My book is up for sale,
There’s a sample reading on this page,
it’s called Dhanvantri’s Escapade
On a Blue moon Sunday,
Dwarves laid their eggs by a tree
The eggs hatched and out came being’s
beings that were heavenly, like the trees….
God wove his magic in this realm. They called it synthesis or a blue moon sunrise.
***This picture was taken from the speaking tree section in the TIMES OF INDIA, 13-10-2013
The fire of trees.
The Blue moon sunrise symbolizes eternal embodiment. It means sunshine through the waters.
that emulsifies with hues of blue and yellow to give us the color of nature, which be green.
Wether this be a shadow or reflections of it, I know not. But, what it really is, is synthesis .
Whenever trees burn God’s work is at play. He is burning the trees for a greater tomorrow for his people, as it signifies fertility and new offspring.
New buds and newer trees,
of old one’s that have been.
When internal elements mix with running sound, the resounding voice is of the cervical chord. Strung with a bow, it is the wisdom man has ever strived to achieve over cancer. The one disease that terrorizes the human regime.
Images disqualify the build up of this negative energy, that contemplates human society into dump yards of development. Chunks of surmounting gaseous elements that choke the atmosphere in it’s naturally breathing state, describing the fever of disease that the manav or human population faces.
Quantity in its sublime nature of subjectivity, is a reprovable of the enormity of sacrifice one must under go in order to positively reciprocate the casual nature of the disease, that is the deformation of genital information. To reprimand this insolubility, the degeneration of matter back into its un-manifested state that is clarity.
On one level we form this diagnosis, and on the other hand we degenerate it. Substanscially speaking the quality of the data recovered from the process is amounts to zero, that is figuratively infinite. This data is time maneuvered and is a variable constant. By which I Refer to the development of the human vocal chords as being manufactured as the workhorse of the brainstorming human mind, where work is derived from the quality of ones solitude.
Growth is sublime so is our rotating cervical disk, that traversing neurons magnified as dendrites qualitatively subjected as wizened electrical organs of resonating sound.
Splish ! slush! What we have here is a mystically developed heavenly sound. Laughter echoing amidst the bosom, and the refrained dog of enormous multitude. Where is the moon? I forgot she was here first. It is creativity I am referring to. It is logically illogical. The magic of the un-manifested, manifested through the development of the cervical/vocal centers. One of the special effects of our grounding knowledge in the journey into the un-manifested which, from then, reaches the center of our earthly reality. A magnetic journey into sunshine.
Man is no-man. Just like nothing is something. By which one deduces the eternal existence of our reality as the bliss of sunshine. The subject is manifested energy. If knowledge is our existence and time eternal where does our reality exist?
If three suns make a moon, how many moons would one sun make?.
Eternal wisdom emanating from a stone or grass is a measure of love. Love is the eternal substance of creative energy. The willingness to impart it, is growth.
What you know is what you seek
Today or Tomorrow an unearthly piece it brings…
Sing now and you will see
LOve tales and honey dew in tears
A swan is hurt, A swan is hurt!
Tomorrow I greet this day
O! Sun from Japan
Wise mourner what is yuu seek?
“An unearthly wisdom in the silent breez’e”, replies he.
“Honey dew and some pleasantries”
Like a Melody that took from divinity
What could taht be?
O! milk of Paddy
http://www.youtube.com/watch? v=Xnsbgv91r3s (check out this link, it’s called damru)
it is but ignorance that leads the path,
follow time and you will start…
later in the day, the crow seek the gray,
it is but a bird that tells the difference
Sacred slides and college boats,
Winters chalice holds our home,
Song from midnights rest,
On sodden earth and bare chest. On sacred dreams,
pointed ears Wizard on three-legged dust,
On hat and shoe,
Come home to honey dew.
Crocodile: I rest till I wake, get up to dream again
Hunter: song or seed?
Crocodile: knee high
Bird: a cuckoo seed
Crocodile: Nestle ice tea
Chipmunk: a song in a church?
Bird: Mary’s verse (Drums are heard in the background)
Bird: does fire speak to ice?
Hunter: I suppose you should eat some rice
Pigeon: a dance of love
Bird: an egg-horn shell
Pigeon: a spell, a spell
A needle in a pie
Pigeon: name your sky
Bird: sky leaf
Crocodile: a sky is a falling earth
Hunter: a philosopher
Bird: a venn diagram
Pigeon: a when was a diagram
Crocodile: a diagram that tells you when
Crow: what’s a diagram?
Bird: one gram for when you die
Crow: so when you die I get a gram?
Bird: he really shows you the art of being stupid
Pigeon: what’s with the pid in the stew
Bird: it’s for the little boy who lives down the lane (Drums heard In the background)
Hunter: I once knew a man named pk
Bird: I didn’t know pee kay
Crow: only if there was dog who lived by the lane
Pigeon: but there was a boy who lived down the lane
Crocodile: whose the lane?
Hunter: the king of the jungle
Crocodile: is a lane?
Hunter: is a plane
Pigeon: you better be sorry for what you said A needle in the sky
Crow: fume arihant
Crocodile: what’s that!
Hunter: a bird that hunts?
Bird: It’s a ghost-line
Pigeon: For trains?
Bird: for birds
Pigeon: whose bird?
Hunter: the queen
Bird: a country
Crocodile: is land that belongs to the queen…
Bird: what a parody
Crocodile: A tale of words
Crow: Eleven lines to draw a verse Hark! A tree
Tree: A bee
Bird: God’s glee He’s lazy
Tree: Hell bent on me
Crow: up for tea?
Pigeon: does he question me?
Tree: science is a verse
Crocodile: Hark a tree
Bird: Medical science
Crow: I’d like some tea
Pigeon: pot tea
Bird: divine glee
Crow: who speaks? Huh, sound
Bird: who sound?
Pigeon: a tale
Bird: limp biscuit
Sound: a crow
Crow: she sells, sea shells
Bird: (before the crow can speak) on the sea shore
Crocodile: shyam Whats a biscuit ?
Hunter: a tale
Crocodile: you mean a fairy one?
Hunter: a berry one
Crocodile: berry one
Bird: celestial mechanics
Crow: un-garson Is a butterfly
Bird: I thought you meant garrison
Pigeon: what’s garrison?
Bird: a tongue twister
Crow: how many times do I twist my tongue?
Bird: twist your garrison
Pigeon: dumb twister
Bird: kiss me if I’m dumb
Crow: ill kiss you if you’re dumb
Pigeon: he’s really a comic relief
Crow: kiss me to tea
Bird: ruffel’s lays
Crocodile: I heard birds
Hunter: a crow
Chipmunk: (throws apple from tree)
Crocodile: black peas
Bird: I heard the Godavari
She spoke in a dream
Silent as the wind chime
I heard her and cried
Crow: thus she spake
Pigeon: pictures of me (& Flew to another tree)
Crow: a river of dreams, is it?
Bird: a castle it be
Crow: the wind does hear you scream
Bird: a river castle it be,
In the wind of dreams,
Glowing like the ever-winding trees,
To greet thee…
Crow: how far till I see?
Bird: chirping in the forest of dreams is a law
Crow: cacophony Bird: a dance through the rivers of time
Crow: an auburn ashtray
Bird: the sound of music
Crow: like water falling from the sky
How many times do I have to lie?
In through the skies of time
A winter bird flies …
Bird: the timeless night grows ever so strong
Crow: a mare it be that made us wrong
Bird: the son shone bright, but the sky is dark
Crow: should I cry, should I cry?
Bird: let the wind sing its song, through ever-winding thought, through levels of sand, through the trees that sang, into the flowers of midnight the bloom without light
Bird: ice tea
Crow: soup (Owl’s hoot in the background)
Narrator: night dawns as day rises, the morning sky clears as an array of birds fly into the sky. The hunter in deep sleep arises to the sound of the cuckoo bird, a sight before him sends him into trance,
(Music begins to play, as the act commences)
tadonce (click to play song)