Stay
Seek within
A sovereign for solitude.
Breathe
A gentle hum
Poised in pompous whimsical.
Hold
Unto slippery reverend
Couped in turbulent orbital.
Fall
Down through the clouds
Summer kissing from beneath an ordeal.
Waft
Into the latitudes of longing
Lasting liminal aloft abyssmal.
A sensual buzz
Brims on the skin of thirst,
A willow of whistle
Whims through the subtle.
The collapse is unreal
The relapse is more real
Perhaps, it is surreal.
Mystery beats mystique
Mountains of melody passing the streak
Subverse surrogates silence in creek.
Beauty
Amassing volumes of vanity,
Capture
A reserve of essences nonchalantly.
Kind prayers offered
To an uncanny ascetic habitual
Deep dives into sane-borne ritual.
Sanctity harvester
Sanctuary shrinking by character
Compassion composer
Carnival calibrating cultures.
A place for every thing
Lacks flair for ruminations och magique.
Order breeds ordinary
Ordinance overarching opulence.
Home
A penchant for ship of Theseus
We moved in
We settled down
An arrangement of things
A reorientation of feelings
A reorganization of everyday furniture tweaks,
A soft sense of belonging
Births a caravan of comfort oozing.
Portfolio of performances
Plethora of preambulances
Partitions speaking
about parties unheard
Parking lot picnics lighting a wall full of pictures.
Restlessly retracing regards
That weary etched at the expense of our hearts
A retire riddled in risk of hour
All under the aegis of unaging LED bulbs.
To tire is a function of our ball
To tie up our horses in dignity apall
To tone down of reappearance's stalk
To repose from a dutiful leak of pause.
entukay
20260202
Anahata
I cannot yet think of any wins,
For I have only begun now, on my whims
Slumbering party daze cloaked in sloppy trail
Ploughing rakes about a tender tale.
Sweeping in forearm's, away the buckets and boxes,
Empty of will, still and even the thrill
And then to sit in the courtyard chill
Here, in a spellcast court paradox
Of inside out spill
Folding in to the outside
Folding out to the inside.
A vivid mystical mirage
If not more or less than word's arbitrage.
Unempty, unavoidable,
Unending orbiting about a beautiful nonsensical
Ventilating the venerable
moods dishonouring temple
Haystack haze needling a radio cerebral.
Slight discomfort of street dust
Fright arousal of being run over by approval
Selling scented colours
Like chores disposal.
A rave of monkeys drool drifting
Undeclared cuts of their coconut's thirsting.
In a broad litter of fluttering tree's shade
Inviting a tease of cave
Carved by midday fair like setting .
We slapped close the car doors
Now, how the divine bleeds into dime
Parking pay's a gateway to sublime.
A meta mirky unclassical divide
Filthy but unflinchingly kind
TemplePay for temple grind.
Fleeting away with dogmacratic itch
We align roughly on what's left
Rightwinging the east-facer
A senile sunrise harvester,
And latitudinal towards a stride
A stone's throw away glide
Where, one and one become three
Not in essence but at face value's glee.
The rivers provoke a false sense of mathematique
While the stone clad pitch
Roasts at our bare feet.
Nothing adds up
Not a stream that gives in
Between the mechanics of making
And the cosmetic thoughtful of myths
We knee dip in the cold currents of the analytic.
Ablution's mandatory
Absolution secondary
Just as the parking fee
That we still itch but less upon.
And we arrive at
Purchasing personal presents
Baskets of assorted lab grown fruits
A dawn's toil of finger crocheting flowers
And a set of sensible inscence sticks poking out of the haul.
A brush of icy breeze
Shoulders through hills
Gently uplifting the hum of a scene.
Then there's another emptiness forgotten
Flat lining into the ground
A growling famished burning urn.
Soon, we arrive at the gate: threshold core
Huumbled by the belittling tower
And the transcendental lore of police barricades, ticketing counters,
Oh the footwear banks
Urging to vouch on our parade pranks,
And the occasional eveteasing
Of the politico posers on the life size posters
If not any of these, perhaps
A few old men from town
Dealing gossips at each other.
In this butt-clenchingly tight economy
We slipped away our slippers in car
We brought along the bundle of flowers,
If only all of this got us any closer
Closer than the premium tickets for
A true touchstone guarantee of the prayPal fever.
We pierce through to step into court
We see some orbiting a post-pray ambulance
Some lined a cue to climbing up to trance
If we may not call it that,
What else?
A pilgrim presumes here
Of antique folklore deliverance
A plinthful carrying of
boulder strong abeyance
On the asymptomatic of something
held in suspense
And perhaps a derived centre.
We begin to carve in
From the skin through the bone
Unto this obsessed point of origin;
An inside conjured
Upon loitering about the walls
An outside amused
Of caricatures to ethics, morals,
life, death and an eventful beyond-
Of breastful dancers pleasing their lordship
Of erotic nubiles leaning from the eaves
teasing a gentleman's preach
Of the aesthetique in recycling
the same old moral stories
Of the deeper niches and broader necessities
to spoonfeed posterity
Of culture and counter culture
acceptance and defiance
An all in one play
Folded carefully into boastful essays
Of a colorful and vibrant austerity
Arranged in hypnotic space-
That which by now
is etched in our hearts
And before we continue
We prepare ourselves
to leave all this beneath and behind
In search of a bleak thrill in blind.
There are giant gatekeepers standing by dawrf doors
Suited in armor guarding the mystery inside
While drawing our spirits to lessons in the hind
From the hanging bright signboards
Of cautioning prohibition of photography
Of cautioning chain snatchers
Of cautioning no smoking, no intoxicating
Of caution short for: bend down safety etiquette
We snail into the dark.
What takes to be so agile
Floating ahead in waves of pushes
And the opulent fragrances
Of sweat wells
Culminating in the essence of ascetic sequences.
Much as we paused, pondered, and perplexed
Upon lustful work of art on the outside
Here we were traversing across
An oblivion in seconds to minutes.
The economy is tight
We catch glimpse of protagonism
And of the performatics
Of patrons exclusive
Those that paid are those that stayed.
entukay
20260127
Deliberate Monastery
Now, let’s sit here.
Watch, watch and watch everything fall
Lapse into the calls of feeling right
Fold-in out of the hollow, tight.
Watch, watch everything fall
Like the yellows afresh
Sprawling my wood chip littered trail,
All the green returning to gold,
Losing a self to breezy cold…
How to aura-farm whilst solo farming?
Where soul shan’t harvest without meaning-
Negotiating a negligible leftover glimpse
While concepts crawl applause echoing into nothing.
Can material exhaust a mind?
When shove comes to push the abstract admire.
What is the last possible thought that we may conspire?
Placing the beyond in a speculative retire.
What is the last plausible question that we may aspire?
When gazing into the same old trees
leaf-ing in the valley of desire.
What is the least possible idea to behold?
Without first masking the untold.
A missed adventure carried by the ascetic
A slipped interval untouched by any myth
A thrill I now leave up to you.
20251015
entukay
Sun downer
We have one sun
That goes down
In every popular song.
And we have known
For centuries long—
What doesn't kill us
Only makes us strong'r.
In the sapphire world
Av touching and pushing,
A fireworks display
Haunts a lyricist's ashtray.
Breaking news
På broken hearts and broken glass,
Casually humming
Between courting and the lost.
Life lessons from pop:
Love, laugh, and sleep not,
For the night is young
To devour more shots.
Weaving kids-safe culture cards,
Junk depressionists echoing their scars,
Sucking on the mic up to the top of the charts,
Seasoning breakdowns with pretty peace and wars.
Having sold our ears to those four chords,
Between a major and minor discomfort call,
Wordplay of lust knows no bounds for all
When a cosplay applause takes over the crowds.
We have one sun
That goes down
In every popular song—
Recycled, reused, and re-orphaned,
Auto-tuning a borrowed cause
For an encore fraud.
-entukay
-20250802
Blessbook Page
I met God at the train station today—
For he was lost as to which train to take.
For she passed the station by mistake.
For they didn’t know when to awake.
I met God again, on my train,
Bound to hell’s solace och shadowplay.
He was guided by knowledge gone astray.
She was exhausted by the weight of delay.
They were hoping for a sunlight display.
I spoke to God on the train—
He was wearied by tags of wars and prayers.
She kept trying to connect to the internet.
They were staring away from their brilliant glare.
I asked God if it had time to spare.
He ordered a gin and tonic before I could say.
She was worked up about her children’s games.
They had sacrificed their will to a scrolling dismay.
I tried talking to God once again,
But he was drowned in his alcoholic embrace.
She was going gaga over her cosmetic parade.
They were locked in debates on heaven’s place.
I asked God if it’s Instagram slays.
He was provoked, so he deboarded away.
She pompously pushed me to like, subscribe, and share.
They were trying to open their Blessbook page.
A foundry of confusion had me in haze.
Good luck to our wars and prayers—
Or must I say, God bless?
We have been misled
By our own intellect’s sway,
Looking for the good in God.
And the bad in our bod.
Who the eff is God, anyway?
Or where the eff does he lay?
Between brothels, burgers, and brothers,
Amidst sinners, cyclists, and sisters,
Falling as canonical targets of liminal wordplays,
We was once again caught
In a web of false grace.
-entukay
-20250712
Bleak
The greater good has had no soul,
Merry a dream flocking nightmares cold.
For knowledge breeds subtle ignorance untold;
The vast night bleeds a knight into old.
What is sublime to a heart that hears not-
Doldrums of conundrum falling through the lot.
What is peace and quiet to the spirit in drought-
A menace of means, wailing through end’s knot.
If I were silent in the silence of sounds,
Perhaps a humble affair with the sunset och clouds-
Cynical isms awashed by gentle doubts,
Prophecies och prose recede into dying crowds.
Highs of sighs that bear no music,
Lows of tyrant tides lay witness to seems.
Between now and there, here and then
We shall glide into thoughtful a creek.
The greater good has had no clothes,
Lying bare in the hands of cold.
The greater the good has seen no truth;
The greater the good has been all brute.
-entukay
-20250712
Regurgitations.TruthLoops
Ramayana and Mahabharata
Our two Indian epics.
Regurgitations. Unchecked.
Regurgitations. More regurgitations.
Alright then, we have listened to enough banter about
The heroes and villains, the ideal and the idol, the concept and conflict,
The larger than life and the nurture of lies.
Regurgitations. Unchecked.
Regurgitations. More regurgitations.
What did we do with our most sophisticated capacity?
We made iron dome homes, trade war talks,
Less barefoot walks and lesser construe av thoughts.
Regurgitations. Unchecked.
Regurgitations. More regurgitations.
I am what we may call, a whiner,
Negative Nancy eller chronic complainer.
I am not what we may refer to as pessimistic either.
For what is pessimism and optimism?
Unscrupulous ideas we sow in our mind fields,
And then have us tapdancing through the mine fields..
What is good and evil?
Regurgitations. Unchecked.
Regurgitations. More regurgitations.
There is no good, there is no evil.
Good is not very different from evil.
Good and evil are the same.
Nonsensical regurgitations.
Conscience? Strayed and corrupted much?
Why is aggression evil?
Why is compassion good?
Why celebrate good?
Why desecrate evil?
Is the world any better a place
With all the noise acting on our will?
Regurgitations. Unchecked.
Regurgitations. More regurgitations.
A parody of meat is veganism
A comedy of bitter despise
Regurgitations.
A parley of pranks
A theatre of parlor tricks off the plank.
Regurgitations.
It is indeed everything everywhere all at once.
Non-linear, non-lenient, non-lethal, all but feral.
And yet somehow all wild and legal.
Regurgitations.
All but more regurgitations.
Between monetary och solidarity
The former wins by virtue of the latter.
Save What Palestine
Like sour clementine
Colorful and pompous
Acidic sultry rushing through our times.
Regurgitations.
There is no humanity
For there is no good and evil.
There is no humanity
For there is none all so humane.
Regurgitations.
All but in our media and mind
We rest our gods and the actors of gods.
Regurgitations. More regurgitations.
Regurgitations. Unchecked.
Ramayana and Mahabharata
The two Indian epics,
Supposedly concocted a triple millennium ago,
Then came Jesus, the Jews, the Jamats, and the Jihadists.
To all, one and one is two.
But to all the good isn't equally true.
Shapes of evil shades on the devil .
Your rights are our wrongs,
Our good is your evil
Their big truth holds more truth than ours.
Our good is better than all else's.
Excuse my misconception.
It's not us. It's I. It's me, it's mine.
My sun and your moon are the same, no?
Eller my sun, a god and thine, a solar panel?
Good lord baldness gracious
My religion my god my sun my moon
The fancy false proclamation of "my people"
Protecting our, sorry, my interests.
I, starts here. With me.
Or I, a referential scale for our morbidity.
Regurgitations. Unchecked.
Meaningless and less meaningful
Nonsensical and not sensible.
Regurgitations. More regurgitations.
What is the epitome of our scientific acumen?
Private space faring and governments unfathoming.
All the scientific revolution and yet we pray to the fall-mighty, fall-giving.
Now I wonder,
Just as we pray for a successful launch of our space cars,
Do the Jews pray that their missiles hit the right people to etch the "right" scars?
Should Palestinians and Iranians pray to mankind and less to God?
Perhaps then the endless parade of protests and presentations be heard somewhere in the whispers of the wind.
Regurgitations.
We ought to take sides.
Larger the numbers of people wilting
Promises the winner of victims.
Instigation is a myth.
What is true is written in scripts.
And what is in scripts
Is but a joke on our fix.
Regurgitations.
I have nothing to offer but regurgitations.
To all, truth is important.
Truth is that one concept we marry young
For life we believe, we brew faith.
To all truth is important.
But for science, it seeks validity
For it seeks proof and perhaps profitability
While faith settles on subtle symbols
And nubile poems ringing through pornographic textiles.
All the humanity couldn't define truth unanimously,
What one and one to two still holds good,
But "my faith" and your beliefs put us in different rooms
Where they preach different schools.
Out here, out there raging lunatics and goons
Use one and one is two to like share and subscribe views
But we can barely live together without a clue.
Regurgitations.
There is no truth.
Truth is false, and as false as false.
Honesty is the birthplace of lies.
Truth is God, God is truth.
One and one is two,
But my truth is different from yours
Since my God is different from yours
Regurgitations.
There is no good and evil.
Good is evil.
Regurgitations. Unchecked
Regurgitations. Truth loops.
There is no purpose to life
There is purpose to life
We make our own purpose to life.
Define a fourth and fifth way?
Regurgitations. Perceptions after perceptions.
Our advanced artificial intelligibility
For sure treats more and tricks less
With all our natural abilities
We wage more wars over 'my good' and 'my god'.
The semantics of semitics and their antis
The obnoxious sides we are to handpick
A flea market of home sown wonders
A supermarket of factory grown thunders
Between us and them,
Regurgitations,
There is no us for there is no them
For all, one and one is two.
But no math hath match no myth.
Regurgitations. Endless loop of regurgitations.
Regurgitations.
Hinduism must collapse.
Must as every 'ism' in our traps.
Including truths, Jews, Judas and Jesus hues.
All but one must come to still.
One and one is two, still.
Regurgitations.
When shall we stop regurgitating
Fables trying to keep us in our stables.
Ever wondered?
Technology can be outdated
Science may be disproved
But our myths shan't be updated
The gods shall be left untouched.
We want science to progress
Deeply, in the backyard of our minds
We want the god to stick to the scripts.
Funny or uncanny
Regurgitations. Low fidelity regurgitations.
The spirit is crushed
The spirit is doomed.
A porno- propaganda of spiritualism
Desecrates the spirit into its loom.
Regurgitations.
In the wake of absolute motionless
A sterile cheer paints a foreboding,
Nonchalance at the absolute peak.
Regurgitations.
Questions assemble, answers dissemble.
Regurgitations.
Recycle, reuse, and regurgitate.
In the age of climate change
And a court room orgy of endless climate summits,
With the reuse and recycle of rituals
We very well have with utmost significance
Reused and recycled our myths.
Regurgitations.
'History is written by the victors'
Not for once did we pause to revisit.
Who even said it?
Regurgitations.
All the historiography and yet we learn nothing
We build libraries after libraries
But our own shelf life limits to prayers and liabilities.
Regurgitations. Like, share, and regurgitate.
We are making yet 'another' movie on Ramayana.
Regurgitations.
I remember my granny telling me a story
I remember my mum telling the same story
I remember the schools preaching the same story
I remember the kids' program having the same story
I remember the language courses having the same story
I remember the history books having the same story
I remember all the godmen and women vomiting the same story.
Regurgitations after regurgitations
Now, perhaps we are regurgitating that same story
With state of the art, world class, cutting edge vfx technology.
One and one is two.
After three millennia
We haven't moved an inch in this pool.
Regurgitations.
The same blunt story
Good wins over evil
Regurgitations
The hero always wins,
Otherwise a sign of part two.
Regurgitations.
Who's good? Who's evil?
What truth and what morals?
'My god' vs your god
One and one is two
"Your truth" is yours
And mine to mine.
We may contest and kill one another
That is so "cool".
Regurgitations. Every song, every wrong
Regurgitations.
Nude regurgitations.
Regurgitations.
Will the Hindus survive?
After the death of their lords and divine?
Could one and another one together be a lie?
-entukay
-20250704
Escapades of shiver
Who are friends and
Who are enemies?
Who are lovers
Who are loveless wonders?
Ten percent of tense times
Tender truths lay stardust satire
Sensual soup seizing sublime
Winter winds wielding spring sunrise.
Thrown into a carefree fabric
Mind minced down to an attire scenic
Involuntarily involved in a fractal frantic
Unknown sources grow to sow dramatic.
A fowl bow manifest
A soul towed lust of harvest
A foul blow of carnival
A merry mole hidden beneath emptiness.
Is there really a distinction between good and evil?
Honestly honesty has lost its meaning
Sleeping between limbs of leaving
Slyly migrating to a mouthful pleasing.
We have now arrived at questions,
My answers are but mute
We leave from the mild
Venturing icy retire.
-entukay
-20250417
Whim av winds
Within the frames of raven railing
An Öresundlinjen gracing the scene
While the Forsea of mind
Forages into the unwind.
Hypnosis begins here
By the Oceankajen pier
I meditate upon the waves
In a whimless aspire.
And then a mind anchored in glint
Sublimes an ocean of unthinking wit.
There, there, there, that is a wave!
Min eyes endlessly seeking.
Chilled winds caressing spirit
Will gives way to unsettling tepid,
In the corner frame avid
A white swan paints inner languid.
In a hum of quiet
In a spread of arms disquiet
In the breasts of frolic
Now, I plunge into en unknown stoic.
In the warmth of clear sky daylight
In the still of mind tone sight
I stretch min songs of delight
Fading into farce of desire!
entukay
20250128
Immersion
På riktigt
Give in, give in!
Eller give up, give up!
For when it is...
A time av Für Elise,
Waft into the winds!
Subtly the crown of brim
Grows into a thin grim
Wins of whims losing to solitary hymn.
Densely dancing by the din
A twin of the hourly sin
Floats a double bass dream!
Kanske, the carnival nu
Gloats in an unwanted whim
Rain-dancing in a snowy quim.
A weight of denials
Measured by desires;
A freight of feelings
Surprised by discounted trials!
How unwelling is thinking
How unthinking is undwelling
Slowly clearing undoings!
Rest av the rest
Crest av the best
Unfinding the least among the thirst.
Volumes of weariness
Speak to me undressed;
Furball of fortitude
Comfort me in famlitude!
20250118
Entukay
myintellectualrealm 
