Magnum Opus

A themeless tale to speak of truth
On graceless, hallowed ground
Sauntered still, the ambled will
The past tensed future’s found
Drifting through the mirrored halls
I find myself still here
Harkened dreams or so it seems
The watchmen’s eye to leer

Mirages of a long-lost sea shows solace in the sun
Perpetrated by the sovereign state
So seamless it begun
Will they come?
There is but One
He stands amongst the trees
Natures child, hides its smile
Shown falsely, so too we

Fortune strides, the godless fly
To seek such tales beyond
Throw the flames your kindred soul
Baptised by sacred bond
By virtue of the mythic dove
That glides wingless across the plain
Gravitating to the source of all
The beginning of our shame

To summarise and prophesize
I leave you with such truths
That I and you and we and me
Can ponder on our youths
Though we speak with portend rhymes
Pay heed not to our speech
As if you know, “what’s there to know?”
Such treasonous beliefs.

Lotus Collaboration (Part VI)

Inwards I fall and fall and fall perpetual into an empty centre of mirrored illusion
I see reflections of another and look upon and ponder
But ponder and wonder still the stillness of it shakes me
By virtue of the fallen they’ll think of lesser men who’ve reigned
Men and man and I is same and whole the reign does not stretch far enough
But enough to know who knew the lost in times of thoughtless hours
So lost and still the body roams lusting for a life it was promised
Blissful thinking but yet sinking to the depths of the mindless drone
And such a steady drone to ring and rattle through ears and minds so madmen might yield
Falling to their knees to speak of entities who pass judgement without will
Now I wallow and weep on dirty knees and no ones there not anyone I want at least
Leave me with the thoughts of this silent melodic corpse, only the dead know restless sleep
And let me sleep and sleep until time and end so I might yet reach peace
All I seek is a timeless realm where we can dwell until the end
So soft in sleep the body is set free, return to soil rebirth
The earth in which we’re spawned, waiting for our restitution

Beckon born and self so pure and wilted are the doubt
Worries and all the cautions to birth anew
A blossom to be an absolute
The lotus.

Lotus Collaboration (Part V)

Like emerald eyes, the millpond rise
Soft subtle touch and the brow to calm
By word of tongue, by words to come
And heel and heel the ‘I’ succumbed

So too we, the luckless lynched and ghostly
Strung we hang on toes tipped by pointless pressure pushed
As if the suns settle is to bring forth the new age

Rest not on the whim of wandering stars
But rest on the dreams of the shimmered shores to pass
Only for a while least to the wild hungry ocean starts nipping at your feet

Come forth the dawn, come forth to truth
Speak as if the one true prophet of a god who wasn’t there
Paradise awaits you as only you know it so
But paradise’s lost and kings are cruel
Demonic myths from the throne of lost promises.

Agra Tales

Majestic as it stood. showcased by the ever-rising sun
Without registering the much desired emotional response, I approached with wide eyes
The kind of smoke-stained eyes you’d see at 6am in the Indian summer
Captured imagery and imagination could not encompass what laid before me
And yet I was left wanting more
As if the thirst of my childlike idealisation had not been quenched
Perhaps my self-composed recluse
Personified by tales of a fallen fabled foe
Where reasons for my anticlimactic rise
Are left to let the alter-ego glow

Surrounded by the symmetry of the shadowed wondrous behold
Where the voices in your head speak in riddle
As the lawless rules of time runs linear as if by will
Before their eyes they’ll see the fallen
The inter-dimensional sphere of solitude.

Lotus Collaboration (Part III)

The idea began to grow
As if divine intervention willed it so
Articulate, immaculate
Such shadows show sand and snow
Lastly comes the twilight hope
Designed to never know.

Further Into The Wild

I don’t know if this kind of thought process was healthy, to the falling rain I screamed my sorrows.
With each and every syllable that came out of my bitter self-consciousness it breathed new life into me. How strange it seemed that negativity was the groundwork in which the foundation of my moral fibre was built upon.
How every pause for thought gave birth to a sea of ideas, flowing on to the dam of filtered reasoning, separating what’s worth saving and what’s worth losing.
To lose ones identity is to lose ones ego. The paradigm of self-exploration, the paradigm of self-absorption. Narcissism stamps its flag to claim its discovery and ensnare its prisoner.
To be lost is to be free.
Not all who wander are lost are words once said, providing a rope for those who falter through life to reach out and hang on to. How desperate it seems, the constant uphill-struggle of pursuit.

Pursuit of ones happiness
Pursuit of ones dream
Pursuit of ones fortune
As surreal it may seem
Sudden it seems
Life’s grasp tights with ease
You struggle
You fight
You resist with misplaced might
You walk on by with head held high
Back to pursue
The life that’s true to you
(But not to me).
To reach out your hand and grasp onto nothing, letting the wind carry your touch, floating onwards to where you’ll never go, what you’ll never know.
You’ll find what you seek in your sleep, abandon reality to live the lucid dream. Only when you’ve stopped looking will you find what you’ve never wanted for, but what you’ve searched and yearned for.
Pride, the folly of man.

The dominant entity that thinks itself as the supreme divinity that permits life.
Who lives and who dies with the fall of a hand.
The push of a button.
The utter of a word.

The mysticism of communication.
The weightless weapon of hatred.
The conduit of knowledge.
The harmonic connection of the human race.

Though as negative as this sounds one thing’s still for sure, that we’re all in this together and for that you can be sure.
Be it pretentious or audacious, so clouded is its lore.
Leaving question with no answers.
For now.
Forever more.

Ode To Young

Artistic creation hinges on the balance of inspiration
To justify the means
The ends must meet in perfect harmony
I was waiting by the sea-bank station
As the moonlight caught my eye
I looked up to meet its stare
And watched as it did grow

Silhouetted by its haloed crown
It shined out through its seams
Wondering if to run or stand as one
I faltered to my knees
How could this be so
Whilst rivers flow and darkness knows
What’s to come once we have gone

It had seemed to meet its end
As the sunrise masked its glow
Shining on to shroud the sounds
The silence of its foe
I stood in awe as it begun
The changing of the tide
The seamless coincide.

This One’s For You

I think its a very rare thing to find someone who’s mind/body/soul can be compatible with your own.
Someone who can really make you contemplate over what is truly important in life.
Someone who can help you grow and evolve into a higher state of cognitive reasoning about our place within this world, and also to mirror this feeling back.
And yet here we are, through destiny or free-will, we now share this space in time. In this single moment of our lives, we are focused on one-another, myself the writer, and you the reader.

Knowing full well that life is always moving ever closer to the end, with this awareness in mind we begin to understand how precious life really is and how each second is one second that you’ll never get back, and choosing to spend your time within this mindset that promotes awareness, kindness, compassion, etc etc is the only way to live a life and a lifestyle as we believe to be purest.

The people I choose to submerse myself in are people who get the mind racing to better myself intellectually and cognitively, people who are my gurus in the sense that they pass on their life experiences onto me, piece by piece, brick by brick, in order for me to build myself a better understanding of who I am as a person and what my place is on this earth.
In popular culture, the word ‘guru’ represents these figures you see in the Indian mountainside that wear white robes and beads round their neck, but these shouldn’t be seen as the metaphysical standard for what is ‘a guru’.

A guru is a teacher of wisdom, of life itself and of living ones life to its fullest.
And for that everyone who I hold close to my heart is my guru.
Everyone that has passed on a certain level of understanding in order for me to better myself as a human being is my guru.

I don’t know where I am in this piece of writing, the mind rambles, and I know you’ll read and think and understand. It doesn’t need to have a format of introduction/point being made/ending as the paradigm of what a piece of writing should be set as.
I pour out of the wellspring that is my mind with the knowledge that you’ll read and listen.
And that’s all the understanding I need to type these words you’ve already read and continue to read.

– Written from a work laptop( as I sit at my desk), primarily used for corporate business. A system created and popularised as we know it in the early 1930’s. A system of business and economic evolution, a constant battle within itself and without itself, constantly striving to be the supreme entity above all.

Instead, this work laptop is being used for the development of the human mind.

Lotus Collaboration (Part II)

I was born upon an astral wave
And washed across a carbon shore
The moon had risen slowly still
To shine and be adored
I rolled and swayed within its will
On streams of lunar wind
Riddled dreams of misplaced hope
So sudden it had seemed
Washed away
Free and gone
A home is found among the silence
Somewhere to rest my self
Sure enough, lunar notes
Handwritten across the sky
The writer crafts wisdom
Subjective as he knows
And perception is my world
A world of noise and fire
And full of panic
The chaos burns the sages soul
His mind
His will
All as one
Born as one
Left as one
Surrender to the chosen one
He’ll dictate true
Believed by few
The choice it is not down to you
Geographically placed by no sure means
Whilst you may live and think and breathe
Time may show your portrait grow
Although the land leads ever home

That silent place
No noise
Or chaos
Just a slow vibration
A slow pass above
A gentle trip
Just pure

Outward Bound

There’s nothing for us here
Lest we stop and stare and wait once more
Beyond the horizon
There’s a place that you’ve dreamt of
There’s a face that you’ve searched for
What you’ll find is nothing but mystics
Intwined pieces that fit with precision
You’ll leave and then find a purpose
To feel and to be and to search and to live with a reason