Dare and die dirty. That will do.
The worms shall come for you one day regardless
as gods kill us for their sport.
Till his final breath
man needs to face fall and filth.
If not the bones, the brains
might dam you. Damn them.
The burn is brief
and the escape of coil
from the thralldom
might be into the pointless samadhi.
who knows?
Life is a helix
uncoiling into nothing anyways.
The old man with a cotton head
and a coffee stain on his pensioned off collar
eyed the young man who cut the line.
One top-down look
and he took out all the gutter
feelings.
Fuming
and rubbing his buttoned beard
he was ready for a crime.
the highways on his forehead
gave the green light for nerves.
No more Advaita and Aham Brahmasmi.
the anger ran like the Krishna’s chariot
in Mahabharata.
The cane and the brain carefully chained
by Prozac went loose.
Dostoevsky was right.
“Trifles, trifles are what matter! It’s just such trifles that always ruin everything . . . ”
Folded collar and a hungry tie
eating time.
Socks
trapped like a matchstick
in a phosphorus box
is longing the Maya of 400 square meters thing
we call home.
People with their data packs
gazing into abyss and bellies
at the edge of the Oort cloud
are comfortable in granitic moods.
The shakes and breaks of metro train
jolt the tobacco dreams of the city of the dead.
Cults of ID cards
beat the drums of samsara
from their Platonic caves.
At 2 A.M.
it was all a
blooming, buzzing confusion.
Under thick moonlight
a red ant died with a smile.
Bluetooth devices already
connected without permission.
Sad part was
I was the dictator red in tooth and claw
for the ant family. But I am just a dot
in this pale blue dot of earth.
I cannot tell that in their pheromones lingo. Pity.
Hid the body
and couldn’t stomach the ongoing curses
so
I gave them a holy book and took the pillow ride.
Walk
into the road of excess
with a hammer and a flamethrower.
Vent out in the nature
the clouds can hold
the muds, floods, and the
bloods of soul.
The Hyenas in our consciousness
need the woods and winds
to dam the loop of replay
and redo the clay.
slowness and the boniness of id
will set a new sail for the ape.
Sipping the sands with the feet
makes a vacuum to suck out
the foul.
We hide the guilt
of no-creation and inaction
with consumption.
Terence McKenna
believes that we are golems now,
sedated by TV fixes.
We don’t care about the nightmares anymore.
We hate the awakeners and salute the sleepers.
We talk but not behave.
Fancy themselves in solo trips
yet too busy to flow.
living is a to-do list now
and eating like a cow
we miss the wow and the tao.
Go home, captain.
Tricks of the mind to avoid difficult tasks:
1. Rushing through things.
2. Producing inferior work to create a false sense of achievement.
3. Engaging us in trivial tasks to stay busy.
Abusing and insulting someone is a coping mechanism of the mind
to manage our own fears, ignorance and feelings of inadequacy, thereby
creating a false sense of superiority over others.
Given enough time and stupidity, we can rationalise almost anything.
Impatience = 90% errors.
Our psychological state (A.K.A the state of mind) is far more important in making a decision than data or fact-checking.
Thy Vox 