I boarded a ship and it was tied to the port.
For 2 years it dint move.
I looked at the doves from far off.
and all the while she saw me and smiled.
played with her hair, and her eyes- dyed.
Autumn greeted with sly smile
winter was harsh and riled.
few counted their memories
few mouthed their ghostly nights.
and all the while she saw me and smiled
played with her hair and her eyes- dyed.
Changing colors, my friend and I see
dancing lights under a prism display.
I wanted to cross the river of guilt.
he wanted to enjoy the show wallowing in bay.
and all the while she saw me and smiled
played with her hair and her eyes- dyed.
Then one day, as I walked off the boat
into the glimmering lights of shore.
She walked beside, close to my face
time stopped for the angel draped in lace.
and all the while she saw me and smiled
played with her hair but her eyes died.
My commiserations
but beauty fades!
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Radiohead plays cold and etc.
Sigh! Lovely things buried inside.
his voice, it is mixing with music.
guitar lures me too deep.
Closed eyes smile, weep.
Voice is gold plated
replete with sense
tied to the pain
glaring vague lens.
The music flows,
then spin, spin around him.
tying knots to his hand.
water rising up the knee.
he breathes his songs in
his stainless steel lungs, they burn.
he laughs- "who cares what to win".
his stainless steel lungs - dry, done.
And the film rolls
credits in bold.
A head with a radio
as music play cold.
But I am listening still.
Poet's Note : Currently listening to Radiohead music... B-E-A-UTIFUL!
his voice, it is mixing with music.
guitar lures me too deep.
Closed eyes smile, weep.
Voice is gold plated
replete with sense
tied to the pain
glaring vague lens.
The music flows,
then spin, spin around him.
tying knots to his hand.
water rising up the knee.
he breathes his songs in
his stainless steel lungs, they burn.
he laughs- "who cares what to win".
his stainless steel lungs - dry, done.
And the film rolls
credits in bold.
A head with a radio
as music play cold.
But I am listening still.
Poet's Note : Currently listening to Radiohead music... B-E-A-UTIFUL!
Monday, August 8, 2011
My footprints over a velvet underground.
what I have now?
Let's see -
few words that don't match
the thoughts in my mind
and thoughts, whose meaning
I am unable to find
A voice shouting Sunday morning,
and the roof, which I haven't seen
for so long.
A velvet undergound,
where I am gagged and bound.
Oh he says again, "It's a restless feeling,
oh, it is wasted years, that you are dealing"
and I say (rather should say)
"wait, you idiot, let there be day.
You will hide then,
your brother will creep out of shadow.
because you are young and callow."
And because it is late.
because it is too late.
Sleep off now.
You fool!
Poet's Note: "Sunday Morning" by Velvet underground...Exquisite.
Late night scribbling...as always .. Rooobish.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Purloined thoughts
Keep quiet
open the windows
duck below
there is a lesson
there is a lesson
to be learnt.
He is a shadow
he can never be alone.
but is dark.
He's a broken star
He's a blinded star
mend him please.
She is a lore
Her children are bore
They go to slumber
as she remembers
herself
herslef
listen to her please.
She is so fine
marble skin washed in wine.
He drools at someone else
She waits alone, never tells
her heart is broken
her heart is broken
kiss her please.
I am in here
with blank stares
closed corners
confining borders
take me out in open
bring me out in open
leave me there please.
open the windows
duck below
there is a lesson
there is a lesson
to be learnt.
He is a shadow
he can never be alone.
but is dark.
He's a broken star
He's a blinded star
mend him please.
She is a lore
Her children are bore
They go to slumber
as she remembers
herself
herslef
listen to her please.
She is so fine
marble skin washed in wine.
He drools at someone else
She waits alone, never tells
her heart is broken
her heart is broken
kiss her please.
I am in here
with blank stares
closed corners
confining borders
take me out in open
bring me out in open
leave me there please.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Oblique...for it is too late (or too early)
As I grow old
I become less mystic to myself.
My shine is lost.
I am getting engulfed in whirlpool
spitted out of dream.
And I can see you
swirling in,
laughing
or smiling.
It is too fast, hard to tell difference.
But do I know you?
I am not irritated.
For I don't want more than much.
I am singing a song maybe
but hell, the same song, a lot of people have sung.
But what if I hum a different tune.
what if it is the one which only I hum.
or beat the drum like ...dum da dum dum.
whats the difference, if I am one of thousands or alone.
whether I stand in the front or the last one in the queue.
Among many or enchanting few.
Is it a start or the dying end.
Tell tell me dear friend.
For look at this huge land
I need to cover this.
But only till the sun shine.
And I slept when it was dark.
I dint see the sun rise.
and now the sun is red.
tell, have I slept too much
or too less?
Tell me have the battle begun?
For I can see only a red sun.
For all I can see is a red sun.
May be it's time. I am done.
May be it's time. should I run?
Maybe it's time.
maybe.....
I become less mystic to myself.
My shine is lost.
I am getting engulfed in whirlpool
spitted out of dream.
And I can see you
swirling in,
laughing
or smiling.
It is too fast, hard to tell difference.
But do I know you?
I am not irritated.
For I don't want more than much.
I am singing a song maybe
but hell, the same song, a lot of people have sung.
But what if I hum a different tune.
what if it is the one which only I hum.
or beat the drum like ...dum da dum dum.
whats the difference, if I am one of thousands or alone.
whether I stand in the front or the last one in the queue.
Among many or enchanting few.
Is it a start or the dying end.
Tell tell me dear friend.
For look at this huge land
I need to cover this.
But only till the sun shine.
And I slept when it was dark.
I dint see the sun rise.
and now the sun is red.
tell, have I slept too much
or too less?
Tell me have the battle begun?
For I can see only a red sun.
For all I can see is a red sun.
May be it's time. I am done.
May be it's time. should I run?
Maybe it's time.
maybe.....
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Longings and Belongings....
It’s been time.
Leaves have fallen by
as autumn strikes.
Dry winds and dry sky;
Dry skin and dry eyes;
left behind.
I see through the clocks,
And they turn and turn.
But I have been tied
unable to run.
As I remember you,
and your pearl smile.
your crayoned lips,
your penciled eyes.
and those pebbles thrown over the lake,
the counts of the bounces they did take.
And I think of
your creamy fingertips,
your enchanting whims.
your swing,
over the tyre tied to tree,
those closing eyes,
as oscillations increase.
And I hope still you stop
and turn around,
to a hunch of my
footsteps’ sound.
And I hope,
Still you dance
those steps I taught.
Yeah, I hope,
still you dance
to the tunes of yore.
So, if I left my crystal heart
under your fluffy stole;
and you don’t notice and I don’t recall
then sorry, now I can’t stop
let it fall.
Let it break,
It’s fine.
Belongings undone.
It’s been time.
Longings-
Still have me trapped.
To you, I am still wrapped.
With time I have found the knot,
holding it but still lost in thought.
I know with single pull,
I will unwrap, unhook.
Still my heart waits,
with that last, lamenting look.
Leaves have fallen by
as autumn strikes.
Dry winds and dry sky;
Dry skin and dry eyes;
left behind.
I see through the clocks,
And they turn and turn.
But I have been tied
unable to run.
As I remember you,
and your pearl smile.
your crayoned lips,
your penciled eyes.
and those pebbles thrown over the lake,
the counts of the bounces they did take.
And I think of
your creamy fingertips,
your enchanting whims.
your swing,
over the tyre tied to tree,
those closing eyes,
as oscillations increase.
And I hope still you stop
and turn around,
to a hunch of my
footsteps’ sound.
And I hope,
Still you dance
those steps I taught.
Yeah, I hope,
still you dance
to the tunes of yore.
So, if I left my crystal heart
under your fluffy stole;
and you don’t notice and I don’t recall
then sorry, now I can’t stop
let it fall.
Let it break,
It’s fine.
Belongings undone.
It’s been time.
Longings-
Still have me trapped.
To you, I am still wrapped.
With time I have found the knot,
holding it but still lost in thought.
I know with single pull,
I will unwrap, unhook.
Still my heart waits,
with that last, lamenting look.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Rabbit Burrow
A man of polystyrene,
a decorative accessory,
fated, snoozing alarm
is he but not me.
Smiling twisted scotch tape
with a suspended animated gape
a gut feeling dropped, drained
is he but not me.
And he can never grow out of my name,
my job, my wallet, my nod, my state.
What a shame! What a shame!
He darts agony at them,
sips quiet wasteful tears,
sounds as last note of a requiem,
waving ship, he steers, he steers.
And he laughs!
handshakes, jokes, tricks
Alas! he laughs.
He jerks in a fit,
breath of angst.
No humour. No wit.
Still he laughs.
Still they laugh.
Alas!!
lets scratch the walls
of my brains now
as he is asleep under the lullaby of world
shove the earth. damn! plough, plough.
I had buried myself down there few years back.
I have come back for myself now.
Scratch! Scratch! Scratch! Scratch!
The above piece is all about discovering the real self which we have left behind in pursuing something that we think we need to have. This is about the people who realize that they have become a "He" and lost an "I" buried down under a burrow.
a decorative accessory,
fated, snoozing alarm
is he but not me.
Smiling twisted scotch tape
with a suspended animated gape
a gut feeling dropped, drained
is he but not me.
And he can never grow out of my name,
my job, my wallet, my nod, my state.
What a shame! What a shame!
He darts agony at them,
sips quiet wasteful tears,
sounds as last note of a requiem,
waving ship, he steers, he steers.
And he laughs!
handshakes, jokes, tricks
Alas! he laughs.
He jerks in a fit,
breath of angst.
No humour. No wit.
Still he laughs.
Still they laugh.
Alas!!
lets scratch the walls
of my brains now
as he is asleep under the lullaby of world
shove the earth. damn! plough, plough.
I had buried myself down there few years back.
I have come back for myself now.
Scratch! Scratch! Scratch! Scratch!
The above piece is all about discovering the real self which we have left behind in pursuing something that we think we need to have. This is about the people who realize that they have become a "He" and lost an "I" buried down under a burrow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)