Brood is up on myspace

All thanks to Luiza who believed I could actually finish it, and Anurag who patiently sat with me and my erratic behaviour and mixed it, Rudy for the finishing touch and of course the ‘brood girls’

Phoeba Daniel
Christina Arnold
Sneha Cherian
Daphimanroi Warjri
Tanvi Rao

THANK YOU. Thank you God


the seed of beingness
reality blooms
over the waters
he broods

the spring of time
ready to burst forth
the source breathes the word
and there’s light
(light shines in darkness)
shines shines

the thunderous voices
the joyous triune
shouts in delight
it’s good

the stars and the sky dance
the fiery dove
alights on creation
there’s life
life from love on high
life from on high
love from on high

glimpse the first day hear, the sound, of the first day
creation is unveiled in his amazing grace
Father, Son, Spirit say
It is very good

Humanity woven
In love’s true image
To garden creation
In praise
Praise to our God who is over all

how did we ever lose it all?
how did we ever fall?
why does it have to be like this?
just from a serpent’s hiss?
death and it’s fears
pain and tears
follow us everywhere

Father when will we be free
Father is death our destiny
when will the serpent be crushed
Spirit breathe on us once again

once again

embrace us holy dove
live in us fire of God
Gather us
in your wings
Draw us close
cover us

The Inspection part 5

Those who wish to read the other parts

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

‘No foundation can be up ol chap!’
Pale’s good sense rang out
I feared we were deeper in our trap
deeper in the madness they did flout

‘Yes’ said Shrug, ‘but THIS,
this building does, it hangs
with the scent of a noose kiss’
and his face broke into considerable angst

Our quartet walked on through
the hall of stenched fragrance
looking at the human stew
that ebbed and flowed in the strangest dance

the hall mellowed into a passage
with a ceiling as high
unobserved from the visage
it was on top of the sky

doors covered up rooms
on the high stone walls
and from some came plumes
and faint whispers of spirit calls

a mother sat in one
with a child in her lap
she had no arms to lift her son
he had no eyes with which to map

she tickled him with her toes
as she sat on the cool floor
and he laughed in mirthful throes
and cheerfully asked for more

an old grandmother sat with her beau
and giggled in virgin spirits
not a word or glimpse was sore
as they sipped wine under their berets

we walked on past those great doors
filled with the strange magic of life
scented with goodness and wooden floors
the drop of true life and absence of strife

Songs of harmonies wild
rang out their melody chase
dainty dishes of notes compiled
of groove and crunch and craze

‘Maybe’ sighed Phil Shrug
in softened countenance
‘maybe’ in a defined chug
as he drank life’s ambience

The great stairwell lumbered
into our sights, snaking up.
At the bottom an old man slumbered
with no intention of waking up

The music and laughter were faint now
The air was less fresh and more fraught
fear crossed my once straightened brow
as my nightmare beckoned and called out

‘Are you prepared?’
the voice of goodness asked
one eye of grace cared
for what the frown masked

‘What!… did you see that?’ Pale shouted
‘A creature of much disease and horror!’
My fear took awful shapes while Phil said ‘I doubt it,
you were most likely looking in the mirror!’

‘Shush Phil!’ she said, as the old man stirred
‘Mind the mirth in myriad moments.’
I staired up at the darkness as my horrors conferred
and my brow crumpled in increments

‘Are ye ready gentlemen?!’ yawned a voice,
as the old man rubbed his sleepy eyes
peering at us, we two naughty boys
he smirked, and our chances fell like loaded dice.

‘fear not! Be not trustful of my countenance
but in what I say’ said the old man Zek.
‘My words are strange and cold suns
but quite often simply a pain in the neck!’

He laughed the loud horrible cackle
of sanity’s doom
Joined by Shrug’s raspy tickle
which expanded our gloom

And we stepped up onto the dark slabs
scrawled with writings and images
of people and problems and bats and crabs
of ugly spells and wisdom of sages

‘We step through history!’
shouted the old prophet
and he stepped on without hurry
while Pale muttered ‘the steps don’t fit’

We marched on into the shadows that moved
hearing the whispers of depravity’s soul
and a wail of loss softly grooved
it was going back after parole

The darkness filled and fouled our nostrils
and the wails and whispers grew heavier
great creatures peered at as through grills
living things from horror’s trivia

And a great door shimmered and loomed
As we held our hands led by the resolute Zek
for the wind and scream assured we were doomed
as we reached the foundation of death

To be continued