Descendant Divinity


Rest with me history of Ancestors
I can feel my descendants in what I do
As surely as the wind moves the wheat
Jewels shine in my mind to be brought
Into the hall of clear colors
My soul is a captive of seas of light
Why is the glitter too powerful
For this stone-bright place?
With silver crashing and metal
In the rainbow confusion of frequency
O glass of the statues and idols
O filaments of amber, heights of ivory
Weight of my spirit, O’ powdery gold
Flame of earth, golden disc of foundations
Body of emerald, treasures of portals
Rest with me my faithful Ancestors
Arrive after me intelligent Descendants
I know Divinity has more gifts for you.

Photography Courtesy:



The theory of life, well –
It is from the heart
That includes diversity, and unity
We exist in an amplitude of Nature

Cosmos and sexuality
The brain is our messenger
An audience of each other
The practice of living, well –
It is two by two, in proportions
Of realism – spirituality
Aesthetic, functional, intellectual
Moral, the theory of a community

Is a body connected to other bodies
Minds intermeshed with all minds
The theory of life, well –
I see generations connected by dots
Points of light in time, doing what
Is necessary to the flavours of the moment
Achieving Oneness for the multiplication
Of genes and memes, prayers to the stars.


Photography Courtesy:

The Intangible

Experience is not what happens to you; it’s what
you do with what happens to you. – Aldous Huxley


I’ve experienced what
I was meant to experience
I’ve seen and heard and met
All that I was meant to see, hear, meet
And I have loved
That which I was preordained to love
So why do I fret, all is as it should be
Experience is not what happens to you
It’s what you do with what happens to you
I’ve perceived my own perception change
Into a subjectivity of quantum possibility
There I meditated on the great ends
The release from knowing and a
Finality of loving everything
Reality is merely an illusion
Albeit a very persistent one
The end of the soul is energy
Everything is a bridge to that state of being
That lives invisible behind all sensation
Experience, fate, free-will, identity
Are merely the teachers of the wise
Who end up knowing nothing quite justly
Danger and opportunity is but the gathering
Of the ‘crisis’ of being, that is
In the last regard, quite unimportant.

Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one – Albert Einstein


Photography Courtesy:


Lyrics of a Summer Storm


Here it is Summer again
And we are talking about the end of the world
I am late by saying & singing
There is grass by the back door
On every account, we are poor

The yellow moth flowers continue to spur
Dragging their feet not, nature renews
I will not drag my heart
For a dying or changing world
It is what it is, some fate indeed

I’ve learned to accept my own fate
So shall I accept the world’s fate
Karma has a cadence as sweet
Mercy and justice together move
Here it is Summer again

Beneath sunspots ever so silent
A moon hangs in blue on midnight gardens
The world is changing like never before
I am late by saying & singing
To utter the language of the stars

We all speak in parables of the blind
Conspiracies close to our hearts
Lent out to strangers, across the canvas
Of the Earth’s serene glow
Possessing upheaval, relishing

The horrible but superb painting
Of human consciousness.

Photography Courtesy:

Early Morning Dew


Unto the Ecstasy of peaks!
I would for rapture subdue
The universe would find
Echoes of transport in me

For a diagram of invisibility
For pure light upon my brow
After a hundred years of seeking
Immobile lifted in peace

I would dropped from memory
Recollect the soul’s own way
From winds of summer fields
To triumphant range of stars

Unto the ecstasy of peaks
The elder dead and future born
Communicate, through words
That convey the signing delight

Of things where Buds do belong
Smiling, stooping, plucking, serving
Unto the ecstasy of unknown peaks
And subtle mysteries of early morning light.

Photography Courtesy:

Everything You Want


The future is a divine necessity
She is ‘whoever brought me here’
She begs us to follow with drunkenness
Of memory, randomness, variables

Beyond our capacity to surrender
The day is coming when I fly off
A soul lost to freedom & silence
I’ll never be completely sober

I have delight built like a place inside of me
I hear Sufi, Taoist, Hindu Bhakit voices
I hear Christian mystics, sacred alters
From other dimensions sip together

In the future that encompasses all answers
It’s not a Heaven or an angel or a language
It’s just the last understanding ‘whoever brought me here’
She begs me to allow new paradigms

That the poetry of my spirit at work
She personifies God’s messages
When I believe only in nothing in the universe
That is as natural as looking for it within yourself.

Photography Courtesy:

Love is Embodiment in its highest dimension


I live to feel the greatest joys
Any lifetime spent without knowing
The bliss of meditation, the purity

Of immersion with the light-body
Is not my destiny, my overwhelming
Birth right, I am matter ennobled

By the nourishing ray, the enlightened spark
I live to feel the breath of love
On my lips, feel it heave in my lungs

Not a reckless love, or a selfish note
But I want to die to self-interest
On the threshold of service

Giving back to the world that gave me
The cause to love God, the divine in us
The love that proceeds to do the highest good

For which I am capable, the wick
Of the flame of all that is bestowed
By some grace that gives and allows
Us a few years on this Planet, humble.

Photography Courtesy:

Wrap Your Beautiful Robe of Spirit Around You


I feel some Beloved presence
Pulling me like a river
To drink the dawn in bliss-recognition
And take in sunset like supper
And drink to the stars
From clear spring waters

I feel some Higher energy
Teaching me to look for signs
To observe the soul’s progress
Even in trickery and hypocrisy
I feel the last truth waking in me
I’ve given my brain to the ‘Divine’

With neurotransmitters of Ananda
I now walk completely naked of identity
So much have I accepted my fate
I study the ways of transcendence
Like an exercise of transformation
I feel some Beloved presence
Pulling me like a river
To drink the dawn in peace-existence
And take in dew on my feet for breakfast.

Photography Courtesy:

Conspiracy Video:

Mystic Disillusionment


O’ soul, bring wine for mystical devotion
For I am suffering of earthly malady
I have forgotten spiritual things

Bring me the cup of ‘divine nectar’
I am thirsty for Cosmic nature
My speech has become pained

With the burdens of brief-necessity
O’ soul, Beloved, pour me the cup
Of the inner life, that used to suffice

The solace of deeper things, greater truths
For I am impoverished by this world’s harms
The corruption of men and their unnatural orders

O’ soul, bring wine for inner peace and immortal bliss
For these lamentations are like a Buddhist
Or some fool that witnesses too much sin.

Photography Courtesy:

Love is a Divine Beauty


A true lover has faith in God-nature
A description of love that is ‘divine’
An ailment for the supramental future
A wish that yearns and aspires

For a discourse with bliss and unity
A lover may hanker after this or that
Though they know the form is not important
It is the spirit that breathes life into things

The beauty like evening talks
Of moon split asunder, of stars
The sun of the soul that joins in warmth
A true lover has the light of God-nature

Not in doctrine, scripture or holy words
But in a beloved kindness and sweet gentleness
A description of love that is ‘divine’
A service of the healing supramental future.

Photography Courtesy:

The Last Flight


The bhakti path never ends
Its tenderness watches over you
The ego disappears in surrender
Like it always has, immersed in the other

The mystical ‘other’ who is always there
In a universe of leaping up to
Divine water, ethereal light
The joy of looking for the Beloved
In common matter, the fish of time
I know you are ready for the last flight
The spectacle of the world was difficult to find
The Swan will fly away all alone

Back into the Divine, when our life
Span is complete, who shall know
If we are any wiser, any more tender?
The messengers of fate will say

What they will say, and we shall go
According to our doing, our attributes
We are disciples of nature, god, evolution
Who are we to say if we are united or estranged
The bhakti path never ends
It stretches on into lifetimes in various forms
Who are we to hope for birth or enlightenment
The Beloved steers us where we are meant to go.

Photography Courtesy:

This Surplus of Us

You constituted the grace of time
An Eternity in brief moments sublime
A revelation at the power of ‘us’
Relative and absolute with

Only an idolatry of experience
That I unto Love adjust
A little help to further each Day
That delight would stand to see

My Heaven in your eyes
You said that I would feel ‘secrets’
Spoken even when we were silent
I suit Thee like the poetry of need
The timing of mercy, the looks that near.

To The Moonbeam of Mirroring Trance


Art though pale for weariness
O Supermoon, comet stricken between
The ocean & the stars

Golden of milky blue horizons
Wandering reflecting, forever mirroring
Light, gazing on the Earth

With mellow agriculture of changing moods
Art thou joyful with inconstancy?
Forever cycling through different birth-hours
Creating in thy gaze moonbeams that bathe
My brow, inciting wild-flowers
And orbs of clouds to star-studded night

With intervals of shadow and burning brooding
Why are thou so pale for memory?
O Supermoon, comet stricken for

Nature’s tired reposes, radiant with disclosure
For another midnight of Death
Gloomier never, only more silver

In burning mimicry, with an orb so bright
Golden of milky blue horizons
That even a twilight of care, might mirror thee
O’ moon, with pangs of the poetry of the Eons
Forgotten destiny born to repeat.

June 25th, 2013

Photography Courtesy:

These Lives were heaps of feathers


These words, stain our memories
With hope, like heaps of feathers
Pillows of forever, at the edge of the valley
Of life after digested tragedy
It doesn’t come easy, the expertise
Of knowing when to suffer gladly
And when to abandon oneself to joy
These experiences, like many flowers
Each month blooms to its own tastes
In the dry grass of summer nights
Humid and decorated with
The meaning we give events
I found you, like a “we’ll grow together”
Of how and when ‘forever’ begins
Clock-struck with a person, time accelerates
Love bears fruits like mangoes
In a tropical climate, everything
Tastes better, papaya gladness
Filtered through many doors, reduced by stars.

Photography Courtesy:

Parallel of a Lost Chinese Antidote


Heaven has various glory
Sometimes but a symbol of peace
At dawn where the world is round
As with the triumph of the birds

It’s morning in the sweetest degree
Where Rapture is the last embrace
Of all the future Paradise
And bliss as a Superior Grace

Than we can see, or meet
A house upon the heights is our Spirit pure
That no dead can approximate
Heaven has various glory inhaled

Sometimes but a symbol of harmony
No other neighbor did find solitude
But in the conjunction of various needs
Who surrendered all their power

To the lucid nature of fate
From sunsets past to dawns of latitude
It’s morning for the easiest delight
‘Hush now she said, follow your bliss’.

Photography Courtesy:

Script of Life


Where light the very nimble Gentleman
Through centuries of Noon, through youth
Please pray for children, not derivatives

For debt could scare the young
Where faith the very wise Elder woman
Through waters of life, do strive –

While it is alive, Life the lap of air
To breathe and Love, do dwell in blood
Love is like life, dust to chant ‘alive’

Where plants the Great Ancestor
Of all that once came from the Sea
Though Epic is our make, faster is our

New kind of Evolution, the speed
Of mind imprinting itself in the absolute
Through centuries of Noon, that shine

That the lover who occupies this house
Might lend himself to beloved Circumstance
To play a fated role, with a stranger

Were I compelled to build magic afternoons
I would inhabit it with Birds assembled
And writ upon the Door, our names in Mandarin.

Photography Courtesy:

Songs of the Hybrid


My nose is white, and not too big
Your fragrance is in my veins
The flowers of your womb have permeated me
And I would mate, and dance for children

With songs of love, and the echo of fate
I am not of the East, born of the West
We quicken with desire
For a shared future, the triumph of Queen-belonging

My nose is white, and not too big
Not Asian and indented, but a button nose
Your fragrance is in my blood
Your hips live in the back of my mind

You churn a lifetime of happiness
Like the weight of all yesterdays colluding
With a new creation, challenge and joy
What girls care for, the creation

Of their family, their right, their worth
My nose is white, and bigger than yours
Your fragrance is stuck to my bones
The scene of your hair is laden with black

Like fibers of my genetic code enmeshed
In a hypothetical hybrid, the earthy last resort of life.

Light Relates to Us as Distant Offspring playing


All night we were dreamers
Of the light of the moon, our shared dream
It was by the right of body
That we felt the dead words: “We loved”
And I could never trust enough
It came as if, too easily to me

I heard the testimonies of Earth
As if the touch of silverware
On our finger tips, for the last meal
With the chop sticks of the
Meal of the happiness of a lifetime
All night we were dreamers
And I rushed to miss you
As if my night is attached to the fish-mouth-nipple
Of the weeping after all we have fled

You tell me to not remember the past
All night we’re together and I think
“This is it”, there are no sticky feelings left
Only the dreaming of lifetimes
That flee in earnest for new suns
To speak a new language to your body
And make a substance older than light
Out of our Eleventh hour together.

Photography Courtesy:

Foreign Woman

In a foreign country
Love comes easier, like the history
Of new beginnings, it’s an essential
Ecstasy of loving necessarily
You lie with her in the grass
Of the blooming days at the start of Summer

In a foreign country
Between yells, groans and laughter
You follow your heart into:
“Love is a serious matter”
And that’s where it all begins
At the entrance of the froth of tourists

Holding hands in public as if for the first time
The stars are still drunk with audiovisual love
Love in one clean room
Takes years to breathe out in good living
Compressed like minutes of sleep
Time melts faster with love’s tranquilizing

In the mouth of the excited world
We are getting older, translating nature’s mercy
Into parachutes of bliss and sanctuary.

Letters I tore open as our bodies melted together


I gave you love gifts
Kisses for your earlobes
I gilded the time where our palms met
Like the fragrance of clean summer air

I gave you all my time
Where hung the many shinning things
In my chest’s forgotten depths
You have enabled me to truly live

A few days, weeks, months
You gave me open letters of silver
(As it is written in the Song of Songs)
I have been cherished by you

And I have covered your skin
With the fabric of my beloved touch
And kissed you into sleep’s happy melody
I gave you love gifts

All over your delicate body
And I hung my life’s passion on you
Without needing a religion or language
But love’s oldest embrace
The last passage to Oneness.

Photography Courtesy:

I Spoke in Praise of your Mortal Hips


I stroked your hair, after the hundredth kiss
These kisses were desert over the pillow
A cheese-cake stamp of time stopped

Or she shot ahead in letters of your name
I touched your mouth, for the quiet year
Of no longer looking, listening

For the prophecy of your dreams
It hurt to sleep away from you
I touched your hand, which you never felt
But with the fingers of water, we laughed
We talked again all night, for another night
I loomed over your soul, like a lantern

With butterfly wings and glad melody
In the middle of your full eyes
I found a part of myself I had left

From previous lives, the forget-me-nots
Of spiritual centuries glued and tightening
Of the great loves we left ourselves on the long journey
I touched you with the world falling asleep
And I didn’t care, that I Would be late for bed.

Photography Courtesy:

The Room Was tipsy with your voice


If with a bitter mouth, you will speak
Speak with an open heart
For salty tears of a lost life
That which grows sweeter
The closer you get to destiny

The lips of the sweetest milk
And I will say to you it was
Written in the book of time
And I read yours of coming nights
In the plurality of your most solitary hours

I came for you with savage verses
If with crying eyes you transcend memory
I will spare you dreams, of dreaming
Of the love we found together
And it is also written, that we shall change

In the proud departure from our
Respective exiles, longest nights
That seem to pass like the rich evidence
Of what of the sweetest taste we have found.

Photography Courtesy:


I am a universe of dust
Adrift in this vast sea
fall into who’s mind by accidentally
how much no longer want to leave

I am a universe of dust
A state negligible
became to who’s favorite by accidentally
how much want to believe eternal existence

for What
let me meet such kind of you
let me do not doubt myself
let me no longer afraid of losing
In this vast sea of people
I do not want to become transparent

I am a universe of dust
Adrift in this vast sea
If you are my inevitable presence
how much no longer want to leave
i am a dust of universe

Returning from the Hard City of Civilization

From the green lushness of the hidden
Language between us
That not time or dialect can separate
I return to you, my last holy city

Where I am called upon to dance
The mountains while the world crumbles
For I have a piece of paper
With your name on it, somewhere

In my heart, like a chance patriot
Of a country I used to call ‘love’
It’s vaster than these yearning words
It’s sweeter than these torn mattresses

Returning to Eden, I am no longer alone
But I live and die for another’s embrace
She calls my name in a foreign tongue
And I know that I have returned home

A straight same place of light and comfort
‘Return to the same place at eleven tomorrow night’
Thy will is done in me, in my service
Of all the yearning of my beloved belonging.

Once a Great Love


Once a great love caked my life in one.
With the missing that a great love makes
Every minute apart, feels like an eternity

The passing of years has calmed me
She brought healing to my heart
I rest my eyes on her art

And I know I am standing
At the bank of the greatest river
My life has ever known

Looking at the sign: “Sea Level”
It’s pointing to the ocean
I know these years will race

Down to the face of everywhere
That “face level” where my love lives
And I am there greedily next to her

For as long as I can give
This greatest love that cooks
All the food I will ever need.

Photography Courtesy:

The Final Writing Brought me Peace


I have had my dream like others
Born of poetry and poverty
Dreaming with the weight of body
Living with love’s open-cares

I have had my dream with infinity
Caressed by strange rumors in my brain
When I am alone, I wait for writing
The air is cool inside my throat
I have had my dream on doorsteps
Of Mandarin idioms and Sanskrit prayers
I have wrote a mysticsm full of my own
Odes to the Cosmos, tripped up my heels

I have had my dream of reincarnations
Triumphant over the most beautiful sorrows
The tragedies were there to teach us
Like a poem with obvious imperfections

We loved and wrote because
We wanted to grow more stupid and peaceful
I have had my dream like other writers
Like an archer in flight, a swan in gleaming
The courageous arrows, gold against the blue.

Photography Courtesy:

My Rooms of Poems will Receive Me


Slowly swayed were our little truths
The rinse of poems on a stretched out youth
Shimmering they left us bare
With Epitaphs for semantics

The final language of high tendrils
That swayed and sung
Of little things on the wood’s edge
And triumph amid

The warm summer air
The quiet doorway where we grew
From a broken house into true light
Firm between stones of artistry
What were we but the thoughts we made
The poems we wrote etched our
Entire biographies, as if the elected
Voice of the day, something to keep

A light-hearted author alive
Faith to point to burning greens
That would never die, Agh, with white flowers
Whose pollen would mix with the stars

Slowly swayed were our little truths
That redfaced love of younger years
It brought us clean vocabulary
Of all that time left undone

And polished our lips for stanzas
Sonnets of the moist black soil
Of our clutch on sentience, dearly trodden
The few words our lives would leave.
The few homes of moments gone unread.

Photography Credits:

So Nicely Timed Were Certain Wave Summit Poems

Sleepless, slow and quick
Silent and composing the writing begins
A sort of song, waves on the wick
Of a lifetime of waiting
To write, flowers that split
Afternoons into sections of beauty
Words that snake, beneath time
Sleepless, quiet and ready to strike
The vocabulary buried for a lifetime
A sort of fate to write as a poem
That invents itself and never ends
A lullaby of boulevards chosen
From the years of student-poverty.

Conversations Of Children

The tumult in the heart
Waits for answers
Keeps asking real questions
And in the same tone of voice

It whispers, the only answer is love/
These conversations keep starting
And there is only us
The tumult in the heart

Is an eternal equation
Meant for two, like beating the same
With the same meaning of a life
Waiting for news of some Beloved

The tumult in the heart/
Is as old as the world
She converses with every part of
My body, your body, our world

The tumult in the heart
Waits for children to speak
Our children, no one could tell the difference
Whose children these were
For they were hybrids of the new world.

Communal Sunlit Ethic


Give me Psalms for a life
Well lifted, and gratitude in store
Give me morning embraces of altruism
To make the world a better place!

Give me a life that is real, earnest, positive!
For I am tired of living in fear
If love is not the goal, O’ soul
Tell me what should be your living poetry?

Give me art that is long, harmonious
To cherish the hours that were once our own
In the world’s brief battle field, let us say
That we loved, and fought for her

That the future is simply the recurrent present
And in surrender to the higher joys
We found our place, at the foot of compassion
At the summit of bliss is an acceptance of fate

Give me Sacred Constellation prayers
For minutes that were built with peace
For the living morning of a greater love
By the evening star, by the lighthouse

By the chapel of the heart, by the flight of childhood
Give me row after row of Beloved language
A light to lift my seaside faith
In lyrics of the purity of soul.

Photography Courtesy:

Advent of the World Government


The collapse of credibility was engineered
One by one the Great powers fell, governments
Dethroned by protesters, the people enacting
The will of the Illuminati powers

The media became a kind of fiction
Like old plots from science fiction movies
Come true, it was all an absurd script
Everything was ‘leaked’ and pawned

The secret architecture of the new world was in place
Governments are slave-unions to the Elite
Presidents are faces for corrupt intentional designs
Don’t think Governments end the world
Smaller populations are more easily controlled
World Wars profit the few, this is the repeated tyranny
Corporate feudalism, Free-market sham, American Dream
The new Totalitarian state is a global system

The bankers have been preparing for this
They plan to murder, genocide the useless drones
With new drones, engineered bloodless massacres
The final famine will be the culmination of a plan
The world will burn for the greed of the powerful
And the populace shall believe the World Government is good
And rebellion will be a crime, free-will will be monitored
The machine will be a massive propaganda

We are already serfs in their subversive Sovereignty
Divide and conquer, they will feign different parties
But it has always been a United Nations old-boys club
The history and advent of new empires is always brutal.

Photography Courtesy: