Nirvana
 

Gaurav Ojha
  

There is no way out

From the prisonhouse of language

As long as we keep on hanging

To symbols without content imprinted on our neurons

We are the self that exists without reference of its own

Assumption of a thinker hiding behind a thought

A drop of rain separated from a cloud for the ripple on lake

There is no still point that holds things together

We are living a dream with a dream

We have been speaking too much

Let us put aside these tedious monologues

And, listen to the silence of non-human existence 

It takes us beyond the meaning humans have made 

Why remain as a burden to our brains?

Humans exist, therefore the denial of reality

What is it like to live without our stabilizing assumptions?

We have ideas for everything

Our heads have become so weighty

For the respite from this headache

Take a dip into constant toothache of existence

No need for a great renunciation 

Even as we embrace our illusions

We can still become a Buddha on the dental chair 

No need to glue the self together for a social protocol  

Discompose your desires, identifications and memories

As nothingness of being overflows, the self empties 

 

(KATHMANDU, NEPAL)

Once Upon a Time
   An Adventure 

"Liquid Light - "
    where the light transitions 
      from unvectored
        to revectored 
Time is not measured.

 This allows travel
    without Delay.

     Being where 
  Already 
exists.

&  I AM 

Lost the journey,
    This Once.

Once Upon a Time 
   An Adventure

clusterfuck
 
sitting in the dark
 
scribbling poems
by an old flashlight
 
listening to the silence
 
power has been out for
about two hours now
 
this is when you wish
you had a front porch
and something to
smoke in a pipe
 
trying to figure out
what in the pantry
can pass as dinner
tonight
 
good thing mom isn't
on oxygen anymore
 
what a clusterfuck
that would be
------------------------------------------------------------------
the longest line of whatever
 
it is very tempting
to just check out
of this world
 
snort the longest
line of whatever
and hope that the
light is a fucking
train
 
the lousy cards
you were dealt
 
you played as
well as possible
 
old fucks like you
aren't supposed
to be around this
long
 
and sure, there is
always a debt to
be paid to the
demons
 
but you chose to
become their leader
 
a spokesperson
 
a restless soul
defying the
odds
 
until you can't
stand another
day of it
-----------------------------------------------------------
never cool just effective
 
an endless
amount
of paperwork
 
death is
as painful
as living
 
of course,
 
you don't learn
that until it is
much too late
 
life is wasted
on the young
and it has been
that way since
someone decided
that time existed
 
and simple
was never
cool just
effective
 
i checked out
of the rat race
years ago
 
never had the
money to play
those games
anyway
-------------------------------------------------------------------
tearing at the seams
 
chasing death
like tomorrow
may never exist
 
the fabric of the
family tearing at
the seams
 
how could we
ever forget the
rich are never
wrong
 
the old skeletons
start to dance
and all the young
alcoholics already
know what is
waiting for them
on the other side
 
it is a slow trickle
of good news on
a cloudy day
 
the woman of
your dreams
was burned
at the stake
 
imagine those
poems
--------------------------------------------------------------------
maybe these demons
 
five in the morning and the
neon queen dances across
my mind
 
all these miles between us
fade as time seems to stand
still
 
no matter how much i love
you, i can't help but think
disappointment is only a few
seconds away
 
you have a way with your
smile to calm these old nerves
 
and eventually, i'll get out of
my own way
 
hopefully, you'll still be alive
or even fucking interested
 
maybe these demons will finally
let the old fool win one for a
change

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know better. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Terror House Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy, Horror Sleaze Trash, Misfit Magazine and Mad Swirl. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)

Best Medicine


Sometimes making someone laugh

is the best you can hope for 

on cafeteria sandwich and soup

Thursdays, when the promise 

you were promised

has gone quiet as a bad joke.


It’s those silent moments 

where your thoughts heckle

every choice you made,

as if you can never be

right, and your only choice

is to hide behind a smile,

hoping no one notices

what you leave in those empty bottles

most Friday nights.

1. DIED FOR FREEDOM (Satis Shroff) 


Many Ukranian men from 18 to 60
Have given up their lives,
For Mother Ukraine in the cold winter.
When Spring comes,
Flowers will spring in their graves.
They died for freedom
From a tyrannical power,
Armed to the teeth.
A man who invented lies
To invade Ukraine.
* * *
2. HUNGER FOR POWER (Satis Shroff) 


Deeds of courage and resistance,
Words of farewell in railway stations,
When mother and children were sent away,
To safer destinations,
While the men stayed,
To defend the motherland.
Tears rolling down the cheeks
Of men, children, siblings.
Invaded by a ruthless autocrat
A narcissist with dreams of restoring
The faded Glory of the Soviets.
Will the Cold War be followed
By an age of chaos
Violence and conflict?
A world that cannot distinguish
Between destruction and self-destruction?
No desire to legitimize the nefarious deeds.
Violence develops a momentum of its own.
The slaughter, the butchery,
Driven by the greed and hunger for power.
* * *
3. A RABID MUNGO (Satis Shroff) 


What has Russia attained?
Territorial gain and loss of lives.
The airspace has been closed,
No Russian planes can fly
Over other’s territories.
The Russian in the street
Can’t pick up money for the automat.
Russia is internationally isolated.
Russian athletes, soccer clubs,
Even Paralympics cannot compete.
The world shuns them.
A whole country ostrasized
Because of one man:
An ex-secret agent, a small cold warrior,
Who desires the glory of the Tsar.
He curses like a rabid mungo
And says: ‘The West is imposing
Illegitimate sanctions’
And Nato leaders make ‘aggressive statements.’
Pray, who bombed the cities of Georgia in 2008 ?
Who annexed Crimea in 2014?
Who has invaded Ukrania?
Who has conquered Cherson?
Who is ceaselessly bombarding
Tschernihiw and Maripol?
Trump was the liar of the USA,
And who has lied to the Russian folk?
Disinformation for his own people.
Poor Russia.
* * *
MOSCOW ISOLATED (Satis Shroff) 


What has the ‘honest’ black-belt holder done?
He has waged a war against a smaller country.
Over a week of pounding with artillery and rockets.
His 46 lorries are stuck since days.
Sitting ducks if Ukraine had missiles.
He wanted a third break for talks,
But not ceasefire.
The warlord bombed further.
Moscow is isolated from the world.
There are demonstrations
In Berlin, Prague, London,
Madrid and Brussels,
On behalf of besieged Ukranians.
Spontaneous demonstrations in Moscow and St. Petersburg
Are stifled immediately
And people arrested.
Putin’s march to Ukraine
Is stopped by people
Of the Land of Sunflowers.
The would be Tsar gets angry
At his own logistic shortcomings,
And the stiff fight put up by the defenders.
* * *
5. CIVILIANS DIE (Satis Shroff)

Putin orders rocket attacks,
Like Stalin’s organ in World War II,
In the town of Chernihiv,
Northeast of Kyiv.
More civilians die.
The Russians aim at civilians
Instead of military targets.
They want to destroy their infrastructure.
Troops advance from Crimea,
The port Maripol, a land-bridge,
Between Donetsk and Ludhansk,
Is conquered.
Putin’s troops close in on Kharkiv.
Ukranians rally around Zelensky,
The heroic symbol of bravery,
And put up a great fight. 


* * *
6. A FOE BECOMES A FRIEND (Satis Shroff) 


A Russian soldier surrenders
And calls his mom in Moscow.
The defenders are so nice to him.
They could have easily lynched him,
But he even gets a drink and food.
A foe becomes a friend.
Other Russians sabotage their own tanks:
What is kaput is kaput.
Fed up with the mad Tsar’s war and dreams.
A pretty pilot dies in action,
Some Ukranians capture a Russian tank,
And take joy rides like children. 


* * *
7. AMMO, NOT A RIDE (Satis Shroff) 


Ukranians are extremely patriotic.
Zelenky decides to remain in Kyiv,
Come what may.
His family refuses to be separated.
What a symbolic and courageous gesture.
Zelensky inspires all Ukranians
And even volunteers from Europe
To fight against Putin’s men:
Independence, democracy and freedom.
Zelensky is not Ashraf Ghani,
Who fled with money in his baggage.
Zelensky told an American,
Who wanted to evacuate him:
‘I need ammunition, not a ride.’
A historical, metaphorical statement. 


8. THE ANGST OF GLOBAL WAR 
SUBTITLE: THE SUNFLOWERS AND POPPIES GROW 

Written by Satis Shroff 

  

Putin shakes hands with veterans in Moscow.
Russia should never be underestimated;
Power is being mobilized as in the past World Wars.
Russia has not lost the war is the tenor.
The bells chime in the Kremlin like mockery for those killed.
There where the soldiers lie buried
In cemeteries and on the roadside,
Sunflowers and poppies will grow;
Orthodox crosses arranged in rows.
The dead loved, drank vodka,
Sang songs and now sleep,
In the killing fields of Ukraine. 

Modern and old weapons are on display,
Generals in black cabrios take the salute.
A sea of smart, disciplined soldiers carrying weapons,
Swords, salutes and martial music on the Red Square.
It’s all about defending the Fatherland
And solidarity with the soldiers.
Stoltenberg’s message to Putin is to end the war.
Bundestags_President Bär lays down a wreath in Ukraine.
Eggs are thrown toward Baerbock
At an election speech in Germany. 

Moscow’s inner city is like a fortress:
Chauvinistic and neo-imperialistic is the pathos of Putin,
The gatherer of Russian honour.
Russia a military and nuclear power,
Second only to the USA,
Speaks of security guarantees.
Reanimation of Russian Weltmacht.
In the defense of the Fatherland,
There is no family in Russia,
That hasn’t been involved in the Wars.
Russia has always fought
For a system of the folk.
‘The Nato states don’t want to listen
To our endeavours,’ says Putin.
And speaks about the neo-Nazis and foreign military advisers
From the USA and Nato countries.
‘Ours is the only right solution,
We’ll respect and honour our ancestors
And the Immortal Regiment.
We’re proud of carrying it in our hearts.’ 

There where the soldiers lie buried
In cemeteries and on the roadside,
Sunflowers and poppies will grow;
Orthodox crosses arranged in rows.
The dead loved, drank vodka,
Sang songs and now sleep,
In the killing fields of Ukraine. 

The others have Russophobia.
Today our soldiers fight in the Donbas.
We remember all who have given their lives
For the Fatherland: men, women, children. 

A minute of silence.
Only the flames of the eternal soldiers lick the sky.
Moscow holds its breath. 

The Victors Day parade honours the 27 million Russians
Who died in World War II.
The death of our soldiers is sad,
We shall support the families of the soldiers.
I kneel before you for your sacrifice.
Terrorists also exist but they are not successful.
We will care for the children.
The bomb splitters will hold us together;
An independent Russia.
We’ll orient ourselves to our Armed Forces.
An exercise in being one with the people.
All men and women shout as one: hurrah!
The military bank plays.
‘Russia must ensure the horror of a global war
Will never be repeated,’ says President Putin cynically.
The fluttering flag, the Kremlin and gun salutes.
What was in-between the lines of his speech? 

There where the soldiers lie buried
In cemeteries and on the roadside,
Sunflowers and poppies will grow;
Orthodox crosses arranged in rows.
The dead loved, drank vodka,
Sang songs and now sleep,
In the killing fields of Ukraine. 

No mobilisation in the speech today.
No feared demonstration of POWs,
No MiGs and Sukhoi jets over the Red Square,
No declaration of war against Ukraine.
No provocation to the world.
19 battalions of 15,000 soldiers ready to cross Donbas.
Casualties are taboo and the war goes on as usual.
After the parade of the Armed Forces,
Even a separate women’s battalion in skirts comes by.
Putin appears as a professional, closed personality.
The Russians really believe in the fascist danger in Ukraine.
That the Nato troops are out to help the neo-Nazis,
And are about to surround Russia. 

The Cold War worked in the Soviet days to keep its enemies at bay.
The belief is that the future belongs to Russia,
Although the launching of the invasion in Ukraine
Was the biggest military blunder.
A retreat from Ukraine would mean Putin
Has lost the battle and his face.
Seventy years of refraining from using the nukes;
A path has to be found for mighty Russia
To leave Ukraine in a dignified manner. 

The heavy, cumbersome tanks come:
A display of hardware that Ukrainians love to destroy,
So long as they have the right weapons.
Soldiers popping their heads out of the tanks,
Saluting the Generals and the President.
The ugly, fat missiles with red caps float by.
Five big rockets mounted on trucks,
No angst in the hearts of these unaware souls.
Putin’s ultimate game is to set back the clock
And regain all former Soviet territories.
Donbas, Crimea, wherever there are separatists.
Monstrous warheads featuring prominently,
Warheads that spell Hell to countries where they explode; 

There where the soldiers lie buried
In cemeteries and on the roadside,
Sunflowers and poppies will grow;
Orthodox crosses arranged in rows.
The dead loved, drank vodka,
Sang songs and now sleep,
In the killing fields of Ukraine. 

It’s a bright day in May with fluffy clouds.
And the Russian brass band plays heroic tunes
For the soldiers who died like sacrificial lambs.
Then comes the all-male choir,
Thundering voices in the Red Square.
The band marches past in splendid formation.
A few nondescript global dignitaries are also present.
Putin looks short and obese as he gets up
And walks in the Red Square with his generals
Whose breasts display medals;
Enough to sink a cruiser.
Men are indeed ruled by toys. 

He holds a short speech for the leaders of the Armed Forces;
Talks with a general while walking briskly,
With security men in black as shields.
Do you hear the stutter of rifles,
The screams of missiles,
The thuds of the shells?
The vast majority don’t watch news
About what’s going on in Ukraine. 

There where the soldiers lie buried
In cemeteries and on the roadside,
Sunflowers and poppies will grow;
Orthodox crosses arranged in rows.
The dead loved, drank vodka,
Sang songs and now sleep,
In the killing fields of Ukraine. 

The rivers of Ukranian and Russian blood flow
In Kiev, Bursa, Mariupol and Donbas,
Haven’t clotted.
More blood is to flow.
This is the reaffirmation of Putin’s ambitions.
Till the troops have achieved their objectives
A formidable country of patriots, 

Rifles go up in salute,
Two soldiers bring a wreath
Aging generals with roses in their shaky hands.
President Putin arranges the ribbons,
And spends a quiet moment
In memory of the 27,000 dead Soviets.
Young girls with all their tenderness
Lay flowers for the dead;
Who now can neither touch silk nor cheeks. 

The bank begins with a clash of cymbals,
The men and women of the Armed Forces salute.
The Victory Day Parade is done with fervor and pomp.
Many military invitees lay their red roses on the floor.
The Russians feel good about the leadership.
That was the would-be tzar’s sole intention. 

The parade goes on with smartly dressed units marching past.
Putin walks and swings only his left hand.
His right hand is stationary beside his rump.
He has deep furrows below his eyes.
Sleepless nights caused by Ukraine’s resilience.
Lays scarlet flowers on coffins of the recently dead soldiers.
A general with a grandchild and blues eyes. 

Putin tries to justify the Ukraine war.
Collective responsibility for the war in Ukraine;
A country which was attacked without provocation.
A sovereign and independent state.
The Ukrainians have surprised the whole world,
With admirable sacrifice, resistance and the desire
To survive and exist as a nation,
Bringing great military losses to Russia. 

The marine troops dressed in Prussian blue,
Holding their weapons with a rehearsed pride,
Noses like Roman senators in the air,
Conjured up images of a defiant, proud Russia.
It all smells of fascism and tyranny during the Third Reich
The difference is that it is Russians who are the fascists.
Putin’s days in the GDR were well spent.
He has not only learned the German tongue
But unfortunately was fascinated by the Gestapo methods.
But Ukraine, and Crimea want their territories back. 

Putin’ s Blitzkrieg, Special Operation, has led to a war of attrition.
The Ukrainians put up a good fight,
Inflicting heavy losses to the fascists from Russia;
Their conventional weapons couldn’t compete
Against Nato hardware.
The losses were enormous.
No mention of Victory Day.
The war against Ukraine
Dishonours the dead
Of the past and present.
There where the soldiers lie buried
In cemeteries and on the roadside,
Sunflowers and poppies will grow;
Orthodox crosses arranged in rows.
The dead loved, drank vodka,
Sang songs and now sleep,
In the killing fields of Ukraine. 

* * * 

 
Satis Shroff is based in Freiburg and is a poet, humanist, lecturer and artist. He writes poems, fiction, non-fiction, and also on ecological, ethno-medical, culture-ethnological themes. The German media describes him as a mediator between western and eastern cultures, and he sees his future as a writer and poet. He received the Pablo Neruda Award 2017 for Poetry in Crispiano, Italy and the Heimat Medaillie Baden-Württemberg 2018.

http://satisle.wix.com/zeitgeistliterature#!satislewixcom-zeitgeistlit/mainPage

www.lulu.com/spotlight/satisle

www.spanglefish.com/satisshroff

http://blogs.boloji.com/satisshroff

http://satisshroff.wordpress.com/

so my flowers could flourish

despite the fact i watered the flowers of our friendship, there was never any growth; everything remained half-dead and half-living; i got exhausted of being the only one to put any effort in so eventually i stopped—you said you didn't miss people, but you soon found that you did miss me; it was too late

—i tend to give people more chances than they deserve and you were no different in that regard, but i wasn't willing to wait around anymore until you were able to give me time and attention; i have no affection left for you—so when you clawed so hard and so often after i told you we were no longer friends for a friendship i have to admit that i felt nothing but disgust, where was all this effort before? you weren't there when i needed you, yet i was expected to be there at your beck and call when you needed me; friendship isn't supposed to stunt your growth and be traumatic but trauma was all you gave me

—looking back i realize you were a narcissist because nothing that ever happened was ever your fault, you were always the victim even when you weren't; and i got tired of being your punching bag—for my own personal growth, i pulled out every root of our friendship so that my flowers could flourish once more; i am sorry that you miss me but i don't feel guilty for leaving you behind any more. 

-linda m. crate 

with all your need

they say
growth is
moving on,
but when you move
on without them they 
will insist you cannot cut
them out;
as if they weren't the ones
that left you bleeding
with the scissors in your
back—
you gave me scissors so i cut
the ties that tethered us
in togetherness,
and you have no one to blame but yourself;
i needed to grow 
so you could not be hanging on the 
vines of all my flowers
crushing them to death with all of your need.

-linda m. crate 

bigger and better plans 

remember that promise
you gave me?
gave me a false sense of security
as i was under the assumption
we'd grow old together,

but that was just a lie you 
told to keep me tethered to the
many tongues of your lust;

growth came after you abandoned me
and married the woman you cheated on me with—

one autumn day i woke up and the agony
was gone,
i could bloom and live and be again;

rediscovered my magic and reclaimed my voice
and danced in my muchness once more—

every day i grow more and more 
into who i was meant to be,
and the universe had bigger and better plans
for me than to be the wife of someone
insincere and untrue.

-linda m. crate

but i do regret

they want to take credit
for your growth
when it was all your effort,
and they didn't do a damn
thing to better your life;

so many say forgive and forget
and there will be no regret—

but i do regret giving people
more chances than they deserved,
some people didn't deserve my
forgiveness;
and thought they could simply use
me over and over and over again—

the key to growing is ignoring what they
have said about me,
and though sometimes i get angry they take
credit for my efforts they're going to think what
they want to and so i keep growing toward the sun
and let them wilt alone in the angriest
of suns.

-linda m. crate 

no longer stained 

you wanted a damsel in distress
that you could dress in any garb
you thought could make you shine
in the best light, but instead you
found a warrior in a dress;

now you paint me the villain of your tale
but you've never been a hero to anyone
not even yourself—

when the illusion fades, they won't love you;
because they have fallen in love with 
the mask of you who they thought was you
who i  thought was you before you revealed 
your true nature to me—

glancing over my shoulder i am not sorry
that you are my past and will never be my future,

but if i must be the villain then i will be the one
that wins; i will be the one that they will love
and they will say that you deserved your end—

i will just be grateful that you name no longer
stains my heart.

-linda m. crate 

without a prayer 

you are without a prayer,
the moon won't save you;
she is my mother and she knows
how you tried to shatter my light

until only darkness remained—

i think she hates you more than i
ever could, her grudge is somehow
hotter than the sun and colder than the
coldest of rains; and if one of us
must go down she says it's going to be you—

there was a time i would cry at the thought
of you being left lone in the darkness,

but now i see that perhaps it is everything
you deserve because of all the darkness you've
brought others; all of the magic you have
destroyed and all the magic you tried to—

i have refound myself and claimed my magic,
and i know that you've made me a villain in your
narrative so let me destroy you in my chaos.

-linda m. crate 

Another Sunny Day

I sit outside
enjoying the
beautiful sunshine,
with my dog, and
a few beers.
Then, I have to
go back inside.

As I wait for some
cannabis to be dropped
off.

I know that it doesn't
help me, in any way,
but sometimes you
need a break from your
usual mind, and manner.

And I really need a break.

A break from reality,
and a break from
myself.

I'm not proud of it,
but at times it has
to be done. 

Sheer Joy

I know that it's really not cool to say it
But sometimes I love being me
There are LOADS of things that are terribly
Wrong in my life.

But, when I've had a few Whiskeys, and a joint, or two
And the words are flowing through me,
There's nobody else I'd rather be.
Who else would I want to be, who ?

At these rare moments, I love being me
I'm a fountain of creativity.
Yes, I may be totally pissed
Buy I'm also an artist.

Trying to help humanity
Get up on it's feet
Trying to help my fellow man
Reach his potentiality.
Or am I just a drunken liability? 

Unsteadily

I sit here,
unsteadily,
on top of
4, or 5 days
of drunkenness,
and dope smoking.

I feel great !

I feel fucking great !

But, I know that
something bad
is hiding around
the corner.

Just waiting to
trip me up.

I don't know where
or when, but I know
that sometime soon.
I'm not going to be
feeling well, at all.