Showing posts with label new quatrains. Show all posts
Showing posts with label new quatrains. Show all posts

Tuesday, 6 May 2025

The regret of Heraclitus



The Regret of Heraclitus is that its own Pride of Circumstance averts its role as Psychopomp
Nor is any river a mirror- save by such incest as renders Yamuna Yama's karmic swamp
All Love outlasts its own longing till our inner Tulsi, blinded by Sita's Voice
Imposes Imyaslavie's melody on Schopenhauer's Symphonic Noise.

Friday, 25 August 2023

Yaavaya vrkiam vrkam,



Like a Wolf- voluptuously silver sabled- leaping through the window of our Honeymoon Chalet
To shatter the ribbed cage of my heart &, with soft mouth, snaffle it up, fleeing away
Through forests dark where no Ashokas flower
& not Love can pursue save every second, every hour. 






Solovyov's Grothendieck


Unforgivable the Sinn or Sin against whom to Self-Absolve
We become Triune Sons to but Father Karamazov
Grothendieck, Thy Yoga's heart-flower
Is but Solovyov as Brouwer

Envoi- 
Prince! If but Fear & Desire pave paths wholly lawless
Cantor's Continuum, pace Pierce, yet is flawless. 



Thursday, 20 July 2023

सावन की बून्दनियाँ


If we inherit, not Wine, but the Divine's urinary effluent
Thank Mum- her Merit merely Condign or Congruent
Not, slap-the-black-off-you, Strict
For, by Krishna, all are tricked

That what is seen is orthogonal to what is heard
Love is the arrow wounded by the Word
Yam's Divine niyam  so binds Memory
Yami yearns, as Wine, to be Free 


Envoi-
Shravan! balancing your parents on an ever lengthening beam,
Yourself the bridge over Death's murmuring stream.

Riposte
Ravan! Sorrow, as Symbiote of its but perfect Ekphrasis,
Is all Competency, Congruency & Cataphasis

Matam
That aught Positive in Law, Logic, or Divinity
Exists Necessarily by but its own Asininity
Properties are arbitrary- no ultrafilter
Isn't, to itself, totes out of kilter

Vigyan- 
Expressed in tait Khalistani, Lowehneim-Skolem
Can only state- no Canadian aint Golem.














Wednesday, 5 July 2023

That, but Zugzwang, to Zermelo, is the gift of Zorn

Marriage to the knife is not accessorily anuloma
Nor worship of the wife necessarily pratiloma
That, a but Zugzwang to Zermelo, is the gift of Zorn
 Love, if dagger symmetric... God is Porn!

Envoi-
Day's Dauphins! No Rainbow's Varnas abide Katechon's pact
Yet, Schelling focal our Spectrum... by Krishna's tact. 

Riposte
Augustinian Powers! Thy Arrow of Flowers! Spring's Bowstring of Bees!
Must Memory, Smarahara, this Smartha's soul yet tease?
 
Siddhanth- 
Not a Necessary Being, but Christ as True Beginning, none Dispute
Save to Scotomize His Brides' Scratched out Eyes of Self-Repute. 
Induction mothers Love on Mum- God's sole base-case Equal
& Logic the Hell of penning its Monica's prequel

Vigyan- 
Mary, for me, is a name not without pathos
Self-castrated, I, my own Mt. Athos. 




Notes

"If the angels are included in the works of God during these six days, they are that light which was called day."

St. Augustine. 


Friday, 30 June 2023

The Katechon of Thou fucking You

 


Anything said or done or appearing worthy of reward
Being but Death's tableau vivant Dream of God
Is to the Katechon of Thou fucking You
Buber's Schizophrenic- Vishnu.

Envoi- 
Sindon's Midons! To save the face of Thy but Prosopon
 Self-widowed, Christ's brides are Amazon


Sunday, 18 June 2023

Testimony of the Fingers


Must I picture a blind old woman merely to prove my verse is crap?
& e'er emptier now than some mendicant Muslim's lap?
For she calls you 'child', let her fingertips trace
The loss, e'en to Destruction!,  of All Divinity's face.




Notes-

1) Yusayrah reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “You must glorify Allah and declare the oneness and the sanctity of Allah. Count them on your fingers. Verily, the fingers will be questioned and made to testify. Do not be unmindful such that you forget the mercy of Allah.”

Source: Sunan al-Tirmidhī 3583

Grade: Hasan (fair) according to Al-Albani

عَنْ يُسَيْرَةَ قَالَتْ قَالَ رَسُولُ اللَّهِ صَلَّى اللَّهُ عَلَيْهِ وَسَلَّمَ عَلَيْكُنَّ بِالتَّسْبِيحِ وَالتَّهْلِيلِ وَالتَّقْدِيسِ وَاعْقِدْنَ بِالْأَنَامِلِ فَإِنَّهُنَّ مَسْئُولَاتٌ مُسْتَنْطَقَاتٌ وَلَا تَغْفُلْنَ فَتَنْسَيْنَ الرَّحْمَةَ

3583 سنن الترمذي كتاب الدعوات باب في فضل التسبيح والتهليل والتقديس

4087 المحدث الألباني خلاصة حكم المحدث حسن في صحيح الجامع


2) كُلُّ شَيْءٍ هَالِكٌ إِلَّا وَجْهَه

The meaning being: "Everything will perish save His Face".
Holy Quran- Suratul-Qasas (28:88).

Friday, 16 June 2023

Basho's old pond or 古墨 Koboku kabuki

In Basho's famous haiku-

古池や 蛙飛び込む 水の音

Furuike ya/ Kawazu tobikomu/ Mizu no oto

(Old pond/ Frog jumping/ Water's sound)

it should be noted that Kawazu (frog) was the kigo (季語, "season word") supplied for the occasion.


From the Buddhist point of view (and since Japs are hella smart, it is safest for me- an ignorant and stupid Tambram- to attribute the highest cognizable Buddhist perspective to those charming and convivial sake drinkers) it is perhaps the case that the poetic word 'kawazu'- which means both frog and the Noh mask used to depict a drowned person- has the following, quite haunting, aesthetic echoes or 'reverberations'- which us guys term 'dhvani' and, I believe, the Japanese term 'yojo'

1) RG Veda 7.103. Manduka (frog) is the Deity though the hymn is to Parjanya (Rain God) who however is also pictured as a rain-cow or rain-bull which can bellow. In other words, there is a sort of 'Prayer & Response' relation between the little creature and the great Monsoonal Rain Clouds which determine the 'Cycle of Heaven' and the fate of Imperial Dynasties. 

I believe Japan has a rainy season like India but the frog is more associated with rivers. Indeed, in Japanese, the word for frog is likely to be metonymically derived from that of river- or the onomatopoeic word for the sound water makes. 

In other words, if the 'kigo' for a renga or haiku is 'kawazu', you already have the sound of water in the poem. But the sound of a frog is croaking not the splash it might want to create when jumping into a pool of water though, obviously, that species can dive noiselessly enough. 

For the Indian Buddhists, the croaking of the frogs symbolises a literally self-defeating prayer for Salvation's rain. Samsara is Nirvana. There is a danger in the Frogs' funktionslust, because as the Vaishnavas tells us low IQ Hindus, the cry of the frogs invites snakes to eat them.

Once a worthless cunt like me see this, Katechon becomes the most apocalyptic and unforgiving of possible Eschatons. Krishna, the plump infant hiding in plain sight and giggling audibly, is always already irretrievably lost. God's Lila is our Kala- his pastimes, our continuing pain for so tied to a Past whose Time never passes.

 Low IQ descendants of the one low IQ udgatr who features in the Chandogya, may see things differently. The crescendo of the frogs' croaking is always polyphony not cacophony. That is Soma- if we could but see it- except the whole point of the exercise is to forever be, as I'd have you picture me, blind drunk. 

Basho turning from such harmonious sabi as overwrought wabi aesthetics could no longer turn to 'lightness' and 'the common speech' (karumi), gives us, at one and the same time, a stoned-Hippy, Allen Ginsberg-type 'kerplunk' as well as an 'Aryan', Tocharian, 'Tuirgen' or, at the very least, the more modest & miscegenated Bihari or merely Scholastic and Nalandan, Shantideva's 'paratman parivartana' solution whereby the Boddisattva diving into Hell to rescue us is also merely going 'kerplunk' somewhere, that is everywhere, along the rain-chain of our exchange of identities or Indra's net of pearls.

But that's not the point. There's an old pond. It is stagnant. There is no sound of water. But, by a decision of the frog, it is turned back to 'wa' that is water. This is all the more the case because there was no fucking old pond around at the time and place where Basho composed this haiku. Indeed, 'old pond' was, not an after-thought, but the only way the thought could be completed in such a manner as to cease to be a thought- just as the old pond became water to cease to be water. The frog who, perhaps, like Rihaku, was drunkenly trying to rescue the Moon, has meanwhile gone to Hell. That's what should happen to any kigo in any haiku. All things, if only in the irreality of each other, harrow Hell as Boddhisattvas. 

2) Them Japs weren't just better at Sanskrit and Buddhism than us lame ass Babus, they were also great scholars of Chinese. The fact is- 

In Mandarin Chinese the word for frog, 蛙 (wā), sounds similar to the sound made by a baby (娃 wā),

 But, to the question, 'due to why, does baby cry?', the Rg Vedic answer is 'Ka' which is also the question mark at the end of a Japanese sentence. Us udgatrs think Ka and Kha are connected- coz us guys know 'Space' and 'Bliss' and 'God' just mean 'Daddy was good looking and Mummy, due to the excellence that Beauty endows, looked after him and had his baby'. True, there wasn't much money and we've had to move around a lot BUT no bar or board room cacophony aint a more perfect polyphony, no drink aint Soma- nor Love not, on itself, blind drunk.

Obviously, guys who know Japanese and Chinese and esoteric phonology and shit would get a lot more out of this haiku than me. But, so long as they don't inflict their erudition on me, I too will desist from ignorantly expounding a tedious theme. 

Fuck that. Just returned from the offie. I'll now tell you my own 'reception' of 

古 as what has passed away

&

池 as an object used for storage but more particularly the water well in a calligrapher's ink-stone

Scription isn't Song.  Calligraphy may have been kissed on the mouth by Calliope but, to capture aught that is fugitive, or lyric, its feet are as of lead.

Basho, uttering a haiku, infold's every appetency's self-annealing aperçu of... but the squid's ink it can not itself escape. 

&

や as intensionality which defeats every intentional extensionality. 

Fuck me! This is Yoneda lemma as Basho's octopus traps.

I truly am shit, I am. 



古墨

Learning that Pratyek think well 
Of the neglected ink-well
For Pralay agog,
Jump Frog!



 Note- the 'Frog' must actually jump out of the typography in some manner. 

Did I mention I'm shit? Oh. I did. Okay then. 

Saturday, 3 June 2023

Sapere aude


To exponents of Prophets exponentializing Power & Pelf
 Say- 'being a Slave to Whom is Liberation's Self?'
Or don't. Fuck we care
I only wrote this on a dare. 

Envoi-

(Per aquella valor que vos guida al som de l'escalina) 
 Prince! Every Ariadne doth forebode
(Sovenha vos a temps de ma dolor)
 Socrates, his Palinode.










Wednesday, 24 May 2023

श्रौतामणी यज्ञ


That my Vivek be an ever better Saqi to the Sacrificial Self's blood-boltered Shrautamani Mead
For thirty years I have followed wherever Madness might lead
Why was so great a Treasure to a coward entrusted?
Or is Love a Sword most Lethal when rusted?

Envoi- 

Prince! If Intention be Shema to any turnkey Intension's Natural Representation
Yoneda is but lemma to the Banach-Tarski of Rousseau's masturbation.

Réponse-

Content that no Manichaean babe has yet, to Mnemosyne, been born.
We covet no Magi Gift from up the arse of Zorn


Siddhantha-

For so Fully Faithful a Functor, our Sybil longs to Die.
Hope's algebra but Hopf, not Love's a Lie




Saturday, 29 April 2023

priscae vestigia fraudis


Brand plucked from Dvivedi's Vashkarni at Samaldas
You crossed Black Waters, Mohandas,
Con now- 'Sic te diva potens Cypri'
English hard for Sanskrit slippery.

'Twixt Dad's Pushtimarg & Mum's Pranami Dhera
sic fratres Helenae, lucida sidera
To divide a Stella Maris ; twin djinn Fury 
 Ind's Ashvins- the Drink's Dioscuri!

Hoping to make it big, in horsehair wig, Babus who Horace peruse
Become but the Stagirite's Porus- worthy of Sen-tentious abuse
Till on 'priscae vestigia fraudis' Bapu pauses, determines our causes
Propemptic to Ezekiel's Miss Pushpa tossed to Tarshish Waters
Alas! Mohandas!
E'en Nahars, utterly Martian, have daughters.

Envoi-

That it, our every betterment, yet besiege
Peace hath a Prince! Not Love a Liege.


NB. 

Horace had written a 'propemptica' or 'bon voyage' poem to Virgil in which he reproached the impious invention of the Mariner's craft. For the young Mahatma, who had 'lost caste' by crossing the 'Black Water', this particular poem, which he might well have studied- if only to matriculate and to gain a better handle on the 'Roman Law' paper he needed to pass to qualify as a barrister-  would have been didactically linked to Virgil's 4th Eclogue- in which it is written, of the Millenarian Age to be established by the Universal Emperor, - pauca tamen suberunt priscae vestigia fraudis, quae temptare Thetim ratibus, quae cingere muris oppida

In  Timothy Ades translation-  

Few traces will survive of such old frauds
As Shipping, Agriculture and Defence

This is pretty much a description of Nehru's policy for India. Sadly, his daughter rebelled a little. What to do? Women are like that only. 







Saturday, 25 March 2023

Horace, Horus, & Quranic Tajalli



Prometheus, stealing fire from Heaven also placed
An atom of the Lion in our heart- else disgraced
By what whores us- Horace as Horus
Satire but bores us, ourselves its chorus.

Envoi-
Caliph! From this Kaffir-e-Jaahil take Tassali
In but Mushaf-e-Quran is all Tajalli! 


Tuesday, 21 March 2023

Quisnam igitur liber?


Like the Timaeus' coprophagous animal- totus, teres, atque rotundus,
Sailing to Delia, no Song but is Nemesis- victus est mundus 
Tibullus, Brexit is to Boris
As all Christendom to Horace. 

Thursday, 2 March 2023

Was Abu Hanifa really 'Murji'ah?

To whom has God granted a Son not more wholly Hanif?
Scripture, for aye, turns o'er Revelation's new Leaf
For delay- murji'ah- is a but mujra-e-tashbih-e-jam
Say, to whom calleth out of Seir, 'Return! Come!'


Saturday, 25 February 2023

Iyer's 'Report on Experience'.


Gashed by the knapped flint of- that barren bint- the Erotic's but Kairotic quips
To stint the bitter wine of the brittle line of Thy Saqi's thin, red, lips
No Word is- save it cushions kisses
Hearts beat by what Time's arrow misses.





Monday, 6 February 2023

A quatrain of Paul Elmore More which he attributed to Bhratrahari

   
Love's fruit, in all the world, is only this
That two as one should think ;
Who differ yet woo wedded bliss
Dead corpse with corpse would link.

Needless to say, there is no such sentiment in Bhratrahari.  Indeed, because the dude was Shaivite, the opposite was bound to be the case. Hubby & Wifey must think very differently- as the Chandogya shows. But both must secure edible materials, by hook or crook, otherwise the supply of Psalms will fail by reason of the starvation of the rising cohort of hereditary rhapsodists.

Returning to Paul Elmer More- whose chaste Yankee prosody I have rendered less cacophonous to my own Green Card lacking ears- what we must remember was the cunt was a good and erudite Christian apologist. For the very reason outlined above, he, fucking, failed.

 C.S Lewis in 'The Horse and his Boy' has an Arabian Nights couple who live happily ever after only because they quarrel incessantly. 

That is Theodicy. It is a different matter that a marriage, or any other sacrament, or partnership, has a univocal goal. But, this requires merely 'one-heartedness' not brains sterilized against bickering. 

As for 'Love's fruit'- you are welcome to marry, have a baby, keep quarrelling till the kid flees to Collidge, and then both youse can either separately fuck off to the forest- or suburban Housing Colony- or, against all odds, keep the home fires burning- those Lucretian flaming ramparts of an ever narrowing horizon-  coz Love's fruit in all the world is only this- a grandkid must piss & shit on you before your own betrayed and issueless children have cause to micturate on your fucking grave you loveless, Gandhian or Marxist or Eco-warrior, or whatever.

Tuesday, 31 January 2023

Nachiketa's Nachlass


Must I, to be sure my son is being properly taught and fed
Make him a ward of Thy, Too Just, Lord of the Dead?
That he scrape his knee... Upside-down tree!
Adam, thy apple, blight but me.

Envoi-
 Prince! By Drishti-Shrishti, Perception is the Moon, Creation kraters as Mirror
Like a madwoman  made mother by what she  just drowned in the river.

Friday, 6 January 2023

Kunti, Cain & the upside down Aronszajn tree


Kunti! For thy firstborn son, Karan, is that Cain, Gita's cheek is to get Nescience' Black Sun, to yet know 
While an idiot nephew's ignus fatuus en-Abel-es any fucking Kaunteya to let sing Agni's Gandiva bow
Though a crashing bore, Artha- that unique Punctum Archimedis for  Samkhya's Art
Smashing Duality, can only adore as 'naturality'- Math's broken Heart

Envoi- 
Prince! Woo not the Goddess as you would a Girl
Vows are as Wine, Virginity but a Pearl


NB
an Aronszajn tree is a tree of uncountable height with no uncountable branches and no uncountable levels. Scripture- the leaves of the 'upside down tree' of the Gita- is countable or compatible with Samkhya- i.e. Number Theory. 




Wednesday, 4 January 2023

Malkaun's Sinn refuting König's Lemma


E'en should I achieve 'Ears' obedience' in this my Sixtieth year
Malkauns' immodesty must keep costing me dear
So symmetrical its sinuous ascent and descent
Sin yet the Sinn, no Sin can repent.

Envoi
Prince! By Löwenheim-Skolem, thy Sanhedrim are but Golem
& no Smarta connotes Smarta- hearing Raag Hindolam

Reponse- 
Stalling's theorem on the ends of groups
Stalls thy end. Shiv recoups.

Siddhanta-
Credulous drunk too crapulous to be jailed
Oikeiôsis the Exam, at Fifteen, I failed

Mimansa
Hymen's honey but Money- Keats' Moneta
This Moon, Shani, to its only begetter. 









Saturday, 31 December 2022

Lalita ājñāvicaya


Saraswati spurns my garrulous devotion
Yet Lakshmi is grudging & unkind
If Mum is a Triune notion
 Parvati- Thy Third Eye- blind


Envoi-

Trivikrama! Cantor! Diagonalize Janardhan
The heart of Heeraben n'er must harden.