Bramha Vihar

(On the Mother’s day)


Born out of my mother’s womb,

My hazed eyes of the present day

Converge the soft soil of this samsara

Feeling the amorous warmth

Of illimitable and immeasurable

I'm quite conscious of.


Grown up I'm 

In the tough and sturdy legs 

Massaged by the pure oil

Of immeasurable mind.

Matured I’m as the absolute man -

The conception of

My affectionate motherhood.


In the time passing by,

When my mother turned

Old enough to fragility and frailty,

Then my mindful memory

Erased my own childhood -

The nam* and roop*

Of my mother in me.


I'm occupied this much

To set myself morally uprights,

Bemused I’m in my right

To concede you like my own,

Stayed far away from your presence.

The suffering you confronted

In your old and fragile body,

My nature of looking intently at you 

Fell down your mind into despair.


When my mind stuck in  

Brahma Bihar, the Assembly of Divinity,

I grasped you utterly.

Alas! You were then only

A lustrous star in the sky.


Merely for a day of each year,

Contentment flaunted in me by

Peeping your Nam and Roop

In me and mine

In the  beholding mirror

Of the immeasurable universe.


Bramha Vihar, also called Chatu Bramha Vihar

The assembly of Divinity or immeasurable

in Buddhism has four moral virtues, namely

Loving Kindness (Metta), Compassion (Karuna),

Sympathetic Joy and  Equanimity (Upekkha)

Samsara – The material world

Nama – Mind and mindfulness

Rupa – Shape or form




The Immoralists Next Door








The Immoralists Next Door




There is/was a struggle

The scuffle of symbolists

Dreaming of Succor

Masturbation & Comfort

Left & Right, Neither Right nor Wrong—

The coin


I hold a coin, and before flipping it, I ponder


The world is not good


I tell these stories to make you feel better


There are humanitarians and caregivers


Men and women of valour


There are benefactors, globalists and monsters who sleep well at night, unperturbed at being monsters


We are mortals, We wake, work and dream


We ache all day and commute with heartbreak and pains


As the universe expands, our tolerance and imagination dwindles


We are man, broken and ignorant


No facades exist here, no light beneath the shadows. We are exactly what we seem


Nevertheless, the problem is not only in the ideology but also the methodology


Before I flip it, I examine both sides



Just people see shades of grey and hesitate to do whats right


A lie of omission is still a lie


A crime of inaction is still a crime


Good men do good for recognition of those within their sight


Their good is half measured, born out of convenience rather than necessity


Right taken out of necessity should not be the goal we aspire to but look around you


It has to be stirred within us; it needs a diatribe


That need, that passive feeling to let evil bloom till it is so overwhelmingly obvious is nocuous


That when the sins are named, and ignorance is brought up


Morality bows to logic yet arguments are long worded, tautological with no substance and vacuous


Good men are magnanimous


The universe is everything but




Evil, it seeps and crawls


Grabbing all within its thrawls


Good men find options, good people hesitate


Evil is meticulous and calculated; it is the nature of hate


It is anything but laggard


Always one step ahead, while planning for the far future


Men of evil vary yet are united for they are all dastards


They are sequacious chthonic and fear the repercussions by covering themselves metaphorically or physically with hoods


The worst of men believe they are the best of us


The truly despicable... convince themselves they are the greater good



It lands upright, the overlooked variable



Hope is immaterial 


Without actions, it can never be realised 


Truth outshines the darkness, only if it is viewed


Our presence and actions make the untouchable real



Justice is undefeatable


Being in the presence of someone who wields it is ethereal


Finding someone that pure is almost impossible


Becoming that person is a thrill


I speak like a man who does not see the world from his abode


I think like a man who has never encountered a forked road


Evil grows, and good cowers


Until it is reversed I say:


The world is not good


I tell these stories to make me feel better












Author's Notes/Comments: 

Iiiiiiiiiimmmmmm baaaccccck. comments and advice are always appreciated

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Criteria Of The Fallen (An Affected Poem)

Criteria Of The Fallen





We are judged, not by how softly or

well meaning we have dealt with

each other's foibles alone



But we are immeasurably judged anyhow by -

the companies we join, families that we have,

friends with which we tag/go along



Almost assuredly our minds are

measured too, by some type of



But I would never understand

the mind of corruption,

the ways of crime, perhaps



People fighting off their men.

In the future, chopping off their heads—

if the right conditions shall be given



Over pedophilia, war profiteering,

orgiastic incontinence;

as if gluttonous craving.



—Only God will judge;

—in heaven.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

"Criteria Of The Fallen", an admittedly affected poem, was written on 04/19/2017 at around 02:29 A.M.  Compared to the raw/original version in my Twitter platform, this one is an edited version (just the form/stanzas having been tweaked a little bit). Thank you for looking!

I'm Waking Up

Volume Three

I'm waking up.


I raise my glass, to this life as I walk that line never knowing if what I'm doing is right.

I had lost my faith and came close to just giving up.

Drove hard and fast as I gambled it all on just my luck.

Left abandoned on this highway of pain, this road of misery

lined with banks and gas stations it is a real slaughterhouse facility.

To the Tar pits for our field trips out on this new Vegas strip.


Reach out and strangle someone and when your scared you will always go for that gun.

We allow fear to keep us captive always struggling to find ourselves.

Searching for that reason to keep fighting deep within our own hells

and when that swarm finally does break and you can see the silver lining on the horizon.

Redemption was not cheap, salvation was not easy and one day you will see that sun.

To the pits of hell for our quest to fail, on our dreams we set sail.


There is no voice to the words now spoken, saying everything and knowing nothing.

Holding onto the last of the shadows left in the room as the bad taste is still lingering.

Walking around blind, searching for something we lost but will never again find.

It was the past. It was a lesson to teach us to value and to understand the meaning of time.

Nothing will last if we continue our course. The ship will sink and you will drown.

To this day should I survive it any other way, on the wings of hope I would say.


On the edge of this cliff, the precipice of our sanity becomes the alter to our suicidal tragedy.

At birth we are conditioned to believe in the lie, that vanity even matters.

Talking a big game but still acts like money trumps a child's laughter.

Where greed and obsession became the cancer eating away at man's heart.

These are just a few addictions to our wicked sins that is tearing our souls apart.

To the energy that never dies, a heart that never lies on the tears of those who never compromised.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just finished this piece up a little bit ago, all new. First poem in a long time where I have not used old writings for refrence or ideas. Part of my muse for this piece came from a dark dark place my opiate addiction infact. However my outcome may play out, this I believe is at least a good sign in my own tirals yet to come. Your thoughts on this title? I think I still have a shred of skill haha :)

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