Tag Archives: madness

Embrace

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Embrace

Gazed deep into your misery:

Something white, cold,

shining, longing to be

clear(er)…longing

to be free.

It was never black, your dark;

Never the black of death despair,

Never too blinding, never,

as I see.

 

Crumbling you, held in me:

My abyss, a whirlpool cradle

carried your absence

more wearily, than

the presence of your trials,

the salt of your tears.

 

I couldn’t see, what was to be.

 

Never too strange to appear

strangers, to the ever-speculating

eye: in unison of mad hearts;

in a flight of minds, minds

wearing out in chains

of amplified awareness.

 

I can be you one day.

I’m in the becoming

of your evolution; never meant

to leave you alone with

your demons: now my demons too;

forces raised from graves

l locked eons ago; presuming

I, the warrior, the mother,

had lulled them into forever slumber.

But, they dug tunnels to you,

to manifest yet again, to me.

 

In this chapter though, there is no fright.

 

Embrace you and our demons, till

they all turn human, till their venom

loses potency, in the womb

of this Reverend Mother.

 

 

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Countenances

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Countenances

The countenance escorting her presence befalls as a thousand questions showering as meteorites, on my awed face.

I have always known, for what now only seems centuries, that God is with me. In this moment though, my doubts are enhanced and my fears of existence, a little reinforced.

‘What is this state? What are these sounds enveloped in it?’, I find myself lost in this transfix of a controversy once again: Hadn’t I been a fool, yet again, to presume (without much evidence) that I was perhaps rid of the recurrences of this condition!..?

It all comes from Allah, I must not forget that either. This ‘condition’ I must own as my own; there is no attempting to escape the inevitable: else there is then further madness.

There is already enough madness here…not insanity, but pure madness, the good one. It’s the sort of ‘good’ that can occasionally turn bad too, though not without some useful consequences often then.

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‘I know you are sad, may I help you?’ I ask. He doesn’t reply. I gaze at the innocent child masked in that cold face, from behind those dark-circled eyes. It is not all that hopeless, there is still a flicker, a shine there. He turns away that mask of a face, wants to hide the shine again.

He closes his eyes. I return to the realization I have to go, I have work to do. We are fortunate we met on the street and not elsewhere; or you wouldn’t have been able to shut your eyes so much at will, I couldn’t have walked away with so much ease.

 

 

Written: 09-09-2016.

Seeking Madness…!

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I want the madness within me, whoever that is, to exude, and to exude itself with full force.  I crave for a madness that bares me naked to the world, in this world where the competition lies in the lies to hide the human reality. I want the freedom not to choose what is expected of me, for the sake of a man-made life, to be chosen. I want the choice of love, a dream of the material death, life of the soul. I want not to be a king to the people, nor to be the people to a king, except in a kingdom where the king is a purity being the only truth I know of.

Tell me not, that what I desire for is the unattainable, for that would make you an absolute liar, in the eyes of what you might label as absolute madness; if you tell me though, that I’m losing my mind, I shall understand what you imply by the word ‘mad’ and why so, but I won’t agree with your definition. There IS no definite anyway, other than the ultimate truth of purity. The sooner all of us admit to this reality, the better it is for the journey towards the nothingness that awaits us, inside of us.

I believe in the unseen and know of the unknown; yet what is known to me is nothing, and I’m content with that. I also know that if I fail to accept the world, I might be rejected by her as well, but that has ceased to scare me anymore; for the world prefers to believe in the visible, and thus it does not know the charm that lays concealed in the ‘not knowing’, the mystery of the invisible.

I HAVE been on the other side, on the darker side of death. Death is the gap between the spark that ignites and then burns fiercely, each day, to seek the truth, and the knowing of the fact that the sought for is in close proximity of the seeker. And as this space goes unnoticed with time, it expands so much as to reach the extreme opposite of the truth, and shedding life along the way, itself turns into THAT very death one day. I was somewhere close to that point of no return, and then a miracle happened, and I became a believer, both of miracles and of the miracle-maker.

This was not a scientific coincidence, like the apple pulled down by gravity and bouncing off the tip of Isaac Newton’s skull. This was not like the giant leap for mankind by the first step set on Moon’s surface. This was not like developing in the security of my mother’s womb and finally making it to the jungle outside. This was not like any chemical or even herbal drug that any person has ever experienced or ever will: This was a lot, lot more than all of these combined and many more of what I had been mistaking for (a desired) life. This was coming back to life itself, by watching only a glowing particle of the tip of the iceberg after having driven a ship into the middle of destruction and having assumed death of the self for what had seemed like centuries. This was strange, weird, dramatic, beautiful and many more words which have not even been invented yet by man, and probably never will either!

Written on: 25-06-2012

Parents!

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She gave birth,

So she’s not alone anymore,

Not knowing, she brought

Another lonely soul to this world

On its path to abhor, away from the pure.

 

Somebody should’ve told her,

The prodigy was better left unborn,

How could yet another drop

In the ocean of the madness of life,

Keep her away from being forlorn?

 

From the moment she conceived him,

She was delusional, that he’s ‘special’;

In what way, she couldn’t say

Thus took control of his life,

So his ‘special-ness’ dare not go away!

 

To the world where this kid was born,

He learned to conform in fear of rejection,

Not giving much thought to his own reflection;

His father he barely knew,

A sailor, often sailing with the crew.

 

Made to suffer in denial and silence,

Paying the due for faults of life

Till one day, he wakes to reality,

And knows he’s not his idols, himself

His mother a neurotic, that sailor’s wife:

They’d tricked him into some ‘cycle of life’….

 

Knowing not, what to do

With their ‘marriageable ages’

Knowing not, their selves,

Or life’s evolving stages,

They’d given birth to a monster, not a child;

Given birth themselves, and vanished in the wild!

 

 

(Written in March, 2012)

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The bare nakedness of the attire, she adorns;

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She’s bred into reality, by her necklace of thorns.

In her eyes, madness! Each fleeting moment,

A brand new tale, as a trial for her hearing;

Her futile attempts fail to cradle to silence

The baby evolving, in her eternal bearing.

Thus a kingdom of a breed, with the Queen in exile;

A tear trickles down, a concurrent widening smile!