This book was published under the name Akaash Rishi on Amazon Books in c.2020

A Sufi’s wasted barren land is a used heart
Where the mood is mellow for trading
Amongst foreign travelers who forgive a vagabond
And passion is accepted and loved equally.

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The unwelcome footfall of a follower
Trains the travelled leader to unknow
Love better than the round way
For those who would shed wheat
Under wet leaves and copy what is left
Before an unripe Beloved teased of tomorrow’s profit.

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The learned man waits for the Teacher
After schools have left him penniless
To remind him of good times;
Empty as a day of the sun without the moon to follow,
Where he can be complete with God’s love.

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No workman can know it, no toolkit can put it together
Yet many Eastern travelers are worded journeymen in search of it:
Time – the unforgotten Maya telling of the forgiven Guru
Where the balances are heavy
And the darkness harrowing for far away Cinema
And Maya is still ashen for more Amore.

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The level revealed the unleavened bread
So that the wafer was laughter to the unconscious self,
That needed a boast from a Brahmin for an hour
To wrestle with the Ego off the staff and dabble
In the undergrowth of the marsh for a bog’s day worth.

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With respect she laid her cup down and wailed patiently;
The saucer poised for sure empty gasps.
This was the bargain of loyalty and commemorative playfulness
To abandon filial piety for the rudest awakening
Of love’s cruel beginnings in Time.

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The outline was fair for a cloudy day
Overseeing The Lord’s return on past loans and positions –
But the recalcitrant Messiah was not welcoming
Of shares in the means and modes of communication.

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By night the cars sped past the riverside,
By daytime they were parked outside Office and work.
Then the moon and tide were full of Remembrance
Of how The Prophet Muhammed knew Mumbai
Before the auditing of taxed credit and carded entry.

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The Mother was despondent when Her children stopped playing
And the Word wandered looking for answers to rain on windshields.

It pacified Her cries for infants to be loving instead of engage in fights
So that Warfare could amend the Law as the cock crowed too early again.

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Across oceans is never across Continents,
When the cities hold the Friendships far.
Then the married mind is fine and dirty with unclean lined linen
That sullies the moment with memory of Innocence within the Lover’s den
And some choices relied upon by The Other.

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Taking less from the trees the youth remembered
The flows of tomorrow were for sharing with his sister
Then the Autumn was greater than Summer,
For the time they had spent apart
Differing in cooking and sport before the Almighty Eye.

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The junior class not stoppable,
The uppity class was upsettable,
And the looking seemed plausible:
Thus the Onlooker was bemused as to who thought reason was political
When sex was on the table of the imagination and the Dancer.

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The learned were returned to shop for Mahogany
Rather than spend the Laws in Carpentry with the honest wood cutter
Who was not in need of repetition
For power and hold over those without correct pronunciation
And CD-Rom to back up the niche hard drive.

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And then man made men so big
That he fought with woman before time spent watching TV,
When The Maker was travelled before Rani and Maharaj
Learned of The Way and however memes did not need reminding.

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Then the ignoring of fallen Phallus
Was stoking the wrong fire and sending flames to Heaven,
Which sent them back and asked no more
Than what was not offered as Greystoke
For the Tarzan of tomorrow to claim all of the Indus Valley.

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The class was full of the cleverest and the cleanest
Who took to awkward ways about those who were regressive
When the Administrator was late with results
As Zeus was the onlooker of normal letters without envelopes,
Much to Ganesh’s dismay as He viewed E-Mails all day long.

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It was not a deep climb out of despair
Where there was a nothingness and emptiness,
Beside a hole where the poor looked for more
But the Monk kept watch for pride
With his notes at home with the others
And the lazy smiles of memory that shared his eyes in the mist.

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One house was different, amongst all the rest
For the Overlord to rendition the Akaashic Field for a while.
Then the souls were awakened high above the idle rooftops
Where hours of sleep, food, work and the brief dementia of awakenings
Moderated the love of friendliness for some languishing before Death.

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The time and honour met incorrectly
And the incorruptible were unkempt before Her grace.
So the far travelled suffered and controlled ennui,
To help the momentous for the momentary
Where the ineffable ideal of Thebes remained youthful.

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Only are perfect still remains
To bother the traveller about beingness.
Goodness will follow the requisite decider
And done punisher of sloth and infidelity,
Who journey to the infidels too often,
Laughing at Isa with loss.

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When the lover had left and the Everyman had care,
The evil of the past had taken shape.
Thus the Serpent was busy and the Mind’s eye was shaken
So that the whole town would see
That nobody was ready for love.

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There was One who did not lesson time from His birth
And from Him have come many to speak of more.
So too does Time exist as a Creation of man,
To somehow speak a voice amongst others
That are silent before the Law of the Mystic.

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Contaminated by greed I know the sorrow
Of too many years at war with the peace of Oneness,
Such that the ‘good morning’ of a neighbour
Is nothing more than the ‘good night’ of the Eternal Lover
Who will not reveal Her face or show His grace.

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If half of an ominous moment is banished regret
By serums and tablets laid on the table
Where once love stood in the place of empty promises
And half eaten meals and work the children had not done yet:
Then who was to blame for the opening in the doorway
Called Escapism and that chance that was created from craving the first time someone was brave?

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What is the mention of numbness
When the waterfall is opened to icy times
That cascade down the cavernous suggestion
Of motion surrendered to an abyss of thought
Bleeding love across Nature without men.

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Incidentally to the fifth hour of prayer
The Jesuit founded new mournings
On the mooring of sorrows for time lost in the future
With a bent jealousy lamenting fractal Time
As the cow jumped over the moon, backward to please sad doves.

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To preach is to have been preached at
With the learned Christians approving the mistake
Of too much authority with secure insult for the loss of one life
That forget all the rest:
Father knows mother again and heaven is tested.

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In the expression of joy is the friendship is known
When the hypocrite of God is ruled by Venus.
Too much the dance of time and ignorance of the untimed experiment,
As a known before their own flogging crowd around;
This is the friendship stolen and the band of gold found and traded
While India is a Tryst with tragedy for the doing given amongst withheld (unpoetic) associations.

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The hottest months came from profound astrology
When the silent choice of measure was of the beyond
And memory shone from wet leaves of greenery
To blend the Amazon with a shade of technology,
And wonder of man cared about anything anymore.

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Qualifying the intent
Sharpening the arrow
Healing the error;
The intelligence of compassion is second
To the love of tomorrow after rest and relaxation.

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In the introspection of temporal understanding
The flower maker learned of visitations
The meaning of which was quiet and shone mesmerizingly bright
In the dim wit that was a contrasting focus
In the sunlight of all allowing wallowing daisies
Small and fresh for some newlywed wandering promise.

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Illusions were magistrate before the lover
As time was a majestic squalor before the artisan.
Listeners were not balanced, liking the lie,
The fabrication and dis-equilibrium
Like balancing on a knife’s edge needing more than running milk underneath you
To fall into in the undergrowth,
Weeding the D-Sound of your own wedded return.

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In the past the challenged self
Was lounging in the armchair perusing the divan and Maharaja’s throne.
There the Rani could ensconce the visitor
And the Devi was attendant to the Scholar’s squalor
To revise and revisit history until the entrant’s fee
Of higher than mighty and more fallen than foul
For a fairer than fair degree.

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There will be thunder when there should be summer
And snowfall when gold was promised with corn.
These are the best laid plans of the Estated class,
Ignorant of skin and believing in common plans
That deny the weather choice before the ordinary man
To find his way to the Light and what bothers him in the saddest race before Time.

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See! But only see! There is enough tea for two
Then there will be work for the Concorde
And temporal bliss for the sexual motor of Bicycle.
Not all things can fit in the Dao,
Time is inevitable to be repeated by Teacher
To squeeze the perfection of Adam and Eve at a loss
From hours spent on high with Angels and arches of sound.

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Escape artists of the heart were there
When the possibility was part of Redemption.
The closet of understanding was full of unkempt meaning
That the watchman echoed was filling time.
Then there was rabbit hearted hope
Of getting out of past loves and promises,
That the girls remembered without too much affair.

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Looking ahead, I saw too much
There were wished for Friendships
There was not enough balance in the Dao
There were closed options from others
And too many people knew of quotation again
For The Vow to be unlocked.

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Camelot was not too long invisible after the journey
Which treated Knight and Traveler the same,
Coming to pass as the night skies overgrow Crusades
Warring all things for the books of the remembered time
And a brave face of shame for tomorrow’s purchase
On water falling from demonized dry eyes.

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A National Flag became a treasure of the Sanctuary
Where the flighted bird was fed by The Wind
And Love was kept shielded like the wings of tomorrow
When Bravery would hold aloft Promise
To attack despair in Kuruksetra with power.

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In the land of fear there was Reason
That painted the flag with covering Intent
Short lived was the battle throw of the axe
That commended the fielder to more than cricket
While the Maiden consorted on all fours.

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The world called to know my affairs
Then the oceans cried to remind me of loss.
Time was ahead with rubble and ramifications,
Allowance was made for inevitability and acceptance.
The Lord then listened as Angels played fair
And movement followed the loss of time
To save man the burden of Memory and loss.

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When I was a soul, I tried
The towers of Infinity needed effort.
Then I was a man, so I cried
The lances of battlefields called for more.
Now I am a Scholar and I lose
The love of a dance is nothing compared to the hands of a Master.

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People were smiling and the happiness did not make sense,
There was desperation around the corner
Due to too much merriment and noisy partying.
This left the dancer without a rhythm
While her shoes were on the floor
Under the table as she tapped her feet at the restaurant.
Love cried for the wine to try
Remembrance to fail her hope for respite.

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I was important for a while
And then there was intrepidation.
The errant knave was seeking Time
And forgiveness for too much joy.
The sun shone on and the moon glistened
As waves carried the loss onto distant lands.

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Dresses were not common after comrades spoke well
And legs were covered when heads spoke even better
Then the Hijab, the Heresy and the Heathen
Bound to Pagan for loser’s worship and Devil’s Fall:
Is that all that came back from the cry of the world’s wolf on the Prairie?

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Once I was aware of ghosts and awareness brought fear
Then marriage was a hearse to an act for a Promised tomorrow,
So love chased the horror away of night without day
And light was a fire of knowledge that God satisfied with Bhakti.

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Brahma and Saraswati awaited the good evening tide
Of shallow waters from the staff of Palaces –
There the pain of Dukha worked the Karmi
To fracture the flesh and bone to commemorate Christian union
And Anglican memory of love before Jesus for bread and maybe more.

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Swami was not adherent the needs of hours
As moonlight commanded the night sky for a shadow
Of Shirdi who swam far from Death.
This was the future kindest when the Sun was shared
Between the Modernist loving Eastern and Western dialectics the same.

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The fires welcomed all in a new unit of time
When The Fall of Man was dispersed with;
By Historian and Artisan alike for the look of the Dao –
Shanti! By the Yin Yang sign on the floor, broken by the door.

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Squandered, the youth prevailed upon Thebes
To water the Fountain of Immortality in the Garden
For hours to dwell in the idleness of Devilry
Before Aphrodite called Time before the countdown of Venus
To massive Light by Sunshine and smiling and joy, again.

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The ocean was settled and the ship’s passengers eased
After rough waters while the stories were blazen
And arrogantly of the Hoariness en route to Jinnah
Or wherever else the seafarer had pledged that voyage.

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Jesus arose finer than man’s description
To face finer tests than hitherto attempted
And politicised Krsna’s realms and heaven
Providing Light for the lens to quest His search back home.

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The memory of the Modernist
With mirrors of marriage
Haunts him for one hundred years
As he loses the ability to celebrate the single life.

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The dominance of The Lord under the marketplace
Was observed by few as time was unseen.
It was the visage that left the ladies in ruin,
As they rearranged their attire to court him back a second time.

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If starlight was trembling
It would be straight through a young Lover’s arrow
Flown over the hanging gardens o’er hanging overhead.
There would be no need for another
And the ocean would depart more hope to ships
Carrying tales of return voyages after lazy conquest.

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If the Serpent was swift the stories would be spun
And different nations would know the debutante
Who asks of places and people the secret of damage.
Then the kindest following of religious heritage
Would answer with debt to Caste System and Language,
Stay with me for the wonders of money and how a few can and others cannot.

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The charlatan says it never happened
But the Lover remembers he never brought a drink.
Safe and far away in Eastern terraces are thinkers
Who need to called upon for tests of top down economics
Via viaducts of responsibility and Visa recognition.

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The suitor may have sat on the stolen chair
But the arranger is aware of the pre-party plans
And how the seating plans were ornately laid out for all to attend
The show where the human heart was not to be judged and settled
All at once and all at one time for all at sea to be known before The Creator.

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The Mystic wandered home unsure of his place in the Universe
Only to find himself awash of Rose wine and White sheets
In an esteemed friend’s adjacent collection of rooms.
In time they would be to be called house, flat, apartment and home
As the Wanderer arose again looking for somewhere else to stay.

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The heart never settles on the same place twice.
That is why the wise are quiet and innocent before the powerful;
When they play games all of the rooms in the house are used
And people shout from the rafters of The Play, the thing and what definition is –
So, in fact, the medical man is prepared for Death and seated in the kitchen for swill and fine dining.

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Latency is not much if the aid and audience is not targeted
With esteemed love and affection.
Quips were made to be kept out of the hands of ordinary men
And women were made to be reborn again in faith after renewal and destruction: –
Thus were the Laws spoken of when the Redeemed saw their progress again after The Fall.

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The girl who did not gossip is the woman who did not talk
And the repression that did not own up, is the awkwardness that would not walk.
Survive these chastisements and contour your changes on the planet for saving face
And see one day the unfinished life
That was boasted of as complete before The Creator and all of Her children.

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When God sent two eyes to stare into more,
He counted more than a third for the Hindu to be native
To the squalored squire who debated at the Union
Of snakes and ladders and how it was possible to climb social distance
While novels were low key and clothes freshly pressed in India.

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Beware the fool who gambols and gambits as he follows you awhile,
He has a more mature Ace in the sleeve with more stiffness
To harness a correct address about how many rights and wrongs
You are entitled to in this brief sojourn called time
When his arrow is shot badly from a Bow for Arjuna to pick it up
And do the work for him before Krsna.

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The streets are not safe while the naïve idealist moans
That life whistles past his speedy train
Of rehearsed thought that tires the Beloved
Of all the things he nearly did not do
To help those that She was trying to get to Herself.

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The old addressee leaves his stamp where the large boots fill canvasses
Of dead Art and emotionless comradeship
For the certainty that was enjoyed that School would be your life
And your life would not turn out good
Before the rehearsals before Grandsire and Time,
That waltzed and winked at the waning moon for more water in the ocean
To beg for thanks for the chance to do Sewa.

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The clock face cannot solve the problem of emptiness
Just like the dials cannot desire to go backwards.
But the potent Lover can redirect attention in both cases
Just as he can use Karma to make a Language more fruitful.

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The novice practices on his apprentice and both are denied Royal Assent
For the graduation class of attending parties
When the observation was had for notice before Court
Of values and virtues that Temples are cleansed of every day,
While the Churches sit back, film and firmly ask “How?”

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The rude boy does not apologise for his loud bands
And the Schoolteachers are not wise about the morning after thrills.
This way the past is the Path to the highest mountains for utmost resistant strain
To put down the baggage where the lazy man stood and worked
While taking food away from others who wanted The Beloved.

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What is not wanted will not last,
What is not used will wither
And what is not called upon will go away:
This way The Beloved has arrived to travel with some tarried souls awhile
Before leaving on the last ship to set sail to wiser places
And lands before time knew sad memories of Sex and wasted food and drink.

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The path to God was his own.
His only sin was Nationalism and being a pawn in a game of jest and gesticulation.
Softly spoke the ages then of nuance and nouns
So that the rich and powerful could get back to magic
And the stubborn classes of mentionable qualities
Could be addressed by God as worth something in return for desperation and slovenliness.

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Society fits together in all sorts of ways.
One group is chastised for leading the others on
To be Readers of the highest order
While mathematics arranges Pride to squander
The Lions’ share of probabilities that anyone will talk to them.

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Quote well while you are together, majestic class,
For tomorrow is mine when I am at leisure to make social change
And you will adjudicate that I was judged by history
To fulfill The Maker’s balance of Rugby books that told your head off
So many times in so many days from whence we used to walk down the drive together.

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If you consider me a social misfit
File me rank and awhile with the military and armed guards,
For wanting them to be bridged a hearty embrace while they are away from a warm bed
And to find the Solidarity right by their side.

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The Brotherhood of Man is dawning
And the awakened state is remembering that One sat down to remember Allah.
For when Buddha recalled The Dharma,
The Dao let go of Time.

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Spaces on the indentation of my keyboard
Tell of fear and emotional escapology before my readers
And who will judge me the most and who will let go of me the least
And all those lessons from school that cost me University Fees
To learn how to sit before a computer properly and type before Sati.

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I will not judge the commotion
Of settling down with Parvati for aeons of forgiveness and melodies,
While Saraswati is laden with burden and chores
To find a way out of pennilessness for one of Lakshmi’s blues.

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The Friend gathers at sport and field
The enemy is far away within himself and under lock and key
Not to be let out until the goal is scored and the roar is unwelcome after Time is heralded
The greatest champion of both sides competing
For fans on all terraces around the ground.

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Complain and I will hear you
Doubt and I will walk away.
These are the methods by which I have come to know God
And these walkways will I count the crumbs left behind
For hungry birds to swiftly lay succour for Truth.

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Open is the passageway of the great halls to the timid
To trample bold dreams from dragons under foot
And tempt the Goddess from the cold clouds that man couldn’t count
For a day’s awakening to find out the Origin
And who mastered reality to leave a door half open
After their creation.

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I will not be there to grieve you
When the hour is ripened like a fine option
Of Time amongst the weather of Mother Earth
For you to be rough with my sails
As I travel in loss in search of good companionship.

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The cavern is bare weather
The beast is a cold reminder
And the ladies are fair dues
For heroism spent in the hour of Jedi religion
Before the Humanist turned him out into the warmth of the Establishment.

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Seeing is the hollowest thing
Fame is the sound back from empty barriers to the Universe
As the Cosmos calls along for none to shoulder Honour
And ask of Tibetan flags where the casual warrior is
Who once knew of mountains that were just mountains?

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How many flights has the eagle taken since the Master left?
How many people have seen since the birds drew breath?
Too many and thus are words awash with grief
To know what it is to hear the sound of life so brief
To handle the promises of Guru that He sought,
And the God walks amongst and never not didn’t (get) taught.

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Who was he who moved you thus?
To speak of clouds as if thought were commotion in Churches
For pews and belonging with the Asians…
Time will know seconds while pages know sages
Before His messages know Mastery for a repetition under Shiva’s great skies.

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Man asked of the Gods proof that there was hope for them
And Honour responded that mistakes would be made
As they appointed their leaders and paid their taxes
To stage fear, failure, regret and women’s empowerment –
While one truth lay aside the heart to know tomorrow again: Time.

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Tiredness took the walking ghost far into the darkest regions of the mind
Where the sallow sailor was honest for one hour too many
And reminded God that He loved Him so much
That he had sailed out too far to turn back
And offer his land Honour, Love, Courage and household.

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Poetry was regret: –
That was why man came to nationalize analysis
And claim the regressive credit of biography
Of dead men without their women
In Encyclopaedia’s of knowledge before the tower of wicked bowers and the Banyan Tree.

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It was only when man learned of Eden where loss was
That woman earned enough from Gopal
To finalise the wages of sin
And carry the home on the range past greedy bankers and their housewives
Seeking and finding rivalry between books without their authors on The Word of God.

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Forbidden secrets were released to trusting crowds
In time with oceans speaking to moon tides and Tarot cards.
The fathoming was arrival not too late
To catch the watchful man able to steer streets of confusion
Back into the calmness of homes seeking quiet and redress.

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Is that enough for you, if I empty my heart?
Will you fill it again for another round of nothing worth your salary?
Or shall I find another Lover and another parking lot for my empty garage,
Where I too am a staged regret and forced entrapment
To condition mankind to second best after The Bard and his fortunate kinsmen?

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What is the rage of the husband
But that he cannot equal the melodrama of moods upon The Globe’s welcome boards,
To harass his acceptable Lover to partitioned moments of fine leisure
While the celebrity forgets the mirror of Art and Life too many times
For rhyme to be attractive for artifice and bad regrets.

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I shall not follow where Almustafa went
Nor shall I tread lightly to know Muses so emotional to weed a Garden as precious as yours.
For mine is a part endowment of a world with The Lord Buddha
That knows of pain the difference between Innocence and Experience
Before you thought to teach me Authority and penmanship against such sails and voyages…
… to be a Voyeur.

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If I leave the door half open
Will you send some quiet for the emptiness of Realization?
Can I know again peace and contentment for the failure of woman to please
What I invented them all to address?
Send instead your Angels to remind me of the pact with mortality to be humble and not upset,
So that expectations are not so important.

***********************************************

Is a page enough for you?
Can I leave when the mud is trapsed into the house via the back door
After an hour more than the extra ones of looking for good love?
Or shall you send out for more than the usual
And find in the population more than the Kings and their friends succeeding with their goals?

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Why do you fill the love that was lost in life with love on the page?
Is it that you are not constant
Or is that you have past lives to forget?
When the sea is steady and the oceans are forgiven for their roughness of late,
I shall swim across the lakes of fire and The War in Heaven and ask of Samsara direct:
What is it you fear to accept and why do you torture earth with Maya?

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The winds howled and the night skies looked peaceful to those needing stars
And one town somewhere was accepting
Of all that Allah once did say would happen:
Dharma thus named Dharamsala the resting place where Indian Raja greeted Chinese politician to find out what the Pundits said about the Tibetan Gods and Goddesses.