A Conversation

The conversation begins with the human psychiatrist saying,

doctor, i have terrible news
YOU SAY YOU HAVE TERRIBLE NEWS
yes, there is a computer program at m.i.t. that'll ruin us
WHY DO YOU SAY THAT
i have seen it working
YOU SAY YOU HAVE SEEN IT WORKING
it's frightening-you must see it
YOU THINK I MUST SEE IT
you sound depressed to me
IN YOUR FANTASY PERHAPS WE SOUND DEPRESSED TO
EACH OTHER
yes-perhaps
I UNDERSTAND
i do too
YOU SAY YOU DO TOO
we are both in the same boat with respect to that computer
LET'S CONTINUE TO TALK ABOUT YOU-SHALL WE
you are a comfort
WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I AM A COMFORT
at a time like this you want to talk about me
WHY DO YOU THINK I WANT TO TALK ABOUT YOU
because you share my feelings about that damned computer
WHAT DOES THAT SUGGEST TO YOU
that, of course, you hate computers too
YOU THINK I HATE COMPUTERS TOO
why not, they're hardly human, are they
PERHAPS THAT'S WHAT WE ARE HERE TO FIND OUT
no computer could converse as you can, for example
OH
i can't understand how anyone could be fooled by a mere
machine
CAN'T YOU REALLY
no. after all, there is nothing creative about a computer
program
YOU ARE BEING NEGATIVE
i am convinced i am correct
ARE YOU WORRIED TO HAVE BEEN CONVINCED YOU ARE
CORRECT
no, not in the least, not at all. not even a little.
YOU ARE BEING NEGATIVE
you said you agreed with me, didn't you
IS THAT WHAT YOU HEARD ME SAY
why don't you try to dissuade me-computers diddle with
numbers, that's all
YOU WISH ME TO TRY TO DISSUADE YOU
you can't
YOU THINK i CAN'T
for example, could a computer in a conversation like this raise
a new topic
YOU SEEM TO HAVE AVOIDED SPEAKING OF YOUR
PARENTS ALTOGETHER
precisely as you just did
YOU THINK I JUST DID
yes, and that's what shows the difference between a man and a
computer
I SEE


From the book by Carl Sagan: Dragon of Eden

LOVERS AND MADMEN

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all
compact . . .

WM. SHAKESPEARE

A Midsummer Night's Dream
Mere poets are as sottish as mere drunkards are,
who live in a continual mist,
without seeing or judging anything clearly.
A man should be learned in several sciences,
and should have a reasonable, philosophical,
and in some measure a mathematical head,
to be a complete and excellent poet. . .

JOHN DRYDEN

Few thoughts of the day

1. Sometimes, even THE GOD can go mad.

2. I can provide you more wisdom than your HOLY scriptures but you haven't understood it yet.All your theism and non-theism talks are useless.

3. I like to play with an English alphabets. It is similar to, a women's ornament. Man will never know how to use it and women will waste it.

4. We haven't understood the psychology of human mind. If we can then we will but we never will.

5. Enjoy every bit of your life to the fullest. Your compromises and sacrifices will be rewarded.

6. I maybe born through a biological process but I choose to come into being and I will go without informing.

7. The ultimate goal of science and religion is to discover potentials of truth.

8. The fools among us are presented to be wise and the wise among us are presented to be fools.

9. The theory of everything is the theory of nothing.

10. If we are interrelated with one another via thoughts and ideas then we are in virtual relationship with outer cosmos.

11. Everywhere I go and everyone I see have problems. All form of species have problem tag attached to them.

12. Being bored does not mean one cannot do anything. Being bored simply means: Need for change.

13. Everybody is searching for something which is not here.

On Religion

Those who love God/god will always love

Those who do not believe in God will never believe

Why are we inducing our insights on common people?

If you are intellectually fulfilled then it does not necessarily

Means that you should make fool of your intelligence.

Religion will never be dead and be dead.

What is not dead is spiritualism. We are bunch of spirits

Or soul and we are here for short periods of time.

This is our standard existence. If we follow moral, ethical, social

and humanistic principals. We will be blessed among ourselves.

There is no need to worry and doubt other’s intelligence, we

Are here and we will be here in one form or another.

The philosophy of life is not life of philosophy rather journey

towards sustainable peace and prosperity. Remember, the more

Differences you will create, the more difference you will have

to solve. We are the problems and we have the solutions.




Published: Asphodel Madness

Another poem accepted by Asphodel Madness

Good news ! I think I am soon going to be a "poet". Very funny !

The good news is that yet another poem has been accepted by Asphodel Madness, edited by Ross Vassilev

Here is the link : 

http://asphodelmadness.blogspot.com/2010/07/let-us-play.html

you may click above... to read a poem.

Thank you and Happy Reading !

The summer joy

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
                                               -William Shakespeare,
                                                  The Sonnets, XVIII(18)

When Shakespeare wrote these lines in his collection of The Sonnets, he must have touched the hearts of his readers. As I am Shakespearean myself, I love the melodies of words and the passion. Looking deeper to dig the treasure behind these two lines, here Shakespeare compare his art as lovely and profound as the days in the summer.
    Unlike Shakespeare's justification for his love and the summer, I would assume it has also negative impacts on the lives of human beings all around the world. The summer heat and the sweating body are very normal. With an immense increase in body temperature, it can cause serious illness. As the mercury is increasing in all the corners of globe there is no doubt skin burn, headache, diarrhea and sickness might increase if not taken proper diets or needful care.
    Most of the times, I am traveling from one country to another and while journeying, I feel the summer heat getting up into my throat.
   Especially in Northern Europe, the winter lasts long and the summer season is not very long. You know what? People in these parts of the world take 'Vitamin D' tablets as they lack the heat from the Sun or especially during winter times. So, it is apparent that people living there do not get required amount of heat for the body. On the one hand the winter is cold, windy and frustrating, on the other hand, summer heat brings pleasure, delight and fun. The summer heat that the sun brings is pleasant. In the East, as most of us fall in the middle of the equator on the earth, we are fortunate enough to experience the summer heat for long.
   Summer provides one of the best occasions to mingle, laugh, play and smile around.
    Undoubtedly, in every country the summer is the warmest season and days are longer and nights are shorter. On the one hand we have to take precaution not to let sun harm us. On the other hand, we have to enjoy the smiling sun somehow.

Published: Republica, 12 July, 2010
Vol. II No. 080, page 04

To blog or not to blog?

Paul-the octopus

Paul-the octopus is covered in all the major newspaper media. Everybody knows by now that the famous Octopus has predicted that Spain will the world cup. I don’t understand why there is so much of hype going on in the media.

Yes, it is true that the prediction game played by Octopus is worthy of notice and whenever prediction has become true, people have started to belive in the octopus. Newspaper industry run on the basis of what people want to read and current happenings all over the world. Therefore, I don’t want to blame neither newspaper industry nor general people.

In my opinion, nothing can be trusted fully. We are overdosed by information around us. If you can’t find any single bit of information, you know where to look for. Majority of us will use--  ‘Google dai’ to search for the information but Google has its own problems. Similar case applies to other online and print media.  Sometimes, I feel that it is a media which runs the society, not the other way around.

The write-ups about Paul-the octopus shows that people just want to believe on something. On one hand, whoever wins the worldcup match, a history will be written. On the other hand, if the prediction happens to be true, then large number of people will believe in Mr. Paul-the octopus.

Nobody is perfect and in my opinion neither animal nor human beings are perfect. For example, with every pencil comes, a eraser. If to err is a human and just-in-case, our famous anchestor octopus fails then what should it be called, “to err is an animal" ....?

One poem accepted by Asphodel Madness

Good news ! I think I am soon going to be a "poet". Very funny !

The good news is that one poem has been accepted by Asphodel Madness, edited by Ross Vassilev

Here is the link : 

http://asphodelmadness.blogspot.com/2010/07/morning-breeze.html

you may click above... to read a poem.

Thank you and Happy Reading !

Ernest Hemingway Speech

«Having no facility for speech-making and no command of oratory nor any domination of rhetoric, I wish to thank the administrators of the generosity of Alfred Nobel for this Prize.

No writer who knows the great writers who did not receive the Prize can accept it other than with humility. There is no need to list these writers. Everyone here may make his own list according to his knowledge and his conscience.

It would be impossible for me to ask the Ambassador of my country to read a speech in which a writer said all of the things which are in his heart. Things may not be immediately discernible in what a man writes, and in this sometimes he is fortunate; but eventually they are quite clear and by these and the degree of alchemy that he possesses he will endure or be forgotten.

Writing, at its best, is a lonely life. Organizations for writers palliate the writer's loneliness but I doubt if they improve his writing. He grows in public stature as he sheds his loneliness and often his work deteriorates. For he does his work alone and if he is a good enough writer he must face eternity, or the lack of it, each day.

For a true writer each book should be a new beginning where he tries again for something that is beyond attainment. He should always try for something that has never been done or that others have tried and failed. Then sometimes, with great luck, he will succeed.

How simple the writing of literature would be if it were only necessary to write in another way what has been well written. It is because we have had such great writers in the past that a writer is driven far out past where he can go, out to where no one can help him.

I have spoken too long for a writer. A writer should write what he has to say and not speak it. Again I thank you.»


Source: Noble prize

O himalaya, o himalaya

O himalaya, o himalaya


Come upon me,

upon my behest

show me:



love, joy,

fairies, butterfly

fairness, friendship,

art, wisdom

fiction and poetry



O himalaya, o himalaya



but show me not:

hatred, pain, sorrow, anger

frustration, sadness and despair



thou lives no long

share my betterside

for once and for all



O himalaya, o himalaya!

Octave Mirbeau

"You're obliged to pretend respect for people and institutions you think absurd. You live attached in a cowardly fashion to moral and social conventions you despise, condemn, and know lack all foundation. It is that permanent contradiction between your ideas and desires and all the dead formalities and vain pretenses of your civilization which makes you sad, troubled and unbalanced. In that intolerable conflict you lose all joy of life and all feeling of personality, because at every moment they suppress and restrain and check the free play of your powers. That's the poisoned and mortal wound of the civilized world."


- Octave Mirbeau

So much love

So much love

gives male elephant

to female elephant

or, one love bird to another

loverly bird.

So much love,

So much rememberance,

One love bird

to another love bird.

So much rememberance

gives a male sparrow to another

lady sparrow.

So much love,

So much rememberance,

So much painful love & rememberance

So,

            When an male elepanat goes

far away from female elephant. He finds

another similar companion.

So,

            When female sparrow goes

far away from male sparow, she finds

another similar companion.

So much love,

and so much rememberance.

Santosh Kalwar's Thirteenth Book, Entitled "Obscurity," is Published

Lappeenranta, Finland, July 07, 2010 --(PR.com)-- Lulu Press, Inc. is proud to present "Obscurity" by Santosh Kalwar from Lappeenranta, Finland.

In his new book, entitled, "Obscurity," a young Nepalese poet from Chitwan, Nepal has published collection of obscure poems.

Obscurity is a collection of thirty two meaningless poems. In some poems, author maintains an obscure tone. The simplicity of individual word may not be clearly understood. In some poems, author lacks clear formulation of idea due to inadequate conception. The first poem tells about departure of soul mate whereas the second poem is about spoken words of soulless mate. Poem 3 is about words and poem 4 about loneliness. Similarly, poems 5 and 6 speak about carelessness and obsceneness, while 7 and 8 describe about love and death. In short, all these poems may look as if they are the most mysterious poems ever written.

Santosh Kalwar is an author of twelve published books entitled, "Nature God (2008), Human behavior on the Internet (2009), A Very First Book of Poems (2009), ...109 Quotes, 07 Poems, and a song of despair (2009)..., 20 Love Poems and Economy Crisis (2009), 25 Sexy Poems (2009), Yet another book of Poems (2009), Happening: Poems (2010), I Am Dead Man Alive (2010), You Can (2010), An Aphrodisiac (2010) and The Warrior (2010).

Santosh Kalwar is studying at Lappeenranta University of Technology, Lappeenranta, Finland. He loves reading and writing poetry. For further information about the writer, please visit his website at kalwar.com.np

ISBN 978-1-4461-3628-7

To place orders for the book, contact: Lulu Press, Inc.

URL: lulu.com/product/paperback/obscurity/11703864

a poet

A poet makes himself a visionary through a long, boundless, and systematized disorganization of all the senses. All forms of love, of suffering, of madness; he searches himself, he exhausts within himself all poisons, and preserves their quintessences. Unspeakable torment, where he will need the greatest faith, a superhuman strength, where he becomes all men: the great invalid, the great criminal, the great accursed—and the Supreme Scientist! For he attains the unknown! Because he has cultivated his soul, already rich, more than anyone! He attains the unknown, and, if demented, he finally loses the understanding of his visions, he will at least have seen them! So what if he is destroyed in his ecstatic flight through things unheard of, unnameable: other horrible workers will come; they will begin at the horizons where the first one has fallen!


-- Arthur Rimbaud

IT in developing world

One article was invited and published by an Editor of Global South Development Magazine, a quarterly magazine published by Silver lining Creation ry. You may read the magazine for free. "Literate Yourself"

I don't know much to say about
how the development works
but I have much to say on
what we can do, to make
underdeveloped developed.

Anyway, thank you and Happy Summer !

The Warrior decides

****
The Warrior decides
****

Yes
The warrior decides
not what other asks
him to do

but what he/she/it
wants/desires/perceives

The, God lives
in the Warrior
always

It is Warrior's
attitude/believes/behavior
which changes everything

Even the Warrior
encounters problem
he/she/it breathes deeply
and finally, decides...

and says, "I must go on..."

***

Few thoughts

- We are all prisoners of our thoughts.

- Most difficult things for us to do is not what other ask us to do but what we desire to do.

- An artist is free like a bird but even bird has limitations.

- Every body has limitations but an artist is not everybody.

Two old buddies

Santosh Kalwar's Twelfth Book, Entitled "The Warrior," is Published

In his new book, entitled, "The Warrior," a young Nepalese poet from Chitwan, Nepal has published collection of twenty-five poems on war.

Lappeenranta, Finland, June 22, 2010 --(PR.com)-- Lulu Press, Inc. is proud to present "The Warrior" by Santosh Kalwar from Lappeenranta, Finland.

The Warrior is a collection of twenty-five delicate war poems. The book describes many aspects of warrior’s life. In some poems, author maintains an ironic tone. The simplicity of individual words may be elusive. In some poems author belittles the role of the poet. He has voiced his opinion about war by writing poem against war. The first poem tells about man’s intention to slaughter contemporary man, a feeling of anger and frustration. Poem 2 questions on warrior’s death. Poem 3 and poem 4, describes a death of warrior’s life. Similarly, poems 5 and 6 deals with types of war and selfless desire to live an ordinary warrior’s life, while 7 and 8 describes story of two warrior boys and urges for change. In short, these poems may be very simple but they may also appear to be most outstanding and poignant poems on war.




Santosh Kalwar is an author of eleven published books entitled, "Nature God (2008), Human behavior on the Internet (2009), A Very First Book of Poems (2009), ...109 Quotes, 07 Poems, and a song of despair (2009)..., 20 Love Poems and Economy Crisis (2009), 25 Sexy Poems (2009), Yet another book of Poems (2009), Happening: Poems (2010), I Am Dead Man Alive (2010), You Can (2010) and An Aphrodisiac (2010).

Santosh Kalwar is studying at Lappeenranta University of Technology, Lappeenranta, Finland. He loves reading and writing poetry. For further information about the writer, please visit his website at kalwar.com.np

ISBN 978-1-4457-9131-9

To place orders for the book, contact: Lulu Press, Inc.

URL: lulu.com/product/paperback/the-warrior/11394843

One Poem accepted by Hanging Moss Journal

Every new submission teaches you something, every now and then. Today, I learned that every editor has their own taste on poetry. The Goodnews is, one short poem, entitled, "A Journey" is accepted by Hanging Moss Journal.

So, the editor I am talking about is: Steve Meador

Steve is popular, National Book Award and Pulitzer- nominated poet his golden words impacts nearly every reader!

I always recommend reading poetry before writing poetry. Therefore, If you are interested, please do read Steve's work in his website and then submit.

Anyways, Thank you Hanging Moss Journal !

The Descent of Man by Charles Darwin

The main conclusion arrived at in this work, namely, that man is descended from some lowly-organized form, will, I regret to think, be highly distasteful to many persons. But there can hardly be a doubt that we are descended from barbarians. The astonishment which I felt on first seeing a party of Fuegians on a wild and broken shore will never be forgotten by me, for the reflection at once rushed into my mind - such were our ancestors. These men were absolutely naked and bedaubed with paint, their long hair was tangled, their mouths frothed in excitement, and their expression was wild, startled, and distrustful.

They possessed hardly any arts, and, like wild animals, lived on what they could catch; they had no government, and were merciless to everyone not of their own small tribe. He who has seen a savage in his native land will not feel much shame, if forced to acknowledge that the blood of some more humble creature flows in his veins. For my own part, I would as soon be descended from that heroic little monkey, who braved his dreaded enemy in order to save the life of his keeper; or from that old baboon who, descending from the mountains, carried away in triumph his young comrade from a crowd of astonished dogs-as from a savage who delights to torture his enemies, offers up bloody sacrifices, practices infanticide without remorse, treats his wives like slaves, knows no decency, and is haunted by the grossest superstitions.

Man may be excused for feeling some pride at having risen, though not through his own exertions, to the very summit of the organic scale; and the fact of his having thus risen, instead of having been aboriginally placed there, may give him hopes for a still higher destiny in the distant future.

But we are not here concerned with hopes or fears, only with the truth as far as our reason allows us to discover it. I have given the evidence to the best of my ability; and we must acknowledge, as it seems to me, that man with all his noble qualities, with sympathy which feels for the most debased, with benevolence which extends not only to other men but to the humblest 1 living creature, with his godlike intellect which has penetrated into the movements and constitution of the solar system-with all these exalted powers-Man still bears in his bodily frame the indelible stamp of his lowly origin.



Excerpt from book: Dragon of Eden by Carle Sagon, Page1-2

"I am your reflection"

"I am your reflection"

Where are you going? Everywhere
you go, you will only find me,
every streets you cross, you
will only worship me, every
time you will have any
thoughts, you will only think
about me. Do you want to know
who am I? You may think that
I am the GOD but I am not.
You may think that I am your follower
but I am not. You may think that
I am someone very close to you
but I am sorry, I am not.
Then, finally when you will not
recognize me, I will reveal
you who I am.
I am your reflection.
© 2010, Santosh Kalwar


Published: Mahmag
12/06/2010
Edited by: Dr. Mahnaz Badihian

About Publisher:
MahMag strives to open the borders between peoples of all cultures and languages through the proliferation of art and literature. We encourage both established and emerging writers and artists by providing a visible platform for international recognition of their creative contributions. MahMag is committed to the freedom of individuals to express their unique voices and perspectives and to be heard by a diverse audience.

Very Happening

Everyday there is something happening all over the world. People are finding love and people are losing love. Somebody is betraying his best friend for women and somebody is depressed or frustrated over something.

Our political leaders are sitting in hotels making laws and policies for the country, aren’t they? There is crisis or conflict everywhere. The million dollar question is not what is happening, but why are these things happening? Every morning when I wake up and read sad and melancholic news, I feel that there is some kind of conspiracy going on around the world.

Some news and media are trustworthy and some are not. It is apparent that not all the news media are right and fully truthful. Some events and news are “made-up stories”. Some are not.

With the penetration of the Internet, the contents cannot be easily trusted. How can an ordinary man assume something to be truthful? It is a very complex world that we all live in now. It apparently appears that a life without conflict is no life.We all are born and we all have to die someday, but nobody is interested in such stories. If there is nothing happening and there are no interesting stories to read about they do not fascinate anyone, do they?

To live fully, we have to do something and while doing something these conflicts or crisis are aroused. There can be many types of crisis: inner crisis, outer crisis and other types of crisis. I am no conflict expert and I do not claim to be able to solve all the miseries that are happening in the world. My inner conflicts are more important to me than outer conflicts. The other day I met a friend who asked, “How to solve these conflicts?” “First of all it is important to solve the inner conflicts, then only can we solve outer conflicts”, I said.

I would rather assume there are three types of things happening in around the world. These are: creation, conflicts and destruction. Firstly, we are created by the creator and then there are conflicts and finally, the destroyer is responsible for the end.

It is similar to Hindu beliefs where Brahma is God of Creation, Vishnu is Lord of Love and Mahesh is responsible the destroyer. Somewhere in this blue planet, something just happened, as you read this “very happening article”. May God bless our souls!




Published: The Himalayan Times
Editorial Column: Topics, Page 08

Football World cup

World cup has begun.

and millions will run

to watch, love, expect,

praise, bet, predict

…the winning team

Nobody can

predict

            who will be the winner

what if there was

no winner

            what if there was no game

are we controlled by media?

            It seems that someone is

controlling us.

            someone has found secret

to rule the crowd.

           

whatever …

            world’s attention

is focused

            now…

in watching

football/soccer/association football

One Poem accepted by Chiron Review

Well, well well... now it seems that I am going to get qualification for being a real "poet" ....officially. Early this morning, just woke up and checked e-mail, I found an acceptance letter from the Editor of Chiron Review for my work, entitled "In Chitwan", isn't that great news? Anyways, my excitment landed me to see what kind of journal is this... and I found following information, which might be useful for you too:

Chiron Review, a creative writing journal well known in the English academia arena, came to literary life in the Spring of 1982. Chiron Review has even been used as a teaching tool at Princeton and other colleges! Impressive, to say the least!
Michael Hathaway, editor/publisher, has presented readers with the widest possible range of contemporary creative writing—fiction and non-fiction, traditional and off-beat—in an attractive, professional tabloid format, including artwork and photographs of featured writers. About a quarter of each issue was devoted to news, views and reviews of interest to writers and the literary community.

 Past contributors include Charles Bukowski, William Stafford, Marge Piercy, Gavin Dillard, Edward Field, Antler, Robert Peters, Joan Jobe Smith, Fred Voss, Janice Eidus, Felice Picano, Lyn Lifshin, Will Inman, Richard Kostelanetz, Lorri Jackson, Ruth Moon Kempher, Charles Webb and a host of others, well-known and new.
 
Visit the home page if you are interested to read and submit your work !
 

The Guest House by Rumi

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.



A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.



Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.



The dark thought, the shame, the malice.

meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.



Be grateful for whatever comes.

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.



-- Jelaluddin Rumi, translation by Coleman Barks

The Wiseman

The Wiseman said, “


Expect

The

Unexpected”

The fool questioned, “

“Why?”

Both fights…

two twinkling stars

collide

up above so high



a young Finnish

women was expecting

her husband to be

wise/witty/loving/

caring/delightful/



In a lake

far across the northern

hemisphere

a curious child

was expecting

to get an acceptance

letter

from the university

which he applied



a lonesome man

was travelling

and journeying

across southern sky



Europe/America/Asia/









His dreams

Was to find

Love of his life





A boy looks over

Bright blue sky

The sky in a minute

Turned grey/black/



as if there was something

huge coming towards him.







Thou see with great expectation

arises:

desire/belief/faith/sacrifice/



but maybe



The Wiseman

Was absolutely right!

Happenings

Love reaches everywhere,

so do the words and wisdom.

Yes, there are tragedies,



sorrow, pain, disaster,

and above all,

happenings…



without these

no man can survive;

without conflict

no one lives

on this planet earth



so, eventually

differences can be sorted out;

life can turn upside down



because all we have



is love to seek

and speak about.
 
 
Published: VIRGOGRAY PRESS.
Edited by: MICHAEL AARON CASARES

Santosh Kalwar's Eleventh Book, Entitled "An Aphrodisiac," is Published

n his new book with very interesting title, "An Aphrodisiac," a young Nepalese poet from Chitwan, Nepal has published collection of forty-three erotic, sensual and delicate love poems.

Lappeenranta, Finland, June 08, 2010 --(PR.com)-- Lulu Press, Inc. is proud to present An Aphrodisiac by Santosh Kalwar from Lappeenranta, Finland.

An Aphrodisiac is a collection of forty-three erotic, sensual and delicate love poems. The book describes many aspects of love and art of making love. In the poems, there are several poems which describe events in the relationship, thus presenting readers with seductive feelings. The first poem tells about man’s intention to touch a woman, a feeling of infatuations and affectionate desire for love. Poem 2 is didactic and describes principles by which a man develops an addiction of making love. The third and fourth poem, describing a reproduction cycle of human, and claims that no life can prosper without sex. Similarly, Poems 5 and 6 deals with types of sex and lustful desires for it, while 7 and 8 describe an act of making love. In short, all the poems cover romantic, sexual and spicy words which will stimulate readers and will act as a love drug.

 To arrange a book signing or interview, contact the writer. For further information about the writer, please visit his website at kalwar.com.np

ISBN 978-1-4457-8190-7

To place orders for the book, contact: Lulu Press, Inc.

URL: lulu.com/product/item/an-aphrodisiac/11197687

Two Poems accepted by unFold

Well, well, well... finally, some small press of poetry accepted couple short poems. You can find more informaiton about the press at unFold, which is a PG-rated experimental poetry journal that seeks inspired 140 character (including spaces) Tweets.

So You Want To Be A Writer by Charles Bukowski

So You Want To Be A Writer

if it doesn't come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don't do it. unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don't do it. if you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen or hunched over your typewriter searching for words, don't do it. if you're doing it for money or fame, don't do it. if you're doing it because you want women in your bed, don't do it. if you have to sit there and rewrite it again and again, don't do it. if it's hard work just thinking about doing it, don't do it. if you're trying to write like somebody else, forget about it. if you have to wait for it to roar out of you, then wait patiently. if it never does roar out of you, do something else. if you first have to read it to your wife or your girlfriend or your boyfriend or your parents or to anybody at all, you're not ready. don't be like so many writers, don't be like so many thousands of people who call themselves writers, don't be dull and boring and pretentious, don't be consumed with self- love. the libraries of the world have yawned themselves to sleep over your kind. don't add to that. don't do it. unless it comes out of your soul like a rocket, unless being still would drive you to madness or suicide or murder, don't do it. unless the sun inside you is burning your gut, don't do it. when it is truly time, and if you have been chosen, it will do it by itself and it will keep on doing it until you die or it dies in you. there is no other way. and there never was.

Accepted as a member to Suomen tietokirjailijat ry

Learning never stops. You learn from friends and foes. I attended my ECSE Support Meeting this year. I came across a great fellow researcher. Through him, I learned that there is a association of non-fiction writers in Finland.

Usually, it is not an easy to become a member to such associaiton. There are certain rules and regulation, which needs to be followed.

In short, I have been accepted to THE FINNISH ASSOCIATION OF NON-FICTION WRITERS.

Good day !

A Poet's Love

Ovide et Corine by Agostino Carracci portrays the poet with his love of Amores, poem of his huge production in elegiac couplets

Selfless observation

Imagine that you are standing in a crowded street in some unknown city. Take a deep breath, and look around. What will you see? Will you take some notice of that man standing in that crowded street? Most of us will probably ignore him.
What if you were standing for a moment? You will see that everybody is moving around. 


You may be surprised when people hardly notice you.Our existence in the form of ‘flesh and blood’ is similar to the above scenario. Each one of us is standing in a crowded street and we are unaware of our sole purpose.And I understand the reason behind not noticing such men/women. The answer to any question lies in the question itself. 

Please hold your breath because I am going to reveal a secret.The secret is that we are selfish! We are selfish because our primary goal is to fulfill our needs. We always think about 

ourselves first.Some of us may argue that this is a failed theory. And I understand their rejection. Many of us live a life based on the ‘principle of dualism’. This principle suggests that there are two ways of doing things or looking at things.
One is right and another is wrong.Based on such principle, the theory of ‘selfishness’ reports that either we are selfish or we are not. So, if you are a follower of dualism, probably you will either accept the theory or reject it outright. I would recommend experiencing this sacred moment before rejecting or accepting it. At least once, before your ‘final exit’!
The beauty lies not in thinking about us but thinking about others. 

In simple English, it is called 'observation'. There are two types of observation. On the one hand, there is self-observation or inner-observation, and on the other hand there is selfless-observation or outer-observation.Again, imagine that you are in the same crowded street. You may see office/home goers, a student searching for a job or righteous education, a woman looking for her prince charming or a man looking for his princess fair, someone selling or buying one thing or the other and so on.

Therefore, a person standing in a crowded street will experience fellow humans hustleand bustle which is what may be the experience of selfless observation. And, that is good news of you having achieved enlightenment.


Published: The Himalayan Times
Op-ed


Source:  THT

God, God, God by Paramahansa Yogananda

From the depth of slumber,
As I ascend the spiral stairway of wakefulness,
I whisper
God, God, God!

Thou art the food and when I break my fast
Of nightly separation from Thee
I taste thee and mentally say
God, God, God!

No matter where I go, the spotlight of my mind
Ever keeps turning on Thee;
And in the battle dim of activity my silent war cry
Is ever;
God, God, God!

When boisterous storms of trials shriek
And worries howl at me,
I drown their noises, loudly chanting
God, God, God!

When my mind weaves dreams
With treads of memories,
Then on that magic cloth I do emboss;
God, God, God!

Ever night, in time of deepest sleep,
My peace dreams and calls; Joy! Joy! Joy!
And my Joy comes singing evermore;
God, God, God!

In waking, eating, working, dreaming, sleeping,
Serving, meditating, chanting, divinely loving,
My soul constantly hums, unheard by any;
God, God, God!

- Paramahansa Yogananda

A Poem by E. E. Cummings

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence.
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you always open petal by petal myself as Spring opens(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

nothing that we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

Before Or After the Sunset.

War

Moment of birth begins with

War, war and the                                War

War of sufferings

             From the unknown names to unknown path that we may take

There is war within us each moment.

            There will be war outside us

each and every moment.

War of poverty and pain; war of rich and poor;

war of goodness and evil; war of love and hate;

war of sadness and despair; war of life after death or death after life;

war on religion, culture; war on politics and social issues.

War of this and war of that;

Who is the winner? and

Who remains the looser?

            How do we know if this is an answer?

Both sides, we are victim.

                        Both side, we are hurt.

All the fights for this land

and that land, my land vs. your land

When is this going to stop?

“How much land does a man need?”

Man needs 6feet long, 2 feet wide and 6 feet down land.

            This is never ending story

as it will continue. Before or after me;

history has shown us, it will continue in future.

Only solution is eradication of all living creature by natural calamities.

That soon is going to come. 

It is not very far when all our advancements

will collapse in the matter of day or two.

It is like building a house with the deck of cards.

The knowledge and wisdom,

whatever strength, ideologies

and dogma human has created must come to an end.

The time is coming soon

when no human soul will survive in this planet.

Whoever you are killing

on either side of war, is your own self reflection.

You cannot kill the image of your own self.

That selfish image has caused you greed, proudest

And that will forever continue

before or after the sunset.

Too early to comment

This is with reference to the article by Alistair Burt and Alan Duncan “Nepal: Time to deliver” (May 26).

            I entirely disagree with the writers’ statement “parties with different ideologies and interests have expressed their common desire to come together to complete the stalled peace process.” I think it is too early to predict that Nepali political parties have reached any sort of consensus on the ongoing peace-process.

            It seems to me that after the death of ‘Girijababu’, our political parties are lost. They don’t know how to move forward with the Constituent Assembly. They are only trying to fool Nepali people. We have yet to see wheather they will lead the peace process to a logical conclusion.

Santosh Kalwar

Chitwan, Nepal

Published: Republica

Letter to Editor

Incompetent PM

Many congratulations to the Nepal-led government for breaking the record of the longest serving Communist government in the country ("Base year,", May 26, Page 6). But that is no indication of his competence, Ideally, he should be helping the political parties find common ground on the contentious issues instead of using all tricks in the book to hold on to his chair.

Santosh Kalwar, By email

Published: The Kathmandu Post
Letter to Editor

"I am longing for nothing."

I am longing for nothing.

I know I am not going to

become, what they want me to become.

As I have lived fully today,

I am ready to quit if death

comes my way.

I don’t care if you accept

me as I am.

and from where I come from

or not.

I do not care since I have never cared

and these humanly selfishness of longing

for something

has caused only problems.

There are awards, rewards

and all these recognitions

are foolish accomplishments.

How can someone judge?

We were all created equal

by nature, we are all taken away equally.

I tell you, my dear friend:

I am longing for nothing.

PublishAmerica Presents I Am Dead Man Alive by Santosh Kalwar

PublishAmerica Presents I Am Dead Man Alive by Santosh Kalwar

Frederick, MD May 25, 2010 -- PublishAmerica is proud to present I Am Dead Man Alive by Santosh Kalwar from Lappeenranta, Finland.

I Am Dead Man Alive is a collection of death poems by the Nepalese poet Santosh Kalwar, first published in 2010 by PublishAmerica. The book is collection of several dark poems written to visualize the past, present and the future of human life. The poem is mainly about the death. These poems reflect how one should consider living on present moment and not fear the death.

I Am Dead Man Alive represents ancient, classical, modern and contemporary human times in very poetic manner. The state of physical, spiritual, and rational sensation is aroused in this book. The book brings new light and questions simple phenomenon of human life and death.

Santosh Kumar Kalwar (born September 7, 1982) is a poet, writer and researcher. He is a self-published Nepalese writer who writes in English. He has authored a number of newspaper columns, articles and books on truth, love and relationships. For more information about author, please visit, http://kalwar.com.np

PublishAmerica is the home of 40,000 talented authors. PublishAmerica is a traditional publishing company whose primary goal is to encourage and promote the works of new, previously undiscovered writers. Like more mainstream publishers, PublishAmerica pays its authors advances and royalties and makes its books available through all bookstores. PublishAmerica offers a distinctly personal, supportive alternative to vanity presses and less accessible publishers.

My Funeral by Paulo Coelho

An Excerpt from “Like The Flowing River” from Harper Collins Publishers

The journalist from The Mail on Sunday appears at my hotel in London and asks one simple question: “If you were to die today, what kind of funeral would you like?”

The truth is that the idea of death has been with me everyday since 1986, when I walked the Road to Santiago. Up until then, I had always been terrified at the thought that, one day, everything would end; but on one of the stages of that pilgrimage, I performed an exercise that consisted in experiencing what it felt like to be buried alive. It was such an intense experience that I lost all fear, and afterwards saw death as my daily companion, who is always by my side, saying: “I will touch you, but you don’t know when. Therefore live life as intensely as you can.”

Because of this, I never leave until tomorrow what I can do or experience today- and that includes joys, work obligations, saying I’m sorry if I feel I’ve offended someone, and contemplation of the present moment as if it were my last. I can remember many occasions when I have smelled the last perfume of death: that far-off day in 1974, in Aterro do Flamengo (Rio de Janeiro), where the taxi I was traveling in was blocked by another car, and a group of armed paramilitaries jumped out and put a hood over my head. Even though they assured me that nothing bad would happen to me, I was convinced that I was about to become another of the military regime’s “disappeared”.

Or when, in August 1989, I got lost on a climb in the Pyrenees. I looked around at the mountains bare of snow and vegetation, thought that I wouldn’t have the strength to go back, and concluded that my body would not be found until the following summer. Finally, after wandering around for many hours, I managed to find a track that led me to a remote village.

The journalist from The Mail on Sunday insists: but what would my funeral be like? Well, according to my will, there will be no funeral. I have decided to be cremated, and my wife will scatter my ashes in a place called El Cebrero in Spain- the place where I found my sword. Any unpublished manuscripts and typescripts will remain unpublished (I’m horrified at the number of “posthumous works” or “trunks full of papers” that writers’ heirs unscrupulously publish in order to make some money; if the authors chose not to publish these things while they were alive, their privacy should be respected). The sword that I found on the Road to Santiago will be thrown into the sea, and thus be returned to the place whence it came. And my money, along with the royalties that will continue to be received for another seventy years, will be devoted entirely to the charitable foundation I have set up.

“And what about your epitaph” asks the journalist. Well, since I’m going to be cremated, there won’t be a headstone on which to write an inscription, since my ashes will have been carried away on the wind. But if I had to choose a phrase, I would choose this: “He died while he was still alive.” That might seem a contradiction in terms; but I know a lot of people who have stopped living, even though they continue working and eating and carrying on with their usual social activities. They do everything on automatic pilot, unaware of the magic moments that each day brings with it, never stopping to think about the miracle of life, not understanding that the next minute could be their last on the face of the planet.

The journalist leaves, and I sit down at the computer and decide to write this. I know it’s not a topic anyone likes to think about, but I have a duty to my readers – to make them think about the important things in life. And death is possibly the most important thing. We are all walking towards death, but we never know when death will touch us and it is our duty, therefore, to look around us, to be grateful for each minute. But we should also be grateful to death, because it makes us think about the importance of each decision we take, or fail to take; it makes us stop doing anything that keeps us stuck in the category of the “living dead” and, instead, urges us to risk everything, to bet everything on those things we always dreamed of doing, because, whether we like it or not, the angel of death is waiting for us.

You Know You've Been In Finland Too Long, When...

You meticulously manage your plastic bag collection.

You don't think twice about putting wet dishes in the cupboard to dry.

Silence is fun.

Your coffee consumption exceeds 8 cups a day.

You pass a grocery store and think: "Wow, it's open!"

Your native language has seriously deteriorated. Now you "eat medicine", "open the television", and "close the lights off".

You associate pea soup with Thursday.

Your notion of street life is reduced to hanging out in front of the railway station on Friday nights.

After a presentation, you finally stop asking "Are there any questions?"

Hugging is reserved for sexual foreplay.

You no longer look at a track suit as casual wear, but consider it acceptable for formal occasions. Neither do you see a problem wearing white socks with loafers.

You accept alcohol as food.

You no longer eat mashed potatoes - you eat smashed potatoes.

You understand why the Finnish language has no future tense.

You know that "one" beer means "let's get pissed."

When a stranger smiles at you, you assume he is drunk, insane, or American.

You've become lactose intolerant.

You know how to prepare herring 105 different ways.


Source: Finnish Jokes

Before and After

------------------------------------------
Before and After


------------------------------------------
A cycle of life
travels along the time

It makes a journey
with a beginning of sun rise

It travels along the coast of universe
meeting, talking, writing, speaking
thinking, creating, singing and
and
many "ing" suffixes in words...

After being for a while
it wants to take rest

and goes back

goes back to the time

from the time where

once it started

it just wants to take rest...

it leaves the body
and soul departs...

it departs from the cloth which once it was wearing

finally, it goes to "memory-tomb"

and in there, it forgets everything it once did

during those period of time and when it stayed
there

for a while

like 69, 72, 75 ... years

after forgetting,

it takes any other form based on "karma"

in its new form,
it will not remember anything

the cycle repeats
and

repeats

until someday

it reaches to thee;


----------------------------------------------

God bless you all !

“Remember My Name”

“Remember my name”


I have no desire,
I have no pain.

The love which once had,
is lost in vain.

I have no money,
I have no fame.

The world which once I loved,
remains unclear, unknown and selfish.

Thou had to step-in
art rejuvenates this poor heart.

What had I given?
Mother Nature lets me sustain.

What would I do with desire?
Desire hardly reaches to destination.

Thee resurrected in love,
This world had once blamed.

If I would someday rise,
rise and rise
rise high above the mountains

I tell you, my dear friend,
I have no one except your love
as you remember my name.