Tag Archives: supernatural

SCRIPTURES ACCORDING TO SHADOWS: The Assassins’ Creed

 

 

The 10th Mat lecture note consisting of 42 slides given by the Head of Department to the Dove Agents in the year 31 AD. Corey Red and Precise softly jamming “Representing” in the background as the lecture slideshow begins.

 

From street to school

Don’t be rude under my rule

Wisdom lies in my long cane

Feel the pain and reap the gain

If you come hungry and humble

I’ll be so open you won’t grumble

Leave religious and moral biases behind

And I’ll be sure to blow your mind

 

THE MISSION

 

A pair is fair

Partner up don’t fear

Hit the armory

Be skilled in weaponry

Don’t dillydally or sway

You’ll live the assassin’s way

 

Penetrate both industry and street

Smart, efficient and discreet

Mix with civil servants and thugs

Bump fists, shake hands, and give hugs

But don’t live like they do

You’re just passing through

 

Strike with the gospel of peace

Save lives without charging fees

Make tested faith your bulletproof

‘Spiritual’ doesn’t mean ‘without proof’

Stuff up critically on the word

Wield scriptures with logic like a ninja sword

 

This is beyond martial arts

You’ll be fighting the dark arts

Your war in earth’s dangerous parts

Against internal and national corruption starts

But it will take its toll

You can check the poll

 

A pair is fair

The Spirit in you ain’t for fear

He’ll give you intel keeping you updated

When tortured don’t be intimidated

He is only baiting the enemy

And will sure wreck the tyranny

 

Hit the principalities

Enslaving the communities

The thug or homosexual ain’t hostile target

It’s that Lucifer who needs the bullet

And soon as mission’s done

The Spirit handles your extraction

 

The lecture ended to the song “I don’t pack a ‘matic” by S.O. the Kid; and the Dove Agents flew out, easy and unpredictable as the wind, sharp and fierce like fire.

Advertisements

Tears of our seasons together

Winter Morning

Winter Morning (Photo credit: blmiers2)

English: Hill Close Gardens, Warwick A good cr...

Autumn Leaves in Summer

Summer into autumn

Walking steadily under the blackening heat of the sun’s glory,
Headphones on my head, fingers tapping, face awash with brightness;
Your fiery love shakes my joints, smiles and hormones.
Tears of spring’s fond memories in my eyes
Dry too quickly unlingering on my hot cheeks.

Strolling about on the brown grass in evening’s melancholy,
Head in the wind, arms dangling, face serene as the floating-falling leaf.
All is at peace between my natural world and your supernatural.
Tears of summer’s warm memories in my eyes
Run lazily down my blushing cheeks.

Lying still on my cold bed on a winter’s night,
Head facing up, arms thrown forward, face still in soft prayers.
I hang out my fears and doubts on you to freeze away.
Tears of autumn’s pleasant memories in my eyes
Turn to icicles on my goosebumpy cheeks.

Skip-hopping like a newborn gazelle at spring’s break,
Head bobbing, arms flying, face glowing with ethereal liveliness.
My life starts and flows, rolls and ends with you.
Tears of winter’s cool memories in my eyes
Flow freely down my supple cheeks.

Each season brings back fond memories, and creates new ones, of us –
Waking up, living through the day and passing out at night with you –
That give my darker days some semblance of meaning.
Tears of life’s sweet memories with you
Become a sea of love that drowns me.

Thank you for giving me good days.

The Redefinition

Another morning from my verandah

In-between consultation periods with patients on a light day, I’d leave the consultation room with my jotter and pen, walk out to the veranda. My hospital was a 5-storey building on an elevated part of the city, and my medical business ended at the second floor normally.
Now I know it is not a most magical experience, but imagine how blessed a doctor feels to be able to wander up every veranda of that building, and finally stand on the topmost, a jotter or phone in hand, and writing obsessively as he looks over the whole city and men swimming in the stream of life.
This was the birth of my series of writing –From My Veranda.
I wrote at different periods of the day, from the different storeys, on different days (as the workload permitted). I have to say: these periods of writing were wonderful experiences for me, amidst the near-fun moments of consulting with patients. I lo…ved being a medical doctor, and I loved meeting with people and being able to help them with their physical and psychological ailments.
But, this other work committed into my soul; this other fire burning in my fingers (not to perform surgeries); this other brewing in my brain that makes me passion-crazy –
Is to paint out the unseen world with words, so that the seeing mortals can see and read, and acknowledge the reality of the supernatural; and recognize that it affects what they are and what they experience in this natural world.
It got so crazy that one morning, after my night shift, I left the hospital with a phone in my hand and typing as I walked on the road observing the people of that region, being different from where I live.
This is not borne out of a desire for fame. It is not borne out of a plan to leave medical practice and start generating income from writing.it is not borne out of a desperate desire to carve out a niche for myself as a versatile medical doctor, keeping in mind that I have so many other sides (refer to my “about” page and my nomination for one lovely blog award).
I have left that hospital today, but the writing has not stopped.
I have to do this. I have to do this. I have to do this.
The supernatural world is as a real as an unseen heart beating wildly under the thin skin of this present world.
My redefinition.

Thank you.

The Enchanted Writer’s Muse

English: Sunset at Porto Covo, west coast of P...

The definition of muse I am concerned about, of the different ones provided by the online dictionary, is:
(n.) the source of inspiration for an artist.
Tips: The Muses of Greek mythology
were nine goddesses who presided
over and protected the arts and
sciences and who were said to inspire
poets and artists. You may still hear
people today refer to someone as
their muse, because they inspired
them and galvanized them to
succeed.
Artists’ muses vary widely from human beings (especially someone the artist shares a bond with) to animals, to non-living things (including the controversial ‘psychedelic art’ which involves inspiration in altered states induced by psychoactive drugs or alcohol usually); and some artists only need an element of thought or feeling, not attached to anyone or thing in particular, e.g., a mood swing (hehehe!).
Whilst I also have a huge reservoir of muses (humans, animals, plants, sunsets, sunrise, etc), I belong among that last category needing only an element of thought or emotion and “I’m off!” But I don’t write mostly to “relieve stress or pain”.
Now, there are times -and these are MANY -when I look at the supernatural aspect of life and existence. Now, Dear Reader, make no mistake about my being a scientist who indeed loves the scientific method and proof. In fact, this has made it easier to acknowledge the existence and the reality of the unseen world, beating visibly under the thin skin of this world. From events in the outside world all around, to the forces resident in our human nature, I do not find it hard acknowledging the proof of the supernatural. And, before long the Spirit within me tickles my thoughts and I am lost, obsessing over the wondrous reality and pull of the supernatural. In this altered state of mine, I feel genuinely lost. I feel on fire, literally. I have never successfully written out all my thoughts before. Whatever is close by I grab -phone, jotter, laptop. And my fingers get to working feverishly. And then it’s done.

I know different artists experience their “highs” or “busts” differently; and with different muses (sources of inspiration) too. It’s an amazing experience I GUESS. I welcome anyone who has it differently or better than I do. I am quite open to learn.
(Smile + Wink+ Bow)
Thank you.

That Other World

Sunset Beach

I am here again;
This time drifting into this ocean
I once emerged from.

Today, I see myself facing it again;
Looking very different
From what I had always imagined I remembered.

I have been drawn to this ocean for a while now,
Like a wanderlust
That consumes with mad passion.

Looking across,
I KNOW what I must do.
I must be at that other world.

Do I have a death wish?
Definitely not!
I know though, that I HAVE to be at the other side.

I either make it there,
Or live a regret-grated life out here,
By the summer-sun-beaten beach.

The unseen calls out to me;
The spirits haunt my sleeping hours;
The voices crowd my waking hours.

I feel things many others don’t feel.
I see things many others don’t see.
I try to remain calm and collected and certain.

Speak and write online like every other writer;
(Note please: I am not desperate about carving out a niche for myself; )
But my writings come out unusual.

Corrupted (or mildly put, influenced) by these voices,
By the waves from this other world,
From across the ocean.

So , I live like a man
Who is brewing a hurricane in his brain –
Voices from inside clashing with noises from the shore outside

Yes! There are the normal noises from the society out here;
Voices trying to teach me THEIR laws and ways;
Voices telling me to blend in.

But, here I stand on the shore.
I am not sure I can swim this ocean’s length or depth.
But, I will never have any semblance of sanity,

Till the day I die and my bones
Are scattered haplessly along the sands of this shore,
If I don’t yield to this call.

It’s the call of the Supreme Spirit –
Ruler of Heaven Enchanted across the Ocean of Life,
Where I was crafted and birthed.