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.

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Lotus Collaboration (Part IV)

Desolated he stood, with palm empty to match his mind
Selfish feet fall hard on soft sidewalks soaked in night
Secluded by the shadows that watch vigilantly from afar
Weak words wont settle the settled son

Classy cats with crooked hats whisper riddles in his ear
Silver tongues peel back the blinds of bottomless gutter holes
Surrounded by fortunes folly as they falter to and fro
And gather go and go between the children on the street
Dreaming as they wander, as if ignorance was a blessing

Oh praise! Oh praise! What do we see when shivers trick the eye?
Blinded by the past as we’re left to wonder why
What speaks on winds from valley mouths
Language of a tribe where the speechless speak with purpose
Know the voice of age and dust

So sudden does it end, where dawn meets dusk
Bright the field of future gold
Speaks the story of timeless old
New whispers in the wellspring soul
As our spirit leaves this world, worry not, for there are others to fill the role

Deviant masks count slow songs from tapered lips
As if all they know is the script they’re given.

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.

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.

Words.
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.

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.

Desert Folk

Down by the Mississippi moon
Johnny Silver shot down by his foe
The outlawed preacher and his silent teacher
And those without know
Godless be feared
Omnipotently here
Through riddles and tears

So shallow soul
What’s left today
We ask of you to speak
For the ones without a say.