Saturday, October 24, 2009

On a windy morning

A gentle breeze wafting by
A picture of everything
Reflected in one's eye
And the windy blow does bring
My bitter-hardened heart to sing
About myriad-frivolous things
And the said breeze does ring
The bells of memory
Chronicler of my life passing by

Saturday, October 10, 2009

The Forgotten

The lights of the Road from far away seem
Like jewels from necklaces of forgotten queens
As they lie buried beneath below
Underneath centuries of dust, trod long ago
Who knows what memories they hold
Of lives lived, loved, joys and sorrows untold
What mountainous heights scaled and depths plumbed
What pleasures experienced, temptations succumbed
Their lives lived, in the halls of time placed
Their memory no more but not yet erased
A little flower of joy does spring
A little bird of hope yet sings
Of their wondorous lives lived so long ago
As they lie buried, cold and dark below
And these harbingers are descended from old
Ancestors who sang and flowered in those days of gold
While no men remain alive, of them to sing
Yet in the earth, the rocks, the trees those notes yet ring
Of a time of love and loss and war and shadows
Yet the setting sun in the brightest day glows
And none save birds are left to sing
Beneath the tombs of the Forgotten Kings

Thursday, August 6, 2009


Stumbling upon a consciousness
With the mind numb
And thoughts darting, forking fast
Inside the flaccid congitarium

Finding, seeking, hunting a rhythm
to escape a truth now out of scope
So that the new reality burns out
any possibility of hope

Pain brings sensation not sorrow
Hence it's purpose is void
Thus it is nulled, humbled, mastered
It's reason for existence destroyed

We seek eternally, the meaning of time
Searching, gathering to the limit of ability
And as its scope expands limitless, we become
Prisoners of our own infinity...

Wednesday, August 5, 2009


The grey clouds part
Comes out no hopeful ray of light
But a piercing blast of hated heat
And with it our hopes depart
Oh cursed land!
Barren of hope and freedom
Why must we dwell
In thy cruel unyielding bosom
While our dreams lie dead, cold and fell.

As the traveller of the dusty roads
reaches the end of his journey
and for the last run his mind goads
Him, for truth is near, he is weary
And the righteous victim finds
that the author of this most gruesome of deeds
the defiling hands that perperated these crimes
are his own

For when along the dagger-path you walk
when you teeter beside the razors edge
Both sides are one
Both sides emerge
equally dark in the abscence
of opportunity
And that last instrument of denial
fades through the blood-stains of time
A futility called hope...


"...I hate the sun on principle: it gives little choice and permeates noxiously into every aspect of existence. Driven by our NEED for light we are forced to accept unwanted unneccessaries alongside the satisfaction of our ravaging, primal need..."

"...reading is like masturbation, rarely does one orgasm but one keeps repeating in quest for that first earth-shattering experience..."

"...thought is the sole posioner of deed. An excess: leading to hesitancy and over-calculated error; little, to risk..."

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

A much maligned verse...

The queen of hearts
She made some tarts
On a hot summer's day.

Being unwise
She didn't realise
That the King of Hearts was gay

All the kings
With silver rings
And moustaches dark as soot

All except our quiet, queer King
Without the silver ring
And clean shaven to boot

But not so naive
Was our queenly wife
And she found out the truth

"Off with their heads!"
As they lay in their bed
Cried our Hearty wife

But laws have changed
Become less deranged
Now 377 is gone for life

Now bug-ger-ing
Of its odious ring
Is forever shorn

And queer-O's say
And the day they have won!

So the queen of hearts
She made some tarts
On a hot summer's day

Eating the tarts she made
Screwn the Jack of Spades
The King of Hearts contented lay.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

End of Creation?

Why don't I write anymore? Why haven't I drawn for 5 years? It's a strange and irrelevant question, forgive me for lapsing into this phase of self-importance, ironically the very act of my apology to the reader implies a conceit of presuming that there IS one!

And it is this that I seek to address. I haven't drawn for ages because I was afraid of drawing, of not being able to complete my task efficently, not merely out of a lack of skill, but due to a warp in my logic, a lack of completeness in the vision of the thing I choose to represent in my art or my prose. An unneccessary, unnatural fear, not merely of being wrong, but being wrong and ignorant of its cause, in short being irremedially wrong.

I found that when I viewed paintings I had done years ago, weeks ago even hours ago, seemed empty and vapid. Not devoid of complete meaning and purpose but worst of all: lacking in perspective.

I tore them up. I burnt them and scattered their unseemly ashes.

What a fool I was! In my conceit, to believe perfection would be attained so easily! If one's goals are achieved without effort, there would be no meaning to the word GOAL then. Magic, as a force of life, would have a logic but would be devoid of a REASON for existence.

It is this realisation that helps one grow, I shared it with you; dear Reader; not to help you avoid my mistake, because that is impossible, you have to make your own unique mistakes and learn from them, but to share with you this greatest truth, that I have REASONED, and that which you have reasoned before me, or after me, is irrelevant, for in the light of the absolute truth, chronology is of least importance...

All Rational things are logical
All logical things are not rational.

That which has not a reason for existence, does not. Logic is a mere gauge of possibility of existence, not a determinant of it.

So fellow humans, do not, in pursuit of reason, be led astray by your own logic and leave the Path of Reason, and do not forget to forgive my patronising, condescending, preachy choice of prose! Humourous articles shall follow soon... Bye! Gotta paint!

Saturday, June 27, 2009

High Hopes

Just saw the video yet again... haunting... lilting melodies carried on the breeze that bring tears to the eyes. Melodies? Sacriliege to call them just that... Visions of beauty that rip one out of disillusionment, carrying them away to the ZONE the ultimate destiny of the ones to be truly marked.... the TRIP the aura exuding a mystical power over something above mere senses, somethings connecting at a fundamental level to the mind, unhindered by chains of delusion or impossibility, something pure... transcending reason... transcending life. The essence. The reality. To be there.

I love you Syd Barrett... Gilmour... Waters...
Mary my Mary my Jane my pain! Where art thou when I'm in need!

Sunday, March 29, 2009

The Phoenix as a mythological symbol

The phoenix is one of the oldest mythological symbols known to man and also the one most cloaked in reverence. The mention of this mystical bird dates back to the egyptian civilization over 3500 years ago when this was known as Bennu, the Ancient Greeks believed it to have its origins in phoenica and hence they called it the Phoenix, derived froom their word for the flame-red colour that this bird was generally believed to be. There are proofs that the Garuda of Vishnu in Indian mythology as well as the Senmurv in Persian and Feng Huang in Chinese mythology as well as the Zhar-Ptitsa of Russian folklore are all derived from the same general legend of an immortal bird that bursts into flame every 1000 years and returns to life and youth from its ashes. This bird is also said to possess healing powers as well as great knowledge and immense strength. Among contemporary authors, one is familiar with Fawkes; featured in J.K Rowling's Harry Potter series; who shares the common traits of all Phoenixes. Now let us examine the reason for humans, from the dawn of civilization to the modern day, being so intrigued by this particular legend more than any other.

One explaination springs to mind: that of Primal Fears and Desires, i.e, feelings that are part of our general RACE MEMORIES.The first fear is of course the fear of Darkness, which pre-fire cavemen would have experienced. For them, darkness meant certain death if they strayed into it, because of the numerous dangers that lurked namely: losing contact from the tribe, accidents due to lack of visual input, being preyed upon by nocturnal predators and the general human fear of having one sensory input disabled. Hence they would worship and revere anything that drove away the darkness. It has been noted that the Sun and Fire are one of the chief and primary elements worshipped as gods by the early religions. The Phoenix, is a bird of fire, it can transport itself by means of it and can burst into flame; when an attempt to harm it is made; and hence survive. Thus, it can be established that this is the first reason that the Phoenix myth arose.

The second Primal Fear that governs humans is the fear of DEATH and subsequently, the fear of aging. The Phoenix, according to legend, was a bird that did not age, nor die, only preparing a nest of perfume and spices (expensive ingredients in the Ancient World!) before the millenial ritual of burning and consequent resurrection. This trfle too, it can be safely deduced, was introduced as a consequence of the human knowledge that death cannot really be staved off, so they opted; in their mythology; to preserve it in a ceremonial, rather than absolute, form. This may be the second reason that the Phoenix was revered as a religious symbol.

The remaining reasons can be deduced by examining the basic human Secondary Desires, i.e, the fantasies every human being capable of will indulge in and according to his capacity, take steps to fulfill after his Primary Needs are satisfied. Foremost among those is the desire to FLY. Since time immemorial, man has desired to take wing and ascend to the skies in glorious freedom. Before the advent of modern technology, in fact even as late as the 20th century, flying was considered impossible and a foolish fancy. Therefore, it is easy to see how this mythical creature came to be a bird, for men envied the eagle's flight even more than they the lion's strength or the wolf's nose. Hence the Phoenix had to be a bird. It is interesting to note that later, to add strength and more 'humanity' a modification or development of this legend took place and the Sphinx and Gryphon (or Griffin)legends arose, these creatures being part eagle, part lion and part men and immortal and knowledgable to boot! The imaginative miinds of men had begun to take complete scope of their fantasy; with roots in the fear of power; and these later legends came to be regarded as mysterious and powerful creatures to be avoided rather than symbols of worship.

The Phoenix was revered also as the god Apollo's advisor and decorated the banners of many an ancient army. In modern times it has been used as a symbol for peace and by the captains of the armies of the Greek Revolution in modern times. However, despite all that has been uncovered about it, it remains one of the greatest symbols of humanity, for it embodies the one unquenchable, immortal quality we possess: the Human Spirit.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

The Diary of Mephistopheles- On the regurgitation of thought

Weep at the joy
Of freedom from tears
As you tear out remnants of
Your thought once whole
Despised inside your mind
Watch as their consequences unfold
For everything inside you
Is manifested outside as
You truly love what you know
You shall Not be kept
From possessing what was
Once yours shall now be whole again
And feel it spread to the chaos without
Mirroring inversely that within
And once more from the eternal spring
Shall spring havoc and din
For what was shall be again
And what will be IS
And once that which you left unfettered
Shall return to you and ring...

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Random Reason- Marijuana Fix

I walk in a dusty haze
Where dreams come and wake you from reality
Where slumber is the disturbance
An infinite melody of noise
Beseeches acceptance from reluctant ears
It's lonely out here in the crowd
And indistinct shapes lend company
to my solitude and my pain
I feel burdened by none
Of what matters to ordinary mortals
I soar above desire in a valley
Of air where I see my substance
My soul solidified by my fancies of thought
And dreams take flight
And are brought soaring up by the power
Of conscious thought made free
And unburdened, unchained save by air
Like an eagle I soar
In the deep vales of my own Dark consciousness
And I see my soul of fire
Unstained by flame or by mortality
Once is eternal
An instant spells doom
And the shards of immortality I gather
To save my dying spirit from the finality
And fear lest they pierce
the very thing they were meant to protect
I fly on in hope...

Saturday, January 17, 2009

The Triad Rules

The following post was conceived in the midst of the Triad meeting on a gentle winter's day. The Triad is Me, Ak and Suck. We RULE! Love to them both...

The Sunbeams' Sorrow

Sitting in the sunshine
On a winter morning fading
Watching as the leaves fall in rhyme
Yellowed by autumn's jading
Brusquely bitter as the touch of time

The wind blows messages covertly
to ears deafened by its passion
and the words are lost in a mystery
the manner of things worldly in fashion
a burst of faded energy

Sunmbeams brave their way
through the burning touch of cold
and in gentle rhythmic sway
their healing touch unfold
and let Morning guide Day

The sunbeams that are lost
On their way through
the embittered touch of frost
they find sanctuary
in the embrace of moistly glowing clouds that need them most

Some sunbeams are lost forever
And the ways to Earth they cannot find
And in their bittered joy fading never
Their own happiness they bind
And those paths they trace...
Forever and ever and ever...

Saturday, January 3, 2009


On a cold january morning
When the fog levels all colours
All is discoloured
All is united in white
And all encompassing indistinction
Where reality entwines itself around
The pillars of ones perceptions
And they are shaken in the act of expansion
Tremors that perhaps only the strong
And the weak can endure

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Farewell to the sea

‘Tis with heavy heart and heavier feet
That I take my leave of thee
Boundless Ocean where heaven and earth meet
O mystery of mortals! O restless sea!

‘Twas a fateful day when I first met
And since that day you have stirred in me
The longing that I can’t forget nor regret
The unquenchable thirst for the Sound of the Sea

Your briny Deeps unexplored from Beginning
And Virgin you shall remain for Eternity
You shall in multitudes of mortal hearts keep stirring
An imperishable longing for the Sea

Since times long past, faded to the Deeps of time
You have remained a source of wonder and mystery
A vestige of the Powers long since hidden but in Rhyme
Yet a shade of it remains to live forever in the Sea.

You brought back for an ephemeral pause
A sense of what is lost and will forever be
A hint of the wonder of what Was
In the immeasurable depths of the Sea

The awe that mortal heart has for you and will ever
The fear and yet love that you inspire in us to be
The lost songs of Ancient times that sound again never
A shade of those tunes I hear in the roar of the Sea

Sister of Gaia you remain, yet mother of your own
Children who populate your restless Deeps
Yet all across Her is your name known
As the unconquered, the pitiless Sea

You are; what mortals dream to be; Purpose
Alone nought beyond it do you see
And Man is reminded briefly, of a flash of what he was
Before he surrendered his immortality…



I have been to the Deeps of the earth, under caves where the human mind cannot but feel despair, and have felt nothing. Places where ‘tis said that the Old Powers still abide in some strength, and have felt no presence, rather only absence: of human traces.

I have gone to remote shrines rumoured to be of great power and containing great energies; I have not felt much beyond solitude; unspoiled and unsoiled wilderness perhaps; but naught else.

Yet in the midst of swarming hordes, among the unwashed millions when I beheld the ceremonies taking place in some ancient temple of great renown: I was stunned at the Power emanating from that place. The sheer scale and magnificence of its architecture was mesmerizing in its entirety. The raw force of the will that cut such a great complex out of the living rock and created structures of such beauty is a breathtaking spectacle to behold. Whatever be its motivation or compulsion, human will was the adamantine tool that shaped structures out of stone, and no less the faith that moves people year after year to pay homage to the powers; real or imaginary; that were the cause of this creation. If that power were to be focussed towards building a temple FOR what mattered and OF what mattered then we would be a force to reckon with indeed.

Perhaps it is as well that Sight is possessed by few.

Shattered Hope

At the point of desolation
Where nothing grows but misery
And silences resound across the chasm

The chasm is bridged
A rope of daggers
Forays into discontinuity

In the Deeps of the Earth
Lie these barren caverns
Shielded from Light

The silence is broken
By the tinkling of shattering
Of crystal, growing in the rock-heart

It has yielded to the oppressive
Weight of the darkness
For a crystal of Hope it was…

The Daemon King

Little Arde plays in the orchard at noon
“Don’t go beyond the far stile” his mother calls
“Why not mama?”
“Because the Daemon King will get you” calls mama
To scare her son from wandering afar
But Arde cannot stop wondering
Who is this Daemon King?
With Satyr Hooves and Magic Ring
With crown of red iron
Hot of hellfire he is?
And lo across the stile he stands!

“Arde precious sugar honey lad
Come to me kingdom
I’ll feed you and treat you good
And you’ll naiver want to return from
My lovely lovely neighborhood!” Intones the Tempter
He of the horned head and tail spike
His voice is deep and rich
Like honey and sweet apples
Tall is he and dark like oak wood
“Come to me my little one!” croons the Daemon King

The little child of precious heart
Of trusting mind and open soul
The little boy with heart of gold
Would just as soon be ready to depart
When he remembers his mama
And rushes back in the direction of his home
But the Daemon King has put a spell
For time untold can him He hold
Or any in his own special Hell.
As he watches his victim’s mind unfold
To him most precious the immortal soul

“Begone you father of lies!” mama cries
“Your twisted horn and tail spiked
Can little harm a pure soul that defies!”
“Is it so little girl? Do you challenge the strength
Of a Being older than thy race of mortal minds?”
And Dark is his laughter and rich and beautiful
Like twilight in a dark forest when the day is about to die
“Does thy mortal soul dare to stand against Me, older than the night?
Do you dare to save thy child from thy race’s plight?
Or will you pray at the end of the day
And follow in Faust’s footsteps, Faust the imbecile
Who dared challenge Mephistopheles’ might?”
Roared Mephistopheles and his rage is terrible to behold.
Tall and dark was he with eyes bright
And tail spike curling with his might, Hot Hellfire in his gaze alight.
Stooping over like a cloud the Lord Mephistopheles
Bends and catches both Mother and Child
“Let all the angels that yet live come and see
What is the end and beginning of Mortal Folly!”
And he devours them by light of day, the Daemon King
For as night and twilight he holds under sway
And all is alight with power and terror and beauty
And peace under a cloak of Darkness
And peace under darkness
And terror and Peace…