The Story Of My Birth.

I know I shouldn't have

left her when she were sleeping,

It was a summer night and the cool

breeze made her look like an angel

from a happy shore.

I touched her eyes,

she moved and I stood still,

everything in me came to a complete stop,

I then knew I was right,

I had to leave,

I loved her,

and that night was the only time I could

draw courage.

It was rare and we found it through each other,

(a magical moment remains magical

only for that moment)

sensitivity of a love so true,

my love then being

more important than lovers of that night.

I promised her

I would come back as this was no mystery,

for I had died in her  tonight

and yet I knew and could touch the music in my heart,

knowing that

the true heart would reach her,

in all her heavens and shores.

A Gun On My Head.

Talk me about peace,
about your way of being,
Tell me how free I am to act,
What to eat and what not to eat,
What to say and what not to say,
I am not in conflict with your way of being,
But
I feel a gun on my head,
Is it yours?

And you offered me that
I can make love and
choose not to go to war,
yet I pay taxes for
not being able to experience the
reality as it is,
I can live absolutely mechanical,
I even salute the flag and wear it on my sleeves,
But
I have a gun on my head,
Is it yours?

Breathless.

May be some questions,
May be a man,
Or a free woman,
In a door locked,
Who once played
And shared.

You are here now,
With something of back then.
Yes, unfortunately
It came along,
The feelings For you
Keep in touch with you,
They talk and they run,
I ran,
I ran till I was out of
all of my breath.......
and then,
still, may be some questions....

How about a want,
A want,a dream,
A dream to indulge,
A want so deep,
That I can't dream straight,...
To fly out,
Till you feel
BREATHLESS.

Fear.

Crazy orphans walking
in my mind,
These bastards
came in and called themselves
inspired intuition,
I was uneasy all along,
yet I played with them and
fed them,
Only to find myself choked by them
or was it fear.

Standing on my head
I unlocked a door,
and I willed
to question the assumptions
of calling them mine,
then
I let them go,
Out went these bastards:

time
timelessness
mortality
immortality
permanence
cathedral
churches
temples
incarnations
and reincarnations
darkness
and lightness.

The Joy Of Romance.

Look around
so much there is
to live for
A pebble waiting for you
The tides thanking you
A cloud floating freely for you
Dreams are endless
So is your path
And with two words in your heart
Keep walking, stay in there
with the cold ocean breeze,
may be a silent prayer will
cross your lips,
a tear may lighten you up,
and day after day
you would live more
to look around
to hear
more of your laughter,
you would call it your joy of
ROMANCE.

Oh God!

I see an object,
and now
any object could knock me over,
so what does this object do to me?
It makes me want to write,
write?
hey, sometimes I am driving, or I am peeing
or I am eating with my hands messy,
I just can't start writing, can I?
and now I am in anguish, I may loose it,
what do I do?
I know I will not remember later,
I tried that, it does not happen.
God save me from me
when I want to write.

CLAIRVOYANCE

It is only I
who carries the image of I;
The insights of I
are the I;
The intution of I
all made up by the I;
It does not matter who
reveals to whom,
What matters is
how much the I boils.

The I has twenty names
connected to everything around,
to brightness and to glory,
to health and sturdiness of body,
Being and In knowledge,
Worshiping and praising all life.

Come home to the night;
The secret is in reaching the night.
It is the journey
from home to
a dream,
a dream is the
point from where
invisible crosses
over to the visible.

The Flight

I who matter
what would attract me
if I were asked
what is becoming
wider
deeper
stronger or
find a love
that I would do some years
of my living life

Starting out
with seeing my living life
deeply observing the body
responding to stimuli
and how it escapes to get lost
never to question any business
fed up or disconnected
then being caught in such and such
stimuli

It is myself asking questions
of my own self
from that to self
then in to self
then about self
then about feeling self
then being out of self
to come back to self
and then
absorbing the self
not seeing
not perceiving
and
never ever to look for self.