Hem Raj Bastola

Frivolous details
Of the regal run,
Unusual and uncommon,
An aesthetic errand
lead.

Fertile nation
Of an ingenious thought.
Gathering brainsick,
In a garret to speak:

Kinda fashion,
Outdated and erroneous,
Waiting fickle found.
Doing here and there
Restless and eager,
To be something, be new:

Milking madness,
Tip twirling aloud.
Voice unheard to sing,
The gong, inspiration:
Ring the bell.

Melody
Echoes pleasant,
Whose ears are keen
And eyes hungry,
To chew the cud.
Here the aesthetic,
Generates the obscure
Flux.

Divine
Knowledge of:
The mystical hymns.
Brewing:
Numinous breath,
To drink.

A bird,
Mythical,
Mysterious drinking:
Moonlight,
To live.

Libation,
To tantalize my god.
Immediate,
Response
Beget.

That,
Mystical fire,
Revered, to invoke;
The celestial
Bliss.

Ritual
Performance:
A holy bath,
To expiate;
The sin.

I can
See them,
In the celestial
River, dip.

The thing
That i only feel,
Asking you
To reveal:

A
sleepwalker
Lost in
Dream.

When I was:
Playing a dream
An owl in me peeping,
Night was deep and
My subconscious
Sleep.

Waxing moon,
In the sky illuminant
Growing each night.
And a flowing river beside,
Milk white, mirroring;
Pulling my eyes.

Pin drop silence,
Whistling river where:
Orchestrated molten light
Of heaven dances here
In the deep ravine.

Cold night out
Freezing, to adore
The unfiltered
First-hand experience
Of life.

In the
Cold desert,
Along with
The howling wind.
On horseback,
Galloping.

A strange
Weather beaten
Unfamiliar face,
Turning back
A grin throwing,
Continues his
Hurried way.

May be,
A herdsmen:
A Dhokpa, singing,
Making alive the air.
Pulling my ears of
Attention.

And I, lost
In his melody,
Staring till his horse,
In the vast horizons;
Of: green pastures
Disappears.

Musing
Still echoes
The tongue of:
A nomad
Ringing.

Note: Those people in Tibet and in Nepal bordering to Tibet, having a nomadic life shifting their flock of sheep, goat or yaks in the high pastures, living under the tent, are called Dhokpas.

editors note: Grin caught, attention pulled, ride on… – mh clay

I am the past,
I am the present,
I am the future,
It is the time I am living
A fruit of: my KARMA.

I am the WATER
Blood in my veins
By the heat, scalding.
I am the AIR a moving spirit
I breath. I am the EARTH,
An elemental dust
A flesh to decay.

I am the SKY,
A lurking void
Of the universe, to unite.
So, it is not me,
What I am saying “I”.

I am a product
Of a FIRE, empty
Like a living smoke.

Smoke! Smoke!!
And Smoke!!!

Whirling,
In a nightmare,
I awake.

Living
Subconscious,
In the unconscious
Hours of sleep.
A thought in me
Was eager
For: beauty.

Her face is:
A red apple,
With a juicy bite,
I realize.

Romantic
Depth of night
Where your shy lips
Were shivering
But the smile
Was attractive.

When,
I fondle you,
Your coy smooch;
Attacks tenderly.
As you huddle me,
A pair of clementine,
Ask me to peel.
They were
So soft.

And
A sweet,
Recondite,
Juice of night
You serve;
to my thirsty
Soul.

A hook in the eyes,
Fishing a dream.
Enthralled, pulling: a rope
To net your mute beauty
Unmatched, climbing high
To harvest on eyes.

In the vacant horizon I play,
Reading every silence.
Find you are my life, when I am alone.
There you stand in front,
What is that of you?

Unreserved, planted deep,
A memory; missing: I cry.
Recurring dream of a foreign beauty
Haunted deep flying high.
I walk alone,
In a lonely street.

Tickling my roots of:
Involuntary sleeping nerves,
rubbing on a flint you spark.
The fire of: your beauty,
That you ornament and
The shine on your face,
Paralyze my mind.

Grinding,
In a vortex,
Flour of my mind,
Dough, and spin.
Loosing free the skeins
Of: a thought.
Experience ink.

Reminded
Memory of the day,
Like Hydra walk.
Looking for veins to suck
Needle my skin.
Stranded I walk bleeding,
As you ravish me
On the way.

Blood,
That coagulates
On my feet, slimy
and slippery, I end:
With spindle yarn
Of leeches: a rein
Controlling my
Evacuated brain.

Who
Is gonna think?
Her vague presence
Buried in the
Womb of silence,
And I weep for
Her beauty.

Got drunk,
In my madness,
Spinning her dream;
In the haywire.
Loitering in the streets
In search of poetry,
Collecting sights
To stir, in alleys.

Sitting
On a temple porch,
Pondering night,
Did not meet any thought.
Melting by the temperatures
Of: emotion, kissing whose
Unkissed lips.
You create a current,
Oh! Volatile.

Dancing with
The caressing breeze
For the droplets of dew
Distilled tonight.
Surprise of a turn
With sericeous head
And seductive smile
Disappear within a wink
Flying to the world:
Of nymph.

And as a
Destitute dreamer,
Staring at her flight
I wait for an
Early plane
To catch.