Frenzy at the melting moments of love

Frenzy at the melting moments of love inks a bizzare portrait of a new stream of life.

Lights speak with darkness once again to seek the refuge in our mindspace.

Moon minds the Sun lit dome of stars eschewing the dark crown at times.

Occassionally, fleecy clouds ripen up to gel with the Earth.

Berries of the day dive deep into the world of tasty mouths.

We are free to choose the days before the depths of love longing for the sake of itself in the blushing thrills of buoyancy.

Miniatures are being made for each other while the artist in you sews the blues with the brownie points.

"I am not bound to the screws and nuts of the past, " says the age-old motorbike parked at her home.

Everything has life lost in the mindless love.

Mind blows the furnace of love moist in the realm of tears buried in the clutches of dogma.

Husky voices are pulled up to furnish the voiceless but excruciating pain missed in dripping days of the rain.

(Copyright: ©Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, November 11,2023)

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Crocodiles of the Pacific Ocean

Crocodiles dive deep into the unknown corridors of  volcanoes breathing in silence.

Seething through the lava, volcanoes never ooze their memories of the past.

Our shadows of the past flicker through the silent mode of volcanic eruption.

Hiccups are hijacked by all of us.

We drive ourselves away from the past and future.

We are not the echoes of the past but citadels of the present in an enigmatic way.

Crayons cry aloud while drawing the faceless mosaic of our monopolies.

Crocodiles of the day drink water without passing the tides of the past.

Snoring through the day, I smile at myself and my imagination.

Creating a new horizon for the crocodiles is what the world of aquatic creatures long for.

Urged you to swipe away the dormant customs in our social fabrics,I smell the blushing spills of love hatched in creative anonymity.

(Copyright: Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, November 04,2024)

Mirage of reality sculpt in nothingness

Strangeness inks its origin of mundane nothingness through the iotas of war blowing its echelons of greed for land.

Their  lust for power sweeps away all at once, children, youngsters with future dreams and elderly people.

We see the claws enmeshed in the 

symbiotics with emboldened fanaticism. 

Irked by the devastations, a few stay saddened but the mirthful psychopaths keep counting their coins and currencies.

Where do we plant a sapling when you bombard the earth with your ignorance?

Streets get deserted and the little ones do not know the meaning of love and hate all of a sudden.

Stripping off the hatred, what else do they have in creating a mayhem? 

Lunatics are on their way to rationalise a war but the blessings of the World are only for unconditional peace and love.

Love never limits you in and out of all that you have been.

Strive for peace and stay with the elixir of love for all.No bombardments.No barriers of race and religion can stand against the power of  love.

Oh! It is time for the Heavens to stifle 'Hell let loose' in the name of war.

Oh! Mother Earth bless us with peace and love forever.

Om Shanti!

Om Shanti!

Om Shanti!

Santihi...

(Copyright: ©Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, Oct31,2023)

(All rights reserved ®)

NB: This poem is dedicated to the hapless victims of war between Israel and Palestine.

The Genetic Myopia

 

Shadows sink in nothingness found everywhere!

Life is a series of shadows mimicking the Bulls!

Jack of all trade grasps us for a yellow metal.

He sips his cup of tea in a lethargic way.

Flipping through the eons of the mindless miracles, the Bismarck strips his strides in a moment.

I am not sure whether the Cannibalism is still inbuilt in the genetic myopia of psychopaths, who dream of  egotistic usurpation.

Synagogues stand above the stocks of the mundane life,but the universe of love limits those lost in inhumane profiteering.

I love what I do in every moment of spiritual communion with Buddha.

Saints drink oneness everywhere and in everything.

How have you transmuted donkeys into horses?

(Copyright: Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan, August20,2023)

(NB: This poem is dedicated to all the seekers, who thrive for universal oneness.)

Smeared with the Holy Ash

I found Him standing on the entrance of that 'Spanda' Hall;

Time was ticking so fast but it appeared to be illusion for my mind at first.

A few minutes later, I found the Lord Shiva standing with his 'Thrisul' at a reachable distance.

Revealtions of the Divine Being echo the everlasting ecstasy in communion.

I am inseparable from the boundlessness of grace inbuilt in the Eternity.

"What am I supposed to be? 

Who am I?"  are unanswered questions in my quest.

Being and Becoming are not etched in the rationalist proportions of free will.

I am yet to discover what it is to drink the elixir of ecstatic oneness, though I meditate on and off.

My blissful love sinks in my daily routine.

I am being created by the bliss of all that the Universe moulds me in the flow of time.

I stay blessed with whatever I am doing.

My quietitude synergises with sarcastic simulations done by a few to obscure my creativity.

We are born with fire to strive beyond the known boundaries.

(Copyright: ©Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan,July25,2023)

(© All rights reserved)

Her Blushing Cheeks of Sanguine Love

Imitation is all over;

She smears the bliss of 

Star lit Moon on her attires.

Glistening eyes sparkle her wisdom of the worldly wonders.

Mincing the words of blissful wisdom, her besties rest around her poise.

I seek her company in a secluded place.

Pillars of the past get drenched in the weird wirings of human nerves,

spiiling over the mosaic of who we are, and what we sympathise for, in genuine compassion.

Hiccups are silenced by the miracles of her pristine blush in love.

I am lost in her eyes

 longing for all that I am,

 but steaming the noisy mind

 to cocoon around my mission in life.

Everything is born 

in the cosmic communion 

beyond all our sensible utopia of epistemology and ontology.

I drape my intelligence 

over my egoistic splurge.

Life is a listening festival

for those in love with learning.

Enticing the brink of silence,

I am always immersed in her aura.

(Copyright: ©Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan,July 20,2023)

( All rights reserved ©)

Disturbances of Quacks

Disturbances of Quacks

Demagogues deny access of all that I am in crooked ways.

Their misery misdirects everything throughout the day and night.

I begin my story with the fathomless past.

None strives out to sketch the unknown bliss of ecstatic oneness with the universe.

The self is the author of who we are on all occasions.

Shadows sink in light and get dwarfed in the  darkness of love lit night.

Nights blossom with longings for a few.

Our stardom with nightmares gets eclipsed.

I drink my time in space, as if I am a timeless eternal creature born with splendor.

I am what I am even when I stay out of all that I do.

I am not shadowed by anyone at any time.

My colours splash of nothingness found in the horizons of yesterday.

I capture my muses on and off.

My love for poetry never ends.

I love all that becomes poetry of love and life.

Our love echoes in the dawns of Heaven.

The Father of Heaven wakes up with the blissful communion.

Love etches itself beyond boundaries known in my mind and heart.

(Copyright:© Mangalaprathaban Muralidharan,20 July,2023)

( All rights reserved ©)