Thursday, September 8, 2011
I wish I could hear the whisper of the silent man.
I have come across you in this street a hundred times before, but never have you looked at me.
I remember you from my dreams, and I think we were happy, somewhere..
I can swim through this sea of fear knowing that i would die, as long as it is you with whom i lie;
I wish i could see through this haze of craze that weaves a daze
Why would rhythm exploit my thoughts, when all i want is an uneven, and an uninhibited mind.
I can hear screams from where i stand, but, so distant you are, that this scream seems a hush to you. Come close to my world, come sit in my vacuum, this void of surreal definitions where all i can hear is a deep angst of my voice. You cannot grasp what i say, it is far to supreme for your ears. My way of life is not structured. It is not under the obligation of sense, it does what it pleases.. when it pleases. Come step into my world, let me show you the nothingness, yet all that you would never hear within the anthem of peace. It is the anthem of life, the music of the womb, and the deaf rejoice.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Are you fortunate enough to have what your dreams desire ?
Are you dreaming of a meal after a few hours ?
Can you imagine ?
Imagine that for a straight 62 hours
food is not finding it's way into your life.
Water is a vague term for your mind..
There is a lot to wish..
and then there are the unfortunate who have dreams tied to an anchor.
An anchor that defines the very perception of man and buries it to the depth.
It's true you know,
Hunger defines who you are.
Thirst drives your soul..
But maybe you don't know
Maybe you do..
but whatever be the case..
you are not the one with dried tears.
The air conditioner blows into your face whilst -
the girl places her face against your window,
and all that crosses your mind is the ever growing population of our country
we are still human..
still breathing in the air that begs for concern
make tomorrow worth for someone.
Friday, July 31, 2009
I walk down a shallow end;
where no one ever places their sight.
I have a hand and many days there are two;
one of mine and one of thine.
could you take this cup and make it yours;
i tried but failed.
is there anyone ?
anyone to hear a whisper in a crowd.
i scream out loud;
and bring forth my life.
i stand all day and soak myself;
i play with chords of disbelief.
will they never come back ?
the days of yester years..
i pray for the silence in hollow life that we have;
for it is shredding out the pieces of truth.
i have a small image of tomorrow;
you and i, but who else ?
Could you hold our hand today ?
we are here
Praying for tomorrow
and hoping that you will ask us -
"Is there anyone waiting for tomorrow?"
do we have no speed over what we feel ?
can we not stop what we need not to do.
and still we go on as if oblivion had its head upon ours.
and let live
how can we over come, when the nerves of life can take us wherever they might..
grant us Your Wisdom.
more than ever.. we need it now.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Happiness is what you perceive it to be,
a little here and then quite extreme into there.
a few chords sound good straight away
but it isn't those that make the music
music is made by the diminishes,
the majors only conform to the mere realm
but is is the 'Sevenths'
The Sevenths that bring forth a mystery
I wonder so many times,
how those moments of happiness have bound me
i travelled so well,
and found what i needed the most.
Happiness in Victory.
The impervious definition of what we conclude today as "Love"
The river that has not been a part of water and,pebbles that are never to be moistened by the breath of the shivering glistened dew.
Love is not a feeling but an element, an element that can be transferred.
It is not just an experience but a detail, detail of every single minute that coalesces into a second that makes all the hours into days and hence the months into years.
'They' speak and thus it is to be believed that each particle has its own reason.
Introspect and maybe you will find how love and reason are the offspring of the same seed.
Love is conscious, and so is reason. Love is not blind and it is only an excuse to exercise the need of placing the title of the censure upon the stupor.
love is and will forever be a book. never written well, but rather over-written.
the more you may seek to dwell into, the more you will be lost.
love is not created by wine.
not by man
man only addresses love
man only pretends
love is untouchable
love is indefinite and yet absolutely nothing.
more than else ..
love is a word
a word that cannot be detained in a language
that cannot be bound into emotion
love is the only truth
Let there be Love,
but let it stay Divine.