Little ants.

Once upon a dream
There was a little kid
Little did he know
How the hell to fit
Fit in the talks
Fit in the fights
Fit in the humour
And switch off the lights
Before crawling into bed
Before crawling into bed
There was a little smile
There was some strength
In everything futile
He would stare at mountains
And call for the birds
Right through his window
Reach out for the herbs
Twisting and turning
And contemplating
And smelling and feeling
And then next
He would cry for something small
And laugh at something big
He would climb the trees
And draw with the sticks
He would play with the dogs
And chase down the cats
Sprinkle all the suger
over the mighty ants
And trap all the rats
In the house
In the house
With his mother
And father out for work
And before he'd be back
Wash off all the dirt
And then one day
Within the field
Sat an old man
Smiling at an insect
Resting in his hand
"Could I ask you
Something? "
Began the little kid
"Do they call you mad
For doing all this?"
"Well yes they do
But I don't understand
Why would I not
Smile at this ant"
"Yes I know
And so would I,
But if they see you
They'll laugh
Like they're high"

"Well then do
Something different
When they laugh at you
Look at them as ants
And keep your smile
With you"

Now.

In the art
Of being
Of seeing
Everything
So clear and vibrant

So beautiful
So lovely
Because it exists
Because one can relish
Even death

Its a funny thing
Death
Its all in the head
And we are headless too
We love it
The drama
The movies
The shopping
And we are headless

Love gives freedom
To chose the one
And that's where we fail
Not in tests
Not in jobs
Or in printing money
Not where
There is order
But only when we are free

Because we don't know
And we will not
But what's the hurry about?
This is it!
Look around
this is your achievement

Congratulations! 

"But now what?"
U ask me
Now is what is.

And then
you stay
in the now
for a while

And then a while longer
And that's the trophy
My love.

Love

Oh that rush
Of when id see
Your love beyond
The lands and sea

The beauty in
Being blind
The naughty hopeless
Dependency

Its a trip
To be in love
The lows
The highs
The zero
The infinite
The wrong
And right
Delusional light
My smile
On your
Every sight

But all this is
A dreamy vibe
True or not
A dreamy vibe
Everything
In extreme
Sharing
Caring
Ego
Fear
Love
Love
And the formless
All together
Perfect
But for a little while
And then another
And then another

Give freedom hope

Our only purpose is
To know what is
Living a purposeless life.

The beauty of
Loving just
Looking around. 

The interaction
With beliefs
And the truth together

The interaction
With a tryst
Between me and you.

Me what is here
But not at all
What is real
But not at all

You the voice
The fears
The insecurities
The happiness
The sadness
The love
And illusion
Of course. 

If you would be
You'd be comfortable
Where you are
Sick of going ahead
Sick of running
Sick of following

But you'd find
That once you give up
The only other
Is to follow again

Change

Accept change
With love
Kindness
And give hope
Some freedom to grow
With good things
And music
And candles
And smiles
And positive vibes
And poetry
And travel

Chirps

He was constantly staring at the river for quite some time now. it almost seemed like a conversation between them. The man and the river. He seemed to be expecting something, an answer perhaps, from the river. A question so deep and subtle that one might forget about it the very next second,  almost like a sketch on the water. A question yet so powerful with an answer in itself that it could bring in an ocean of other questions all depending on that one thought, like two atoms result in an explosion, only this explosion happens within. A question that keeps one on the path of enlightenment or suddenly becomes surreal and then the sketch on the water is gone. But then something happens in between this thought... a bird has just chirped nearby somewhere. His attention is then towards the chirp and he quickly starts looking for the bird that he has manifested listening to. This moment is his creation and he is of this creation's. While looking for the bird another question comes and sits on his head, like a random bird on a tree, yet very important to the conscious universe. "Is it important to look for who chirped? " "can't we just enjoy the chirp ...the manifestation? "

It is for him to realise how big the world actually is. .. and our bubble is way too small. It is just not the chirp that he created,  also the trees and the sun and the mountains too, even the temperature of the water is his own creation. Now that tickles ego a bit, but his is the creation and he is of the creation.

But could he be a manifestation of the bird? Our we in nothing but a web of thoughts that have been manifested?  'Sab moh maya hai?' Yet its real... so real that one can experience it.

There has got to be  some vibe connecting and coming together and suddenly the bird chirps again.

All that has been thought through just between two chirps. the existance has been questioned. All happened between two chirps.

The water trickles down as always.
There is another chirp.
And then the sun sets.

Mr.potato at his last performance.

The potato looked anxious staring at himself in the mirror. He knew he had to look his best when coming out in the world under the spot light. The stage was shining with a silver lining and as white as ivory could ever be. Potato feared the sight of her not because she was scary... but because she was the most beautiful thing he believed he'd ever see. He knew this from the bottom of his heart that he wouldn't be able to handle so much beauty in the last few seconds of his life before they both sacrifice themselves for the good of mankind. They have been taught that humans are all there is to this planet... and to serve them well. She is in the other end getting dressed with two buns... one at the bottom and one at the top. The sauces make her look beautiful. The cheese just bringing out the demon of every spectator. So much meat one cant resist and why should he? The potato decides to go french with his cut. Getting too fried with his last minute nervous breakdown he cries to himself and after a while leaves the thought behind, calms himself down and goes to the stage as crisp as it can be. He was destined to be with her it seems. She looks beautiful with her curves, the burger simply stands out with her revealing meat while the french fries begin to go soggy because of so much love between them. They die together like lovers.

My love story of orange infused onions.

The other day I was wandering in the kitchen, beating my head against the slab, trying to figure out what to serve with my stuffed leg of chicken. I looked up and saw the onion seated in the corner feeling shy and trying to hide himself behind the cruet set our chef had told us to have on each table. I looked further up and there was the butter smiling & winking at me saying "Senor, I make everything tasty". I was tempted by her confidence itself.  And Suddenly, just to add more love and passion, lady orange looked at me with her lustrous eyes. Completely enticed and bound by her seductive beauty and along with her aroma, I quickly decided to introduce all to each other. Told them to warm up to each other in the oven for a little while till they all would get along and infuse their own thoughts and flavours into each other. To give finality, serve them on a salty biscuit with a caper on top.