Touchstone of the Poet’s Mind at the Coronation of the King: Ceremony of Time in the Solar Plexus of Jim Morrison


Touchstone of the Poet’s Mind at the Coronation of the King: Ceremony of Time in the Solar Plexus of Jim Morrison 

Jim Morrison, Paris, 1971/Photograph by Gilles Yepremian

Jim Morrison, Paris, 1971/Photograph by Gilles Yepremian


Stillness preserved in spectrum

The valley grows like a fig tree

It shows signs of cancer

Mountain dogs laughing

Midnight rolling dust into clouds

Wondering the inane hour’s magic vision

What got us into this trial?

This scene was enacted once more


Without the tragic actors or the comedians

Horus, Egyptian God

Horus, Egyptian God of the Sky

The graves of the protagonist reach out for the Milky Way

After all, there is some space for the grand architecture

For the towers of the sun to erect themselves

From the mud ashes and the bones

We are here for the pleasure of it all

Watching seagulls fly across the golden shore.


Luminous words from a point like singularity

Travel like the mythical birds

They own their cradle to the Egyptian gods

Hibiscus flower

Dying in an hour

Resuscitate the sonic diagram of the sun

Pale amorous night of infinite parallels

Crystallize thought’s beacon of flights

Soon the curtain will be raised

And the light will be shed b/w distances.

– Joy Roy Choudhury





Psychedelic Tattva of the Non-Local Connectivity with the Pure Essence of Delight: The ‘Braja Rasa-Samagraha’ of Quantum Quintessential Self-Speaking Identity

Psychedelic Tattva of the Non-Local Connectivity with the Pure Essence of Delight: The ‘Braja Rasa-Samagraha’ of Quantum Quintessential  Self-Speaking Identity

Tattva, Kula Shaker, 1996

Tattva, Kula Shaker, 1996

“Acintya bheda bheda tattva (4 x)
At the moment that you wake from sleeping
And you know it’s all a dream
Well the truth may come in strange disguises
Never knowing what it means”.

– Tattva, Kula Shaker, Album K, 1996


Deep into our being there is this sap, the very ‘essence’ of all that is pure and everlasting and within its folds, the sacred wood harvests the sweet song of the Madhava, of Gokula in the trine of the sun and the moon with the occult all perceiving eye. All particles subatomic are kind of primordial quantum self taking part in the great dance of the braja-lila rasa samagraha to satiate their thirst for the ecstasy that is timeless and boundless. In every circle or triangle or trapezohedron, quantum information or qubits are exchanging their freedom with the cosmic shrine.

Under the holy tree (the tree of life), past, present and future are one thing, a vast non-local singularity connects our existence with the Transcendental   the flame of the candle is the mantra of our journey through magical worlds.

In the katha-samudra (the unmanifested word-ocean), the creation is an intoxicated point of imagination gradually expanding and contracting at the same time.

Diesel snow garbage

All join their hands to make the flower

Wing its petals in the air

Finality of the spring

Subtle like a thin arrow

Pierces dream’s nebulae

And gives rise to autumnal shapes

Hope magnifies the vision of the ouroboros

Sleeping in the giant shell

Its sees light over the bayan kara ula

Stones depicted the cyclical changes

Kara ula korva utat

Hitchhiking on the endless road

It found the long lost rhythm of dance

On the way to the eternal gatefold- Shambhala.

– Joy Roy Choudhury





The Absurd Superimposition of the Bose-Einstein Condensates: The Eternal Highway of The Doors

Jim Morrison and Ray Manzarek circa 1969

Jim Morrison and Ray Manzarek circa 1969


The Absurd Theatre

Quartz rhythm

Hypothetical geometric fibres

The circle with the thing in itself

Unknown to the territory

Walks on the edge gazing at the distant stars

Birds fly rocking the girdle

A movement of the hips enables  the plasma of the sun

Rested on the streams of the seven seas

A deserted highway is a door to eternity

It’s the burial ground of our collective memory

Here, cars don’t pull up and stop

Strangers walk not

Not even the tarantula

Spikes of frozen earth laps

The wind’s hairy roar

Screaming across the metal foliage of rusted lands

Rolling like a substance without a toil

In a unmistakable world of quiet absurdity

Not knowing, it crawls towards that significant nothing

That which is our moving frame of existence

Relative to simultaneous points

Many years later your old Word is very young

Innocent like the child of a polished stone

Absurd, forgotten or gone.

– Joy Roy Choudhury

The Psychedelic Mystery of Time’s Doors of Perception: RAY MANZAREK TO INSPIRE US IN DAYS TO COME

Ray-Manzarek and Jim Morrison circa 1968

Jim Morrison and Ray Manzarek circa 1968





Playgrounds of ecstasy

Running round

Worshipped at time’s ethereal temple

Disseminating the wild apple seeds of Brihadaranka

The sea recedes, the storm chased the black alabaster

Curled within the three-folds of ancient sadness

Drank the horse’s milk to labour the ocean from the stars

Light years of wisdom in the shoal of crystal fishes

Swam like the darkness burning in the coal

Bright like diamond diffusion of nights

Under the tree that bore the fruit of the miracle birth.


Moon’s orb

Surfing the wild ocean’s monstrosity

Calm pale and languid on the beach

Lying like crab shells

Broken in patterns of artistic synchronicity

A hymn to find the locus of Horus.

– Joy Roy Choudhury