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About Deviant Silver Rajah of SophiastanUnited States Recent Activity
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Capitalism for those unhappy in business...
"Money is human happiness in the abstract; he, then, who is no longer capable of enjoying human happiness in the concrete devotes himself utterly to money." Arthur Schopenhauer
“We forfeit three-fourths of ourselves in order to be like other people.” Arthur Schopenhauer
Since money-making is not effortless, most cultured people do not like playing money-making games, expending years and years of so uniquely entailed existence in accumulation of that which sucks into a largely incongruent life-style, putting the self-resonant life on hold, or nigh entirely displacing it.
Often, even if chronically and painfully aware of the modest life’s deficits, they find that leisure and the mind’s freedom from preoccupation with the ever precariously, challengingly turning cogs and wheels of capitalism overall outweighs the costs and deformities suffered in mind-life straight-jacketing material pursuit.
One micro-economic solution may be in cultivated local networks of trust
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She wanted me to teach her Sophy...
Oh my, I have been cerebrating,
Deracinated in my course,
Exiguous aeration grating,
Soul-synergy’s remiss endorse…
Noctiphony of wisdom warming
In peaceful quietude, ‘neath stars,
I, wisdom of it all brainstorming,
Dissect grave thoughts to mind-night’s jars
Of paragraphs replete with keen
Discernment, subtlety and art –
Future philosophers’ fine cart
Of analytic ken and glean…
Four thousand minds’ forms have approached,
From pre-Platonic to new wave,
And have each nook and cranny broached
In vitiating errors grave,
In chasing bias, and presumption,
Generalizing slights of hands,
Poor judgments, feelings-cast demands
Writ-clothed to logic’s sound consumption,
Which, out of context, truths’ seek flight –
World – simple, wisdom – form prescriptive…;
And, in debunking such with light,
My thought-waves pierce through all restrictive…
-- Silver Rajah of Sophiastan
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Faizah Al Attas, Naquib's daughter ...
Faizah Al-Attas, Naquib’s daughter,
Is so insensitive soul’s rotor
Of your Islamic would-be feeling
As to not know this man’s true ceiling,
While loves he you so long and strong,
No matter right you be or wrong…
And would renege on world and light
Just for your company’s delight,
Just for your thought and touch and scent,
In love-born synergy life-spent?!
Why hide in affluent Bangsar
Ignoring riches of the heart,
When God’s own fortitude and star
Are on my soul-shield and words’ art?!
I’ve compassed plaint of pain and more,
Would not waste breath on vane pursuit,
What-ever be your worry’s suit,
I need you at the heaven’s door…
-- Silver Rajah of Sophiastan
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On political correctness...
On political correctness of expression, and directness…
Today, with millions world-wide,
Hypocrisy and censure’s ride
Encounter we with sick laws’ pen
Which fines impose would through the Den
Of publications, honest speech,
Compliance with what’s ‘right’ to preach…,
When one political mind’s post,
In dissonance to sweet rhymes’ host,
Invoked ‘gang-raping Muslim hordes
Of men’, ‘barbaric’, groping, brutes…
While clash of cultures polls odd feelings,
Free speech we’d have upon all ceilings,
So that expression of one’s thoughts
Is not straight-jacketed by oughts
Of would-be bedlam incitation
To violence in any nation…
They sure loom wrong generalizing
With sweeping language of surmising
‘knife-stabbing migrant mobs’ of men
‘abusive’, ‘imported’, ‘marauding’ of span…
When politicians, Hitler style,
Do cap of sundry groups or races,
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Tomfoolery of the moment
Today I need to dance with someone's poem, to have a diversion from St. Stupor. Guess what -- I like this one. Thunder
Here comes. (If it is too silly, please forgive me, a poetizing mood took me prisoner...)
"Boom, Clap, Sizzle, Snap"
"Roar, Hiss" -- What did I miss?!
Dark room, mood 's crap, ennui’s drizzle, life’s gap…
Not a soul around to kiss; I rather grow to liking this…
New year is about to dawn,
New poems' countenance to fawn...
Will come with a boom, and a clap and a sizzle and a snap
To deliver new friends to my mind's door and lap,
With a promise that later, in further yule's blessing,
Non-computer reality shall be amassing...
For now, blunder of wonder, autophile's domain,
Self-inflicted in rhyme introspective lines' rain...
-- Silver Rajah of Sophiastan
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Poetic License
Avra-kehdabricly inclined
Is my poetic paintings’ mind,
Which, lacking fitting tools of speech,
Shall summon, as a potent witch,
Its creativity’s resources
To coin appropriate endorses,
Right-smithing word and phrase and sense,
As here, noun of verb-form dense…
This is imperfect – as avails
Endorsement form of noun capped ease,
But often, lacking any choice
Avra-kdhdabric mind’s Rolls-Royce
Must fashion newly, as it frees
From paucity intent’s travails…
Improving clarity and sense,
Avoiding cumbersome and dense,
Enhancing rhyme and rhythm’s flow,
Illuminating high and low…,
Avra-kehdabric poet’s mind,
To fitting variance inclined,
Shall coin new uses, forms and senses
Acquitting of efficient dances
With content referenced and new-wielded,
Accentuated, wide-use fielded,
Expanding arsenal to will
More flexibly to grasp and thrill
And prosecute its need to task,
With conjured sense to fill new flask
Of suitable new-minted,
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Post modern detectivism
When thoughts reduce to vague synopsis
Of logic underneath the words,
I author’s seek apodyopsis
To truer elements and cords…
In noirceur of misology espying pseudo-clothes,
Seek I the etiology of conjured would-be glows,
Abubble with detectivist, suspecting vain forms' tryst
By scapegrace ‘architectivist’ of would-be poem’s mist,
Undress of fluffy confluence of random, terms, and style
In search for seed of affluence in make-up lessened pile.
-- Silver Rajah of Sophiastan
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Every one capable of torturing prose into shortnes
Every one capable of torturing prose into shortness is a Poet
Values, norms, classical elegance… largely dead.
Dead is Nietzschean dichotomy dialectic Of Apollonian and Dionysian.
No more balancing tension as it is too hard, requires more working talent.
The god of fast easy sensuous pleasure won hands down.
Popular relativism, legitimizing existentialism… freed completely.
As lip service to classical tradition, genius is narrow niche tolerated.
Every one capable of torturing prose into shortness is Poet,
If not poet Laureate of those emboldened by triumph of the lax.
Even grammarless seepage and monad-word sputtering aspires to art-ness.
So do mix-ups of epochs and sensibilities, comparisons of incomparables…
People pen affectations in languages they have never mastered. No one notices…
Logic itself is slain by aesthetics of psychedelic and fragmentary, embraced plausibility
Of incoherent and inchoate, strewn about bits of consciousness, un-depths…
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A Poet's Sentence
Prinking over soul’s attire
rendered splendid in a poem,
affixing picture as a proem
to set the stage for strumming lyre,
propines wordswisard magic mood
to turn your innards instrumental,
with cords resounding in the mental
and resonance invoked in wood
of your experience and vision,
imagination, sketched constraints,
direction, logic, hinted taints
of fusion, consonance, decision
to in some way impart firm sense
or purpose to the plot made dense
by pithy poem’s quickened sketch –
emotion, art flight…, gem to catch…,
and you, attuned, reverberating,
Feel magic’s butterflies and play
Some inner tensions to allay,
Else summon charm or beauty’s sating…
-- Silver Rajah of Sophiastan
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Ruh al gulab
Today I needed to distill
a clearer meaning to the skill
which poem’s nature out would spill
beyond a wordsmith’s claim and pill:
Ruh al gulab of poet’s mind –
condensed, arranged, expressed, refined…
past random, blubber, motion, grind,
supposed, invoked, chance-broached, opined…
In beauty clad, precision, form
of flow or rhyme, emotions’ storm,
sharp, blunt, ice-cold or gently warm…
but not insipid, vague of form,
Devoid of pithy meaning’s tent
in social language terse, well spent
in purchase summoning past chance,
acute invoking, past pretense…
Some roses – fragrant to no end,
some – barely a scent to send;
some noses – differ as append
own sense and nonsense res to lend…
While it may make you try new dress,
play-act, range, rave or detumesce,
penning a poem worth a cent
one’s best distills true Poet spent!
   -- Silver Rajah of Sophiastan
      Ruh al gulab: the soul o
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Affecting bubbler a douche
Hypophrenia kicks in,
Again am down without a cause...
Poetic windmill in repose
Bestirs to Don Quixote's spin
Against what-ever seems all wrong,
Offending, obfuscating, blurry...
And mind's immaculate blade's fury
Word-forges subtleties to song...
I ride on waves of synergetic
Mind-lances of the chosen few,
Who, with a form, a touch, a hue...,
Likewise assail world's truths cosmetic,
Else, seasons praise with grace and style,
(Perambulating for a while
In their pastures of discourse,
To compass healing pleasures' course)...,
Or, vague and pompous dart to slay (--
Pageants of vanity display),
With tactful press of wit and will,
Poised questions, pedagogic skill...
Pursuing beauty, content, form
Distinct from entropy of storm
Of words of diuretic flow,
No light emitting pseudo-glow,
Abra-cadabra's nonsense coy,
Good sense transmuted to a toy...
I am a poet of emotion,
Keen wisdom's elegance and search,
Of Love-life infinite commotion,
Fine story, real pain's reproach...
Opponent of illo
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A silent prayer sings itself
God should bless me so that I don’t need people. A Yiddish saying:
Got zol mich bentshen, ich zol nit broichen mentshen.
A     A silent prayer sings itself,
B     Its sense could be by wording rendered:
B     When sanity is nigh surrendered
A     To dim exactions of Man-elf,
A     When not disease or lightning’s shaft,
A     Nor slips occasional of daft,
B     Nor ill nutrition or bad luck…
B     Mensch cover with schlimazel’s mock,
A     But fellow earth’s bipedal creatures,
A     Remiss of manners, wisdom, teachers…,
A     Alloyed to galling treatments’ features…,
A     Man solace seeks in self-availing,
A     In solitude of inner sailing,
B     Integrity’s preserving life
B     Outside baboons' infernal strife…
A     With Transcendentalists’ old glow
B   &
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Black Night
Чёрная ночь, вы приходите в гости ко мне
Будто призрак в таинственном сне...,
Как меланхолии пальто...
Тяжек ваш гнёт беспросветно продлительных нот,
Лучше звездный иль лун
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Charm is better than beauty
Charm is better than beauty
(Khein geit iber shein. – Yiddish saying)
In the world of striking faces,
Put on smiles, make-up and graces,
Kalopsia distorts much sense
By ideality’s pretense
Cold symmetry’s eristic vaunting
Philocalist is often daunting
With artificial surmise
Of fancied value found in lies
Reduced to wrapper, candy – bland,
An I-Owe-You at eyes’ demand
Is beat by warmth of gathered charm –
Deportment, word-choice, artful arm…,
Of animation heartfelt clues
To predisposing inner hues
Of character and mind’s careen,
Humane in elegance and threne,
Embrace inviting in your mind
Affection’s gravity to bind!
-- Silver Rajah of Sophiastan
Words' confection:
Kalopsia –  things appearing more beautiful than are…
Eristic – characterized by error, contention
Philocalist – a lover of beauty
Threne –  alt. of threnody (inner song; melody)
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Each man has madness of his own
(Itlecher mentsh hot zikh zein shigoyen -- a Yiddish saw)
No perfect happiness out there,
Each man has madness of his own
Imbalance as to few is known,
Or glaring skewed-ness of mind’s layer
Too narrow, rich but poor within,
Too insecure, obsessed-dependent…
From dawn to evening, like a pendant,
Each chimes with madness – act or glean
One loves too hard, unstinting clinging
With every fiber of the soul…,
Another must possess some dole
Imagined of fulfillment singing…
Expending striving, leisure, self
In twisted magnetism to pelf
Of all-subsuming life’s affliction,
Be it concrete, or utter fiction…
A lucky fool perhaps is free
Of madness of pursuit and striving,
High sensitivity’s depriving
Assaults by stimulants, degree
Of bearing perceived impeded,
Exaggerations chaffing stride
Of even sunshine to abide
Midst feeling, action, sense and heeded…
-- Silver Rajah of Sophiastan
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On a model pretty anorexic...
With this title mind would form
More than languid rib-cage warm,
Pelvic excellence so thin,
Ulna-radial cast pin...    
(in the alternative)
Thinking model's plea 's to god,
To raise her from this mortal mud
Of form and mood to happy state...
One can imagine different crate
Of things, along the line of pies
Which gorge she could regardless spies
Or fears of having been found out
In gaining pounds on about
Her slender frame and lovely face,
Thus compromising body's grace...
(This is not a criticism, only an annotation on the unexpected...)
-- Silver Rajah of Sophiastan
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My faves betimes are bookmarked thrash,
Links to my comments, censure's splash,
Else, links to friends' sound-crafted art
Intended compliments to dart... 

Though 'favorites' is DA's label,
They are but Bookmarks, drop the fable!
Unless you grasp what I had meant,
Do not attribute content's dent,
YOUR predilection, dim lust's bothers,
Intentions mind-expressed of others...

Remember, of your wits detection
Is not some truth, but own reflection!
Unsure of what goes on in mine? --
Just ask, I'll share an opine....


Was born a demigod – Prometheus unbound,
Rebelled from midgets animating pidgins,
Both self and purpose ultimately found,
Live solitude of elevated regions…

-- Silver Rajah of Sophiastan


Поэты ходят пятками по лезвию ножа
И режут в кровь свои босые души.

-- Владимир Высоцкий


С ума схожу. Иль восхожу
к высокой степени безумства.

-- Белла Ахмадулина
  • Listening to: The Classic Strings & Rock 'n Roll
  • Reading: Kandel and Gibbon Histories...
  • Watching: Every Good Film Ever Made...
  • Playing: With Minds
  • Eating: Chto Bog Poslal ;)
  • Drinking: Brandy (medicinally, only)


coruskating's Profile Picture
Silver Rajah of Sophiastan
United States
Born in a Galaxy far, far away. Teacher and Life's student. Waiting for? -- a digital back for my Mamiya, a V Star, and an emerald views villa... Oh, awaiting to live fully as well, but aren't most of us? - smile.

Academic interests: History of Knowledge; Philosophy; (rhyming and non-trivial) Poetry, Cosmology of Civilization (which, if any of us, are going to make it... and how).

General Interests: Intelligence, Film, Photography, Fine Cuisine, Athletic Training, Arts, Travel, Women of Hubris, Architectural Design, Dance (Ballet and Tango), Science Fiction, Gardens, Music (Classical, Rock, Jazz, Flamenco), Motorbike Cruisers and Character Portraits……

Admired Photographic Art…

Fave films: Child 44, Russia House, The English Patient, 13th Floor...

Favorite documentary: Inside Job -- ( 2010 )

Personal Quote: Methinks you be curious

Tools of the Trade: Mind Blades

Skype: Coruscating777


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BaciuC Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2017  Student Photographer
Love your poetry... and your sense of humour :)
MaTilda-2941 Featured By Owner May 25, 2017  Professional General Artist
Beautiful poetry on your page)
Caveman1a Featured By Owner Apr 18, 2017  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank You for the favorite! :) 
Caveman1a Featured By Owner Oct 21, 2016  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank You for the favorite! :)
MariColl Featured By Owner Sep 4, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you for the fav!
blackava Featured By Owner May 9, 2016
Thank you for the Fave!! means a lot!!
Celem Featured By Owner Feb 29, 2016  Hobbyist Photographer
Thanks for the :+fav: :)
StallionDesigns Featured By Owner Feb 5, 2016   Photographer
Thank you for another Fave.  :)
corso75 Featured By Owner Dec 6, 2015
Thank you very much for the perfect comment on:

Mature Content

Untitled by corso75

Much appreciated :)
Caveman1a Featured By Owner Nov 25, 2015  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank You for the favorite! :) (Smile)
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