is that air you breathing girl?
that purple light in morning skies?
seems you aren't who you were thinking,
tomorrow's here, time flies
have you thought where you are?
run, girl... run
creation's going crazy on you,
yet you slipping so calmly on,
looks like you going to remember,
the way a self is born
keep those eyes open now,
and run girl... run
you find a hand in yours, you smile,
too blurred to see faces yet,
look back, look forth, there's only light,
but you're free, unbound, you've lost the net
hold on tight, we're speeding now,
just run girl.... run
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Saturday, June 07, 2008
rose red
inside her house of daffodils,
she let her days go by,
they plucked out all the flowers one day,
and told her not to cry.
she searched the meadows for scented bloom,
but returned, an empty heart,
it rained on her that night so long,
the stars had played their part.
but tasting hope and tear and rain,
a rose burst out from dust,
it reached out for the golden skies,
another day came like it must.
she saw the rose's deepening hue,
and wondered why it blushed,
she gathered it in her empty arms,
back to the day she rushed.
when night fell dark, she held the rose,
withering, yet fragrant still,
and wondered why it smelled so sweet,
though it wasn't a daffodil.
she let her days go by,
they plucked out all the flowers one day,
and told her not to cry.
she searched the meadows for scented bloom,
but returned, an empty heart,
it rained on her that night so long,
the stars had played their part.
but tasting hope and tear and rain,
a rose burst out from dust,
it reached out for the golden skies,
another day came like it must.
she saw the rose's deepening hue,
and wondered why it blushed,
she gathered it in her empty arms,
back to the day she rushed.
when night fell dark, she held the rose,
withering, yet fragrant still,
and wondered why it smelled so sweet,
though it wasn't a daffodil.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
have you ever touched life....
there comes a time in life, when your childish fantasies start to look ridiculously colorful, and a giant black hole in your heart sucks them all inside. and the yellows and reds all fade to black and white.
you walk into the "real world".
that's where i found myself the other day. at first it appeared like i was rudely pushed into it. and then, like it weighs down everyone else, it anchored me to its gray infertile ground. and there i remained. afraid to be too happy, holding my lips down with a frown when i smiled, guarding my step if i spring too much, watching my lips if they hum that delicious song....
if it reads like another dreamer martyred then it probably isnt. martyrdom is too important a word to be used for an event this commonplace. today, i choose to glorify the other kind of people, who aren't martyrs, who don't suffer and sacrifice, they "live", in such an absolute way that the air around them breathes life into others.
they aren't weighed down by real world. they aren't even aware of it. they walk around, free spirits, because they can see the color that we dont. they don't look down to see if they're leavin their footprints or their mark. they look ahead because the world is theirs, and they are free to walk. they drink from fountains that spring up just for them, not because they are born lucky, but because they dream in the real world, their eyes paint color in the gray skies.
they laugh, untempered by doubts. loud and pure. their laughter is music, tugging at our heart, tickling the "ourselves" that we've allowed to vanish into the black holes in our hearts. they smile, a smile that starts in their eyes, and is mirrored on our lips, and in our hearts that ache dully at the memory of beauty. they have miseries, but they are hope themselves. they make you understand, that beauty is a feeling inside you, and beauty is all you feel when you look at them live.
sometimes they stop to shake hands with you. your eyes can then paint colour into the skies, not because they taught you how, but because their touch is what god meant life to be. in their eyes they carry the whole world that you have locked up inside your heart, the color, the music, the laughter. how many worlds they are inside themselves, you may never understand, but when they speak, they sound like they are completing your unfinished symphonies, singing your unsung songs and adressing your forgotten dreams.
but they don't know your eyes and your heart. they are only being romanced by their own lives.
you want to look into their eyes some more, you want to hold their hands and hear them, to feel the beauty inside you, to see your dreams again, to experience pure love.
but they move on, because they are the unbound free. they take nothing from you, but they leave their eyes on you, and all those worlds in their eyes to call yours, they leave the color in your skies, and the smile on your lips, they leave your heart in the hands of yourself...
the real world becomes a pallete to color, and you know, for always, inside your heart, that you have known the resonance of true beauty, love and hope........
you walk into the "real world".
that's where i found myself the other day. at first it appeared like i was rudely pushed into it. and then, like it weighs down everyone else, it anchored me to its gray infertile ground. and there i remained. afraid to be too happy, holding my lips down with a frown when i smiled, guarding my step if i spring too much, watching my lips if they hum that delicious song....
if it reads like another dreamer martyred then it probably isnt. martyrdom is too important a word to be used for an event this commonplace. today, i choose to glorify the other kind of people, who aren't martyrs, who don't suffer and sacrifice, they "live", in such an absolute way that the air around them breathes life into others.
they aren't weighed down by real world. they aren't even aware of it. they walk around, free spirits, because they can see the color that we dont. they don't look down to see if they're leavin their footprints or their mark. they look ahead because the world is theirs, and they are free to walk. they drink from fountains that spring up just for them, not because they are born lucky, but because they dream in the real world, their eyes paint color in the gray skies.
they laugh, untempered by doubts. loud and pure. their laughter is music, tugging at our heart, tickling the "ourselves" that we've allowed to vanish into the black holes in our hearts. they smile, a smile that starts in their eyes, and is mirrored on our lips, and in our hearts that ache dully at the memory of beauty. they have miseries, but they are hope themselves. they make you understand, that beauty is a feeling inside you, and beauty is all you feel when you look at them live.
sometimes they stop to shake hands with you. your eyes can then paint colour into the skies, not because they taught you how, but because their touch is what god meant life to be. in their eyes they carry the whole world that you have locked up inside your heart, the color, the music, the laughter. how many worlds they are inside themselves, you may never understand, but when they speak, they sound like they are completing your unfinished symphonies, singing your unsung songs and adressing your forgotten dreams.
but they don't know your eyes and your heart. they are only being romanced by their own lives.
you want to look into their eyes some more, you want to hold their hands and hear them, to feel the beauty inside you, to see your dreams again, to experience pure love.
but they move on, because they are the unbound free. they take nothing from you, but they leave their eyes on you, and all those worlds in their eyes to call yours, they leave the color in your skies, and the smile on your lips, they leave your heart in the hands of yourself...
the real world becomes a pallete to color, and you know, for always, inside your heart, that you have known the resonance of true beauty, love and hope........
Friday, February 01, 2008
conventionally yours.....
what's the population of planet earth? in billions?
and we all agree that we are each different from the other. so a few billion different minds... opinions, desires and directions.... now, define "conventional".
and we all agree that we are each different from the other. so a few billion different minds... opinions, desires and directions.... now, define "conventional".
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
me against myself...
THE NIGHT, LIKE ME, WITH BATED BREATH,
DREW BLACK, OR DID I SHUT MY EYES,
AND WITH THAT THOUGHT DID I EXHALE,
THAT THOUGHT, THATS BORN WHEN CAUTION DIES.
WHY I INDULGE THAT THOUGHT TONIGHT,
A QUERY I'D ANSWERED YESTER YEAR,
LEST I RECALL IT I OPEN MY EYES,
LEST I CAN TOUCH, LEST I DON'T FEAR.
THEN COME THOSE WORDS I CAN'T FORGET,
THOSE EYES THAT SPOKE, THOSE SONGS THAT MEANT,
THOSE HANDS THAT ALMOST NEVER TOUCHED,
THOUGH HEARTS HAD BLED, AND LETTERS SENT.
THOSE PLANS WE MADE AND MASTERED THEN,
THE ROADS WE CROSSED, THE SUN WE BURNED,
WHEN MOONSHINE PROMISED TOMORROWS TO COME,
THOSE FOREVER DAYS, THOSE FATES THEY TURNED.
YET ISN'T IT TRUE AFTER ALL,
THE PROMISES THE WORDS, THE FOREVERS WE SWORE?
THE HEARTS THE SUNS THE MOONS THE SONGS,
AREN'T THEY JUST AS THEY WERE BEFORE?
WE'VE LIVED A LIFE AND LEARNED THE ART,
OF DENYING OUR HEARTS IN MOCK AND JEST,
BUT NIGHTS LIKE THESE, THEY UNDO IT ALL,
ITS IN NIGHTS LIKE THESE, I CANNOT REST.....
DREW BLACK, OR DID I SHUT MY EYES,
AND WITH THAT THOUGHT DID I EXHALE,
THAT THOUGHT, THATS BORN WHEN CAUTION DIES.
WHY I INDULGE THAT THOUGHT TONIGHT,
A QUERY I'D ANSWERED YESTER YEAR,
LEST I RECALL IT I OPEN MY EYES,
LEST I CAN TOUCH, LEST I DON'T FEAR.
THEN COME THOSE WORDS I CAN'T FORGET,
THOSE EYES THAT SPOKE, THOSE SONGS THAT MEANT,
THOSE HANDS THAT ALMOST NEVER TOUCHED,
THOUGH HEARTS HAD BLED, AND LETTERS SENT.
THOSE PLANS WE MADE AND MASTERED THEN,
THE ROADS WE CROSSED, THE SUN WE BURNED,
WHEN MOONSHINE PROMISED TOMORROWS TO COME,
THOSE FOREVER DAYS, THOSE FATES THEY TURNED.
YET ISN'T IT TRUE AFTER ALL,
THE PROMISES THE WORDS, THE FOREVERS WE SWORE?
THE HEARTS THE SUNS THE MOONS THE SONGS,
AREN'T THEY JUST AS THEY WERE BEFORE?
WE'VE LIVED A LIFE AND LEARNED THE ART,
OF DENYING OUR HEARTS IN MOCK AND JEST,
BUT NIGHTS LIKE THESE, THEY UNDO IT ALL,
ITS IN NIGHTS LIKE THESE, I CANNOT REST.....
Monday, January 14, 2008
forgotten dream...
the other day, while fencing my heart,
i chanced upon an impossible dream,
it rose, in beauty, on feet of hope
and embraced a teardrop out of me...
with hurried steps i rushed away,
to find my mask, my book of sense.
to invalidate my yesterday.
then turned to build my trusted fence.
there it lies unto this day,
un-nurtured, neglected, growing still,
i hoped it gone, wished it away,
but there it stays against my will.
i leave it at the gallows, pronounce it dead,
but come event of tender mind,
i look back and find it there.
only a few steps behind...
beguilingly tangible... agonizingly beautiful...
mercilessly invisible to all but me.
i chanced upon an impossible dream,
it rose, in beauty, on feet of hope
and embraced a teardrop out of me...
with hurried steps i rushed away,
to find my mask, my book of sense.
to invalidate my yesterday.
then turned to build my trusted fence.
there it lies unto this day,
un-nurtured, neglected, growing still,
i hoped it gone, wished it away,
but there it stays against my will.
i leave it at the gallows, pronounce it dead,
but come event of tender mind,
i look back and find it there.
only a few steps behind...
beguilingly tangible... agonizingly beautiful...
mercilessly invisible to all but me.
half past today
17th Aug, 2007 @ 07:20
there's not much to do when the night is falling, all my "work" is done, dinner has been eaten, bed clothes changed into, prayers have been said... then comes the scary part...thinking...about what happened today, what it meant, what it changed, where it matters.... wrongs and rights... sleeping on it is even more strange... i get up in someone else's shoes, looking at myself like i exist in someone else's body.... i am a first second and third person veiw in one mind... :) when i'm 80 i might know if its good or bad....
18th Aug, 2007 @ 07:15
something people asking me often lately...it starts like "how are u?" proceeding to "how's work going?" then the apparently benign "what're you planning to do next?" what next? what kind of question is that anyway? It should be constitutionally illegal to ask this to anyone… how is one supposed to answer something like that? don't we know that we don’t know what we know tomorrow? did u have to read the previous sentence twice?repeat in head...I do that all the time... the "what next" question just doesn’t seem relevant... it doesn’t seem to register with its meaning in my mind.... i repeat it to myself again...I don’t have an answer... it feels so wrong... to people I talk to even... I don’t have an answer to give them...I go "hmm... huh... u no...There is always... mmm.. glug!" then I cough... :) and I compliment them on something they have on... :) (Gloating on excellence in distracting people)okay. coming back, I think I need to have a desire, an aim... I mean, I have some, but its completely estranged from passion... I have a lead though..
it cant be forced
it cant be borrowed
it cant be looked for…
it comes…
ambition and aim will recognize me one day…. They will…
later
19th Aug, 2007 @ 23:16
independance???
we say its independance day and sing patriotic songs for a day, everyone has something good to say about the country, and we have a holiday, special shows on tv, special supplements in the newspaper, all talkin of our country as an emerging goddess....then its another day, nobody is patriotic anymore, newspapers carry the same old stories of oppression, murder, injustice, stealth and extortion (among page three and sport where lifes a ball game)and i wonder, where is the independance they spoke of so passionately the day before?
we have become a sovereign... swaraj...so we have become slightly financially indigenous, but all the rest, we have taken the power of suppression and discrimination from another nation and put it into our own hands... so this is it.... indians being unjust with indians, indians discriminating among their own people, indians killing indians in the name of things that dont make sense...yes, we are independant of another nation's rule... we can be brutal with our own kind now..... who'l deliver us from ourselves? :(
22nd Aug, 2007 @ 02:51
i see myself inside your eyes,
a word i couldn't start to share,
when a tear falls, i realise,
a hug would be too hard to bear
a hundred thoughts, a second's worth,
"someday" is "hope" in other word,
breaths apart or a thousand miles,
along the flight of a thousand birds....
.....together again, then drawn apart
a thread, a dream, a lonely sigh
i hold your hand, it breaks me now,
to sing this heart a lullaby....
there's not much to do when the night is falling, all my "work" is done, dinner has been eaten, bed clothes changed into, prayers have been said... then comes the scary part...thinking...about what happened today, what it meant, what it changed, where it matters.... wrongs and rights... sleeping on it is even more strange... i get up in someone else's shoes, looking at myself like i exist in someone else's body.... i am a first second and third person veiw in one mind... :) when i'm 80 i might know if its good or bad....
18th Aug, 2007 @ 07:15
something people asking me often lately...it starts like "how are u?" proceeding to "how's work going?" then the apparently benign "what're you planning to do next?" what next? what kind of question is that anyway? It should be constitutionally illegal to ask this to anyone… how is one supposed to answer something like that? don't we know that we don’t know what we know tomorrow? did u have to read the previous sentence twice?repeat in head...I do that all the time... the "what next" question just doesn’t seem relevant... it doesn’t seem to register with its meaning in my mind.... i repeat it to myself again...I don’t have an answer... it feels so wrong... to people I talk to even... I don’t have an answer to give them...I go "hmm... huh... u no...There is always... mmm.. glug!" then I cough... :) and I compliment them on something they have on... :) (Gloating on excellence in distracting people)okay. coming back, I think I need to have a desire, an aim... I mean, I have some, but its completely estranged from passion... I have a lead though..
it cant be forced
it cant be borrowed
it cant be looked for…
it comes…
ambition and aim will recognize me one day…. They will…
later
19th Aug, 2007 @ 23:16
independance???
we say its independance day and sing patriotic songs for a day, everyone has something good to say about the country, and we have a holiday, special shows on tv, special supplements in the newspaper, all talkin of our country as an emerging goddess....then its another day, nobody is patriotic anymore, newspapers carry the same old stories of oppression, murder, injustice, stealth and extortion (among page three and sport where lifes a ball game)and i wonder, where is the independance they spoke of so passionately the day before?
we have become a sovereign... swaraj...so we have become slightly financially indigenous, but all the rest, we have taken the power of suppression and discrimination from another nation and put it into our own hands... so this is it.... indians being unjust with indians, indians discriminating among their own people, indians killing indians in the name of things that dont make sense...yes, we are independant of another nation's rule... we can be brutal with our own kind now..... who'l deliver us from ourselves? :(
22nd Aug, 2007 @ 02:51
i see myself inside your eyes,
a word i couldn't start to share,
when a tear falls, i realise,
a hug would be too hard to bear
a hundred thoughts, a second's worth,
"someday" is "hope" in other word,
breaths apart or a thousand miles,
along the flight of a thousand birds....
.....together again, then drawn apart
a thread, a dream, a lonely sigh
i hold your hand, it breaks me now,
to sing this heart a lullaby....
Thursday, January 03, 2008
in memory....
there's place for one truth in my heart...
either that he was here, or that he's gone...
either that he was here, or that he's gone...
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