save frogs

from an old dairy

hello!
planet earth here!

rd5: amphetamine

cued in veritably
maybe it’s a headway
i’m all ears

when dead tired
you count me out
oh
exhibitionists

for rupticism
what’s your hunch?
bad rep
you tailed him?

add up

hello folks
curse me for this rigmarole
but
save frogs and toads
i like their croaks

stashed away for years
my assets
have gathered dust
and
become a safe haven to silverfish
they rule in there and procreate
but i doubt
if they could swim in knowledge or taste sanskrit verses

i like mud and lotus and frogs
they deliver love and knowledge and wisdom
i want to swim in
from their puddle to ocean

grow flowers and give up guns
love frogs and stop hating others

high time indeed
to end the hibernation
and start singing like frogs
the esoteric songs
(of love and love-making)

when will it rain?
i need some muse again

(NaPoWriMo Day 30, Post# 31)

¤BlackBerry Poem¤

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more than art

mukhundo-birgunj

more than art

this half-carved bhairava
hung on a wall of an eatery in a happening city
reminds me of bertolt brecht, born thousands of miles away
but it makes me believe that
this piece of woodcraft is more than chisel’s work
or
a black poem that an esoteric poet wants to write but never would

dear brecht,
maybe it’s a strain to be evil(-looking)
but
on it (and your japanese carving)
i can see a life
yet to be brought in
and
mystical messages galore
that you fail(ed) to perceive

A turning point

No feigning, it was the watershed.

To be particular, the second stanza.

सुखको इच्छा

यस्तो होस्

रत्ति कसैमा

दु:ख नहोस्।

I would have heard the song hundreds of time. But for me this was a mere song—a mellisonant piece of half philosophical and half spiritual hokum earlier, to be honest. Simple, yet hard to comprehend.

On the big day, at the time, for whatever reason, I was obsessed with harebrained ideas, see, these harbingers—my boy and his girl—showed up, showing respect to me, no matter just only to cheer up a heartsick beau, and listened to his rigmarole. Moreover, they brought me a manna from heaven.

They did what they had to…

No, that was not just etiquette; I read what they had scribbled. Intuition. Inner inspiration. A very popular song written by Durga Lal Shrestha and sung by Aani Chhoying Dolma. (Is Nhoo Bajracharya the composer/musician?) it was!

Cliché, I would have said had it been some other time. But man, when I reached the second stanza, I realised the meaning it was pregnant with. Not only philosophical and spiritual it was, but also it was practically awe inspiring.

I don’t know how my facial expression was that time. However, I still bear in my mind the free-flow throughout the body that I felt. Honestly, it was not just another experience. I was in tears, and I heaved a deep sigh.

I told them, the friends with who there is no selfishness, the spur-of-the-moment decision that I made in the wake of the inspiration. They okayed…

“You are relieved from all bonds, if there were any,” said I.

In clear words.

Overcoming all craving, affliction and aversion.

And added, “Free like a bird now.”

—————————-

सुखको इच्छा

यस्तो होस्

रत्ति कसैमा

दु:ख नहोस्।

——————————-

…Unending joys,

countless achievements and

everlasting happiness,

for a special person like you

deserves only the

best things in life.

Have a very

Happy Birthday

———————————————-

Yes, buddies, I deserve only the best things in life. Thanks!

गन्थन

वर्तमानसँग मेरो कुनै गुनासो छैन। विवेकको खडेरी परेको बेलामा अरूलाई दोष थोपर्नुभन्दा चुपचाप दु:ख भोग्नु जाती!

तर अहंकारको चुलीमा पुगेका आफ्ना मान्छेहरूको पतन देख्दा अलिक् नराम्रो त लाग्दोरहेछ। कोसिस गरेकै हुँ सम्झाउने।…

Dazed

“…

Turning a blind eye to me, the wild white cat  started exchanging gamey grins with the new swain without any shame.

I was impelled to construe the  meaning the  shift was pregnant with. Dazed by the blow, I could only say ugh!

Was the cat hamming it up? Or, it’s my overreacting?”

अक्टागन्‌मा नौ रात

अक्टागन्‌बाहिर को सानो बगैँचामा बसेर माथि बादलसँग लुकामारी खेल्दैगरेका आकाश र अग्ला कोनिफर्स् देख्दा म उसलाई सम्झिरहेको हुन्थें। देख्दा सानो भए पनि त्यो सेतो फूलको सुबास मदान्ध बनाइदिने खालको थियो र म पूरा शरीरमा नै कुत्कुती लागेको महसुस गर्दै ऊसँगको अभिसारको स्मृति र फ्यान्टासीमा हराएको हुन्थेँ।
सेतो सुबासित सानो फूल! ठ्याक्कै ऊ जस्तै।
फेरि पहिलो दिन नै यौटी केटी देखिई। वर्ण र रूप पनि उसैको जस्तो। त्यो मेक्सिकन् केटीको नाम त याद छैन तर त्यो उसको जस्तै सुनिन्थ्यो। गलत पो सुनेँ कि भनेर मेरो अगाडि बसेको धूर्जटि माइकल्‌लाई सोधेको थिएँ तर ठिकै रहेछ।
आगारेथा या यस्तै केही।
अझ अरू संयोगहरू पनि चकित पार्ने खालका! बिचरो म, बाह्य संसारबाट पूरै सञ्चारविच्छेदको अवस्थामा बसेका ती नौ दिन र नौ रात म टेलिप्याथीको दुर्लभता थाहा पाउँदापाउँदै पनि निरर्थ उसलाई सन्देश पठाइरहेको हुन्थेँ “…बुझ्यौ यस्तो भयो…।”

डाउन्टाउन् राजधानीको रात्रिजीवनले मलाई खासै लोभ्याएन तर ती रातहरू मैँले पूरै उसका लागि खर्चेको छु। धेरै भयो मेरो कन्सस्, सब्कन्सस् र अन्कन्सस् मस्तिष्कमा ऊ छाउन थालेकी तर सम्पर्कमा नरहँदा कस्तो हुँदोरहेछ केही दिनको दूरीले धेरै ………