Tell Me No More of Enchanted Days

  (Dominican Monastery, Daman)  Are a fall from grace,  Haunting songs From seeds of gold.  Etched, stitched, torn,  Soaked, seeped, coated In a sugary syrup  Of tragic lives,  Wars, betrayals, Undying love, Deaths, lost grandeur,  Mists of time Locked in old bottles.  Everything that is ruined Is more beautiful.  Like hearts torn into Colourful pieces,  Then thrown away Into patient winds,  To be gathered again,  One by one,  Stone by stone.  I touch these walls,  Century strong pillars With new names carved Again and again.  Stories repeat,  Themselves to be sung Don't forget us,  Don't think anyone Has had it easy.  We have all Gone from fresh paint To bare structures That look up to the sky.  Rain beaten, enemy won,  Admired and exclaimed,  Then forgotten and gone. We are all in ruins,  Or soon will be.  So beautifully broken,  So perfectly destroyed.  Dead bird feathers In a living bird's mouth. Red blood spattered In red mud earth.  Skin upon skin  On water filled bur

(Dahanu - 26/12/2022)  I've seen these Black sands So many times before,  But it never bothered me.  I always found them unusual,  Maybe even a bit macabre.  But today, it unnerved my Hygienic sensibilities,  As I found them embedded Deep inside my child's nails,  Tainting his feet and knees,  Making me want to pull Him far away from this Horrendous atrocity That covered his clothes.  I yelled at him, scolded And threatened, but a child Knows no difference Between what is black and golden.  'You look like a puppy Who swam in a gutter, ' I said, to find him roaring With laughter instead.  At dinner between fish and prawns, And wine and brandy, we talk about Goodness and truth and what's right And wrong, about morals and ethics Fancy words that make us different From the ones who are devious and deranged.  Till someone exclaims, 'If you do wrong,  Your conscience will let you know. ' I cannot stay quiet anymore.  I talk about the ones born In poverty and strif

  Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands? Close your eyes and trust it, just trust it Have you ever thrown a fist full of glitter in the air? Have you ever looked fear in the face And said I just don't care? And it's only half past the point of no return The tip of the iceberg The sun before the burn The thunder before the lightning Breath before the phrase Have you ever felt this way? Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone? You're whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry? Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside? It's only half past the point of oblivion The hourglass on the table The walk before the run The breath before the kiss And the fear before the flames Have you ever felt this way? There you are, sitting in the garden Clutching my coffee, Calling me sugar You called me sugar Have you ever wished for an endless night? Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled th

Now I'm writing this post because someone needs to hear all this. Maybe what I say will help someone even if I sound like a nutjob. That I don't mind at all. I'm anyways looked at that way.  I'm going to write about healing your chakras. Most people, especially in the West talk about opening your chakras. But that's not what healing is about. It is about balancing your chakras. There are days some will be off, others will be hyperactive or one will dominate the other. The trick is to give each one of them equal importance.  I have spent the last four years trying to sort my shit out. And it has taken a long time, but here I am, still on this journey. I don't share this side of me with anyone. I would rather they think of me as unstable, mad, depressive, whatever the fuck they want to believe.  Now the chakra thing is very interesting. There are seven of them in pivotal energy centres in our body and they represent certain aspects of our emotions, power or trauma