streaming light through morning eyes
a held love warms the soul
careless slumber rests my coil

awoken in felicity
to bright new day

shine on me my morning star

paradoxical pandora's box's
two lines in a oval world
dissected at angles

confused ?

.sin

deviant humor ventures forth
unassuming koalemos in unfortunate range

the devils playground churning visions
twisted fantasies played in heat

stifled yearnings of epic follies

empty words haunt my existence
wasted instances ringing in desolation

abject loneliness in a lost vision
battles fought with the surrounding air

cynical humor reduces time
berates follies and accords mine

murmured wishes fade in short
wanton desires fall and break

the obsolescence of life vests me redundant
an imagination stifled under an overbearing burden of complacence
sets a placid forbearing

time hidden away in corners, slipping silently
drains us lethally

a candied vision vespers the mind
the taste of the ruminative hidden in falsetto glory

where upon shall i lie ?
ambiguity festers fear

weapons of loki
friends of laze

wake my dear sir
you await your own coming ....

a mercurial mind obscures the path to reason
fogged over by the ever changing emotive

digital images flash in a physical memory
multiple instances of evolution raving in grotesque pleasure

a tribute to the higher gods of the netherworld
worshiping visions of an transcendental vision

we feed on its promises
we die in its reality

a mind abused and tormented by dispelled images of tomorrow
fragmented dreams born of hallucinated realities
a fistful of courage slips through in sand
burrowing through the ever enveloping today
shiny diamonds gleaning in the sun

a thousand cuts bleed in denial, the pain it's flavoured release
acrid smoke supports the addiction, lazy liquid flows over the revelations

dark thoughts scuttled by a sound of my rise

he has arisen,

fear him,

he rises from the ashes of yesteryear

to destroy,

build,

he is not who you know

he is who you have asked for

not imagined for .....

maniacal malice bestowed with freedom

shall rattle the very cages that hold his in his ordeal ....

a quarter of a century spent searching for an identity
transversed realities through multiple instances
created lives through futile experiences

lost is the soul in this search
found is the hollow ring of desolate realization

that this is all there is
and that is so ....

a fragmented generation lost in images waken to the ruminative of the night before,
dronish lives , labored breaths surround the mind , morality takes a backseat
dawn sets to a forced stupor, rambled confessions of desperate emotions
equivocal thoughts torn in ambivalence of reason and feelings

death inevitable of the mortal coil, cowed life is ensured in stead
whereupon shall I rest my soul, for it flutters in the salted winds
lost in thought of numb nothingness, watching exalted emotions , profuse confessions , broken lives, desperate privacy fade to black

trampled is the mind, assaulted even
lascivious images blaze reality, temptations abound
in a wonton breeze we sigh in despair to the shaded lies
accepted truths for comfort vies

lost, in search is my overwhelmed soul …..

cantankerous images dispel hopes, lucid malice bestows rage
the troubled mind decayed gangrene

a normal life, abnormal influences

walking down a life riddled with pain, a existence that defies explanation
waking every morning wishing to cease , to fall into an abyss
sex, money, drugs and alcohol - powerless cocktail , potent holocaust recipe for ....

contrived emotions have suppressed feelings that leave me numb, desolate
closing walls, blinding florescence , blanked vision
raised books scorch eyes, deafening rhythms fall on closed ears
the bass line pounds my chest filling the void , enchanted orations, the mind is tricked
sent to psychedelic dimensions, escaped is the dark doom of today

a heart full of pain, a head filled with rage , wandering , searching for salvation from vices endured
dopamine for my restless soul , provider of peace , destroyer of men
i worship shiva for the escape, cross a fallen angel , wish a deal
sublime feels lost in woven facades, false lives an endeared existence

slur in the haze and bleed in request , rancor kills in greed
the air reeks of fear in change, an unbearing stench of denial
wake my dear, wake ... submit to me , worship vespers the mind
pages shrink to lines , monosyllables in stead

rage .

Happiness

A word that confuses, befuddles, and usually scares the hell out of me...
a rather optimistic friend of mine calls it the following

happiness is a vague feeling-- a fleeting emotion whose existence is cherished in afterthought. some live in a birdcage/in a fantasy world/ in brutal memories and some in unassumed realities. there may be no intervention, maybe no hope, but the act gives courage to live another day that died in another continent hours ago.

ps. nothing in this existence has any name or meaning until u give it one.

i would rather call it a trade off , fantasy versus reality ...

most would be content to use it as an escape for today , to fall back on a memory that is as scarce as the feeling itself, dont get me wrong i have nothing against being happy or joyful or full of life.

i don't wish to be sad , i too wish to be happy.. i too want to feel the warm embrace of hope to derive comfort in that very spiritual of feelings that is the prelude to a peaceful state of

Its just a state of mind as far as i can see, in my convoluted imagination the state of happiness is most often the harbinger of despondency for it propagates impossible hope

something that drives a kid to survive a week in a pit or the underdogs to win the series and all that .

what i ask is this, everybody is inspired by visions of others hope transpiring into reality , but how many of these translate those visions into their own lives.

i might hope for a better job, a better life , to find and keep true love , but does hope and this afterthought of happiness really drive me to achieve it ? no it doesn't .. . but something else does

fear

a very understated feeling, i would say

it drives everything and everybody that i can possibly imagine

an awful pessimist you might call me , but deep down you know the reality


why work ? fear of losing that security a job offers you

why love ? fear being alone ?

why hope ? fear of being lost

Rage …

Often have many quizzed me on my choice of mood in my prose, wondering if life was in actuality quite as despondent as portrayed.

I really have no answer to that, except that I breathe in conflict: in every emotion, state, choice or mood. Umpteen times I am confused by the multiplicity of choices that are present in my head at any given point in time. Annoyingly enough most of them contradict each other leaving me terribly confused.

Reality is that having lived so many lives over the years I seem to have lost track of my own identity, sucked into a whirlpool of emotions that assault my every sense day after day, numbing every feeling.

Who am I ? do you know ? for I don’t, a mortal fear looms of its existence, of discovering that I fall quite short of my perceived image or exceed (both terrifying thoughts although there is a feeling of cynical humor in my mind as I jot this down, laughing at this ironically desperate state of mind)

Why the hell would I want to find out anyway, what difference does it make. even if I do ever find out, would it change anything ? would I want to change anything, not quite I think. Comfortable in a safe complacent state of mind.

Taken enough stupid risks in my life already, now everything that seemed exciting, fun seems risky, nonsensical or plain stupid.

Mornings, huh …

Waking every morning to supposedly a new world, when I’m not even sure if I have stopped dreaming of the older.

Living in hope, that’s what we do – really? Are we supposed to believe in our hopes , knowing fully well the stupidity they present! Secretly hoping , praying for those ‘godly’ interventions that would change the very direction of our lives.

5 seconds of reflection and back to reality, where the fuck are my socks man ? Sardar …. I need socks …

despondent lives , empty existences

repeated lies, accepted too

walking illusions , dark days

sleeping dreams , psychedelic nights

forgotten lives , void spaces

abstained desires ,


rage ......

.sin

can you handle the real me ?

a hundred faces
a hundred illusions

a reflection in doubt
a soul interred

real is no more
them is me today

lost is hope
forgotten , spurned is me

.sin

in absence of reason do i live,
only to stifle in my curse

do i wish upon it myself ?
for i see my escape and do i fear the release for i fear it in itself ?

a thousand questions does my heart ask of me

am i a prisoner of my own sorrow
or a fool of my own folly

bear not the cross shall i,
fail not the purpose will i

an untimely death shall my reason befall
for i am a fool of my own ...

reason

.sin

christened the prince of darkness
fallen below our feet

in the absence of light shall he rise
from dusk till dawn shall he rue

he walks the streets amongst our dead
more in heart than in shape

rue his whisper
for shall it turn your dreams true

tempt the gentle voice does
fall the weak mind will

.sin

i stand afflicted by a terrible loneliness

the rage of a thousand fires
burns in my blood

seething through my skin
it dissipates any sense or sensibility

soon i shall turn
into sin ....


dennis.sinned

i breathe in relief at the darkest hour of the night
as i wander in the byzantium of my minds creation

free of the trappings of the world
that so bind me to a mortal shell

i am home ...

.sin

lonely sleepless nights
fragmented thoughts

addicted yearnings
difficult denials

contemplated cessation
realised reality

a million thoughts
a single mind

ensured desperation
eventual madness

hanging on to a mere semblance of life

an existence that knows no feeling

lost and lonely

again ....

put in this state of virtual comatose

a drug , a savior or a destroyer of life

an unanswered question

the final blow

an empty existance

the search ended

the result found

and lost

for the want of sanity

maddness was found

.sin

lost and lonely
confused and dejected

clinging on to a myriad shell of existence
clawing for redemption

will i lose me
or will i find me

questions

wafting illusions lead me astray
morning eyes crash me down

the thankless world
a hapless life

changing to adapt to me
who will change me again ?
will someone ?

where will i lead myself ?
when my heart is lead to an untimely end

a thousand questions does my heart ask
a thousand pin drops does my head hear

everyday is another sear
another nail in this coffin called life


.sin

life

it takes a life to make us realise the value of ours ,
to feel the foreboding sense of time to seep into out minds

i bow my head in respect for those who didn't get the opportunity to cherish what is close to them

pray for who are close be strong and remember the moments that they shared in happiness

i give thanks for the opportunity today and what comes tomorrow
for tomorrow is not known to anyone today

i pay my respects


.sin
_____________________________________________________________________________

Psalm 23

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

rage

bridled rage seething through
suppressed emotions burning to ashes

at war with the world silently
more at war with me

screaming , wanting to break out
wishing to tear open my life

mirror mirror on the wall ... oh, woe me

i foresee my fall .....

.sin

let me sleep

awoken into an endless nightmare
let me sleep into a dreamless night

not i wish to battle the world
just drift along into the dark void

gasp to breathe the muddled lie
reach to hold my seething rage

free my soul my heart says
cage it forever my mind does

.sin

untitled

dark nights & never ending days
every day's folly is a mighty haze

tomorrows vision is an unborn child
today it blinds me for an unknown kind

drifting interim is a wont desire
but i waft in preeminence of wanton ire

.sin

untitled

left out of my mind,
heartfelt sorrow makes me empty and hollow

conflicted at every turn
dejected efforts make me scald and burn

.sin

untitled

broken skies
wet earth


hazy sight
cold feelings

desperate wishes
harsh truths

.sin

untitled

conflicting emotions
alternate realities

impossible choices
evolving thoughts

tomorrows disaster
today's repression

.sin

untitled

an expression of desire
an acceptance of love

the rejection of reason
the breaking of a wall

a moment in despair
a realization of pain

.sin

rage & sadness

I have a heart full of sadness

a head full of rage

I stumble into the world

breaking apart from my senses

I fight my own demons

and i'm plagued by yours

my head is psychedelic

and my heart is black

.sin

untitled

my head rings to the prose of dead poets
my life recants to the voice of forgotten souls

living on the edge of reality
wishing to dissuade into an illusion

struggling to fight over this obsession
overcome by the vagrancies of life

where do I go

what do I do

will someone take my hand

will someone thrust me into their love

will someone overpower this sense of foreboding

will someone ?

.sin

untitled

the loved spurned
the heart broken

a fallen head
a heart broken

the wronged act
the heart broken

a moment of despair
a heart broken

the love lost
the heart broken

.sin

the war

i wake up to a new day
, a new beginning

at least thats what i'm led to believe

dragging my self into a state of defeated consciousness
against my very will

everything seems in a haze
through my induced eyes

it's like an illusion
i fall

i fall rapidly

deeply

into a maze of uncertainty
a refusal of reality

i'm at war against my very senses

struggling to arise

i fall to my knees

i desist

am i wrong

or am i wronged ............

.sin

Me, I'm Not

Well it's happening
Never planned on this
You've got something I need
Kind of dangerous
And I'm losing control
I'm not used to this
What you want from me
I'm not used to this

I can't shut it off
This thing I've begun
And it's hard to tell
Just where it's coming from
And it's hard to see
What I'm capable of
And it's hard to believe
Just, what I've become

Hey, can we stop
Me, I'm not

I can swallow it down
Keep it all inside
I define myself
By how well I hide
I feel it coming apart
Well, at least I tried

Every Day Is Exactly The Same

i believe i can see the future
because i repeat the same routine
i think i used to have a purpose
then again that might have been a dream
i think i used to have a voice
now i never make a sound
and i just do what i have been told
i really don't want them to come around
oh no...

every day is exactly the same
there is no love here and there is no pain
every day is exactly the same

i can feel their eyes are watching
in case i lose myself again
sometimes i think i'm happy here
sometimes...
sometimes... yeah, i still pretend
i cannot remember how this got started
oh... but i can tell you exactly how it will end

every day is exactly the same
there is no love here and there is no pain
every day is exactly the same

i'm writing on a little piece of paper
i'm hoping someday you might find
well i'll hide it behind something they won't look behind
i am still inside...
a little bit comes breathing through
i wish this could've been any other way
but i just don't know... i don't know what else i can do

every day is exactly the same
there is no love here and there is no pain
every day is exactly the same

In your light I learn how to love.

In your beauty, how to make poems.

You dance inside my chest,

where no one sees you,

but sometimes I do,

and that sight becomes this art.

-- Jelaluddin Rumi

I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair

Don't go far off, not even for a day

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --

because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because

then the little drops of anguish will all run together,

the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift

into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;

may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.

Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far

I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,

Will you come back? Will you leave me here ...

Pablo Neruda

Unclaimed

To make love to a stranger is the best.
There is no riddle and there is no test -

To lie and love, not aching to make sense
Of this night in the mesh of reference.

To touch, unclaimed by fear of imminent day,
And understand, as only strangers may.

To feel the beat of foreign heart to heart
Preferring neither to prolong nor part.

To rest within the unknown arms and know
That this is all there is; that this is so.

--Vikram Seth

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997)

Howl

(The original prose in italics and my comments in plain text)

Allen Ginsberg's monumental poem was first heard in a series of famous readings that signaled the arrival of the Beat Generation of writers. The first of these readings took place in October 1955 at the Six Gallery in San Francisco. It was Allen Ginsberg's first public performance, and it made him instantly famous at the age of twenty-nine.

The lines in the famous first part of the poem tumble over each other in long unbroken breaths, all adding to a single endless sentence

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angel headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night ...

Ginsberg is describing his fellow travelers, the crazy, lonely members of his community of misunderstood poet artists, unpublished novelists, psychotics, radicals, pranksters, sexual deviants and junkies. At the time that he wrote this he'd seen several of his promising young friends broken or killed.

Each of these describe real-life events by people Ginsberg knew, but the poem is especially dedicated to Carl Solomon, Ginsberg's crazy-insane hyper-intellectual friend who he'd met in a mental hospital years before:

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,

Ginsberg refers to the current “ Beat Generation “ which was a mix of redundant lives with lost identities, driven to poverty due to lofty ideals and not much work or recognition of their talent causing them to drown their anger in drugs which were then as now sold at the hands of the then still politically in correct ‘niggers’.

angel headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,

Here he refers to the inherent innocence of the generation and more specifically of his friends corrupted by dope in the expectation of utopia in a world that seemed to drag on endlessly without any purpose like a machine! He refers to the living conditions of their, which often translated into leaky cold flats usually without any power or heating at the edge of cities. Discussing

Here the spirit of the generation is vividly expressed, as even though they did not have anything they had the spirit to dream of something that was bigger then them all but not knowing what it was.

who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated, who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war, who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull, who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall, who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York.

He we can clearly see the anger in Ginsberg’s writing where he writes about his friends and probably himself wasting their intelligence gaping at prostitutes at the tenement’s, scorning the religion they professed to.

At the failure of education system through which they passed, which made them dream

(Hallucinating) in the light of their new knowledge of Blake and other scholars, for making them dream loftily but not preparing them fro the world.(The beat generation considered the classics as fantastical and unreal ! ).

Once they ventured out in the world armed with their newly acquired knowledge into the arms of an era that saw a generation of broken kids from war trying to cope with the horrors that they witnessed, banished from society for revealing that which reveled the contemporary ideals of the American life.

Living in cheap motels listening to young girls being raped for money while sitting at the edge of a fire burning in a waste basket getting wasted on dope, completely broke and reduced to peddling drugs smuggled in their anal rectums or vagina’s to New York.

ramblings of a disillusioned soul ...

Mumbai,



Arguably the worlds most populous and probably the greatest conurbation , a city where we all live and exist.
Exist more than live, but a place that makes us live, not for anything else but our dreams

Myriad dreams that are born out of despair,rejection , denial and insult rather than the shiny laminate above the dust that excludes a luminescence glow... attracting us close to it .. closer till we are singed by it .. but we keep coming back for more ...

A city that shoves us in the face of reality, a place where you will be missed but will also be replaced.

Life will go on even without you , no matter how much you want to believe otherwise !

Where every day you fall through a haze of uncertainty, of fear of fear ...

Places blow up, people die , we pass by them , we stop to pay respect , we shrug , we move on ...

For in this urban bohemia time is a figment of our imagination, it doesn't exist , what is today will not be tomorrow

Degenerate lives co-exist with spiritual reverence, a psychological state of consciousness

Do we really stop and give ourselves a minute to reflect about what we believe in other than glorified dreams sold to us by flex posters and shiny packaging ?


STOP ! Think .... But can we afford to ??

I know i cannot, so i go on , knowing full and well the consequences it will have on my moral self with cold-blooded indifference ..



dennis raul