Friday, March 26, 2010

that we are yet to become...

How much within us
The ripples go silent
To claim the pride of the height
To wear the crown of creation.

©cyclopseven. All rights reserved. 260310.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

A collector

Down the lonely road
My feet move on non-stop,
Heading towards the unknown
I rummaged my soul for things never known.
The rising sun yonder
Golden paint the horizon,
My eyes I leave wide open
Admiring the wonders of creation.

As my walk take me farther from the source
I remembered of my friends,
They are collectors of memorable items
From coins, stamps, antics and old photos torn by time.
Their pride and satisfaction
Shut their soul without expansion,
They know of nothing about many aspects of life
But, everything about the collectors’ items.

Life is funny; I chuckled as my walk takes me further
Many people come, and many people go
Some disappears unto nothingness
While some oblivious of nothingness.
Random musing I would call my mind’s play
For it tells me that I am a collector too,
Unbeknown to me suddenly the mind says so
And I begin to wonder if the say is true.

As my shadow grow lengthily at the back
I know that the sun is rising fast,
The heat sends perspiration all over
Soaking me in a bath unwanted.
I begin to ponder again, am I really a collector?
And my conscience always speaks better,
It says in affirmation without a second delay
                That my collection is of subtle memories
                of cloudy weather and sunny days.

My wandering goes on with much pondering
                What are those things subtle memories
                of cloudy weather and sunny days?
Again, my conscience rose from the depth of somewhere
Collections of memories good and bad I have gathered.
I realized against my conscience I cannot lie
Those are things that I carry without a second thought
A collection of memorable and painful memories.

                Yes, I am a collector of subtle memories
                of cloudy weather and sunny days.

©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 250310.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Shame on human superiority

The hallmark of adamant superiority
To determine the way for the inferior force.

Desolate feelings
Strewn all over the air
Stench of dead accompanies the nose.
With blatant touch of fire everywhere
Nothing is left untouched by destruction
Mother earth carpeted in blood
Clot between her cracks in the summer.

The eyes of man sunken deep
Lips withdrawn in noisy silence
The mind agitates itself
Trying to shed the fear
But the fear is contagious
And more gets afflicted.

Voices of love
Trying hard to pacify
But the ravaging war is unto the core
Mortars and bullets blindfolded
Knowing not the fiends and friends
Life flies listening to love.

Bullets wheeze in the air
Heartbeats increased at each wheeze
Strands of thoughts activate the mind
Crumbled hope and dissident cries
Fills the atmosphere
With putrefied smell of disintegration.

Dissolution - the nature’s law
Shall take place void of interference,
When the moments arrive
To the source all will return
But not by force exerted by ignorance
Deaf to the cry of humanity.

Consciousness constricts in war
Conscience buried before the dead
It brings no victory
War is but a shame on us
With animals laughing at us
Proudly we claim ownership of this existence.

What a shame
We smile with blood in out hands.

©cyclopseven. All right reserved 240310

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Uncommon its becoming

Uncommon its becoming
man hardly extend hand without being noticed
generosity prompts many to help and care
pomposity comes along bringing tasteless taste
this kills the life of its aromatic sanctity
yet, man brags in a nook, “my heart is full of humanity”! ! .
riding on senses’ uncontrolled lead
many souls trudging waywardly downward
life’s purity - priority negated
humanity is but a word heartless
by forgotten mankind to forgotten souls.
expectation conquers every station,
from high to low, expectation a supreme play
nothing comes in void, today’s faithful faith
a belief held high on palanquin by man, the capitalists.
musical language spoken soothingly
melting the souls of frozen heart
yet to himself action speaks silently
but he expects others to step down and pull the rake
to clear the debris left behind by him
the so called man made man! !
material sweetness expands human goodness
an artificial life superficially lived,
pluck a desire of man
than a beast shall roam in nightmarish mood
avenging the stumbling blocks.
none is an exception
everyone lives in deception
deceived by none but our own perception
this mankind, void of unconditional love
shall forever live in utmost negation
of the higher world within humanity.

(posted elsewhere before)

©cyclopseven. All right reserved.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Forgive Me My friends I

One day my heartbeats shall stop
leaving the residue of life in the sands of time,
sooner, or maybe later
the call may arrive, unexpectedly.

To all my friends
known and unknown
from near and far,
any mistakes intentionally made
any mistakes unintentionally done
please undone the knots of anger and frustrations,
in forgiveness release me please
for in death I know not
whether I'll speak.

Time given today, perhaps tomorrow another day
I may be around, a few words let me say
leaving is not as important as living
by living the right way, the leaving will be light full of bliss.
I came for a purpose, I wish I know that well
alas! Human we are, the limitations imposed made us far
from god and man we wander away
seeking materials unknown for trifle play.

While energy is still high
render the deeds good,
sin not any souls that you come to meet
including the trees, creepers and mountains so high
for each bow we pay in respect
nature vows to keep us blissfully intact.

My dear friends
days may come and go
friends may come and go too
yet true ones hold a spot so dear
we know, with them we don’t have to fear.

Bountiful life is a way to joy
a careful driver is surely to rejoice
the harvest here and hereafter, if in the highway
he travels with tolerance, peace and truth.
These are the simple messages
from prophets, saints and sages
time yonder, they come from
seeking us for good, they thronged,
beautiful indeed this life will be
if everyone live the way that’s to be.

Goodbye, I shall now say
for, time is not in my grip
anytime, at any place and anyhow
he may come, the divine rider
as passenger he will take me
I hope, not in fright
but to a greater height.

Suddenly I feel
I have to say all these,
forgive me my friends
for the soul do not cast a word
after it is removed by the divine sword.

(Posted elsewhere before)

©2006 by cyclopseven. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

A baby in the womb

A baby lay forgotten
In the womb of the dead mother;
Still breathing the last few breathes
The remaining of the mother’s last air.
The ravaging war has killed the breast to feed
Leaving the unfulfilled infant trapped alone
Unless someone do something to support the life
The baby’s scream will never be heard across the stream.

Amidst of the rattling guns and battling man
There lies the woman with her hand holding the tummy
Lying still on the ground colored red
The last wish was only to protect the life within the womb.
Until a medic see the predicament
The baby's last breath was almost unheard within
Quickly the life saving team rushed
Knowing they have nothing but only the grace of god.

Each said their prayers while caesarean performed
Hoping desperately to hear a little voice loud and clear
To add music to the ransacked villages made unto a battlefield
Due to atrocities blinded the humanity.
Suddenly, in the middle of the rattling machine guns
And blaring sounds of grenade explosions
The surgeon proudly lifted the newborn high
Poking his fingers gently to clear the throat
So, the baby will one day stand tall to speak with right choice.

Thank god, the whole team prayed
A little late, we wouldn’t have seen another life
Imbued with hope in the middle of the battle
The medical van paved through the war
Bringing news to others around
That today in the battlefield
A baby was born to a dead mother
To tell the world, that life is still far from death.

©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 110807. 

(Posted elsewhere before)

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Letter from birth to death


Dear Death

How are you? I pray that you in a good state of health. I am in the finest health here. It has been long, I am still not able to see you in me though I see you all around me. I see you everywhere, all time. Yet, it is indeed a mystery that as twins we are destined not to meet one another. I know in the splendor of my existence your light is dimmed awhile. Although you exist all around, it is indeed a strange phenomenon that people don’t seem to appreciate nor anticipate your arrival in their lives. We are born together, without a second delay, and we are perfect twins who cannot see each other in the presence of another. With joyful anticipation people always appreciate my arrival. But, they don’t appreciate your arrival in such a manner, even after knowing that you birth with me is an inevitable process, and my birth doesn’t supersede your existence. We are always on par with each other. For my arrival mankind shed joyful tears, but for your arrival mankind sheds tears, sorrowful tears.

We are really gifted to know one another without having to meet one another. I teach hope, perseverance and love, while you teach them impermanence of this material existence. Though people shun you all the time, the wise ones keep you enshrined within their enlightened minds and gain pride in me for giving them the opportunity to understand your majestic countenance. It is an incomprehensible reality that both of us are the bearers of this existence, a non-spatial continuum. We walk hand in hand; I am evident while you remain hidden.

With me around, most people bask in too much enjoyment and fuel the senses with weight of attachment which naturally builds the nest of fear for you. They fear of losing the pleasure of the senses and the material possessions to you. The fear in turn creates pain and rejection, and they wallow in sorrows. Little do they realize that you and I are here to help the cycle of creation to move on while eternally dissolving some part of it to allow another to fill the vacuum left. For most people, the universe is an inexhaustible storehouse of knowledge, pleasure and possession. Your presence will snatch all these things from them, thus their phobic response towards you.

Each second that passes by, bring me closer to you. Alas!! I won’t be able to meet you face to face, because our final meeting will only result in me merging with you, born unto you, and you being born unto me, die unto me. I see you in the leaves that fall; I listen to your gurgling childishness in the streams that flow; in the sound of animals; in the mountains that stand solid; in the seasons that spray color; in my heartbeats….yet I am sad I do not see you in me . I want to meet you before I dissolve my existence in this evolutionary cycle of beginning and ending. Death, though I know it is not possible, I am asking the impossible to take place, I pray that one day the Almighty Lord will grant me my wish before I jump unto you.

Till we meet one day. So long my dear one. Thank you.

With Best Wishes

Love and Regards

p/s: hope to hear from you soon. 

©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 140310.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Cormorants – instinctive and distinctive

The creepers that sucks the blood of humanity
Like the cormorant by the shore
They tarry with precision mark
And strike the weakest at righteous moment.

Yet one goes by instinct,
The other is a complete distinct
Of evil combined by endless numbers.

The hypocrites
Born of bloodiest vengeance.

©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 110310.

Monday, March 08, 2010

Murderous memories

Those buried memories
Surges high in the wake of reverie,
Speaking to me with silent power
A whisper not, but
Stream of powerful memories.
The universe melts itself
When the soul merges with past thoughts
Leaving the footprints from the past
A firm footing to mark my trail within mind.
Days went by
Leaving the 'present' with me
Yet, all the ‘presents’ buried deep
Together with the memories
And none of these days
Stays with me.

Those buried memories
Surges high in the wake of reverie,
Speaking to me with silent power
I succumb often to all these memories,
Whether good or bad
They render a blow to my expansion.

©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 080310.

Friday, March 05, 2010

Bonded within

My heart wrapped dead cold 
A sparrow trapped within it
I search for the key
Within I left in the heart
The sparrow’s fate is dead.

©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 050310.

Thursday, March 04, 2010

Smile of the day

The morning sunlight
Blankets loving golden warmth
A rose blooms within
In blissful harmony I float
My heart flutters wingless.

©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 030310.