Wednesday, January 3, 2018


Laying on my back
Lights are off
Tchaikovski is playing
For, it is the least disturbing music
That can mask the noise around me
I am trying to detach
To stop the train of thoughts
That is buzzing at a speed
Faster than the speed of light

Good luck Kabuli,
Or whatever your name is.
I hear telling myself.
Relaxation is not in your destiny.
Leave enlightenment to others.

My foot is itching
So does the back of my ears.
A backache comes from nowhere
And that ibuprofen I took
For a headache or a migraine
Said thank you for swallowing
But now leave me alone

I laugh at myself
How naive and helpless I am.
Got to be strong to meditate
To detach and to forget,

Wait, what is that?
Who is talking?
A soundless voice
In the back of my head.
Your voice? My voice?
His voice? Who cares?
Voices don't discriminate.
It is for no one in particular
You hear soundless voices
When you lose sense of self
When you don't have an ego.
That particular blade of grass
Thinks the rain started pouring
Just for him, because of him.
The rain laughs
And never says you are wrong
While continues pouring,
Soundless Voice
Like the voice of conscience
Could be signs of illumination.
The ones with the sound,
That you can hear
And no one else
Are definitely signs of schizophrenia
So I put those fluid voices
Inside the  molding containers
To cool them down
To make them solid
And there it is.
They take forms
Recognizable forms
The form of words,
Now I understand what is it saying.
" Rise above yourself
Look at you as you look at someone else"
But how I say
That is crazy, how do I look at myself
Like it is someone else?
" Not a first" I hear.
Like that globe
The three-dimensional globe
Appearing and disappearing
From two dimensional flatland
Or that tesseract, the hypercube
In " A Wrinkle in Time".
I laugh and say no problem
Travel between dimensions
Was always my strongest skill, Not!
I don't give up.
I can do it, I can do it.
I am an observer,
I am me, I am you, I am us
The universe itself.
A smile on my face
Looking down
Or what earthly people call "down"
Oh, there is a guy,
Laying on a bed
A bed that I stupidly called my bed
A moment ago
I can see his foot is itching
So is the back of his ears.
He has a headache
Four Ibuprofen is his stomach
That does nothing but dissolve.
I smile at him
I remember him writing this poem
Which is our poem now,
A headache, backache, itching?
Not a good thing, not a bad thing
They are things
They are what they are.
And I move to the next scenery.

January 3rd, 2018
Heaven on Earth, Seattle

Wednesday, September 13, 2017


~The last person you would ever know, is yourself ~
Most of my life
I am a stranger to myself.
Things I don't know.
Potential of all I can be.
I think there is an invisible hand
Pulling a curtain
Hiding me from myself
And the Universe
From both of us.
Trinity. Separation.
But there are moments.
A wormhole or two open up
Trinity is gone
Me and myself don't  exist.
I see one, not three.
I cherish those moments.
For I see with clarity.
The questions that I don't know
That I don't know how to answer.
Are the questions I didn't ask
From myself, because I assumed
I don't know.
Or too complicated for my brain
Forgetting that brains are numerous
But consciousness is one
Believe me, there is only one consciousness
In this universe and beyond
Consciousness resides in non-existence
You just have to tap into it.
And don't be surprised.
When you get there.
You forget to ask anything
Not forget, just seems silly to ask
Since you already know the answer.
You would know milk is not white
And milk is not black. Milk is just milk
But most importantly, who even cares?
What milk is?
September 13, 2017

Wednesday, May 3, 2017

A poem that was never written

Un poème, jamais écrit.
شعری که هرگز نوشته نشد
Стихотворение, никогда не написанное
Once upon a time..
Planet Earth was thriving with life.
Civilization they called humans.
Reached the edges of knowledge
Created art, technology, and science
Wrote books of all kinds
Pierced the skies and landed on the moon
Circled Jupiter, recorded bursts
From the Sun.
Argued with philosophy
And wrote beautiful poetry.
But they never got mature enough
To value knowledge over ignorance
Reality over fiction, fantasy or mythology
And reason over nonsense
They lived in an illusion
Looking for proofs in hallucinations.
What they called the twenty-first century
Made it be their last
Some of them even looked forward
To destruction, to rupture
So a man from the sky, can come and save them.
They killed each other
Destroyed the planet
made it uninhabitable to life.
Just because they wanted myths to win
And truth to get buried
Under the noise of lies
Under the ashes of ego
And the falsehood.

Saturday, March 18, 2017

In The Beginning

Happy Spring all
Act one.
In the silence of nothingness
I see a curtain goes aside
Nobody blinks
No one breathes
A tiny sparkle
Smaller than an atom
Or an electron or a quark
Starts dancing before it explodes.
The world is created.
Everybody is mesmerized
All look forward
But I try to pay attention
Somehow I feel
I left something behind
I look back
Just on time
To catch the ending credits
From a leaving showcase.
I see bold letters
Suddenly it hits me.
I have seen those acts before.
There always have been
Act One before.
So many times
All the way to infinity.
I see electrons, saying goodbyes
To each other
Some with happy faces.
Some have shocked emotions.
One says: What the H?
I see his dad, puts a finger of Silence
On his lips
Mom says traveling to Neverland
To ultimate nothingness
To non-existence
Was always our path
Our destiny
We are going to be observers
Laughing observers
With no responsibility
No one to answer too.
Well done
So long all.
Meet you on the other side
In nothingness
Now after fourteen billion years.
In this version of  act one
I remember like yesterday
Those goodbyes. Those worries
And assurances of mom and dad.
And I realize.
My soul is eternal.
Always travels back and forth
Between nothingness
And the world of existence.
I make the rules, I create worlds.
Then I abide by those rules.
Then I end it
And start all over again.
March 18, 2017.

Tuesday, February 14, 2017


A tyrant said
You don't like my world
Just leave.
I laughed
And laughed some more.
The more I laugh
The madder he gets.
Your world?
Since when was it yours?
Since the day I was born
This is my world.
I change it mind
With my values
Make it transform
Around me.
I am not a destroyer like you
I am a maker
My action is love
Not hate like yours.
Love is the currency
Of this world
My world.
Hate is counterfeit.
You can exchange it once
You can exchange it twice.
At the end people will recognize
What is fake
What has no value
Love buys every time
It will never fall
Out of style
It is the real thing.

By Kabuli
Valentine's day 2017
My world.. Seattle

Friday, October 28, 2016

A New Kind of Prayer

This is how I pray
When Sunday is over
But Monday is a still not here
Just like dimensions you don't see
There are days and nights you cannot feel
Those are illusive days
And the nights are even more hidden
Behind the curtains
Full of mystery, full of secrecy.
You got to be careful 
To catch them at the right moment
The right time
The right angle
Or they are gone forever
They say Noah lived 950 years
Of course I don't believe it
But I also know it is true
Because almost 900 of those
Happened on those invisible years
When Sunday is gone
But Monday is not here
On that Day
When the sun is not up
And neither down.
I face another dimension
I whisper:
Dear God
Do you think it is a good idea?
To listen to my prayers sometime?
If you think so
I have some favors to ask.
Can you write them down?
Never mind, you don’t forget of course.
First of all.
Please forgive me
For not being a follower
Because quiet  often
People who claim to represent you
Or came from you
Done and do more harm
Than good in this world
And that gentleman
Or whatever he is
That you created from fire
Or from Soy milk
I don’t know
His name is Satan
Or something like that.
I don’t know why he is here
And for what purpose.
Not to serve my needs for sure.
Do whatever you want with him
But please keep him away from me
Thank you for listening
I think that’s all for now

October 27, 2016

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

The night and the bride

The night was young
And the bride was young.
Night and bride have a lot in common
Night is full of stars.
Bright stars
Beautiful stars
Beauty and stars give you hope
Bride is the essence of beauty
Beauty itself. The definition of it.
Bride is the meaning of love
The source of life,  life itself.
And life and love
Life and hope
Life and beauty
They are inseparable
They are E=mc2
The energy of love
Creates the mass
That moves the world.
So our bride tied the knot
And the night showcased
The chandelier of stars
And the shiny sparkling path.
The freeways passing through
From Galaxy to Galaxy.
And the hope has a declaration.
As long as there is love
Life will never end

June 2016