When

When will you realize how important the work means to you and the world? 

Action

Action is the antidote to everything 

Action is everything 

Crown

A wear a crown at all times 

Not to waste

We have money to buy

But we don't have money to waste 

Hilary on Bach

Bach is, for me, the touchstone that keeps my playing honest. Keeping the intonation pure in double stops, bringing out the various voices where the phrasing requires it, crossing the strings so that there are not inadvertent accents, presenting the structure in such a way that it's clear to the listener without being pedantic – one can't fake things in Bach, and if one gets all of them to work, the music sings in the most wonderful way.

— Hilary Hahn, Saint Paul Sunday^[54]

God

God being a luminous principle, residing in the midst of the most subtile fire, he remains for ever invisible to the eyes of those who do not elevate themselves above material life - Porphyry

Showing

Don't show it 

Do it. And show it

Don't speak it.

Do it and speak it 

Everyday

Only God's work 

Everyday 

—

The only real work 

In a pulchritude of foolish errands 

When I die, the trees will still stand the same, the mounds of straw in the winter time will still stand the same, the song will be the same, the song will be playing the same,

When I die, the words will be in flight, as they fly, as they always do, and the sun will rise as it always does.

When I die, the world will be the same. When I die, I will make no sound. When I die, nothing will change.

When I die, I will be still driving the Duku car and taking Maya and Skye to the library. And when I die, Skye and Maya will still be bringing home 50 books from the library.

When I die, Music will still be playing, the songs will still be playing, lisa and I will still be dancing. 

George Wesley burrows

I feel a great pride in working so hard, and getting stronger and stronger, and being browned by the sun and hardened by work… I trapped all over the ocean rocks… And the basketball shoes clutch the cliffs like a flies feet

Recycled energy

We are recycled energy 

Maya Muthuramalingam 

Notes

Appointed by God to do godly things 

Quote

You tell me you have a great solution. 

What problem are you solving? 

Quote

" I do Phds for sport"

Untrapment

Your mission in wife 

Is to untrap your life. 

Re: Draw notes poem

Overlord, 

You who you are

With oversight on the world

As it shits around the edges 

Making slow turns 

Circling timeless time  

As the world shifts around the edges

As the sun blackens 

And the eye blindens, 

I draw fading beauty

In washes of sepia 

As the sun blackens

As the eye blindens

I capture light fading 

In washes of sepia 

Will the brush capture

The fading light of the evening

In loose washes of sepia 

Will you draw upon the beauty

Of the horizontal moon ? 

Will you pick up speed

To draw the moving feet 

Of commuters in the 

freezing winter morning? 

Will you suspend 

The seagull in flight

Will you catch its wing 

As it tears up the light? 

Will you snare the sparking gems 

Flickering on the water? 

Draw the frothy divide of white

As a ferry cuts through the Hudson? 

 

 inflorescence of frothy white

As the ferry cuts through the river? 

—-

Long coats 

Tired arms 

Wailing voices 

Droopy eyes 

—-

Voices of 

aching 

With their undone work 

I draw flickering beauty 

In washes

Through brown dusty windows

The sun still reaches 

Light blinding the waters 

Long shadows creasing buildings 

The shape of light 

Disappearing in flight 

A dispensary of white 

Floating by the tail sight

At night, you see 

Gems of light 

Flickering in sight 

Strange shapes 

Dark shadows flickering on awnings 

Long shadows inking awnings 

The rattling motor of the ferry

In 

In loose 

In pale vermilion 

On Tue, Mar 4, 2025 at 5:05 AM Loki <lmuthura@gmail.com> wrote:

I draw beauty

I look at the blue water

Sparkles in the moving water

Yellow moon hanging horizontal 

I belong to that ancient community

Of craftsmen that chiseled grace and beauty 

One stone at a time

I am of ancient ilk

Ancient Kannadiga

In pen and ink 

Drawing blue waters

The flight of pigeons 

Waiting people 

Nursing cell phones 

The line is moving 

One wave at a time 

Catch the wing 

Against the light of the sky

As it disappears into the blue 

From where I place my feet

I spot a hyacinth parakeet 

Sea gull in flight

Drawing upon life 

Working on the ideas 

Rattling in the train

Ideas 

Working the train 

Working the 

Draw

I draw beauty

I look at the blue water

Sparkles in the moving water

Yellow moon hanging horizontal 

I belong to that ancient community

Of craftsmen that chiseled grace and beauty 

One stone at a time

I am of ancient ilk

Ancient Kannadiga

In pen and ink 

Drawing blue waters

The flight of pigeons 

Waiting people 

Nursing cell phones 

The line is moving 

One wave at a time 

Catch the wing 

Against the light of the sky

As it disappears into the blue 

From where I place my feet

I spot a hyacinth parakeet 

Sea gull in flight

Drawing upon life 

Working on the ideas 

Rattling in the train

Ideas 

Working the train 

Working the 

The sky

The sky 
From above,
Gauze of blue green oxidized 
Light inflaming the territory of the morning
Clumps and clumps of rectangles 
Graveyards of buildings 
Undulating highways like threads
Mirror of water bodies, floating as space Fe
Circles and 
Herds and clumps of rectangles, 
Etching on the planar
Tattoo on land
Gauze of tenements 
Like rules on paper
Highways snaking through cloth of green
You see the mouth of the river open to the sea 
The sky and the sea are one 
They converge as a gray band 
The gray band of the horizon 
Uniting the sea and the sky
Lake of clouds swimming on open space. 
Like quiet space vehicles 
Space spectacles 
Scimitars 
They are going in some direction, like geese 
Arrangement of flat land in skeins of green and sienna 
Islands like moles 
Muddy water in a cesspool of 
Silent water of blue green algae
Blue green algal water of silence 
The blue green algal water of widening silence and expanse 
Hard light Light burning my skin 
Flurry of clouds composed in mediating 
Scattering of clouds in folded arms, meditating 
What are they praying for? 
See the journey of the river exposed alll the way to its mouth and tail, 
Tail expanding to the sea 
Clouds, 
Cotton over gauze
Protecting the folded skin of earth
Standing sentinel 
Where the clouds cleave and the silence of the water begins, where the sky meets the water, where is all the matter? 
Are the clouds, water earth and sky, where do they begin and where do they end? 
Dream sequence of moving shapes 
Gauzy dream sequence of moving rectangles and flurry school of clouds 
Revealing strange patterns, 
Hydras and tentacles and scruffy rectangles, lineaments of blurry lines, intersecting fugues, 
Where are you taking me? 
Would you move me over the mountains? 
And 
Thelambswool of furry greens
Blue mountains at the rim of sight 
Buttons of green 
Feathers of green, 
Flowers of green 
Flat land 
—- 

Raja Rocket.

Raja Rocket. 
—
The sound of death,
I imagine to be, 
A muffled pop 
Up in the dark skies
Made by a diwali rocket raja 
— 
Flare snare umbilical crackle jettison
Ricochet spectacle riotous flames
Thunderous roar snip stump 
Crying, kookaburra, piping shrill 
Skittering, whistling, screaming whistles 
Erupt force field gravity 
Death defying gravity 
Lineaments shrill throttle 
— 
Erupting from the glass vessel 
Where he lay limp and slanted 
Lit by a cheetah's fight match 
That extinguished his slumber 
With a full throttle snake hiss
—
Levitating for a brief second 
With sparks flowing from his gills
What an anticipation in generates
When sparks ricochet on ground 
And Raja throttles for take off 
—
Drafting the pale 
Thrusting for take off 
With a snake hiss and spark tongue
With a snake's hiss and spark tongues 
Snake's hiss and spark tongue
Deafening the tenement homes 
With spark tongue and snake hiss
Snake's hiss and spark tongue 
Deafening the air waves
With a hissing screaming whistle 
Shocking the 
Screaming whistle 
Whistling in 
From where it slanted lay
Slaying the guardian air 
Unleashing
—-
Knifing though the cold air
Dropping garlands of sparks
Dragon carrier of flames 
Hissing and releasing smoke
As it speeds into the night 
—- 
As it ascends to the sky 
Releasing smoke and stares 
Hypnotic stare 
Offloading garlands of spark flames
Dropping dragon skein of flames 
Garlands of flames 
Burst flames burnt crack and pop
Reverb mild echo 
Mild echoes ricocheting 
The pop across October skies 
That shot up skyward 
With great gumption 
Bellowing like a beast
Lighting the moment
With electric flare 
Jetting up in which direction
You could never really tell, 
Sulphur tinctures your nose 
Cinder clouds your eyes 
But in the blink of an eye 
Rocket Raja has bolted
Some Raja's were known to stall, 
Unwilling to take off, even with 
Prodding and re-lighting
Laying limp and still-born;
Rest in peace, Raja 
On even rarer occasions, 
After a somnambulists silence
The wick would erupt in a flare
And blow up the beer bottle 
Melting the ground in fury 
Rarity of an eclipse 
Look at him
His majesty
His movements 
His suave 
So confidant 
So arresting 
Charming motherfucker
Releasing trails of sparks 
Then there is a silence 
And everything gets dark
You see nothing 
Only the warm glow of a cinder
The raja rocket is shooting 
What a spectacle of stars 
Scribbling spark lines 
Against October skies 
The movement get slower 
The spark trails are dimmer 
The last flush of sparks appear 
Released from the gills 
Hiss, weep, core, glow, charcoal 
Muffle, 
The core is still glowing 
Painting sparks of 
Up to the stars 
The trail is dimmer
The sparks are softer 
Then a sharp pop 
Upward and 
Cloud your eyes
With 
Shooting skyward
I imagine it freezing 
At some planar moment
Releasing that sigh
Of a muffled pop. 
At the time of the sound
I imagine it suspending
Operations in thin air 
Releasing the last sigh 
Into the laughing silence 
Of the universe 
The remains gently descending
Into an inflorescence of soft glowing cinder 
Streaking patterns of 
Very rarely, you encounter the stump
Burnr remains of a soul that lived 
The splendour of an ascendense 
Replete with the regalia of the king 
Soul of sivakasi, 
Wrenching hands of boys and girls
Creating this mythic pygmalion 
That still hold the fertile imagination 
Of men past their prime. 
-// 
What would the vapor of death be like? 
And with what fragrance? I know not, 
But I imagine, the sound, yes the sound
Of death is clear in my head 
—
What would the vapor of death be like? 
What fragrance, what 
Does death have a shape? 
Upland deciduous mist? 
After Shooting skyward 
With 
Earthward 

poem in the rough

Amsterdam 105
I have come looking for you looking for me.
I am seeking you seeking me.
Missed in the golden fountains missed in the golden fountains in the golden fountains. Where are you? Where am I. Seeking the same thing you and I where are you? Where am I.
Take in the blanket of fog amongst the canopy of leaves purpose.
Tall, grasses, and ferns line pines to the heavens.
Cormorants and parakeets.
Seeking you seeking eye where are you? Where am I?
Come here to find you. 
I have come here to find you next line.
Where are you? I am here. Where are you?
I have come here. Looking for you.
Looking for me looking for you.
Where are you?
All around me next paragraph where are you?
And moping me enveloping me.
You're all over me. I'm all over you.
Where are you? I've come looking for you
I hear you in the birds
In the sprinkling of the golden flowers. I see you in the tall grass weighing in the wind.
Among the wrestling grass.
The tilt of the daffodils toward the sun.
Where are you? I've come looking for you.
You're all over me , I'm all over you
I've come to look for you.
Come looking. I want to find you. Where are you?
In the cool air that breezes passed me.
In the garden dove with red feet that is seeking something to eat
In the rustle of the leaves, in the call of the bird in the call of the Miner
In the EE quietness, and the hush of quiet
In the still, I've come looking for you.
Come to find you where are you. I hear the words, I feel the water, I see the fog, I see the fountain in the golden evening, I see wet hydrangea, I see golden daffodils, I see ancient Pines reaching the heavens, I feel the mosquitoes hovering around me,
I see dark branches, I see the leftovers of the evening rain, I feel the range range to evening, 
Are you here. Is this you
I've come looking for you. Where are you?
Are you here?
I will quietly walk. I will keep my eyes open. I will hear you. I will feel you. I am looking for you. I've come looking for you . 
I see signs. All over me. Strong signals. I'm in the right place. I see signs all over me. I feel the signs all over me. My instincts are right. I've come looking for you next next paragraph
The light is directing. The bird calls our signaling. The water is gurgling. The light is leaning. All the signs are leading. All the signs are leading all the signals are pointing to the right place. I am here in the right place. I've come looking for you, I am here. I am here. 
I can hear your breathing. I can hear you reflect the sound of my shoes, walking. You are making some sounds, you are amused by me. I know you are here. I can sense you. I can feel you and I can hear your breath. I can hear you as I can feel the flutter of the birds, I can hardly see them, but I can see them. Like the flashing light of the lightning bug I can hear you as I can hear my footsteps.
I can hear you as I can hear my footsteps. I can feel you as I feel the breeze. I can see you, yonder, in the dark behind the branches of the trees. I can feel your body so in proximity. I can feel your body right here. I can feel your breath.
I have come to your territory. Now I am in your temple. I am at the sanctum sang tour. Nothing is obvious, everything is obvious.
I hear me, my heart. I feel my breath, my movements, my hands flapping, I hear my footsteps 
I am plowing through. I am walking fast. I am getting closer. 
Are you here? I'm here.

Joy

Snacks
Protein bars 
Bose headphones
Cashews 
Indian snacks 
Cup of noodles 
Car charger 
Light jacket 
Set of pastels 

Joy:
Light jacket
Set of pastels
Ink brushes 
Cup of noodles
Roasted cashews
Bose headphones 

Dear king Menkaura

Dear king Menkaura 
What message do you have for me, 
From the old dynasty? 
That stunning person beside you
most certainly looks like your queen
Although, the chatter of 
Art historians amuse bouche me
with their endless vacillation
Of who she can be. 
Mother! Are you kidding me? 
What message do you bring for me? 
Your lady is gripping you 
tightly around your waist. 
And that is what I carry. 
A lady with a firm grip around her man. 
I like that! 
Thank you dear present sculptor, 
for chiseling to life, steely king Menkaura
with his beautiful queen, 
secured in a basement at present, 
in Boston, as stolen property 
from the Giza. 
You still pulsate. 
Radiate mad heat. 
You and your lover 
They say you're incomplete.
They have noticed unpolished surface 
that is bothering their ilk. 
Dear artist, you must be amused. 
Don't they know by now, nothing is ever complete, yet everything is finished? 
King Menkaura has FINISHED the museum 
In Boston! 
If they took away everything, everything,
You and her would still make the museum. 
You and her 
That is what you carry 
You carry love through eternity. 
You still carry it for me. 

I’ll be back

Take a seed and

plant me, I'll be back! 

—-

Ozzy the Okra