Now what?
I'm bored and feel like I am creatively dead inside. This job is crushing my creative soul. Everyday I feel a bigger piece of me dies and I wonder at what point I will finally have the power to quit. Or if it will all just end with me withered away in a ball. Flattened like a pancake on a roadside. 


Remember when you were an artist? 

I want to be an artist. 

I never had responsible parents telling me what to do. I never had a safety net to fall back on. I was raised by the irresponsible ones. The failed artists. I knew I couldn't be that. So I tried to be a responsible contributing member of society. I've done it for 2 years so far- far longer than I ever thought would be possible. But it's now at a cross roads and I have to decide if I am going to give up my dream and sit here and let my soul die or if I am going to fight for the last remaining dignity that I have left and pursue my true nature and ascend to the highest level of who I can be. 

I want some support from the universe. A parachute to jump with- but I guess that's not faith if you have a parachute. Have I built up enough of a nest egg to get me to the next thing? Yes, I have. So what is next and what am I waiting for? A plan. A clear plan. This is 31. This is time to manifest. This is the time to create what I really and truly want from my heart. A house in South America on a mountain overlooking the ocean. I see myself pregnant and directing the Veerappan film in the jungle of Southern India with a man by my side that loves and supports me. I see me in Tokyo directing my series. I see myself on a red carpet in a red and gold beaded dress. 

I am living my best life now. 

The past 3 weeks have been standing in line getting Darshan and a hug from Amma, drunkenly biking down 5th ave,  watching fireworks from Brooklyn, dancing and twirling to a band I helped create in a red lit backroom in a Brooklyn bar,  dropping acid at Raoul's, loving, being loved. Loving more than I ever thought was possible. Being loved more than I ever thought was possible. An existential moment in the bathroom at Raoul's. 

I have everything I want. 


Right here. 

Right in this very moment.

 I have it all. 

I have love, I have adventure, I have support. I've seen the world, I've traveled to many places seen all walks of life with these people I love doing the things we love. Talking about art and life and our existence and love and sex and film.

Now what?

What do I do now?
How do I give back?

 I have healed parts of myself, but there's more to heal. How do we help heal others. How can I contribute? How can I help other people that are suffering? Relieve their suffering just for a moment so that they can get a minute to stop and breathe and realize it doesn't have to be like this. Let's all stop and put it down. Step off of the rat wheel for one second to catch our breaths and get conscious and say "how am I living? am I happy? how am I loving? Are you happy? Is this world healthy and happy and how can I be part of the wave that moves the collective conscious towards the beauty? But what is beauty with out suffering? What is beauty if there is no pain? Has pain not taught be the greatest lessons I have ever learned? Has it not made me smarter and stronger and more compassionate and more empathetic and has that not brought me to this place where I can finally walk around with an open and bleeding heart telling every man I know to take everything you can from me, take everything you need because it's okay- I am an infinite well of love and if you need to take it- then take it- because there is so much more where that came from. Take it all. 

take it all. 




It was never mine to give. It was only something that flowed through me. flows through me. flows through you too. I just was lucky enough to remove the blockage that prevented me from seeing it. and if sipping from my well will help you see that you too carry all of this infinite love inside of you too- then drink it all until you quench that primal thirst that starved you from the first moment outside of the womb. crawl inside my womb and be reborn to me and I will be reborn to you because all we are being here trying to walk each other home. And if healing myself can heal you and healing you can help heal myself, then maybe that is the best art I could ever make and does it matter if there is a tangible body of work left behind to feed my ego or tell this tale?- or are just plain memories of little loving whispers that helped shift one moment at a time towards creating a more loving world and let a little magic slip through, then isn't that enough? No really- isn't that enough? Please tell me it will be enough. Because it would be really nice to have an Oscar too and a house overlooking the ocean. Or at least the freedom to travel and create more loving adventures. And I do enjoy a good bottle of wine

I know I will get the things I want. I always have. But how much can I give in their pursuit? How much more can I give? How much more can I trust? How much more can I let flow through me? Will I leave a path of destruction or flowers behind me?

sion, switz 3am

I drink alone
I smoke alone
When I'm up at 3am alone
In a new land
I walk the streets
observing the same activities round the world
people stay the same
the air changes
dust in bombay
tungsten haze and city horns
can we be in love
it would be so fun to be in love
I'm really fun to be in love with
i want beauty

for you to enjoy

take it from me

devour it whole

my existence

for your pleasure
ill give it all to you
I start to forget what it's like to have other humans around
but I am comfortable with being alone
maybe too comfortable
probably more comfortable alone
mountain air filters my thoughts
and i feel in line again
the water streams down
colours of blue i've seen in differing parts of the world-
but it's true that the pink skies against the white snow caps is incredible
 wanting someone new in your bed is inevitable
it's all inevitable
flowing and growing
i forget to let myself feel love
because i want to be so open hearted
 but people are so cynical these days-
 closed off

pain filled

pain felt
tourniquet around my heart

let it breathe
I want to let it breathe

feel good
I want to let it feel good
we are all scarred and scared
you sacrifice yourself to the world to feel love
ridiculed    insane
the price of your freedom


dont  listen

she just 

dont listen

Sacred Hours

in these sacred hours

when my body’s rhythm

clings to another land,

I find the beauty

in me and in you

the world falls away

and I connect to spirit

this cycle repeated many times

waking to the light of the moon

energised and alone

contemplating the moments

I roamed the earth looking for love

maintaining its vibration in me

hoping to spill it onto others

I am grateful in this moment


Too dynamic for attainment
A fortress with a crack
that led the warriors in
and now the floods have come
to wash away the carnage
but it was through this destruction of all things
built so wrong
that the clear fields
are now fertile ground
for the proper
seeds to be sown
and nurtured by me
and me alone

Native Lands

Somewhere in time
these native lands
became foreign
and displacement
became my home
Let the air flow-
it's all the same
The water merges
Fluid- yet we
impose distinctions
Melt into
the oneness
Console yourself, we are all light
Mist drenched mountains
are a constant
Mourning will subside
and rise
Dive down and emerge
let it be
just. let it. be

The Destruction of Us


and heavy heart

you run

but never hide

to land below

the crest of desire

for it was societies


that prevented us all

raptured and captive

in our own bodies

rumbling against the odds

we fall far

from the original sin

only to be enslaved

to unoriginal commotion

and it's the notion

that any of this was ever

how it was meant

there is no intelligence

in this design

but i fall prey to prayer

and hope to god

that it is of a will

absent energy

takes the place of

mindful thinking

the justifications

we endure

only to explore

that it's all been decided

from long before the end

and it's with these primitive

souls we must seek to blend

to a place that will not

have us

will not support us

just can't endure us

nor we it

rise up

wise up

the destruction of the planet

is the destruction of us

A Familiar Place is a Restless Place

To get out
to escape
Run for the river
over a plane
into the open arms
of a foreign land
with a gilded tongue
whisper sweet nothings
of no understanding
so that i can feel at home
in my displacement
evolve that feeling
morph into a need
let the worm grow
let it blossom
throw up the court
its a broken ring
that freed the mind
because it was no dream of mine
that made me bow
and now it's all me
that i have
not you

Delusion of Home

It's pale fire
that lights
your way
Recordings Long
For the path
is cleared
And only the
punch remains
Golden lights
Hang low
Dim lit
Fallen faces
toasts to
the night
It's a path
you chase
but your compass
was broken long
So you navigate
by the light
of a star
But that star died
millenniums ago
So where will
you sail
with this
delusion of

The Sun will Rise

The Sun will rise
East from the bound
But You come from the west
And your eyes are whitewashed
by the gleam of exhibition
unable to give a
critical glare
For the flare of the your
lens catches
and blinds
your ignorant eye 

I poison myself 

  I poison myself on-
the highest of highs
& lowest of lows
Drop down below
down to blow
hover up and drop down below
for the fall
we all encounter
when you just say hi
It's enough to die in the solitude
of misunderstanding
& being misunderstood
It's words & willows
branches that sing
And none of this
none of this could even mean a thing
I fall below I cried out for her
A silent scream that nobody could here
that lack of breath- inability to scream
to be me- to let the world
know who I am
But you see a glimmer- and every once
in a while our eyes meet- we watch
each other & the journeys we all have seen
It's not about this lifetime!
but alas we are here & I want to be
with him. Feel him. Be him
But I sit here with fire in my eyes
hurt in my heart & smoke in my veins
You're not here
Because You Must not want to be
And it's as simple as that
when I claim we ever had a beginning-
or anything other than a nihilistic

I walk under the ocean
the air too liquid to breathe
compression on my lungs
as the oxygen floats above
the surface
embyrionic pining
it might be
in the blue depth they shout
sounds echo
distorted and omitent

I liked the feeling of floating through a place I didn't really exist.

walking feels like wading
breathing feels like drowning
talking feels like gulping
as everyone else exists facilely
I push and extrapolate
coming against pressure
no room for air in my lungs
the compression of the outside
keeps them still
encumbered by that which no one notices


Pounding from my chest
these rods stab deep
leaving an opening
for me to escape
I search for grounding
but for me it doesn't exist

Night Winds Up

The night winds up
And I come down
From the height of cool
descend in to my empty bed
Feeling the sips of wine
and top shelf vodka
washed down with that
white as snow powder

it's too late
the night is over
and the day washes over
that perfect moment
to reveal the glow was just sweat
the shine of a synthetic stimulant

Famous faces
and well known voices
scatter the night
the low lit glare
made the perfect hum
as those rapid beats
come to a stand still
and i try to shut out the sun

it's too late
the night is over
and the day washes over
that perfect moment
to reveal the glow was just sweat
the shine of a synthetic stimulant

and the reality is
i don't know where i am
or where to go 

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