chimes of a forgotten melody

'The problem with most of us is that we forget we were once a sperm and would probably be food to a worm!' I never remember the day I saw light, I don't recall the day I was named, Nor the day my little feet first embarked in a destined walk upon perpetual circles, Circles of land, circles of time! It must have been dark before birth, Infinities of darkness! and then a sperm (in motion and spirited), Conquered my mother's arable land, And disposed spores of life. I must have been blinded by light, Because for years to come I lost sight of the path I should walk, And the people I should love, I lived aided by my mother's arm. The pride of vision is personal, I know of blind men who proudly say, 'We see more than you, son!' I mocked them in disregard, But now I realize they were true. I sleep walked until youth, Galloped through adolescence, And jogged out of adulthood, Now the pace slowed, my solita...

I hear the rustle of seas beneath, Obvious noises of dead men weep, The struggle of life in sultry heat, And creeping vacuum amidst bleak. Silver linings never do shine, In a life below rock-bed's reign, Yet shadows of dark and sultry tales, Haunt the Earth and cult a way. If the dead come back in revenge and rage, Their target is never the hateful saint, But the world who buried their lives, In the Earth, terrible and black!

Can you curb the rising terror? Because as I utter blunt words, The beast's thirsty eyes glow. The canvas on which I painted, (torn up in fresh provocations), Confounds my movements, I cuddle my colors, fear drowns! 'Art on walls can never kill you!' I repeat, to release my mind from the large limbs, clawed and lethal. Is reality a self created haven where old men go out for adventure, To torture their insanity with the pangs of living a sane life? Because the animal in its ferocity, Seems a centered spot in infinity, Where all my terrors meet abruptly. I realized the vulnerability of it, (my hands, destined to be bloody), What stops me is not my will, But my unreasonable share of mind. The beast growls, the fear is real, But I doubt about his claws, I shall believe only if it kills. The canvas on which I painted confounds my sane movements, I repeat (enjoying the transition), 'Arts on walls can never...

Her harsh red lips, moist with blood, Trembled in trauma, while her breasts; Like disoriented tombs, hung lifeless and battered, they laid to rest all youthful vigor and zest. Men used to hunt her (ferociously), Wrecking the erotic physique, Murdering her identity, Each night she was killed, Each morning she resurrected, Though without her will. I ran my hands along her nudity, Her robe was kept beside, Fresh because she seldom wore it, She closed her eyes, waiting, But no sensual motifs rose, I saw a portrait waiting to be made, A poem waiting to be written!   She breathed and slept in my arms, Her eyes drifting away into a dream, Maybe for the first time.

“Have no fear of perfection - you'll never reach it.”  - Salvador Dalí Opening the pages of sarcasm, Avid acumen given without empathy, Mocks all attempts made at affection, It is with sadness I accept, My irrevocable yet unrequited love with a utopian fantasy. I remember shouldering passion, Earnestness to correct myself, Contemplate with virtuous skill, And understand with empathy. Now I sense a departing aura, The one you associate with death. Idealism, whatever that may mean is intense, I doubted like many, Mistaking conscience for my amor, Yes they may seem peculiarly akin, You could strive to be perfect, But never shall triumph happen.

“You will, Judas, my brother. God will give you the strength, as much as you lack, because it is necessary—it is necessary for me to be killed and for you to betray me. We two must save the world. Help me."   Judas bowed his head. After a moment he asked, "If you had to betray your master, would you do it?" Jesus reflected for a long time. Finally he said, "No, I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to. That is why God pitied me and gave me the easier task: to be crucified.” ― Nikos Kazantzakis, Excerpts from 'The Last Temptation of Jesus Christ' Feast in the House of Simon, 1610, El Greco The Mag 211 I would not call Jesus a human, Probably a martyr, but never a human! When I stood perplexed, Gods died all around, Poisoned by human intellect. Life remained obscure, When forceful winds of humanism careened the burial tomb of faith, I was lost in divine debris. Nikos, came to speak with me, Amiable yet intense, ...

Caste, creed and race disappears, The makers of the kaleidoscope multiplied the joys of existence, An ocular panoply, A genuine spiritual completion. Griefs shall melt into passion, Voices shall shatter boundaries, When every elated sound converge, An explosion of vivid colors Shall gloom in all clouded eyes. Oh, the philosophy of this festival, The tenderness of togetherness, The infusion of vibrant emotions, The splendor of tousled artistry, And the love that shall withstand! Notes The Holi is a Hindu spring festival (though with time it broke all badges of religion), also called the festival of colors and is celebrated primarily in India and Nepal (though now spread to various other countries). This year, it is celebrated in India on March 17th. One can associate togetherness with Holi. A heartfelt example that comes into my mind is associated with Sultan Akbar (emperor of India during the 15th century), when the Muslim king would take part...

Lee Plaza Hotel, Detroit, photo by Bonnie Beechler Courtesy : The Mag I must forewarn, That my words shall never heal, Nor resurrect fallen empires. Whom would you blame when the distorted world goes against you? Would you continue your sacred travel, Onto spiritual ecstasies? Collapsed upon itself, An angry globe spits venom and dissolves lives. The room you see was a room once alive, With champagnes and smiles. Now, shattered memories plead for salvation, For rebirth through words. But very little they know, In the rules of the world, Past shall remain forever forgotten.