My Beautiful Life.

Lattices hugging sunlight
Crenellated crescendos
A white concrete spire
A headlong journey
Spirit rushing high.

The still of the night
The hushed up jungle
Of dreams
Intermeshed with life.

Sometimes I feel,
Is this happening?
Am I walking
Up the wall?
Like Humpty Dumpty
Sitting easy an instant
Before the fall.

Is this happiness, or
Is this happening at all?

The Jorge has many horses grazing
And very few good men
To plaster the cracks
And to mend
This  broken down doll.

But like the Chinese
Who value the old over new
Is a chipped vase any good at all?

All questions die in dreams
Wherein my quest lies
The headlong rush
Of a concrete spire
Aspiring to anomalous skies.

The journey is in smiles
The tracks are in tears
The pathways quicksand
Or too terribly dry with fear.

This broken cup shall
Receive
Holiest wine
From ancient Grail
Life will be
Flesh will trade
It's survival
Against lies.

Dip me in
I descend into Wells
Of mystery.

Tunnels through time
Openings into fresh gaze
Chopped up windowpanes
Of sky.

Meanwhile
I can only hold
A fistful of
Your sweet baby hair
Wistful will o the wisp
Stuff, of which
White wizards are made.

I can but
Touch your palms
Interlocking lattices
Of fingers
For you are
Begotten  as blessings.

I can only
Tell you my tale
Child,
As fully as you will,
So take your fill
Fulfill me.

Then to resume
My adventure
My encounter with truth
Not as I see it
But as it is.

To be
The vision
And
Visionary.

For now
I take
My stopgap measure
Of the day
The depths and breadth
Of my life
So strange,
So beautifully strange
My life.

(c) Amrita Valan 2016

If I Could

I'm difficult different
Diffident
Clarity diffused
I'm but a ghost a sprite
A wraith
Walking through walls
Of waspish non believers.

I wish you would see me
I wish you could see
How I long to walk on water
Prove to you and your kind,
That beyond faith
Lies more elevated concrete abstractions.

No oxymorons for you
To make you wonder
'Am I missing something?'

but I merely waste away
In effortful eloquence
To woo you
My crudest rhymes are
Riddled with insecurity
Wilting gentleness, absurd
For your attention.

Forgive my being
Only half a human
Being.
I have shed so many skins
With leaky tears
Leaving leaching wounds
Watery scabs
Still this smiling snake
For all seasons
Moults to dissimulate
Spreading smoke
On the rusty water
Seeds of truth pearling inside
Each lie.

Fangs bared hissing despair
Disillusioned by smoke and mirrors
Smitten and drunk upon them
Dripping poison
Disgust rotting into impotence
Reduced to reptile, flesh without bones,
Unbreakable,
Bending, crawling at the feet
Of cruel monuments.

My world needs to crash
Into itself
Smash and burn
Till the beautiful flowers
Of agony
Burns the naked back
Of the Boneless Beast.

In a beat returned
To a moment
Before my fall
And the loss
Of limbre innocence.

When tears were not
For shedding
But prismatic lenses
Openings for hope
Through myriad showers
Of rainbows.

In such a wonderful world
I would not wonder
How none can see my worth
But be won over
Many times more
By love
And worked over
By its power.

And thus
Deleted made obsolete
Are cravings
Rendered non relevant
By ownership
Possessed by none
In full possession
Of the faculties
Walking in wondrous
Grace and gratitude.

I release you
My indolent agonies
Into the insular abyss
I conquer by stooping
Forsaking the insolence
Of my short-sighted wit
And I am lighter than air
In flight
And fairer and brighter than Lucifer
Bringer of Living Light.

(c) Amrita Valan 2016

Weekly Challenge Pearl exile soulless

The pearl was flawed
In the shell
The necromancer sand grain
Unnaturally expelled
Into soulless exile
By endless hammering
Against rocky circumstances
Battered by sea waves.
Of changes

The subtle shell cracked
And corrupt
Released its own precious core
Sooner than intended
Exuded in teardrop
Of agony

As saline waves of nauseous agony
Assailed her senses
She turned dull
Green with bilious envy
White with slimy fear
Of imperfections

Unable to contend
The world picture perfect
Yet incomplete
Hinging
On closure
Breached
Of privacy
And understanding.

Beaches of refuse
Claimed her

The Pearl
Chipped and slowly crushed
Lingered a moment
Under finger strokes of
Faint sunshine that caressed
Her fading faith

She longed now
Not for definition
Or meaningless fondling
But soullessness.

An exile from
Erroneously applied
Identity.

A release of the liability
Of all senses.

Light destroying life..
And all evil under it's
Sinister serpentine
Sunshine.

The Pearl cried
For removal
Of the original sin
Of its sand grain.

Meaning conferred upon
Meaningless.

(c) Amrita Valan 2016

I Do Not Believe

I do not believe

I do not believe in heaven
Where eternal rest applies
Where perpetual light
Would rob me
Of rest reason and sanity
Tell me no such lies.

I am
Alive
I pulsate and throb
To the restless beat
Of an Universe.
Immensity endless
Folding and unfolding
Into itself...
Where Space and Time
Are dual acts of grace.

Myself
Am motion.
Dynamic and daring
In endlessly spinning
Quest for perfection.

A solvent and solution
A constant and the
Entire equation,
A prayer
Am I.

So when
My allotted time
In earthly garb of
flesh and blood is over

I seek no heaven.

Heaven is my footstool
Upon this earth
And many more.
Heaven is my heart
Its beat the resonance
Of a cosmic core.

I am hope
Happiness
Most complete
Even when every atom
And particle
Disintegrates.

Let me make blue skies
Let me paint lakes green

Let me be the loveliest vision
Human eyes have ever seen.

And when time allows
And tides permit
Let me roll out to caress
New shores

Perhaps you will
Take of your shoes
And touch to your
Fingertips
My soul electric
And feel me evermore.

Prayer am I
On cosmic page
Of life

Ray am I
Of the suns
Of countless worlds

And over and over again
I come alive

In more ways than dreamt
Upon this earthly
Walk of life.

(c) Amrita Valan 2016

Passover

An epoch in the sunshine
By the shade of white colonnades
pristine comfort supporting, sustaining
Hoisting the purity of youthfulness
The sacraments of sweet joy
without sacrifice.
Initiation rites to life.

We, descending
To mid afternoon
Find new bliss
a honing of our minds
To rapier sharp instruments
Of perception
Receiving eucharistic manna
A cognitive ecstasy
Releasing  epiphanies of understanding
Orgasmic self congratulatory states.

In Neverland
Youth never grows up
to Wasteland.

But mere mortals
like moths
are drawn to flames
Of their convictions
To the courageous completion
Of trials
Witches or saints
the world shall give verdict
After passover.

Ascend we
in the evening
The funeral pyre
Bonfires of treachery
Tingling our toes
Scatter ashes
To the world
Wild winds
Of our fear.

We have but finished
Our wonderful day
And the birthday party
Of our tidy lives.

And now
Usher in night's
Succubus bliss
The shadow descends
the colonnades disappear
Into an all encompassing darkness.

Then hark.
The darkness speaks!
Nay sings melodies
Of bones
outliving flesh.
Thoughts outliving minds.
Memories outliving lives.

Feel...
The lutes of love serenades
Flutes of fleeting fantasies
Now...
That the guests are gone
The party is a wrap.

What lies beneath
This footstool
Of Time's walkabout
Faintest footsteps receding
Fading away

What lies beneath
Are presents
We're yet to unwrap
Leftovers and culminations
Of brief forays
into life.

The wasteland
Is worthy

It yields up
Beyond measure.

The wasteland
Is eternity
after tunneling
Through darkness.

And beyond the subtle edge
Of Non being
after the nihilistic tears
Lies the most magnificent
Unimaginable treasure.

(c) Amrita Valan 2016

They Spoke in Codes

Peter Forster

They spoke in codes
Ancient minds luminaries
Brilliant celestial entities
thinkers seekers path finders
Gods All
In their own right.

Brihaspati Jupiter
Jovial Giant
Mangal Mars
The fount of Well being
Mars the well spring
The God of Action.

A common Bengali saying.
Whatever happens happens for  our  "Mangal" ("for the best" )

Or doesn't it?
The code explicitly states
Mangal is Mars
Lord of Action.

The Act
Is in itself
Auspicious.

Whatsoever maybe
Action above all
Above Stasis
Above stagnation
And above Tradition's
graveyard peace.

Action is all encompassing
Life affirming
Life defining
Life refining.

Progress Is.
Whatever  "Happens" Is...
Thereby is for the best.

Seek and ye shall find
What you seek
is what you will into being.

Alternate realities
As real as the skin
of your dreams
nightly weds
Our embedded souls.

As you mote
So shall it be.

As you wish
So shall it be.

As you speak
So shall it be.

As you dream desire
So you define to discover.

As you believe
So shall you behold
And as you act
So shall it
unfold.

Amen
Tathastu

The action
Rules
Consequences.

So be it.

(c) Amrita Valan 2016

When Big Brother Wants To Browse Your Albums

I wanted, badly coveted this photo of ancient Nagercoil that cropped up on my news feed.
But not at the expense of allowing FB access to "All my photos stored on device or sSD card."
I already share what I want to, or feel suitable for social media on and off.
And I am belatedly sadly aware that I can't delete it if later I change my mind. ( Oh Marvelous ignoramus me!)
What i have once posted on social media stays on social media.

Then why on earth knowing the irrevocable nature of such posts would l or any person in their right minds give a blanket access to fb?

I do wish fb which is generally quite sweet and helpful with their cute annual reminders of past memories and posts and birthday reminders wouldn't pose this frustratingly intrusive totally unreasonable question.

Meanwhile am  still peevishly coveting that Nagercoil photograph as hubby's ancestral family hails from thereabouts.

Moral of the day. Can't have a teeny tiny slice unless you are ready to share your whole cake on social media.

Om Namah Shivaya

Om Namah Shivaya

Embedded Paisley motifs
Strange languorous pass keys
Hiding a world
Of muted imagination.

A fabric that speaks
Of soft special journeys
Dangerously deceptive
Repetitive and patterned
Till lessons are gleaned
Or goblets emptied
Hemlock the teacher
Of fulfilling wisdom
And the release of
Internal Socrates.

My soul has such cravings
to raid its own cellars
Contained notions
Of dreams wilder than
Daring.
These dark days
a vision
A white lighted tunnel
A channel of change
A luminous motion

The modalities are changing
Temporal dimensions
Mutating emitting
Thermal portals of corrosion.

Things change
As we traverse Time's Arrow.
Perspective is position
Faith disposition

And something at the core
the heart of the matter
The forever hereafter
Ever remains
The same.

We are going there
The meeting is eternal
Inevitably fated.

And neither Space
Nor Time
Binds
Our destination.

(c) Amrita Valan 2016