On the Corpse of the Cosmos

I am lost and seeking refuge. At times, at home, where everything is the same, I feel a surge of alienation. Alienation leading to the path of surreal yet complete encapsulation of illusions.

I sit down, numb everything but my forehead. It takes a while to forget the trauma of my sense. Slowly, a serene light hits the shore of my temple and I am held.
Held home, if you will.

But you won’t . So I don’t try telling people about it, I just open my eyes from the dimensions where time lacks influence on space. I open up to the world where all beings are just and lost, so I cry happy tears, knowing the reality and decay of the time.

Beautiful things are simple. Like a conversation with a friend who gets you. Although it is impossible at the versified age of human depression. But yesterday, I cried of happy tears with a friend. She could understand the light and the vision of the surreal home. So we took off to another plane and counted the dead stars in the night, while hanging out on the corpse of the cosmos.

The deal was simple, digital screens can end up in the best creative promt. We decided to let go off the entire universe, because inside encapsulation of the bent space, nothing that we are aware of really exist. Yes, the imagination led us to an inside of a dead star. It is strange and uknown to science as to what happens if someone breaks down while travelling through dimensions.

But thanks to the movie Intersteller, the virtual date got even more interesting. We visited memories in the void of that night. A few years in the broken space was funny enough to lose some tears, the good thing was that the expansion of the conscience was comforting.

It was like meditating, the wrong direction of escape but when pushed back into the realisation that it was around 2:00 AM, all we could do was smile on the broken dream.

Everything gives room for spiritual insight, its just that we forget how to smile sometimes. That one night happened for the justified carvation of these lines:

Last night, we slept on the corpse of the cosmos,
Lived a little while in her eyes,
A little in mine.
For memories and the mortality of time,
We laughed of the tears from life.

 

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Time Does Not Count

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” Its been almost two years now. Still thirteen chapters. I wonder when will I be able to complete it. Cannot even think of a good blog.  This block is suffocating”
With my hands in the pocket, I took another step towards the end of the road, at least we assumed there was an end. Emily was with me, the faint sight of her lost eyes was comforting in the chilling weather. She looked at me, no expression on her face, she said,
“You think too much, or maybe, you think very less. Try a drag of this cigarette, every artist needs it once in a while.”
She passed on the cigarette. I placed it in between my fingers and felt a sensation on them. Numb from the cold wind, the only feeling my skin had while holding the cigarette was suffocating.
“This thing only adds on to the blur of life. I am lost in the story and I would like to find things settled down. If the smoke from my mouth can shape a portal to things I cannot think about, only then I will commit an offence to the wind.”
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Portals to the things you cant understand? Here is something for you. Why can’t you move?
Everything stopped, I could not move my body.I could not even roll my eyes around to know if everything had stopped with me. I could not feel my heart as if everything had stopped and all senses numb.
What is this?
You wanted to know more, well you are in space without time, how does it feel?
I did not understand how I was emitting the question and the voice impacting the space, it had no source, it was everywhere. It said, space without time. Except for my thoughts, everything has indeed stopped.
If you want to move, leave the body. I am a ghost which unlike the common ghost exhibit a body but not time. You cannot see me in that flesh, the flesh cannot function without time. Humans are the creatures of time. You want to know more, Leave the flesh. For a while, everything will die, but you will live above your death.
How?
I said, die. Meditate your energy on the soul and die off time.
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“Meditate. I have to Meditate!” Everything resumed and my heart felt the same as if nothing happened. Emily looked at me, as I shouted.
“Sure, go ahead. Don’t scream. If only meditation helps you to write your book, go meditate.”
I looked at her, clueless about everything. I had to die, Something told me I had to die off meditating. I closed my eyes and brought all my focus to my forehead. My numbed body helped me forget everything.

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You are on your way, let them die now. Let Emily die.
With my eyes closed, I could sense the images around me. It was horrifying, I could sense that Emily was not breathing, and her cigarette started burning her. Her chest was on fire, and the fingers emitted smoke, the blood was forming vapours.
No! I love her.
Don’t love her, or else time shall arrive for you. This is not your world, son. Nothing you know exist without time. When you return, the world shall be alive. Let it die, for now. For now, the past has nothing to do with the future.
I kept my focus, the voice was hypnotic almost as if blending into my existence and not in my senses. I could not feel the world then, everything disappeared. I could not sense colours, or smell, or movement.
You cannot describe this to yourself. We are in a poem, written by the origin. You are infinite dimensions away from the origin here. In the time-space coordinate, almost 20 years from the instance of oblivious death to humane birth.
Whatever this is, whatever you are, take me back! I don’t belong here. Not right now, at least. Give me time, I am not ready for this.
Give you time? There are spirits here resting, getting ready to crossover infinity to meet the divine origin. And you ask me for time. You are meditating right. You want time, you shall get it. No artist good enough from the realm of time. You wanted to know more, but yes, not ready to know more. There is no now. Just open your eyes, the flick of your eyes, the movement shall make you live, and everything here will die. This is space, and remember, it is everywhere without time.
There was nothing I could think, I could not comprehend a single unit of my existence in this space. Everything I ever thought and now this, a void that defails my whole life. And it feels a lot more real.
You have written a lot, but now, you have to start fresh. Time does not count. Numbers are the tool of time to form a loop. One day in your world, Maths shall discover our trace. Spirit already exist without time. Visit me. But, remember once you return, forget the numbers and seek the essence. Don’t write things comprehensive to mortality, for you are the few minds that will remember this meeting. You will write this and the reader shall then seek redemption from the cage you exist within.

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I was back. Emily was alive, the cigarette was burning in her hand. Everything else was a blur as the fog surrounded the sight. I took a deep breath in and smiled. Felt my heart move, almost as if more weak to the energies around me, forcing me to move and breathe. But I could smile, I had the idea. I knew what to write.
“Throw that cigarette, I know what I am writing for my next blog post.”

Yesterday, I Saw a Lion Kiss A Dear

Across the hall, a woman in blue with a glass of wine. Her eye surrounded by the flick of darkness and her lips covered in the blood red. There was something around that outcasted the beauty of the Basilica, the Gods painted on the walls were all bowed to this moment. Screening out my urge to talk to the female.
I need to get back home, tomorrow is another day when I should wake up early. After all this is not a dream, otherwise, I would approach, just to get my heart pass through some poverty. Ah, screw it, let the light be upon me when I dance with her tonight.

When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie
That’s amore
When the world seems to shine like you’ve had too much wine
That’s amore

Oh, alright, thanks for the music heavens, if only this could be anything less than a dream.

“Hello, would you like to dance?”

“Sure.”

Her smile greeted me a simple intuition that this shall only last this night. But for once, it shall be beautiful. I took her hand, the other one on her waist. Dean Martin’s echo had taken over the place. And her eyes, oh her eyes, their depth was astonishing. If only this could last.

“Whats your name, I must say, it is a pleasure to take on the steps with you.”

No, wait. The lights went off and the Basilica turned into a dark uncertainty. Stars held the night in my mind and we were walking now, hands in hand. The street then illuminated by the strangers kissing all around. The moon lit up my mind again from the blur, I looked at her hand and then in her eyes, almost as if now, they were even more clear and undisturbed from the hue of lights.

“Your eyes, it seems, I can fall in them,
It seems, there is so much depth,
So much to adore in those eyes,
The thoughts that are intriguing my mind,
The lucid shine provoking my sight.”

“I, don’t know, you sure can say things”

Her expressions were so simple yet strong, almost as if my vanity over her features were making no impact on her connection with the beautiful night. She looked at the moon, and I fell into the reflection in her eyes. The moon was never this beautiful.

“Surreal.”

“Holding onto the sight is dangerous here,
All I can do is speak out this verse,
All I can do is sustain this night in my words,
How will that help the stars that are healing those deep scars?
How can a few words defying time, fix your broken lines,
Maybe I should walk away, let the universe rain.
On her beautiful face, the cosmos shall hail.
On her beautiful face, the worthy shall find his trace,
Into the darkness of her eyes. “

Surreal.

Her phone rang and I excused her, rescued my momentum from the rush. I drank the darkness of the night, escaping the dark frame of her eternal smile.

“You are sweet!”

She said while snapping away the packet of cheeseballs from my hand. It was another night in the desert, it was a pouring rain in my heart, the third time, the same woman in the vision of this bright night. Is it raining? It’s a desert. Hey, wait, it’s actually raining. She leaned forward and I reposed onto the moment by syncing in the lies. Her temple to my eyes.
And I lost almost all I had at the time.

I opened up my eyes and saw her in front of me. We were on a boat, lost in an ocean, her eyes were mystical in the dark colour this time. The fourth time, the same face of the beautiful poetry hidden in the frame of my mind.
I shall drown in this moment, once and for all. If I die tonight, this moment shall last forever with this water body. The ocean of my subconscious mind, poetry in the air, seeking divine in her eyes. How bad, I wanted to stay, to stay up all night, all day, to be lost in the loop of this blasphemy.
But then, I had to be one with the ink and not her eyes. It’s not the right time to know her better. I shall die tonight. I closed my eyes, stood up and fell off the boat, into the suspended space of neurons making a mess in the space. Everything punctured my heart and I woke up alone, with memories haunting my stay.
The dawn was on its way, after the death of those scars, I long for the symphony of those, lost in bliss by the strings of adhearence of the universe burning in each star. It feels better, one night with her was more than all the love I have had in the year.
I woke up and waited for the sun, as she lay at the back of my mind with her face against my stolen time. There is a dream, then reality and then comes the dawn. I died in the dream, the place where I loved. I shall die in the reality with the dawn where I smile in disguise. When the sun rays hit my skin, my soul shall be one with the sun, I will be home.

The Black Hole 

Steal me? Can you heal me?
Broken in verses, from all the love.

Feel me? Sense my dreams and deeds,

With time that bleeds out of our singularities.
Not a song, holding on,

All my words, were so wrong,

Where I would belong?
Steal me? Can you heal me?

I am calling out the verses of my empty thirst,

Believe me?

I don’t need cigarettes,

And ashes,

And screaming,

And lashes.

But, you,

The divine empty skies,

And the rhyme of the time.

 

Steal me? Can you heal me?

I am lost in love, with the universe,

With lies and lust,

With broken trust.

Of all that hurts,

Of all that burns,

You, stay dead,

You, the infection in my head.

The Stars on her Black Dress

Almost a decade and there she hides,

Underneath the open skies.

Cognition failed to read her eyes,

When she glared upon the flawless night.

 
Another decade further drags of space elongating with time,

And there she hides, underneath the smoke in the skies,

The stars, she adored had locked their doors,

No cognition could now suffice,

For she fell in love, with a man who drew a tiny light

To heal the haze of the smoky night.

 
A few years to heal her lies,

A few kisses to fade her mind.

She was lost, from her journey to the stars,

For the light of the man was oblivion to let her feel the raging scars.

 
And then one night he left her there,

In the dark wilderness,

In love, dejected in despair.

She screamed, she cried,

She was lost in the dark night,

For no light and cognition could foretell her the dreamy lies.

 
It has been months, in the wild,

And I hope somehow, she reads this rhyme.

If not the black ink,

Then her own black threads,

The dress she wears in the dark times,

Will remind her of the decades that died.

 
When the glimpse of hope will hit her dress,

The spark will reflect the forgotten breath,

And when she reads,

Or when she stalls,

The glimpse will guide her to the hall.

 
Almost a decade and there she used to hide.

Never to be known,

Talking to the stars in the night.

 
This is where the ink shall dry,

The darkness shall collide,

And her face shall meet the dying the night,

With tears in her eyes,

She admires the stars,

With tears in her eyes,

She redeems the truth in her past.

 
Here, she lies underneath the skies,

Talking to the child, that was lost in the wild.

No drugs, no cognition can heal her eyes.

For, there is no flaw in the night.

 

 

 

 

Photography by SUBHI SACHAN

She has been the inspiration to many of the blogs on this website. Check out her amazing work here

Pensieve Of Memories

The chamber of Albus Dumbledore,

Never truly exhibited matter,

It transcended from an aura to another,

From an eye to the mind.

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Within the bloodstream,

Interstellar to the eye,

There rest a memo of the nights,

A canvas of mystical lies,

A pensieve of time.

The hold is called upon to breathe the sea,

A stream of possibilities and dreams,

Named the soul by some,

She fills and drains through each sleep.

The substance is not to be believed,

Not liquid, not gas, not a dream.

The soul is just, asleep,

Floating through the memories.

Albus, Severus and others live through the stone,

Wandering as the gods of unknown,

A sense that elaborates no sense,

Shall weave the universe onto the redemption of each thread.

Sketch by Vaibhav Gupta

A Meshed Poetic Dream

A wizard in Black, a witch in Blue,

The magic of love blended with their doom.

To let this world be, the colours had to die,

For dreams have no space for blinding lights.

 

For their wands could hold the ocean,

And their words could cease the stars,

They held this dream to last,

To let the sleep mend their swollen hearts.

 

Their power so immense, their misery so pure,

When they would kiss, the moon would adore.

The ocean would pour out into the air,

And ask the mended fire to play fair.

 

The fire once born, was not a charm,

Created by the magician, held by the harm.

The blue would burn, The black would bleed,

The ocean would dry, to quench their need.

 

How cold, the flame to hold them close,

How bright, they burn, with the love in their bones,

The moon would rest, the wind would test

The fire shall still burn the holy flesh.

 

Alas, with only the fire and the night,

Dawn shall break the burning ice.

They wake up, entangled in their heads,

Two poets, one dream, to detest.

Two poets, one dream, the mesh.