30th September '08

Like a drop of tear rolling down
I submerge into an ocean of doubt
Like the eyes welling up
In my mind there’s a swell of thought
It has all gone in waste
No one could slaver the taste
The time’s immemorial state
In the end it’s just fate
There’s always so much so that you can do
There’s always so much so that you can say
There’s always a silence, a pause
With it the hope of miracle
The magic moment is passing
The clock is ticking
But still no sign of emergency
After all it’s a just a rolling drop
The world is full of important matter

Lemme not wrinkle the silken white
Lemme not ripple the sail-smooth water

17th September '08

To know is one thing and to not know is the other. But the most distressing is to know that you’ll never know and it is of this that most of the interesting situations in life are born.

Imagine going through a tunnel, knowing there’s someone you love waiting at the end of it.

Imagine going through a tunnel and not knowing what’s at the end of it, light or night, forest or city, friend or foe.

Imagine going through a tunnel, grudgingly, tiredly, not knowing whether you’ll ever get out.

15th September '08

a  minute post is this
a  minute post why?
a  minute post to say hi
a  minute post so that one may say
a  minute post even though nothing's there
a  minute post for no reason at all
a  minute post to strut
a  minute post to blog 
a  minute post is almost over 
a  minute post is done

actually was less than a minute..

11th September '08

I swam unto the deepest seas and the reckless grew
I scathed the bleeding bruises and the twinges skewed
But the nothing I cannot take
But the shallow I cannot wade

I hurled pebbles unto it
I blew kisses in the air when it turned
But the tears didn’t betray
But the emotions didn’t flow

I will keep to myself I say
I will not look out I repeat
But the kinship gets formed
But the vulnerable gets out

I am to be the dwindling dark
I am to be the bitch
But no one understands
But no one knows

I roll into the traffic lights
I jump and skirt the beds
But the thorns lash out to prick
But the flowers wither in a week

I hear the loudness deafen
I shout loud and the deafness mores
But in the deafness the conversations flow
But in the loudness the hollowness echoes

28th August '08

It roars
It hits
It jumps, runs
with all the force And then the white
white of froth
white of ourity
yes, the water gushes
a stream
a dream
a requiem?

Yes it hung out low
too low
to reach the stars
the white
the gushing streams' light
It was all it could go
and all the way he had
the stream, screams
plight, roar

I hear people talking
talking, discussing.
thoughts, opinions, craziness.
I see them create memories
click and click and click.
are they living it?

Let's live the creation
In the moment be
be and be and be
in the moment be.
by the rivulet
just be.
let your hair down
and be.

I want to stay
To stay in the moment
and not astray.

Why is it?
Now that I'm here,
I'm here and my thoughts run away.

Why are you running?
I ask
still running

I never get the answer.
What's the secret
to stay?
I wonder.

The stream runs about
storming, roaring, forcefully.
what rage?
what passion?
what was it?
that pierced so hard?
that it leaked so?

The stream runs about
not being able to contain itself
furiously, in craze
as fast as it can
to reach the goal, the stars,
the peace.

The stream runs about
inside my head
Through the forest
for teh wild
to my heart

Lemme write
It's the ink, not me
It's like the floodgates,
I can't stop.

I'm in the moment
just there,
be with me
just bear.

The smile's here
the light's left
just about then
I'm ready to shine.

Glow with the white
Sway with the green
Love with the red
Write with ink.

The crowd's crowding
It'll be time soon
I'll have to get out of myself
And move with the move

The voices are back.
I could not fade them away.
My life is not only mine,
I could never live my way.

If I could
I'd morph
into a butterfly in spring
a leaf in the rain
sunshine in winter
and a raven in autumn

I'd be a gypsy
a magician
with powers I wouldn't use
I'd be a poet
a lunatic
which I am
if not more.