Illusion

Beauty, o!

You treacherous thing

I live for you

You are my being

But I’m peeling away

like cloth from a wall

catching the winds to

abort my fall

Bondage to a wound

I am coming away

from drying blood

and flesh in decay

Coming to float

on the tips of a pond

fresh chill of the water

then I’m floating beyond

Falling away

what a beautiful thing!

the scraps coming loose

and into nothing . . .

The buzzing of a fly

or perhaps it is crying-

the screaming of my heart

-it still thinks this is dying

And perhaps it is

I wouldn’t know

I’ve been here too long

Its time to let go

A storm seems to follow

As I’m flying away

Chasing me down

I’m turning to clay

I’m standing underwater

Before a full jury

‘Here they are- you’re rights and duties,

Get along now, we’re all in a hurry. '

Oh, what in the world?

I was flying through space

‘No, no,’ they assure me

‘now put on your face.’

So I pull on with work

Now life is so heavy

I look for strength

But I’m all cut free

All the holds are gone

where they used to be

I let go of the past,

Now there’s nothing left of me.

Its all a cheat

Its never fair

beautiful fabric of being-

my life’s just a tear.

I scream

I want to die

would it get me anywhere?

I can’t even try

'Let go, let go'

they stare at me

I’ve nothing to hold

except this key

Ah, but see me scream

love my tears

O trap of lies-

you feed me fears

You tear me from the wall

shred by shred

Not again, no-

I wish I were dead

Tearing burning

through the seams

You’re turning out the lights

in all of my dreams

I’m falling falling

falling free . . .

Isn’t this once

where I wanted to be . . .?

P.L.Rao

14th January 2009

Suddenly I feel as if I am bathed in sunlight and I realize that this is the feeling I have been longing for all these days, shivering in the sun. But sometimes sunlight can't do it, and sometimes something else can.
Sometimes the people we most want to avoid talking to can give us what we need.
Sometimes places we never want to go to can give us a new home to be at.
Sometimes things we hide from things which are really things we want most.
So how can we judge what is what and where to find it?
We sometimes have to just go to dark places and speak to ridiculous people to find what it is we really need. We can't hold on to things we once loved and places that were once home. We have to let it all go and be ready for hope from any quarter, and see a home in any place.
Sometimes we don't see the lesson being given to us. But the things which will hit us, the things we really learn and never forget will reach us, and in the end we will know what we need know; understand what we need to.

Veiled

Storm of my life
is woven with strife,
An obstacle course
which is carrying me by force.

I’ve lost all track
They call me black
Lies they have built
All fill me with guilt

But I don't really care
‘cause you are there
to keep out that rain
of teary pain.

-P.L.Rao
21st February 2006

Driftwood

I'm the sailor
that is a scholar
That no one wants to hire.

Such skies you see-
And the wind in my hair.
What a time this would be
to sail and explore!

So I walk on the sand
By the wave's endless roar;
I wave my hand.
I wait at the shore.

The ships come and go
Without coming ashore;
The days come and they go
From their endless store.

No one wants to hire
the sailor that is a scholar
So I keep building rafts
to send out on the water.
P.L.Rao
31st Dec. 2008

Bleeds

Take the knot
of twisted vines
That is my heart
a mix of flowers, pierced with thorns

Destroy this web
of tangled brush
And leave not a single
branch wilting, on the bush

But rather,
let it flower again
New and washed pure
by the falling rain.
жא☼Ж☼אж
-P.L.Rao
12th July 2007

Gregorian Chants

21 August 2005
While I was listening to the music I left the physical world and was in a world of dreams; Dreams which seemed more real than anything there was. This world seemed abstract and irrelevant completely. I was not a body but a soul. A clear mixture of thoughts, some looking like currents of water flowing though the air and some were sparks of colour flashing up and sinking again to the beats of the ringing bells. The deep voices were long strands of twanging vibrations, connecting each part of the dark blue, almost black universe, so rich of feeling. The beat of drums was solidness, lightly, but steadily shaking. The deep organs were like clouds hard as a rock to stand on, yet the softest beds of the universe. The clear twang of instruments seemed like threads of love wrapping around my arms, holding me from above. Everything was a swaying universe where we fall forever, slow as a snail yet never going anywhere. Never declining at all, like a universe underwater. There was no colour but brightness and darkness. There was no texture but solidness and softness. There was no sound but vibrations and beats. There was just o world of feelings . . .

You may think that I am just creative at making things up, but what if? What if I didn't make it? Just trust, believe . . .It is there. Let yourself feel it. It is everywhere, it is nowhere. It isn't time, it isn't shape, it isn't distance, it isn't anything yet it is.
IT IS.
By P.L. Rao

Crow's Nest

I met a man
who ran from home
its time for me
to find my own.

I see the ragged
weave of sand
grainy, across
the empty hand

And want to live
my life again
with purpose,
down the golden chain.

I see the sun
in its stony grave
I feel for heat
lost in liquid haze

I look out
at the stars away
see their light,
at constant play

The loneliness
is fearfully free . . .
No need to respond
calls back to me.

I have a heart
as large as being
Yet I feel nothing
Blind eyes are seeing.

Flowers blooming
black and blue
are morning’s blossoms,
as old as new.

So, see the ripples
of sparkle light
cold upon
the waves of night.

Wave a flag
way out at sea
Maybe that, perhaps,
Will matter to me.
P.L. Rao
27th December 2008

Routine Beauty

28th February 2006
Soft are the cushions I sit on
and cool is the summer air

How fresh are the trees around me
where grow flowers known to be rare

Warm is the sun on my face
and gold are the drops of dew

How fragrant are the flowers
near graceful peacocks, two

Safe is the place I am standing
between these many great mountains

How sweet is the water I drink
from dainty glowing fountains

Soft is the rustle of wind in the leaves
and deep is the waterfalls roar

But all its affect is wasted on me,
For I've heard a thousand times before.
P.L.Rao

Cries

8th May 2008
They all love me so much
somehow I know.
But when I do something
They all scream
and scream
and scream
I just don't understand
and they scream
and scream
and scream
Why must I only understand
when they scream?
And scream!
and scream.
That we could just talk
to eachother, I dream.

With each scream they somehow rip
every seam
after seam . . .
after seam.
They love me so much;
why must I see
them scream-
and scream! . . .
and scream
at me?

Quiver

No, this is how you break a heart,
perhaps, too, how you make a heart.

I felt it before, liquid tint, upon my eyes
For me, once has been enough tries

I've had my heart crested with frost
Now I'm too afraid of being lost.

Stop now-! I struggle to request,
Yet, its too late. I should have guessed.

To ask a promise- the only protection
No! Better to leave the unasked question

I want to believe that hearts are gold
But I can't ignore what my heart has been told

Why is everything so twisted?
'Cause truth is too risky, unless misted

This is how you make a heart
But this too, is how you break a heart.

P.L.Rao
29th December 2008