Tuesday, November 20, 2018

Dreams are Real

I see non-existence
The bigger world
The one that is not material
And for all practical purposes
It doesn't exist.
But it is there
I see it in my dreams
In my OBEs
In my daydreams
In my imaginations
So do you, don't you?
You just have to open your heart
And put two and two together.
Only then you know the secret
Only then, you are truly free.
Existence multiply and multiplies.
It changes, it obeys the laws of physics
But,  only the non-existence can create.
Dreams are mothers of creation
Imagination Creates
That is your connection
To the Ultimate non-existent one.
Every first creation is a dream
Yes, even yours

 ©Kabuli Nov20 2018 Seattle

Thursday, May 17, 2018

I was a poet once

I was a poet once
What a powerful one
Words of magic
Were hidden in those verses
Words of love
With a purity of sparkling water
From the very top of the mountain
Every syllable
Had the gentleness of the morning breeze
That brings life
To even the laziest creatures.
Yes, words were so beautiful
That I always doubted
I wrote them.
You made me write them
You give them beauty
Out of this world.
Because I wanted words to match
Your incredible beauty
Which truly was
Outside this universe.
I could never write the same
Never ever again.
You pretended you wanted to go
I let you go so  soon
 I didn't want to be a bother
I didn't want to stalk you.
So all I did
I gave you the book
Collection of those poems.
For I could never say those words
With such a beauty
To someone
Other than you.
You gladly accepted it.
You wanted it with all the desire.
For you never wanted to go
You were pretending
And for me " I want to go"
Was something I respected.
It was the written words of God to Moses.
You went to some parallel universe.
So went that book of poetry.
I wish I could read it now just for memory
But I know that parallel universe
Can never be accessible
From the Universe, I live in
The universe that I am stuck in

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