Magic Square

sATOR

A Talisman
You are ….
Sator,
The holder
Of the plough ….
Arepo of
Divine
Providence ….
Tenet
Being in
Control
And
Opera
Mastery
Of art and
Craft ….
Rotas
The wheel
Reminiscent
Of Fortune…….

The Lottery Machine

It was a machine that picked the draws for the Lottery. Someone said that mind can influence matter and others said chanting mantras would be enough. So I tried hocuspockusabracadabra but nothing came out of it. Then I tried the law of attraction and then again it met with misfortune. Then I tried programming my subconscious mind and again it was of no avail. I felt like an ironic bum. Lottery, you burn a hole in my pocket.

Nov 15th 2019

I savored the beauty of the sunrise with a mystic passion. I heard the chirps and tweets of birds singing a fond lullaby.

I took an English Class for the 8th graders, the story being 6 Napoleons by Sherlock Holmes. I am not a big fan of pulp fiction, but I enjoyed the plotting of the story. Conan Doyle is a master of storytelling. In the story we find the busts of Napoleons being broken to rubble. Then we come to understand that it is the work of an escaped convict who had placed a priceless pearl in one of those busts. Sherlock Holmes discovers that the 6th Napoleon is to be burgled and makes a plan to catch the intruder. The robber is caught and Holmes smashes the head of the bust to recover the valuable pearl.

I read the Bible and in it the Story of Moses. Moses was born at a time when the Pharaoh persecuted the Jews and ordered that all the male children be beheaded. When Moses was a baby, his mother put him in a reed basket and placed him in the Nile. When the Pharaoh’s daughter saw the basket, she asked her maid to fetch it. She adopted the baby as her own son. The mother of Moses was called to look after her own son. When Moses was a young man, he saw an Egyptian hitting a Jew and then in a fit of anger, he killed him. When the Pharaoh found it out, Moses had to flee to Midian. There he married a Priest’s Daughter.

Nov 14th 2019

Frills of tweets woke me up to a pleasant day. The day passed on without anything much happening in my life.

I am having no luck with windfalls after all the prayers I have made.
I have started reading Kierkegaard’s Philosophical Fragments, but I have reached only its preface.

I have coined some metonymies

A congregation of Pens met at the resort. A Pen was crowned as the monarch of writing. The fruit of democracy is love, peace and joy. The head resigned and the others followed. Many mouths of the organization spoiled it. The herd grazed in Green pastures. The flock swam as a poem in the sky. The muse is writing poetry. A chorus started howling. Oh Pen, yield thy art to me. The cards played a game of Rummy. The cup drank a lot of whisky. His body was covered with wool. Time moved on dials. She wore the ornament of beauty. The honey he carried in his purse is new. The bum roared with ecstasy. The flower palace blossomed with many hues. Feathers plucked the guitar. Devil is a serpent of all lies. I played on her fan and drove her to ecstasy. A dramaturge cheered the sky. Heaven’s persona: you are wonderful in my sight. Her body is a mystical island. His words were a tasty tongue. The soul is the music of emotion. Love is a soaring bird. I have tried to woo a tulip but it did not yield. Life has gone out of the body. The biceps are doing a workout.