Attar’s Seven Valleys of Love, as translated by C.S. Nott The Valley of the Quest “When you enter the first valley, the Valley of the Quest, a hundred difficulties will assail you; you will undergo a hundred trials. There, the Parrot of heaven is no more than a fly. You will have to spend several years there, you will ...
You hear that click and you know that is it. It is that click, you hear, you see, dilate, pupil, to the light, you hear, when it goes out, the lesson, and the guru, what remains? Ashes, urns, or conjugal burns? Where do Catholic priests please themselves at night? Pray, tell me, where do our men run to when their ...
You hear that click and you know that is it. It is that click, you hear, you see, dilate, pupil, to the light, you hear, when it goes out, the lesson, and the guru, what remains? Ashes, urns, or conjugal burns? Where do Catholic priests please themselves at night? Pray, tell me, where do our men run to when their ...
What is known of free-will? Free-willy-nilly, gobble-dee-gook, or hokey pokey? Hocus, focus! Polka face, smallpox took us out like DDT. Not DMT, DXM, or the LSD- cursed bread, french- spoon-fed by the CIA, or was it half-baked? Not unlike any psychotropical countries’ cunt of misery.
What is known of free-will? Free-willy-nilly, gobble-dee-gook, or hokey pokey? Hocus, focus! Polka face, smallpox took us out like DDT. Not DMT, DXM, or the LSD- cursed bread, french- spoon-fed by the CIA, or was it half-baked? Not unlike any psychotropical countries’ cunt of misery.
Having never having too much heaving old baggage through strained thresholds of pain, promises of gain, uncertainty of return. Why strive for what is? Why grasp what is out of reach, out of sight? Having never never having lost, our minds heaving old baggage, or dead brain cells through strains of genome, chromosome, and some other etcetera. Que? Sera, Sir, ...
Having never having too much heaving old baggage through strained thresholds of pain, promises of gain, uncertainty of return. Why strive for what is? Why grasp what is out of reach, out of sight? Having never never having lost, our minds heaving old baggage, or dead brain cells through strains of genome, chromosome, and some other etcetera. Que? Sera, Sir, ...
Trance? Entrance: Entrée, appetiser, or full-on out-of-body experience? To consume the Self, flesh and bone, is it carnivalesque or carnivore? I can’t eat more, any more than a herbivore, omnivoraciously dissatisfied with the dull taste of life, till the sharp rust of death greets tongue. Quiver! Whimper. Simpler, still, just be.
Trance? Entrance: Entrée, appetiser, or full-on out-of-body experience? To consume the Self, flesh and bone, is it carnivalesque or carnivore? I can’t eat more, any more than a herbivore, omnivoraciously dissatisfied with the dull taste of life, till the sharp rust of death greets tongue. Quiver! Whimper. Simpler, still, just be.
Is it naive to think? If not, it would not be. Am I naive to think? I would be. I would be gullible enough to gobble it up enough to fill up the stomachs of invisible poor indivisible poverty breaks this bread by two, three, for… you? Who are you but another I, naive, gullible enough to gobble me up, ...
Is it naive to think? If not, it would not be. Am I naive to think? I would be. I would be gullible enough to gobble it up enough to fill up the stomachs of invisible poor indivisible poverty breaks this bread by two, three, for… you? Who are you but another I, naive, gullible enough to gobble me up, ...
They commodified you in Modern Times, as Chaplin mimes, to ignorant fools en masse. A la carte is how you are served, fate on a silver platter, feet dancing to the clatter, pitter, patter. Peter Parkers don’t find the time to be existentialist. And Mary Jane whatsername’s too caught up in the womb of Mother Earth, or a spider’s web. ...
We once lived in a world of black and white, red and yellow, salt and pepper, blood and piss, melting into seas, lakes and rivers, blue-green giving way to ships that sailed the circumference, defying notions of a flat world, bringing the flesh and blood of the Africas, spice and staple of other people, saffron robes and silken roads, entangled ...
Before man made fire did he carry flames from the tips of volcanoes? Did he sleepwalk through moonlit nights, or sleep with eyes open gazing at the inexplicably bright stars, their constellations imprinted against retina. In the fringe between waking life and the unconscious did the dots connect in his subconscious - images of kings pointing to a past no ...
Drawing inspiration from the Advaita philosophy, Sufi mysticism, and Jungian archetypes, “He Breathes” attempts to bring together what is otherwise in contradistinction: in India, Ardhanārīśvara (अर्धनारीश्वर) has been venerated as an androgynous form of Shiva and Shakti, idolized as hermaphrodite figures. Post-colonization, modern Indian society has excluded the many transgender populations, pushing them into the periphery, having to resort to ...
Dreamachine The technology was simple, I was told, yet executed with the most meticulous detail. On entering the room, one would not have the faintest notion of what was going on. Yet within those four walls a magician’s hand was at play. Howl had no name for his device, or even its application. Howl was only interested in the use ...
I have watched you string memories in Mermaid’s beads that I have adorned with eyes of amethyst, sapphire, emerald and ruby, topaz, torqouise. I have watched them string memories where fingers traced only the circumference. Still one so translucent, its colour unnamed - I will call it Moonstone. Naam, naam.
If I am not my thoughts, I have no use for your ideologies, I have no reverence for deity, No discrimination of class, caste, or social strata. If I am not my body, I have no use for your medicines, I have no reverence for healers, No desperate need to cling to what has no hold of me.
There is a valley between us that grows as we grow apart. Through the valley a river flow - once rapid, now slowed, calming to an unnerving state. Unaware of the movement below, a lake of fire thru Earth flow. Footsteps, seldom measured strain the ground, lacerating the Earth’s clay-faced expression. Blushing red, swell mountains as we stand on their ...
For ears that listen and hearts that hear! Vice versa! So finally it feels like I’ve done something with my life. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t start out by building up expectation. Still, I am quite happy with what I’ve accomplished working with Suma, Buddhi, Chikka and Mahesh at Wagon Wheel Studios. Over a period of two months we managed to ...
