131 posts
  • izingizer 10w


    Yes! Many are blessed and that is for sure,

    No one can take that away from you to lure;

    Blessedness comes only from the Virtue of yearning;

    Truth as the highest value practiced never stops yielding.

    Blessings to recognize that virtue is always present;
    Alas! Very few can utilize that to see and feel the omniscient!!


  • izingizer 12w

    A N N I H I L A T E!

    How conveniently most speak for their own convenience;

    But somehow doesn't heed the fellow beings around too do the same for their own convenience;

    And the baffling thing that results from this is to annihilate the Truth- the most fundamental value we have- with all possible convicted convenience!


  • justin_aptaker 21w

    The Day i Saw God

    or was it today? i can't really tell
    i saw God
    more clearly than i've ever seen anything

    She was
    struggling to breath
    unable to understand
    why everything was pain
    why She'd been so alone
    away from all those She loved so much

    Her eyes bleary and fading
    joy erased
    but we were there with Her
    She could feel us again
    along with Her children and sisters huddled against Her
    for one last image
    equally at a loss

    but the last image She gave me
    was when the sedative finally kicked in
    and i sat face to face with Her
    gently stroking Her beautiful head
    She finally made sounds of joy again
    or they could have been pain
    but i think they were joy
    and i think i saw joy again in Her eyes
    i think the medicine had relieved the fear and pain
    just enough for Her to feel the joy of me loving Her

    but that moment was cut short
    as they took Her away
    i cried “goodbye sweet baby”
    sweet Angel, sweet Love
    then i fell apart

    the next time i saw God
    all the life had departed from Her
    all that remained for me
    was Her still, beautiful form
    eyes open, but lifeless
    and my eyes are open, but lifeless
    until I see God again

    - In loving memory of Boo, an angel who was taken from us too soon on 7/10/2021

  • ericwinnert 37w

    Crushed Hands

    Devil crushed hands grasp
    At god produced tears
    Light reigns from the kingdom
    Where the planes suck dry
    The everlasting water that falls
    From clouds best remembered
    In the night of day and the black of grey.

    Locks open, water falls
    And in these tumble
    The ever sophisticated life 
    Of a man whose sole responsibility
    Was to plumb the unfathomable depths,
    Where pungent vapours rise to a 
    Blood seared eye that sees
    And hears none of the cries
    That fill the nets in black
    Troughs of a dark expectant sea.


  • izingizer 42w
















  • izingizer 43w

    The Means

    The more higher your ambitions,

    the more you strive for the good,

    the more you thrive to shed light to dispel the darkness,

    that much more you need to see the
    deep dungeons,

    that much more bad you need to take,

    and that much more blind paths that are

    to be pass/travel or even walk.

    There is no other way.

    Suffering is not meant for the fools but rather to the wise.

    Just keep going and you will reach the pinnacle of higher horizons.

    This is proven true again and again through ages.

    Examine the lives of the Great and you

    will realise this eternal truth.

    Nothing comes easy.


  • anas_husain 53w


    "Desire is a strong force in metaphysical realm."
    Since f=ma.
    Mass represent your urge for desire.
    and acceleration symbolises intellect.


  • raindropsoncacti 63w


    We get through most of life quite blissful
    Yet ignorant.
    Content with illusions; our backs turned towards the entrance of life's mysterious cave.

    Never before have I been so compelled to change my direction
    But for the first time I feel I care most deeply enough
    To be certain: I can be this brave...


  • nehahemaraj 70w

    Qualms of the young, gay soul,
    Meandering across the heaven and the earth,
    Drifting to oceans and back to mountains,
    In quest of the nucleus of identity.

    Osculating with the crimson dome,
    Of sundry hues at different angles,
    Footsteps spurning the metaphysical cupola,
    To crack open, and to land on the core.

    Underneath everything that is psychedelic,
    Lies the abstract, intricated motifs,
    Entangled with the truths of genesis,
    Treasure breathes within, it's the chimes that are exhaled.



    Image credit to the right owner.

    Read More


  • insomniacmusings 75w

    Quantum Jump

    If only I could quantum jump to a parallel reality where we are already together, I'd do it right away; no two ways about it!


  • away_with_words 80w

    Remember that there is no such thing as "nothing"
    Even emptiness is not empty; it is space for something to fill, and potential for new existence.

    Remember when your science teacher spun a rainbow coloured top or colour wheel, and how all the colours combined, and the top turned white?
    This is because every shade of the rainbow exists within white.

    When your mind is quiet, and you suffer the dreamless nights,
    remember that it is from that quiet,
    from the dreamless slumber,
    and in every space between thoughts,
    your true voice can be heard.

    Only a quiet mind can hear its soul.
    Listen for it

    @lovenotes_from_carolyn @writersnetwork @tomorrow_is_amazing @love_poet @nishurastogi #repost #please
    #emptiness #philosophy #metaphysics #ramdass #mind #soul #awaywithwords #captiveimagination

    Read More

    Emptiness Isn't Empty....

  • away_with_words 99w

    The Open Stillness of Neutrality.

    When you cease to allow
    ...what you hold within to affect what is around you,

    and refuse to let
    ...what is around you to affect what you hold within,

    only then can you experience
    ...the open stillness of neutrality.

  • peddatimma 101w

    Eid e deed

    Na hi wasta zahidon se
    na abidon si koi ibadat ki
    Bas dil lagaya yaar se
    Aur eid bas deed se ki

  • soaringeyes 103w


    As I trembled for you last night,I listened to phantom sounds of the sweet love notes you hummed in my ears. My bare body quaved from the inertia of your caresses and my skin turned a shy rose when the wind carried in your hot breath to my neck. I lay there toiling under our reminiscent passions as the moon bathed me in the veil of your loving gaze. To reality, I was a naked wanton lying unashamed but metaphysics knew that we were constants lying as one in veneral harmony.

  • mustafwi 105w


    All things cry out in the pain of their separation
    The dumb and mute, the torn out and alone
    Stone, stars and self are condensed
    Concatenation of word and void;
    A gossamer gown of meaning
    That conceal as much as it reveals

  • izingizer 117w


    For been made too familiar, and so loosing it's very meaning, an act is being called a cliché;

    But why looking into the mirror each and every day, one's face even umpteen times always appear novel to oneself?

    How to answer this paradoxical occuring, other than saying and realizing that it is not the same face one is looking?

    And in that how many faces an individual is ever making;

    Is it not that every one is capable of becoming a HERO WITH THOUSAND FACES if only one paves his own path towards self-realization.


  • justin_aptaker 118w


    Everyone's been talking about how
    the universe will either expand
    indefinite cold star death
    or collapse and then repeat itself

    meanwhile i'm a slave proper
    in every sense of the word physical
    bound to the elements hunger
    a criminal for speaking my thoughts aloud

    a loud or a soft noise unheard
    unseen and unknown and unthinkable
    still I would try to define it
    humanity, always effing the ineffable

    i'm one and apart and the same all the same
    the universe cloaked in name after name
    every man and woman a star
    in their own drama melodrama how dramatic

    i am in a word addict
    again you might say i'm back at it
    rhyming with rhythm but static
    sense or nonsense and i've had it


  • justin_aptaker 120w

    Ephemera II

    even now has come to an end
    the world that once was then
    the nights were young
    full of natural electricity

    you may find yourself
    standing in a place so unfamiliar
    yet so full of such bewildering
    to something you knew before

    you may just be watching
    the wind as it plays
    in ripples on the surface of the water
    which passes under your feet
    standing on a bridge

    @justin_aptaker ca. 2012

  • justin_aptaker 121w

    Death Calls ~ (this is my longest poem)

    death calls
    every heartbeat by name
    making each one the same

    this is your life
    this is your life
    this is your life
    this is your life

    the metronome, calling me home, ticking away, fading the day
    life can be so melodramatic
    like watching static
    with the volume on mute
    and your mind on mute, numbed by the gentle static hiss of your own personal hell
    and the waves that swell
    the remains of life-forms onto endless beaches of time

    all time is mine
    all time is mind

    i look out by night
    at the vast ocean of Being
    and the sand, as it slips in my hands
    is not made for my counting
    infinity is not comforting

    i smell salt
    sitting on the naked earth, i draw from a vast reservoir
    a deep well
    hoping that maybe if i bury my head
    under the beachy sand
    i will escape the tide by becoming one with the earth and the stars

    i try to write perfect words
    with the absurd feeling that if i get them right
    they will work like a spell
    that shatters reality itself
    and places me somewhere else
    where things were right the first time

    after all, we cast reality with words
    and all of our pictures come to life
    and all of life is our pictures
    and words are our entire reality
    so we must not be saying the right words, thinking the right words
    no one taught us the right words, we don't have the faculty for those kinds of words

    silence and sleep
    thoughts of the deep
    give no rest for me
    they reek of the sleep i dread to sleep
    i make noise so that the universe must keep listening
    i banish sleep because a white gangrene is glistening
    where the worm never dies
    and the smokes always rise, blotting the skies

    are we the children of Cain? cursed from the face of the earth
    is it because of murder in my heart
    that i am marked to die?

    we stand shivering outside, in chains and shackles, all in a line
    with brothers and sisters in front and behind
    and every so often (we never know when)
    our captors pluck one of us out of the line
    and none of us can stop it
    and we are forced to watch it
    while they stand our mothers and fathers against the wall
    and open fire, but not at heart or head
    on stomachs and bowels instead
    so our loved ones expire slowly, writhing on the cold dirt
    pleading eyes upturned
    begging our love to save them
    but we can only wait our own turn

    it seems that no Mind would dream up such a dream
    and give it as Life
    to its very offspring

    i tremble to blaspheme
    but i am questioning

    whether Love has ever tread these tangled paths at all
    whether Life ever begot life
    whether we are not in fact just the spectacular fireworks
    of passion and sorrow
    that the universe has cooked up with
    its chemical sorceries

    which paint once the sky
    for an instant in time

    Father! Father!
    do you even remember the name that you gave me?
    do you remember the night you pulled me violently from my resting place
    where it was dark and warm and secure?
    and you cast me into a cold, hollow womb that continually miscarries
    and i was born in a tomb
    too soon?

    it was winter
    do you remember?

    the dying of embers
    O, wanton December!
    Who pierced me with sorrows
    and gave me tommorows
    but stole all my todays


    i inquire into the science
    of infinite gaps
    of gaping synapse

    i investigate the substance of Being
    poking at it from every angle
    demanding that it yeild fruits fit for our consumption
    that it justify itself

    must i remind you
    that i never asked to be here
    and i never consented
    to this form or this figure
    riddled with cancers

    i am the eternal thought
    thinking itself
    watching with terrified attatchment
    these bodies which i inhabit

    my haunts, my accostomed places
    my ethos, my habits
    my character, a socially constructed facade
    my self, ever putting itself
    into the eyes of others, looking on itself
    imagining itself playing the roles
    of each of the other children in the schoolyard


    but at last, the primitive state of nature overtakes me
    i'm going to sleep now, do not awaken me
    and when i awake, Love will wake again with me
    and all the smoldering, dying wreckage of this day will forsake me

    ah, i remember now, the sound of Love, walking in the cool of the garden
    when each day seemed to stretch on forever
    and the night was full of magic
    the infinite gaps can only be scaled
    in the space of one instant, no more and no less

    working its way back through every other instant
    time, since it is a function of mind, is also subject to language
    i stand back from the bodies of the dead i inhabit
    i am the universal singularity, the one thought
    throbbing and pulsing in the erotic heights before explosive creation
    the body electric
    and rise, orgasmic over Moloch
    whose mind is pure machinery
    and whose children drown in their insanity

    with a cold and broken hallelujah
    i hymn the blessed race immortal
    and rend the fabric of reality from top to bottom
    entering in the place most holy
    and die, writhing on the warm, welcoming earth
    the place of my birth
    the place of my hearth, where the embers glow and spark

    December has now heard a lark
    Hades, required to return to her mother
    the goddess he has stolen for a season
    and the Bird rises wreathed
    in flame from the ashes
    baptizing the Forms of our collective unconscious
    with the blessed and holy power of life

    and coming to life, all of our pictures bring us to life with them!


    one can not blaspheme what is not
    for one can not think of it
    look again at what Love gave us
    in the space of an instant, which extends on forever
    since time and space alike are a construct of our symbolic processes

    i pull out my tabula rasa
    i am written on the tabula rasa
    all is white on the tabula rasa
    all is white
    all is white

    the waves now are dragging me in
    to the ocean without beginning or end
    and the depths are alive with the wind
    of warm currents and of births and of sand
    and death would appear now a friend
    leading me in by the hand
    calling me into the land

    Love is life
    Love's alive
    Love is death

    Death calls

    @justin_aptaker ca. 2011

  • justin_aptaker 121w

    Still Life III

    the water
    sitting in the Aquafina bottle

    on the floor
    in the middle of the room
    is the hub of all
    the universe

    i consume

    @justin_aptaker ca. 2012