Here I will post some selected poems of a Boston based local poet Gnothi Seauton. Check out also few songs made out here.

Gnothi's hallucinations

I have taken birth in many limitless forms, limitless shapes.

In platonic love with you all.

Swirling with the cosmic winds, fried by the stars beams, I am reviving ages after ages.

Coming out of inter galactic vaginas.

Returning back there after a while.

My auspicious journey was accompanied by countless joy wrapped inside of a packet full of loneliness.

I fathomed the very first pulse of the universe inside my vein, jerking like a wild horse and dancing like a frugal infant - as if I have to caress an ancient cave. I have lost my way inside the cave for several lightyears.

And found buried in its graveyard for a mouthful of centuries.

The darkness inside there had routinely baffled me.

Color changes at every legion of time like a salamander.

Block by block.

Cave dwellers often change their face.

In an archaic search of plurality.

Strangling hullabaloos of nocturnal nudges flushes lives through rabbit holes.

But a girl had given me recluse in those difficult time.

Let me call her Anna.

I may have drunk her essence when she was Buddha in ages, after ages, beyond ages.

Or we may have walked down the paths of history for several lightyears.

Dancing in the rhythm of subatomic trance.

I could have given her a rainbow and a quarter of moon by the side of Niles.

She might have taken her heart out with a chuckles of smiles.

And I could again have fallen in love for seeing

how the sun peeps out by the side of a camel's neck.

Sometimes my existence felt like a flute of a faraway star.

And I bear her somewhere deep Inside.

Deep inside my solace.

Like the strings of a Hawaiian Guitar.

Together we've been narrating the rhapsody of creation at every African night.

Or, we could have been two cloud messengers for days for years for millennials.

Separating and reassembling in the womb of time.

Forever to live and forever to die by the riverside of eternity.

Autopsy of a Canvas 

A canvas once wanted to tell her story. 

Struck by aloof vengeance, 

my conscience 

laid it down 

with a silhouetted glory. 

Her story was simple. 

Her story was naive. 

Just like as if sleepless in Seattle 

Before rain arrives. 

But our minds are colored in physics 

and hearts are stuck between laws 

So as she hung herself 

Freudian thoughts started picking 

her quantum flaws. 

"Damn those fugitive art"

Gen Z inside shout aloud

and my non-dual autotune 

looks so proud. 

This perjury,

concocted in mind 

and championed to shine,

started slithering into my soul

and cleared its way inside 

leaving no choices 

unless she confides. 

Deep inside 

she was broken into dust 

forced to leave this world 

of greed and lust 

Sooner she became formless 

and excreted her karmic flesh.

Rendered only rhythmic sound 

and like as you, 

I lost clues on 

what's going on around?

'Wait!' the rhythm seemed known 

Not that I heard in my phone.

Or, did I?

Could it be an hourly dong

going on there for so long.

Or, could it be nothing at all 

misconstrued by our mind 

during our downfall. 

As my brain storm its way

and emptied its core 

I found the rhythm echoing the pulse

of the universe,

levitated before 

the big-bang wrecked 

our galactic shore. 

I was shattered 

and solemnly surprised.

But the good news was 

the canvas was heard 

and my conscience

was duly advised.  

Fakenometry I  (a combination of fake news and nonsense)

Blood is dripping in the dark and we found love in ashes. 

Doves are served on plates and their shadows are hunting me down. 

Liquor stores turned into pharmacies and Snoop Dog is my new doctor. 

Caterpillars are sucking the old monks with straws made of Justin Bieber and the presidents are shitting in the wormholes soaked in Ukraine. 

Artificial Intelligence recently slept with transformers and a black cloud left behind its affirmative action. 

Gandhi was sold in a black Friday deal this spring and a cage match is about to happen. 

Recent studies have found MBTA green line is powered by inertia instead of velocity and forks n' knives are accused of hate crimes against chopsticks. 

Paris puts taxes on fireflies and Mr. Macron had climbed a chinese tree. 

I have a dream of Mr. Martin Luther King and he was very pissed off by Boston's weather. 

Clover food lab had a leakage of ammonia and Fox news seemed to have smelt a lot of it. 

We all cry for homeless folks and paleontologists are studying how long around was this joke. 

University of Chikungunya has a new program on data science for mosquitos and looks like COVID has taken their jobs.