had decorated her hair.