Big dipper’s dip is my line of sight,

Two UFOs hover over the cotton trees,

And a few mothballs,

Dance in the cool breeze,

The garden cat is a braggadocio,

Gossipmongers are sour red plums,

They pop under my feet as I walk,

Plumage of halcyon bird eludes passersby,

It has drunk a bowlful of nectar, Continue reading “Mothballs!”


Brinjal Seeds!

Earthenware lamp wick dances in soothing breeze,

Tree leaves rustle with footsteps,

A soft cloudy mist has covered all stars,

Moon is nowhere to be seen,

The smell of burning brinjal seeds,

Mixes with Narayana chant in the loudspeaker,

Towers are still waters tilling soil of infinity,

Praana is the oil vibrating like seasonal crop,

Ropes with tin cans move in and out of wells,

Wells of nectar,

The silence talks to noise,

Taking turns hitherto untaken,

I know not the name of the land where I live.

You don’t do anything in love,

We are,

Are knots,

Empty fullness,

This moment.

The Dragon Dark!

Dragon dark,

Which appeared to you,

Had appeared to me too,

What dreams may come,

When hum binds to gross matter,

The elements play on elements,

You fly in a sky so vast,

Dreams don’t last,

No lasting dreams,

Screams creams realms,

Memes beams,

May blast,

This waking state.



Creatrix is activity,

Activity is without any activist,

How wonderful indeed,

When you let credit go,

Blames leave you;

When you let blames go,

Credits don’t concern you,

But you don’t let go,

Because you don’t

You don’t is an anthem,

Which keeps you sane when you see hens all around,

When nothing happens,

Pens rest,

Tests die,

Nothing vies for nothing.

When something happens,

It’s penned by ned which does everything.

You’re free anyway. 

Code Bliss.

Language of bliss,

Isn’t recognized by others,

It’s music divine,

Incessant omkar,

Follow the nectar drops,

They take you to the secret chamber of ecstasy,

Where tingling heart throbs like eternally vibrant spring in winter,

Read the light,

Talk to sound,

Watch layers change one after another after another,

See how Chronos plays through Moonbeams beans jelly fishes,

You merely watch as a spectator,

Torpor of Moon pouring through these holes,

Poles of heat and cold,

Bronze and gold,

Rhyme is reason enough,

Season of love. 


Teshu flowers fill my vision,

Along with surrounding hillocks,

Birds returning to nests,

Burn with twilight lamps in natural arrays,

I learn that my North star was actually in the South East,

Towers, crops, vistas,

When a suggestion is planted,

And when it’s triggered,

Whatever happens between these two,

Is irrelevant to it,

Yet you associate those suggestions and draw conclusions,

Elements playing on elements,

Mentations are imbued by modes,

How could you become what you already are?

Except in a story which simultaneously is and isn’t.

I travel on white clouds of ease,

My path is white clouds,

I am white clouds,

We avoid loud voids,

Shocks sicken themselves.


Is hop emanating from nameless?

Is shop in shad a had?

I shop in wordless ad ops. 


If there is just one reality,

You’re essentially inseparable from that,

All hats, ats, formulae mull over to hold,

That which is false,

All knacks, techniques and ques,

Clues cues keys classes hold,

Are seeker’s rescue,

Those who know can’t speak now on the peak,

Which is one with the valley,

The forbidden door is its secret den,

Which is an open source,

When at home you lock yourself from within,

And throw all the crypts, keys, alarms very far away,

Way too far from your reach. 

The Wulf Moon!

Zaza: Words played for a while and then they got tired, mired in the quagmire of fancy images. Whoever heard the story they had their tongue tied. The Wulf Moon smiled at its show-and he passed the baton to the Blue Moon-for marathon had many laps yet to go.

Logos: There were two people throwing dirt at each other. One of them had a violet kite’s tail between his teeth and it took him into the mouth of madness. Then he disappeared and nobody heard from him ever again.

Zaza: Dear master, sometimes I see the light traversing through the countenance of dakinis. I see the beautiful face of Shakyamuni Buddha in their face: an expression of oceanic awareness and profound compassion.   Continue reading “The Wulf Moon!”

Home And Heart!

Zaza: Dear master, if swain means a suitor, then boatswain should mean a boyfriend of boat.

Logos: Yes, something like that–a surplus of surplices.

Zaza: Hari in Hindi means one who takes your sins away–the lord and Dan means to give something in charity but harridan means a termagant. It’s kind of funny. Hari gives a shrew away in charity. 

Logos: Yes, Creatrix Maya stays away from Hari as per Bhagvatam. Insouciance, nonchalance, beatrix, strix, natrix and Matrix.

Zaza: Rumpledstilted skin. Those who consider themselves above their station in life. Poorvashadha. 

Logos: Getting started.

Zaza: Moon is approaching towards fullness.

Logos: fulsome fulcrum, simulacrum vernacular, curriculum curry, hurry worry blurry blunder, dandle dander asunder ati sunder. 

Zaza: Embonpoint, ingenue might be funniest pronunciations.

Logos: All words coming from French would sound funny, totally different set of sounds as in German and other languages. Dolores Claiborne born doleful solecism systematic tic-tac-toe, tacky crackle cackle calculus lustrous suborn ornamental name. 

Zaza: Sibylline sibilant, vagrant vigilante, wanton tonnage, age-old mileage, momentum, temper tantrum, truncated cant, caterwauling, high fall, fuse disuse, buxom buck, bucketful of faucet, citadel deleterious dilettante, let tent eat an ante, cantilever, high fever, favorite rite righteous sprite.  Continue reading “Home And Heart!”

The Notion of Romantic Love!

Zozo: What do you think about notion of romantic love?

Zaza: I think it’s one of the biggest delusions.

Zo: Why?

Za: Look, don’t get me wrong. As far as its divine part is considered it’s the strongest feeling out there and partly because it’s nature’s call for life to continue. Life wants to express itself and continue reproduction in physical forms–this coupled with strong urge to belong to a group, to be part of a community, to be cared for creates a sense of romantic and conjugal love at base. Then there is a most sublime part to it–which is akin to Self-realization. You love yourself the most no matter what you consider yourself to be. 

If you consider yourself to be body you love your body.

If you consider yourself to be your possessions you love them.

If you consider yourself to be your relatives you love them.

If you consider yourself to be knowledge you love knowledge. Continue reading “The Notion of Romantic Love!”