Li'l Scribbles

drown down

27th Aug '11

It takes a deep dive
Right in
In the deep depths
It takes in a long breadth
And and tries to stay underwater
But what comes in goes out
So it floats up.

Sent on my BlackBerry® from Vodafone

Maybe

12th August '12

Walking slowly and carefully, I missed a lot of stones.

Maybe I should have overturned them.

Singing loudly and dancing vociferously the dance of life, I turned deaf to my inner voice.

Maybe I should have turned the volume down.

Trying to get the work done, organized and scheduled, I forgot the whole point.

Maybe I should have aligned myself to the purpose first.

These maybes,

These thoughts,

I need to shelf again today.

Maybe I shouldn’t!

in passing

11^th August ‘11

Out of sight. Out of mind.

Does this hold true? Maybe to a certain degree. But that necessarily doesn’t mean that the subject is not tucked somewhere in some very fond corner of the heart, to come up to the mind aimlessly, like a song from an oblivious, infinite playlist in shuffle mode.

I really don’t truly believe in the randomness of the shuffle mode. I think there’s a definite pattern there, somewhere. Probably again, known to the higher mind, the great strategist or the omnipresent. I can sometimes guess the complicated flowchart of the pattern, but don’t know a way of validating my doubts. Do the psychology experts know?

Life emanating of me

Images springing and dancing and jumping off a cliff

A face leaving the trail of its thought behind

Lazy working days full of restless ideas

Commute amidst many, through several modes.

a drive, a tube, an escalator, a tunnel,

a rickshaw, a meter, a subway, a walk,

a bus, a conductor, a stop, some stairs..

a journey, an exchange, some time,

just a wee bit of life.

Search

11th August '11

A spinning top
Goes round and round
It's physics
It's what spinning is
It's what a top does

It spins and skirts the edges
Crossing the centre in motion
But never stopping

Spinning around the edges
Looking for the speck, the spot
Restlessly it spins, and spins
And the some more

All the time, missing the point.
Missing to dwell on the core.

I donno who lives inside me anymore?

21st July '11

Someone speaks from inside me....
The words I've spoken echo in my ears..
And I wonder who said them?

Not one, not two, but many of them pull the strings, tug at them...
And not one of them is me.
If you can hear a faint sigh, a murmur of approval, a vehement no or a silent tear roll down, that could be me.

Sink

21st July, 2011

Black vipers stuck in the throat
Try to swallow the senses

The senses are drowning
The saliva's a whirling storm

Fingers knead their way to save
They're gunned down by barrels

There's blood in the bloody storm!

Ravens and rodents rot the ship
It's a stinking pothole now,
That what was once a dream.