Netted

Netted

We’ve heard much; her hair,
Curled into a past filled with strong hatred,
Spice, ignored interest, and consensual harlotry
Aha! Well, she’s a maze,
Quite the intricate confusion that I desire
The broken piece of human cutlery,
That I prefer to shelve instead of dispose
She’s made of sharp pieces,
Of edges that will make you bleed
That look blunt in the dark,
And sparkle only in starlight
She’s broken, secretly; broken enough,
For me to want to fix her

Too much time sometimes, I conclude we spend,
In the treacherous abstractions of poetry,
In the brushstrokes of unseen colors,
And unread letters
Describing this tremendous woman,
Selling tiny crumbs of our souls,
To find words that penetrate,
The heart and mind of meaning
Sometimes, all it takes,
Is to look at her legs.
Netted in the finest black satin,
Calling out to the animal in you
To forget the mannerisms of polished etiquette,
And unleash the brokenness,
That wishes for nothing more,
Than to simply be heard

Instead of watching,
Her walk down that supermarket aisle,
Picking tomatoes, cilantro, and cooking oil
Staring like an otter in the middest moment of dawn,
At the appearing horizon
Go tell her, tell her about her netted towers,
Of the most artsy glory you’ve ever seen
Tell her how they torment you at 3 AM,
When all you can think about is her,
And how you’re human,
And weak,
And as honest as a summer sunrise

Sometimes, nothing matters,
Except those netted stockings,
That clothe the most glorious art ever seen,
Two legs, two towers, that breathe beauty,
That emanate the cleanest glow light can afford
Sometimes, some things need to be told,
Cause people aren’t erotic enough,
To embrace the sweet secrets of humanness,
That make living, worth living.

A Current of Reflection

A Current of Reflection

This morning, we shall chart our hearts,
And find the few pearls of memory,
That wage war with our destinies,
And win to our delight

Inside sometimes, little drops of heaviness,
Bring a milky solitude to me
Like cream that tastes of infected phlegm,
There are many ounces of regret in me
Through the rays of endless remembrance,
I cannot know if in this life or beyond
I feel a weary ache that decorates me with loss
A fiery torment that rages like the waves in an ocean of fire,
And me, a simple soul stranded in chains of tears
In surrender, in sorrow, in mindless poesy mourning,
At the glorious delight of humanity’s tragedy

If you look hard enough through my sweetened words,
You can find a broken soul, vulnerable, fragrant, yet broken
It’s all yours to touch, for you to break more—eat into my spirit
The currents of reflection come like a storm,
To tease my tired mind out of idolism to elation
We’ll keep on teasing ourselves into this wondrous game,
Of love, rejection, denial, and laughter in autumn forests
We will forever drink from the chalices of friendship,
Finding connection in mutually adored vulgarity
Seeking touch in the palms of our poisonous counterparts
Craving their tenderness when we know that all comes to naught
We will still sell our hearts to our women,
And love them in winter and nourish their wombs,
With more than our seed, more than our hopeless romanticism

We will shake ourselves from our anxiety,
As the winter reveals its treachery in the summers of sunshine
I pray for that hour of redemption,
When our non-existent dreams are exiled into the abyss of awakening
When we look into the eyes of our children,
And see the tricking secrets of our older selves
Tonight perhaps, I will come to see that our children,
Are our older selves
And life moves backwards, not forwards,
Returning to an age of accepted imperfection,
Where we let our fingernails grow into the soil,
Leaving our cheeks to tan themselves into a dark peach,
Allowing our hair to smell of all undesirable fragrances
A world without mirrors, an innocent world

There lies, a whole world of madness and brilliance,
Behind the multi-colored irises of you and I
A secret world, a drunken world,
With fairies and alien whores, with magic
And if we transcend our addictions to touch,
That world attracts to itself the mantle of reality

As I lose myself to perpetual abstraction,
I will put up my hands to bring you along
The absolute place does not exist,
The promised land is here
I am your milk, and you my honey,
And our blood the water of this fragrant soil
I must forget the delightful offerings,
Of this selfish society
I must reject, your ambitious plans,
I am a child of the Earth, a prophet of blasphemy
And here I am, offering myself to you,
To crucify me,
With the nails of your limited understanding,
To the cross of your own demise

There is no word that can awaken the world,
There are a few sounds, a few visions,
But these are too few in this age.
So forget awakening, come smile with me,
And we shall go dancing into unknown galaxies,
And make love to the stars,
And birth more dreams and more eternities,
More words and more numbers,
More wine and more divine,
To feed the curiosity of our future selves.

Tea today, no wine.

Nice Dress

Nice Dress

Somewhere in a thorny heaven,
I met a girl who wore a nice dress
She tickled my soul with her imperfect teeth,
And let me know that I’m more than just lost
In her simpleton eyes,
She showed me waves of a stream
Where love was nothing,
More than a dream
Aching for ice-cream,
I asked her for sweet
But all she gave me was salt,
Dancing on her long heels

I say baby, I say baby,
Come and fill me with champagne,
In my dread,
Fill me with wine,
For I’m nothing but dead
I say darling, hey darling,
I’m dancing on dreams that are queer
I say take me away to a forest of leaves,
Where we can be animals again

So we left, we left for the sea,
Where the ships took us to catastrophe
Where the nights were long,
And the days too strong,
In the sunlight,
Our hearts got too hard

So I told her, baby wear it again,
And she wore that dress again
Her legs shining like Olympus,
Beneath the dark of her eyes,
Crying to be played with,
And touched
We went along,
Into another beer drenched memory
Where we felt our hearts broken in spring
I don’t know, if the world is true,
But your legs,
They bring me the blues

And so I turned,
To another glass,
Of bitter whiskey and class
Lying to my heart and mind,
Of a future that was never mine
We are lost,
In a feather of time,
Drinking rum and wasting time
Even though the night,
Ends too soon,
I’ll never forget,
How your legs,
Give me the blues

The Mortality of Culture

The Mortality of Culture

History has seen a great number of traditions passing with the progress of time. When traditions coalesced into a socially acceptable collection of ritualized behaviors and actions, humanity called it a culture. There were cultures that had witch doctors healing their sick, those that openly kept their women within the possessive needs of men, those that richly celebrated dance, music, and art, and the advanced ones that had all these elements incorporated. Inevitably, culture was something native to its region of origin, rarely moving beyond the boundaries within which it was found to be rational and a thing of heritage to be protected and nurtured as time moved on. Culture is vital to building societies that need to be decorated with human intelligence. It gives a society the platform on which every individual can express his or her subjectivity and do it with the support of the community. It gives human beings a platform on which there can be recognition for subjective expressions of art, music, dance, and several other talents. However, this platform is created with the help of collective ideology and very rarely through spontaneous understanding. It would seem only plausible to support and help build such a thing as culture, but like all primitive things such as cannibalism and living in caves, culture must die. When an artificially created ideology meets with nature’s fierce forces of evolution, the mortality of the human mind is revealed, and the mortality of all the things that it has created.

Indian culture is one of the richest heritages not just the country, but humanity as a whole can cherish and exhibit as a beautiful development of intelligence through history. This culture saw the fruition of the world’s most intelligent spiritual seekers and spiritually realized men who not with their ideas but with their pure presence and articulate poetry showed this world the meaning of life. Civilization dates back to very old times here, and some of nature’s oldest secrets were discovered and revealed in this country. The spiritual texts here are rich and the purity of their interpretation lies entirely with the discretion of every individual. Like every culture, Indian culture has always had its flaws. The world for a very long time was ruled and grown by paternally dominated structures of society that failed to understand the role of the woman that was very vital to the growth and care of humanity’s most prized gift, intelligence. Several cultures around the world, excluding a few intelligent ones that had people who lived and taught much ahead of their time, entirely neglected the role of women in the evolution of this race. Using the lowest forms of power, physical and logical power, men through the years repressed women and eventually developed a strange sense of contempt for the opposite sex. If we scratch a little deeper through the layers of our conscious mind, deep in the unconscious, even the most open-minded men will find the psychotic attitude of dominion and power toward women, secretly camouflaged behind all the other ideas of poetry and romance that are associated with women.

While the rest of the world has socially been able to transcend the primitive attitude of the subjugation of the woman as a social sensibility, a few countries of which India is one have found it hard to do the same. The problem does not lie with failed holistic approaches toward the improvement of this social situation but with the inability to clean the inner psyche of a very stubborn past. The logical approach to solving a problem is to take into account all the factors on which the problem is dependent and then to take appropriate action on each of these factors to arrive at a reasonable solution. This approach does not work when the entire source of the problem lies not with the factors that create the problem but with the attitude which fuels and supports these factors. In the past, through ideology, men repressed women and kept them within their control. Ideologies are eventually nothing but relative ideas that connect and seem sensible to a thinking mind. But sensibility is dependent on thought and thought is nothing but a partial perception of an observation, and is wrong almost all of the time. The problem arises when we take our thoughts for truth and develop the attitude of absolute trust in our thinking processes. The time has come when our evolution has reached a stage in which we can look beyond thought and understand the follies of our past. There is no need for the empowerment of women, we need to understand that women have always been empowered. It is through the foolishness of male ideology that we failed to understand the inevitable fact that the equality of sexes is not something to be brought about, but something that has always been inevitable. If we can see this fact, the idiotic attitude of the majority of men toward women will disappear not through effort but through common sense.

We must begin with the understanding that man and woman are not opposites, they are two different functions of one process, human life. The opposing polarity is a superficial difference created by nature for the deeper understanding of union and love. The polarity is an illusion created to understand a reality that is much greater than the illusion. I understand that in the past, the collective human mind dwelt in a state of consciousness that was at a very low level. In this level it was easy to succumb to psychological illusions of separation. Look at where we stand now, entirely able to analyze the mistakes of our past as a species and to effect change in a manner that can be momentary and genuine. The difference between men and women is very superficial, you can say a man and a woman are like two waves that wave differently, but are both made by water and supported by the same ocean which is life in this universe. Look beyond these foolish social and political ideas, look at the utter truth that is burning before you. Isn’t such a thing as women empowerment so foolish? To even conceive that a culture would treat its women with such despicable and unevolved understanding is a shock! The woman is empowered, she is grown from the same soil that a man is grown from, nurtured and cared for by the same sun, wind, and water. If we cannot look beyond the patterns of form that dance on the canvas of existence, our illusions will lead us to much greater suffering, not just the suffering that they have created for women. Humanity as a whole lacks awareness. We have limited our intelligence to intellect and failed to see that spontaneous observation or momentary perception is the only reality that exists. Instead, we dwell on ideas of logic and morality, leaving our hearts to rot at the hands of the politic.

Morality is nothing but an idea, just like how the repression of women was an idea. The time has come when we have no more place for ideas. Intelligence is not born of thought, it comes through awareness. The man who believes in backward ideas such as repressing the role of women in society is like the Neanderthal who will find his place in the graveyards of this planet. If as a race, we do not take responsibility for our own evolution, and still put our faith and trust in the ideologies we have inherited from our ancestors, we will lose this game. The Earth is a mother, but she is as strict, as she is kind. What is our race but a virus that is creating so much trouble for the rest of Earth’s children? The beauty is we are a virus that is self-aware and bursting with intelligence. We have the ability to turn things around.

Like the human body, culture is mortal. Remember how we had to give up beating up people who were sick because we thought they were possessed by demons? We must give up culture when it turns out to be dysfunctional. Culture is ideology, it is not fresh, and it is not bursting with life! Look at the trees how they dance to the ever-refreshed breezes that beat through nature’s lovely painted skies. These dances show us what it means to be alive. Life begins when history is forgotten.

We teach our children how to value money, success, and reputation before we teach them how to value themselves. Self-dignity is not something through which you value yourself, it is a process of intellect through which your ego establishes itself and separates itself from the source of life. Instead of self-dignity, try self-enquiry. From the youngest years in school, society needs to encourage its children to look within for answers instead of looking outside. The outside world is a dysfunctional drama, a terribly damaged record tape repeating itself again and again. The answers to change are within each individual. We need to teach children to uncover the unconscious processes that still work inside. It is this that we can call ‘original sin.’ The unconscious tendencies and processes that are inherent in our very DNA! Through self-enquiry, each individual can understand for him or herself the dysfunctional working of the human system and take the responsibility of change unto oneself.

Understand this carefully, through the social and political approach, no change will ever be effected. If you have not understood this yet, you need to understand it now. Women will continue to be ill-treated by men, and they will continue to retaliate and fight. This fight is superficial. The inner psyche of man needs to change. Men need to understand the need for this change. Men are unable to understand that the repression of women is the repression of evolution itself. Man is afraid of the woman, for she is an aspect of the species that can look through and beyond logic into dimensions where man is almost incapable of reaching. To conceive that a form of life so tender, so easy to defeat can behold intelligence so great was befuddling to ancient man. He could only conceive things such as power and dominion, he could understand the axe but not the flower. Intelligence has evolved now, power has become a thing of the past. We are in a stage of evolution in which we need to pay attention to the subtle, the gross has lost its utility. Through forgiveness and understanding, our society can take a step forward to developing a world in which competition shall exist but lose its absolute value. The woman is inevitably equal to man, teach the children this, teach them to look beyond separation and understand their connection to their fellow beings and the rest of existence. Stop teaching them how to make money, how to be successful, how to develop a great reputation, these are things reserved for the miserly in understanding. We are gods of the galaxy and we shall step up and take our responsibility as sentient beings and live with love.

Culture is dead, you are alive. Wake up, the universe is calling you to dance.

 

“We have to stop consuming our culture. Create your own roadshow.” – Terence Mckenna