The sky bathed the earth—water was onomatopoeiaing: slis slis slis slis slis—the sky roared in angry bellows—lightening streaked across the sky as a woman’s lingerie. Watching nature’s festival a joy engulfed me.
The day was a passing Epiphany, a poem being unrolled. I am enjoying the easy-go-lucky -time of Summer Holidays.
Morning was a mystic poem—a sonata of celestial colors. Monks rowed across the sky in sparkling splendor. I thank God Jesus for all the blessings given. The son rose as a poet reciting a verse.
I have started reading the Gospel of Mark and I came across the incident where a woman who had an issue of blood touched the garments of Jesus and was healed. Jesus on realizing some energy had gone out of him asked who had touched him. The woman replied it is she. Then Jesus blessed her.
My writing has led to the discovery of the self and I want to harmonize my fictional self with the real self.
I recall the words of Christ—if you honor me: the Father in heaven will honor you.
Lord Jehovah Jesus: Yes what I yes on earth in Heaven.
I rejoice as the Prodigal Son who has returned to the Father and whom the Father Forgave and accepted without any conditions.
Lord Jehovah Jesus: windfall my purse with a gain of 20000 Rupees today. My wallet has become dry. Water it with a good some of money.
My thoughts are drifting to two art movements in History: Romanticism and Imagism.
Romanticism according to William Wordsworth is the spontaneous overflow of feeling. Sight, Smell, taste and touch become tropoligized into aesthetic artifacts. Romanticism is a poetic sensibility, the art of transforming into a ritual of poetic beauty. Has romanticism become decadent? Romanticism is an art to appreciate nature. Here is a romantic epiphany. Dawn Started Moving with the lovers communing; colors nuzzling fawns, surging tourbillion glowing passion; eternity flies as Sadhus (birds) in white, unveiling time on mystic flight; brook of beauty running through gurgling moksha (salvation) all the way through; swaying pebbles glistening karmic odes, samsara (cycle of rebirth) meanders pilgrimage blues; beyond mundane life of aching pain and deadly strife, Heraclitus is moving from flux to feeling.
Another art movement that fascinated me is Imagism founded by Eliot. He defined imagism as an intellectual and emotional complex in an instant of time. Words in imagism become poetic ornaments. Some examples of Imagism are: The eye of the night shone in mystic glory. Poems gently float across the sky. I played the guitar on her body. Psyche, you beautiful ornament, you are an epiphany in rendition. Rain in Kerala is the heart of monsoon. I poured ecstasy into her body. Memory is a photograph in the album of the mind. Waves in the sky rolled like a hyperbole. I submerged in her lake of passion. The unconscious is an odyssey of the mind. Beauty blooms in a color. Echo is music of the earth. Art is the music of making love.
The morning was littered with flowers. The sky became a booming canopy. Tiny poems glided in the sky. The poem rose with the pulchritude of good humor. I feel so contented and happy. I thank Jehovah Jesus for soul talking to me.
I have started reading the gospel of Mark. The fact that Jesus being spiritual and mortal fascinates me. Yes, the Lamb became a lamp that was lit. Spirit enmeshed itself with flesh and lived a life on earth.
In the morning I had to go to Allepy also known as the Venice of the East. Aleppy in God’s Own Country is a tourist paradise. One the one side is a poem of tranquil backwaters and on the other, lush paddy fields. Birds of all hues and shapes flourish in the paddy fields. The famous Siberian Crane comes to Kerala when it is winter in Russia. One can cruise along the backwaters by renting a boat. My friend Libardi an anthroposophist remarked that the backwaters are the remnants of the sunken continent Atlantis. Is the legend true or a fancy of the mind? We can accept his opinion with poetic license.
All along the way I saw remains of an election campaign. I was made into posters, sprawling cutouts, and to my viewers hands bowed in Namaste and dripped with a cosmetic smile. I can’t imagine that India being a poor country, millions are wasted for elections. Many in India don’t have food to eat, many live in slums and the irony is the Governments voted to power rarely keep their election promises.
A strange incident happened in my life. I was standing outside a shop drinking coffee when the election candidate in our constituency passed by me with bevy of followers. I thought that he will look at me and smile but nothing of that sort happened. He walked passed me totally ignoring me. I am having two thoughts about voting for him.
Now I want to tell a strange legend. It had dials which keep on moving. When it reaches one hour, it chants a rhyme and then chimes. When it is 2 it rings 12 times and when is 1 it rings 10 times. It is highly erratic and eccentric. Still I love it so much. I keep it as a precious objet d’ art.
It is a connoisseur of art. It tries to live many lives. It is in a confused state of being a fictional self and real self. It tries to novel epiphanies and it also plays with the language of meaning. It is literary and philosophical. It travels to continents and places. Sometimes it says to me: hey mister, you are poem, you are the many women that you have loved, you are the incense of cloved cigarettes of Jakarta, you are grilled Indonesian fish that you have relished with sumptuousness, you are the aromatic sambal (a mixture lime, chilies, tomatoes to be eaten with rice), you are the winning moves made in a game of chess, you are the disciple who has fondness for Christ, you are an allegory and
an epiphany of a self in wonder.
It lies in the living room. One can settle on it with luxury. One can also lie down on it and relax. When lying down on it, it becomes a muse of serendipity. New thoughts violate the privacy of the brain. The mind welcomes them with eagerness.
The sky in the evening dazzled with the splendor of colors. The sun sank like a dream. Birds floated in the sky like an ephemeral nirvana. I thank God Christ for all the blessings given.
Night came in on like a Vampire. The sky bore the opulence of stars. Stars are as small as grapes. The crickets melodied poems of glory.
I attended a meeting where my mother was declared Woman of the Year 2019 by Jacees International. These were the same people who lent money to my father and charged exorbitant interest. What an irony it is; now they are honoring my mother. Yes God Christ Jesus has promised that he will give a double portion of what has been lost.
I have finished reading the Gospel of Mathew and now I have started reading the Gospel of Mark. I have always wondered about Christ, being God and yet being human. I have read into the portion where he selects his disciples. It is remarkable that God chose the humble and the meek to work for his kingdom. I read about people being cured of all afflictions. For some: he asked the demon to come out and for some he just healed by placing his hands or by uttering a word to be healed. The demons are terrified when Christ encounters them. I am amazed at the love shown by Christ and his coming down to the earth and shedding the blood on Calvary to save us from his sins.
The whole month of March had very little financial gain. I got only a very small fish as far was windfall gains are concerned. I want to win the lottery draw hosted by UAE government. I need the money to go there and buy the ticket. I hope I will win the jackpot. Yes, Christ has said: ‘ask and you shall receive’. I will need money for April and May as the school is closed. December was a good month as I had a bounty of money in my purse. God Jehovah Jesus populate my purse and my bank account with money.
I am wondering whether a Novelist should be called as an Artist. Yes, the novel is art in words. Its gallery is the readers. Compared to paintings only a small amount of money is needed to buy novels. I thank God Jehovah Jesus for helping me to find the style, content and form of Novel writing. Christ has said: ‘if you honor me: the God in heaven will honor you.’
I appreciate art very much but I don’t have the money to buy art. I am a connoisseur of art. It’s an irony that art is purchased by Moguls who have a lot of stinking dope. I wonder whether they appreciate art or are they buying art o just to show off their prestige in society.
I have started writing with the pen in notebook. Writing like that gives me a lot of clarity in my thoughts. What I have written with pen, I type on the keyboard.
I am always asking God to lead me to the purpose he wants me to take.
Lord Jesus: the school founded by my father is need of finance. Bless the school and give me a windfall to meet the school’s expenses.
wonder why Marquis De Sade is ornamentalized into a Cerebral Classic writer. Is Sadism moral? Not it isn’t! Sadism is beastly and cannot be expressed philosophically. Sade’s words are remarkable as far as literary genius is concerned. May we should read him and then trash his ideas away.
Reading Kafka is like reading an allegory of nation’s trauma. Al of Kafka’s writings are wounds and blisters. Let us look at the Metamorphosis. The character Gregor Samsa is troubled mentally and spiritually. His father (an allegory for Nazi rule) treats him like rotten eggs. The metamorphosis is a story of struggle and exile. A Jew was rubbished in the Nation of the Nazis. Kafka is an allegory of a troubled Jew.
In the evening the sky became a merry eye of light—feathers rhymed a musical poem—colors lay contended as mystic poem—my heart is soaking in the art of impressionism—I am grateful to God for all the blessings given.
Night spread a canvass of darkness—there was no round eye as a visitor in the sky— I heard the sound of crickets singing—I longed to be a poem on the erotic bed of poetry.
Morn blessed with the presence of God—the sky lay like an ethereal sedative—wind whispered its music to me—Lord is leading me and I remember God’s Prayer: ‘Father give us this day our Daily Bread’.
I am thankful to God Christ for revealing the form, content and style of the novel. I am happy that my book Coven of Tales has been published. Lord Jesus, I long to travel to exotic countries and travelogues.
Lord Jesus: Yes it on heaven what I yes on earth.
Faith as a Mustard
There’s a simile which Jesus told: ‘if you have faith as small as mustard seed: if you command the mountains to be cast in the sea: it will do so. Lord Jehovah Jesus teach me the secret of this simile and apply it in life for me.
The Wedding Banquet
There’s parable of Jesus in the Book of ST Mathew. A master arranged a wedding banquet for his son. He send out servants but they were beaten up and none came. The he sent a second round of servants and they were killed. Then the master sent out a third bunch of servants and in came the prostitutes and the sinners. The servants who were beaten and martyred are those who are disciples and evangelists. Prostitutes and sinner are those have strayed but have come back to accept Christ. Christ is a marvelous Parablist.
Wedding Banquet as an Idiom means those who are chosen. The kingdom of God will be like a Wedding Banquet. For a lottery Draw only a few become a Wedding Banquet.
Yesterday I went for a prayer Fellowship and the preacher spoke wonderful words of wisdom. He said what are the four things holding back of believer? They are fear, disbelief, despair and a hardened heart.
In is said in Psalms 23: Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death: I fear no evil. It is again said in psalms that the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom. There are two types of fear: Fear of Idols a negative one and Fear of God a positive one. When I was in a transit lounge in Singapore, I boozed to belly full and I slept like a log. When I woke up it was next day and plan had already taken off. I had very little money with me and I went to the airlines counter and luckily thanks to God Christ: I was able to procure a ticket for 100 bucks.
Every day I carried it in my heart. What if the school bus met with an accident? Most humans wallow in the lake of despair. Despair was born out of eating from the tree of knowledge. My not getting a job is another avenue. Before Christ, it filled my heart and soul. Now in Christ, I am free of it.
After hearing the word: they rejected it. They started committing all types of sin. When I walked through this land God pulled me out. I am thankful to God Christ for giving me a new life.
A Hardened Heart
When we are children we absorb the scripture like milk. When we become grownup we live in worldly ways. God cautions us to come back. Do not make your heart hard
Figures of Speech
My pen is a slave for Christ. An epic of fragmentary thoughts is a monument on stone. I wiped on the towel of luck. I bathed in the sea of hope. My body is a corpse when it comes to adultery and fornication. Lord Christ, personify my body with an epiphany. He watched the watch. Abundance, you are elephant’s tongue. Yield not to the tree of temptation. The blood that cleansed was that of Christ. Anger is a stormy tree. The anatomy of the soul is a precious ornament. Courage is a heart of passion. Pursue your dream and wake up to a reality. Democracy is the victory of votes. Surreal paintings are a story to tell. Sleep is peaceful brook: thanks to God Jesus. Sadness is winter; mirth is summer, melancholy autumn and angst: summer. Don’t make your own feelings a foe. Better to understand the self rather than understanding humanity. The hand of God is a becoming of might miracle. Prejudice is a poisonous vessel. Communism is a God that died and Christ is a God that resurrected. The Bible lives with the literature of life. Poems danced in the sky. Plant your virtue in your soul. The Lilies of the field are the garments of Christ. The Parables of Jesus are the fruit of living a good life on earth. Sin—I stamp you down like a Serpent. Tear the Tear. Jesus is a canopy of Joy and Peace. Hope of the Night is Luck of the morning. The sword will kneel before the pen. It is better to believe in God rather than in fate. I am like a prodigal son who returned to the Father. Lord Give All Days Your Daily bread. Philosophy is fertilizer for the mind. Poems on the branch of the tree, spoke beatitudes. Her stomach was swollen like a pumpkin. Dress the habit of thought with goodness. Positive thinking is a flower of thought. Adultery—you are whore of the body. Passion is an aristocrat and pleasures a king. Mind you erect splendid monuments. Appreciate Dawn like Shelly the poet. Christmas chimes the bell of gifts. Romanticism is the sculpture of feeling. Existentialism is a corpse of the absurd. Bad Luck I drown you in a river. God favor me with windfall this day. I dwell in the sea of happiness. A positive attitude is a heart of beauty. Time of eternity is an enigma. The chosen belong to the Parable of the Seed that fell on rich and fertile ground. Lexis is the flower of the Word: Logs the Heart: and Agape the fruit. Time is a busy bee. Fortune has the footsteps of a galloping horse. Writing is the art of life. When will God bless me with the riches of the earth? Resilience is a soldier ready for war. Jesus is the cornerstone rejected by the masons. Gandhi is the symbol for an Independent and democratic India. I pour my feelings into the vessel of the heart. Put on a hat of patience and wear the blazed of celebration. With Jesus: there are no stones in the heart. Riches of the earth temporary but the riches of the earth are permanent. Waltz of life, you are a poem to live. A hardened heart, a fearful soul, a despairing mind and a disbelieving body are all an emanating hell.
I have said earlier: give the soul, a time of experience to generate the content of fiction. I discovered these three genres of fiction by the inspiration of the divine God Christ. I name them as follows: Painting-Novel, Narrative-Novel and Philosophical Novel.
Painting-Novel is the art of the novel: the novel is made to look like a painting. The writer has paint words with his pen. The writer has to ornament the language. Tropes are the pictures of the novel. Tropes are musical pictures.
Narrative-Novel includes time and characterization. There are two types of time Narrative Time and Symbolic Time. Narrative Time is the consciousness of the writer. Joyce James was a master of it through his fictive technique called streams of consciousness. The second time is symbolic time where the character lives thinks and feels. Symbolic time would incorporate the past, present and the future. Character is the resonance of the soul. Character should bring out all what the writer cannot speak or do in everyday language. Character is a spiritual, soulful aesthetic artifact.
The Third, belongs to the genre called Philosophical-Fiction. The writer plays with the philosophy of language. Idioms, Parables, Epiphanies, Puns, Illusions, Allusions, giving philosophical meanings to words, coining new words (neologisms), interpreting older texts in new language all belong to the genre of Philosophical Fiction.
I thank Jesus Christ for being the muse of inspiration.
Morning walked across the sky lazily, spraying an aroma of colors. Tiny dwarfs of the earth chanted melodies.
I thank God for this beautiful Saturday morn. God has blessed me with a beautiful wife and two gorgeous children. My son is autistic and I am praying to God for his healing. My daughter with her teen life could have gone into muddy waters, but thanks to God and the blessed counseling of spiritual brothers, she is in beautiful water and is happily pursuing a course in dental science.
I was intensely reading the Gospel of Mathew and I came upon some new discoveries. There was a youth who wanted to follow Jesus and said to Jesus: I have obeyed all your commands. Then Jesus said to him: sell all your riches and give it to the poor and the needy and then follow me. The youth went away distraught. Jesus said to his disciples it is more difficult for a man with riches to enter the kingdom of Heaven than for a Camel to enter the eye of a needle. I was awe-struck by this profound metaphor. Yes, Christ the Lord teaches in the Lord’s Prayer: ‘Father Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread’. It is virtually impossible for a man with riches to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. I wonder how God will judge celebrity Evangelists who flaunt their wealth and are out to dupe the innocent. Is Christianity a way of making money? The answer is no! Is Christianity a way of making millions? Is it right for Christian evangelists to show off with flashy sport cars and private Jets which are luxurious? Are they emulating Christ who lived a simple life? Aren’t they being hypocrites!
When the little children came to Jesus, they were shooed away by the disciples. Jesus said bring the little ones to me. The Jesus said: whoever wants to enter the kingdom of heaven must be like little Children. Little Children as an idiom means, being morally pure. I was addicted to pornography and during that time I was far away from being a little child. It is hard for grownups to be little children.
Then I came across the amazing Parable of Jesus. An estate manager wanted to hide laborers for his vineyard. In the morning he went to the market and hired people and offered them wages. This he went in the afternoon and evening and did the same. When the labor was over: he distributed the same wages. The workers complained that this was unfair. The estate manager replied that the giving of wages is left to the discretion of the master. It means that an early bird and a late bird catches the worm equally. Christ does not discriminate between the early and the late comers.
Then as I was reading the Gospel of Mathew, Jesus took some of his disciples and went on top of a hill and underwent transmogrification (change of form). Jesus changed his form into a divine body. Moses and Elijah were also with him. His body shone like the rays of the sun and his eyes twinkled with fire. There was a rainbow of a halo on his head. Transmogrification as idiom means having a spiritual character. Humans housed in the body of flesh find it difficult to be transmogrified. We have to develop the nature of transmogrification.