Being the saint

for him I sing, …

renaissance warrior

a thousand year ruins stand laughing in my face
as i remember how glorious days they were
how they stood in this world magnificent and magnanimous
standing reminders and relics how my ancestors they lived

a thousand year pilferage stand mocking of my past
as i dream of a new world, that we want to be
to live the way we always have lived and
to live the way we always wanted to live

a thousand year poverty smiles upon us sardonically
as i count those plundered riches of our yore
as i seek to enrich ourselves once again
with all the priceless treasures that were us

a thousand year frustration plays games in my mind
of the losses and defeats of every vain attempt
as i strengthen myself in resolve and in spirit
to return to our lands and to our lives

but a thousand year valour and sacrifice
boils my blood to the tip of vengeance
as i turn into a reformations soldier
to fight for restoration of our civilization

and a thousand year truth and virtue
and the spirits of the brave who dared
blessed me to the best of my efforts
and turn myself into a renaissance warrior


Filed under: resistance poetry


can i hold my ground
will i win back our lands
will i get back to my people
and will they get back to their homes?

will my people live their freedom
will they be sleeping in peace
will their boundaries be sage
and will their doors be open?

shall my women live unworrying
will they be living without fear
shall they be able to eat what they sow
will they be prospering in plentitude?

can i help them to such a life
am i capable for such a fight
if yes or no, is my resolve strong
will god help me in being strong?

Filed under: resistance poetry

god lead me

god lead me unto the day,
my nation deshackles a thousand year drudgery,
celebrating the resurrection,
resounds the unity, fraternity and freedom.

god lead me unto the day,
my nation rises proudly to the sun
to shine the world we already knew
and sleep to a peaceful night.

Filed under: resistance poetry

fight i will

fight i will, unto the last breadth
for too much blood is shed
boiling is what counts of my blood
nothing in significance to what is bled

fight will i, for my brethren,
dead or alive, but not forgotten,
the good and the worse of the days;
the joy and suffering that we are.

fight will i, for a cause ours,
for the privilege to share the grounds
lain to rest, all my heroes and saints,
noble and brave in heart and soul

Filed under: resistance poetry, , , , , ,

my desire

i have a desire for this life, a need to fulfill
for which i fight, even when i do not know if i am right,
too much of my brothren blood is shed,
and there is no greater good ahead.

what matters to me is my blood boils
of the tyrannies that wipes our glory,
by the treachery that stabs ourselves,
and to the shackles we are bound to.

no more shall i go with the flow,
intrepid, i stand and resist.
unto death shall i stand and fight,
to share the same land as my heroes;

noble and brave, in soul and heart;
departed; but not dead.

Filed under: resistance poetry, , , ,

About Me

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

-- From Ulyssess by Lord Alfred Tennyson


"Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law"

-- AL I:40, Liber Al vel Legis, Aleister Crawley


Aut viam inveniam aut faciam

-- spoken by Hannibal whilst crossing alps with elephants at Punic Wars


I am the Messiah of New Hope, New Age and New Light.

My Passions include Hindu Civilization; Knowledge, Wisdom; Art; Science; Universe; Philosophy; Hindu Anarchism & Internationalism

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RSS Saintly Journal

  • Change on Cards March 26, 2013
    I got few changes, hopefully in the pipeline. I might consider shifting to or might not. Job is fine. Just an incidental happening in the life of a sincere student of philosophy. There are just two things, I constantly seek. One is He and the other one is Knowledge. So that makes an internet […]
  • Being and Nothingness March 25, 2013
    Every facet of my life revolves around him. My moments, my thoughts, my dreams, my hopes, my prayers. Each and everything. It is sort of a revelation for me, like the Copernican theory of universe. The leitmotifs always are the same. Constant, immutable and unchanging, amidst changing universe. Each passing of a moment brings with […]
  • A poem for you March 21, 2013
  • Pathetically predictable March 20, 2013
    These bastards so pathetically predictable. And yet they are foolish enough to understand they are extremely predictable and predicted. Well Dog’s tail. But that is good for me. All I would be doing is think and dream about him, help him all the while, I am around here. Einstein defined stupidity as “Doing the same […]
  • A great day March 19, 2013
    Some days in my life are so worth remembering and some days make me proud. These moments are my success and rest all is just plain incidentals. Here I have three freshers, and sort of tried to guide them. And all three of them, are doing excellent. Getting good reviews, being great at work, and […]
  • Future Tense March 12, 2013
    So these guys carry this notion that my existence is dependent upon aligning with themselves and all the past “success” would be a waste if I do not align with themselves. I want to make this clear. I love this guy. If only he could have these feelings for me, I would have braved the […]
  • Anarchist’s Way March 11, 2013
    So I know what is happening and I know what has happened and worse, I know what is going to happen. But I do not resign to the inevitabilities omnipotency and have taken the extra spirit and extra codeine to fight out any thing that is inevitable, hopeless, impossible. It is not for me. I […]
  • Been a while March 6, 2013
    It has been a while, when I looked upon my yesterday and reflected the days that were. I know there is not much meaning in these days. It is all just plain simple political dirt slinging matches, everyday, when my boss hurls his dust on me and I reciprocate. These are meaningless days, meaningless times, […]
  • He February 27, 2013
    Been a few days, since I posted something. I am now ugly, my home, a junk yard, my clothes lay scattered, my thoughts go awry and my heart feels painful. I am distant from him. Far too away, a chasm, not even god could fill. Separated not only by the universe that god designed but […]
  • Standing to loose all February 19, 2013
    Hi there, the time has come, shouted the harbinger of the doom, well, of sorts. I am working here since 8 months. Got good at this job, just like with any stuff I do. I have conducted interviews, got good guys around in the team, kept the integral unity of the team and I was […]

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For Him I Sing

FOR him I sing,
I raise the present on the past,
(As some perennial tree out of its roots, the present on the past,)
With time and space I him dilate and fuse the immortal laws,
To make himself by them the law unto himself.

from "The Leaves of Grass"
by "Walt Whitman"

LOVE is anterior to life

LOVE is anterior to life,
Posterior to death,
Initial of creation, and
The exponent of breath.

Omnia Sol Temperat

Omnia sol temperat
purus et subtilis,
novo mundo reserat
faciem Aprilis,
ad amorem properat
animus herilis
et iocundis imperat
deus puerilis.

Rerum tanta novitas
in solemni vere
et veris auctoritas
jubet nos gaudere;
vias prebet solitas,
et in tuo vere
fides est et probitas
tuum retinere.

Ama me fideliter,
fidem meam noto:
de corde totaliter
et ex mente tota
sum presentialiter
absens in remota,
quisquis amat taliter,
volvitur in rota.

TO lose thee, sweeter than to gain

TO lose thee, sweeter than to gain
All other hearts I knew.
’T is true the drought is destitute,
But then I had the dew!

The Caspian has its realms of sand, 5
Its other realm of sea;
Without the sterile perquisite
No Caspian could be.

HEART, we will forget him!

HEART, we will forget him!
You and I, to-night!
You may forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.

When you have done, pray tell me, 5
That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you’re lagging,
I may remember him!

I ’M ceded, I ’ve stopped being theirs

I ’M ceded, I ’ve stopped being theirs;
The name they dropped upon my face
With water, in the country church,
Is finished using now,
And they can put it with my dolls, 5
My childhood, and the string of spools
I ’ve finished threading too.

Baptized before without the choice,
But this time consciously, of grace
Unto supremest name, 10
Called to my full, the crescent dropped,
Existence’s whole arc filled up
With one small diadem.

My second rank, too small the first,
Crowned, crowing on my father’s breast, 15
A half unconscious queen;
But this time, adequate, erect,
With will to choose or to reject,
And I choose—just a throne.

MY worthiness is all my doubt

MY worthiness is all my doubt,
His merit all my fear,
Contrasting which, my qualities
Do lowlier appear;

Lest I should insufficient prove 5
For his beloved need,
The chiefest apprehension
Within my loving creed.

So I, the undivine abode
Of his elect content, 10
Conform my soul as ’t were a church
Unto her sacrament.

LET me not mar that perfect dream

LET me not mar that perfect dream
By an auroral stain,
But so adjust my daily night
That it will come again.

ONE blessing had I, than the rest

ONE blessing had I, than the rest
So larger to my eyes
That I stopped gauging, satisfied,
For this enchanted size.

It was the limit of my dream, 5
The focus of my prayer,—
A perfect, paralyzing bliss
Contented as despair.

I knew no more of want or cold,
Phantasms both become, 10
For this new value in the soul,
Supremest earthly sum.

The heaven below the heaven above
Obscured with ruddier hue.
Life’s latitude leant over-full; 15
The judgment perished, too.

Why joys so scantily disburse,
Why Paradise defer,
Why floods are served to us in bowls,—
I speculate no more.

YOU left me, sweet, two legacies

YOU left me, sweet, two legacies,—
A legacy of love
A Heavenly Father would content,
Had He the offer of;

You left me boundaries of pain 5
Capacious as the sea,
Between eternity and time,
Your consciousness and me.

Circa mea pectora

Circa mea pectora
multa sunt suspiria
de tua pulchritudine,
que me ledunt misere.
Manda liet,
Manda liet
min geselle
chumet niet.

Tui lucent oculi
sicut solis radii,
sicut splendor fulguris
lucem donat tenebris.
Manda liet
Manda liet,
min geselle
chumet niet.

Miles to Go Before I Sleep

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour'd of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,---
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me ---
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads --- you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

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