Musing-I

Can a love make you so sad
that you end up choking it?
Grabbing it with cold, big hands and then
 twist with your mind closed?


No, no.
The mind does it.
Clinically dissecting the corpse with
the scalpel of reason.
Carving out slitting shapes in the warm skin
blood pours forth in gushes.


stem the flow with pure pity.
The tears will fall
and in a salty sea drown out the numbing pain.

Tell yourself you'd never regret
the words of a million centuries that lay unspoken.


If things were done with honesty,
a lot of things would make sense.

If truth coloured the world, it would a monochrome.
The half truths paint it gray
and the lies, a brilliant rainbow.

The cries will turn to hisses in the darkness.
The void swallows it all down.

               
Running on a drug called pain,
running with the fear of being caught
and the fire to never lose.
It burns out the person inside.
Makes the chains stronger.

However further we go, the chains drag us back.

Don't hurt yourself, she whispered.
Don't stab yourself over the shame.
There's no shame if you don't think you are wrong.
There's no shame in the pain of truth.

Clear and clean. Water cleanses it all down and melts them all into dirt.
Out at sea even a shudder can be an earthquake.

Not alone, Don't fret.
Why not?
We die alone.
What's the point then?
Love in a life that's at a moment's notice.

Really is it all that worth?
Stop judging what you don't know.

Getting to a place that's comfortable.
That's existing.
We're so caught up in that.

No time no time! Throw it all in the flurry of a passing passion.
It's all a game and everyone's losing!
Not a moment's grace and everything leaves as it comes.
Nothing lasts. Nothing should.
Nothing stays. Some things should.
But they never do.
Time, Tide, Love wait for no one.
Everything has it's limits.

And everything shouldn't.

The limit is the sky but the limit binds us down in thought.
Not perspective. It changes into a silent nothingness as you ascend.
Don't fear the mirror. It only shows what is solid.

If everything was solid, feeble shoulders would crack under mountainous burdens.

In some parallel world it probably is all possible.
To concepts and dreams like holding up a placard.
There'll be a formula for love
and music would lose it's meaning.
It would all be a theorem and everyone would be happy from
their Birth unto Death.

If everything was solid.

We'd give each other blocks or triangles to show our feelings.
I wonder where they'd come from.

Would we collar our feelings around with a lock at our throats holding us to people and things?


Would we ever hand over the keys to someone who has their own lock?


We would ultimately for our own pervertedly justified reasons.

and we'd give it a name and seal it down with hot wax.

Memories that are vague and watch them float out the car window as the air ruffles our hair.
We are ourselves only in our mind's eye because to us we're solid.

We're just a perspective.
A point of view.
We're just a concept.
Can you fall in love with a concept?

A long breath.

I havn't updated the blog in months!! ｡･ﾟﾟ･(>д<)･ﾟﾟ･｡
There were all these things happening
and then nothing happened.
And the then Poet's block.


What does one do in such a position?


I went into something I call "Experiencing mode."
I gather experience in this time. It an be any duration- from a few weeks to months. After I gather all the experience and I feel I'm ready to create something beautiful, I ply myself over my piece of art. It is needless to say that a mindset to create something, and not evaluate it before it's put down is what I was trying to reach for here. I'm predisposed to think and then express- mincing, sharpening, painting words to come out beautiful. For that to happen, sharpening of tools, traveling and an open mind are vital.
Recently I have seen that just words are not enough to convey the things that I experience, the feelings that drive me to express. Just words can never be enough, but nor can just pictures.  Nor can music alone do justice.
Only if we combine the mediums, there might be some chance, to do the inspiration justice.

Lately, I've been pressing forward at my skill for vocal presentation and I feel certain that there is strength in it. Writing my own songs is a bit different but singing with emotions is something that I'm perfecting.

As for writing, I find it more and more complex to go for simpler themes. It's a challenge. Then again, I should perhaps tackle my writing style from the perspective of typography. Typography has always interested me not just for the "coolness" or the external beauty that is provides to writing but it is, in itself such a grand metaphor that choosing the correct typeface can, pretty much make or break a piece.

Typographical art requires a lot more understanding of the bigger picture than poetry can in itself provide because it requires a clear and minute understanding of two mediums. What a simple comma may express in a poem is quite different when it is written using old style calligraphy.
Much to my astonishment, my affinity to ink-pens has not reduced since I started writing with ballpens because Kanji just flows better using those fine tips.Nevertheless, I would still prefer a fountain pen to any fancy looking, well advertized ball pen. Sincerely, poetry is to be written in fountain pen.

With singing, I realized what all the drama related to good singing was. Just like with my poetry, I discovered that the lines that I sang that came out "right" were all the ones that had the words tossed in with the perfect amount of feeling.

So, with this new post I will do what it takes to create something beautiful each week. The medium is not the barrier or the measure.

THE CORRS COVER!!

I love making song covers!!! ^_________^ This song is so close to my heart!
This is my cover version of The Corr's song Runaway. Enjoy! Listen and review!

Junsu

I looked his way once.
It was like he was pulling me over
in a deepening sense of captivity;

Like a dream,
I never realized when I got here.

I couldn't just take my eyes away yet.

A smile that twisted into a smirk.
Knowing all too well what I feel.

It can't be true, can it?
So far away it is between me and you
and it burns so bright;
I am molten.

It's not even a language I understand.
I could hardly care.


It makes me wonder if it's really wrong to fall in love
with perfection.

Even though it is subjective.

It may be an illusion.
Is that what makes them so powerful?

Drowning, breath locked in my chest;
sensations rise to the consciousness
in the heart of the storm.
hardly a reaction,
something that comes from so afar.

Lust, if not love, has more than one language.
Simple enough to deliver to a starving audience.

so hard to think it's like a show that is not happening each time I replay.


Charged with an emotion so strong,
a chiselled personality in a moulded structure
a sloppy smile could rob a breath.
A sincere one could make it all the more complicated.

Who do you think of when you sing those painful deep word?                

Can it be hard to feel something you don't quite understand from a distance?
Even though it's what's sold to you,
you take in all you can.

It's not enough.
It never is.

Every moment is
this deepening sea of thought,
waves of happiness,
realization,
truth
and hope.

Who cares about this distance?
and the fact that there is no real contact.
But it is so close.

goes in with the air I breathe.

yet so far away. It can't be real.

The light and real humor that turns notes into a
cluster of stars by a large body of water.
they spread out into the water, glitter and rippling all through it.

Emotion too real,
I know when they say 'someone is a good singer'.

You can feel the emotions to your tippy toes.
And be drowned in it head first without a regret
each time.

A want to be completed without compromising;
and be just a little bit brighter at the moment,
but feel a fierce warmth that grips the heart.
Silently I will sing the meaning with tears in my eyes.

Innocence only sells in the world of adults;
the glint of a dark eye makes it all the more mature.


Painting so much of your emotion
onto colourless melodies
floating away in an unfathomable dream.
moving to a beat that hipnotizes even the stray eye;
doing what comes naturally.
It has to be natural to be this.....perfect.


(A poem written as a fan-poem for the Korean performer Xiah Junsu.)

The shape of your curved back
against the backdrop of the mirth-ridden horizon-
dripping with the sparkling dew-drops from a
breath of wind.

fingers in the metal handa,
droplets dripping off
spherical forms
on a near liquid body.

Carafe contours clothed in exquisite strands
of pristine twill
near-breathless tight lace
around a curvacious bustier.


Twirling around in lacy négligée,
it gives a touch of glamour to 
a simple sweep of the limbs.  


So passively
to watch a distant supermoon
Slip into vision
makes you crave a brilliant sun
that will never faze.

A Place for Love

Sometimes I wish I'd given you
the wrong number;
Sometimes you are too close to
move away.

I can hardly breath
or think straight.

A pigeon flying upside down
on a moonlit night
and walking into the water
is so easy.

"Deeper still.."
she says and pulls me
on an invisible thread tied to my heart.

I close my eyes and move backwards.
The sands pull at the cracks in my
feet and
I move backwards.

The sun flares up
into a brilliant flame,
reminding me that it's
so faraway.

Blinking away a dream
so deep
I am so empty
and shadows,
moments
and hopes are raised.

Whispering in my ear a million secrets,
The silent night steals past.


I can hardly breath
as you walk past,
a smile on your face
and I can wish
for a shade of summer
in my open hands.

A little golden flower,
melts to honey
I drink in the name of a season lost;
a Festival of life is behind us


When the moons flip,
the hour changes the year,
on a distant shore,
I know
in your heart,
there will be place
for love to grow.

A poem for today

Some things that are cold
remain so forever.
Some things flicker;
some things fleet.


I whispered into the night;
a flake of sweetened ice
brushed past;
I can count that on my finger-tips,
as I cross them with my thoughts.
Running it through my hair,
strands are the link:

Dragging?
I think leading.

Unmei. (fate/destiny)

Seems like a lie to the
face of truth.

In the face of things,
nothing ever really changes.

But we do.
We all do.


Like the creaking of the door,
that half-step.
The hesitating breath;
that one moment
as you hold back again.



All turn to ice.
Lodging themselves inside.
They turn everyone around them cold.
Like glass that has been in too far:
sigh?
The moonlight shines and makes
it sparkle bright.

That was the thought.
That was the feeling
and nothing,
could change.

A step away.
A call across the sea
and the breath that is held
for a life-time.

What ties us together?

Taffy.
sweet yet dangerous.
would you believe it?

Bare branches that
make me shiver.
steam rising up
and vanishing
in the river sparkle.

Distractions.
Distractions that we look for.
Things that become distractions
and a place to be.


A place where
you're protected.
A place where you are
always safe.
A place you can run away to.

Even if you don't know,
even if you don't expect it.
Even if you haven't cared much;
but the shards.

A fountain of thought.
A spring of delight.
A river of life.

Continuous;
momentarily.
Turn into one;
at the end.

Just when you are sure.
That things don't ever change.


Like a flower blooming.
In a sudden head rush of
sugar-high Spring.
Unfurling
it's large red petals.
Turning me yellow and red.

Burn the ice away.

Flipping my hair back.
Drops to the ground;
Rain.


Roar.
Burning bright;
sparkling;
Blackness fades away.
light and heat.

How could you be far?

Wrong letter.
Listening to the tune
so close.
Right here.

Right now.

I don't want to wander.
You hold me here.
Compass- it's two legs.
Even though you let me.

The light.
The bright shining sun
blindingly beautiful
on my morning skin.

Crinkling lines on a face.
So startling.
Years?
No.
Truth.

A red flame.
A yellow flame.
A pure flame.


I can see them all.
Merge into one.

Thank you.
I am what I am because you're here.
By my side.

Out of a rickshaw on a rainy day

A mangy dog dips his tongue
into a dark puddle
The trees above shake their shadows and
their leaves scatter upon the
asphalt, a splashing.

A man perches on a red mottled LPG cylinder,
a fluorescent yellow hard hat on his head,
Sipping a glass of Chai
as the Chaiwala stirs tea
he accepts the change.

A truck full of youths in white
with saffron tags
cheer for the coming of Ganesha
as they grab onto the rope harness
as the driver brakes.

Flowers arranged on
the florist's bench
peer out of their plastic covers
leering and sniggering
as kids struggle with their many bags and one raincoat.

I speak in a foreign tongue for an hour or two
yet as I walk back,
I can feel the distant light descend in
on the wet city but
traffic lights make up
new decorations.
The street looks like a snake
and that Diwali comes rolling in from all the
streets into an intersection of
prismatic charms and a hundred and one
patterned umbrellas.

An old poem

My hair tangles and forms an
unspoken link
between us.

Our hands intertwined,
much passes between us.
Cheek on cheek, we communicate
more than anyone allowed us.

Our parted lips connected,
for less than a minute
A memory formed forever in our hearts
too pure a feeling for the
animal, minimal form.

A clear glint of happiness in your irises
pale from the passing light.
Hold me up high,
a new melody teach me
I ache for this feeling,
to feel renewed.



(note: this poem was written 2 years ago, just didn't post it here.)

Burnt Butterfly

I love you so but I pretend.
It's easier to burn the butterfly
then let it soar to the dark grey sky.

A dark grey city leaves me tearless.

Upon the drops of rain,
I look through the windshield and wonder
if it could be let in?
The patter of feet on the long hallway
answered my heartbeats.


And and she said I had nothing to worry about.How could I not?
How could I look into your face and say
what I want?

Better to just burn the butterfly and
in its turbulent beauty let the
ashes out into the wind.
Sealed lips,
are lips bulging with unsaid thought.
I long to drink something
to swallow down the urge to fight myself and just speak out.

I would drink you down in a long,
breathless shot.
You would.....sip on the tea.

"Sorry," is the last words you said to me as you turned away.

Am I not losing myself a little more everyday?

I can try and try to shake it off,
but the sight of this wooden cross
you hacked out of my bones
is a stake thro the heart.

Like purging me of plain desire
None the less wiser
I will lie in another's arms.

With the drink in my nose,
a scented candle lit by the window.

Reflections in time- I

My breath is stuck in my chest.

A distant African drum beat my breath in,
Stuck,
frozen;
A piece of ice stuck in my hot throat
that's going dry.

When y0u feel the rug being pulled
from under your feet
in quakes of the solid ground,
you flail your arms
in hope to hold onto
something stationary.

A cry leaves your throat,
and you can't swallow
though you want to
and everything else dies down to a
hollow bump
till you can think of how to save yourself.

Anger from a loud person isn't surprising;
like silence from a quiet one
it's already lost its charm. An active volcano,
a steaming bowl of soup.
Anger from a quite person is something to be afraid of.
Over the hell fires rises a demon,
like Raganrok, Armagadon,
the dark of the night
has poached the sunlight.

In its captive nest, the light rots
to a beast with claws and stings.

I fear not the pain a slap might bring,
for it is a symbol of discipline.
But the same hand has the capacity to love
is the one that scares and causes wonder.

A child plays with a red balloon,
tossing it lightly above him
the air carrying it up and then letting it
descend into small grappling arms.
A grip too tight, Burst!
A grip too loose and it slips away.

The child knows no rules,
and it flings its innocence into
knowledge's way.
A bulldozer of authority and education
pulverized the spirit, if not
the happiness.

A web of lies can weave you a cloak that
glitters with gems of teary dew.
Each an Araneae , chewing and spitting
a bunch of thought.
Waiting upon a silly little fly to step into their intricate plans
and thus become
Food.

In the bleak twilight, It's inviting grace
asks you to parade into the dying light.

If all our sins were laid out for us alone to see
would we forgive ourselves?
Will the distant horizon
rise with a distant call of freedom?
Who can free us from our fate?

The somber bugle of the last moment,
the note linger like an after-taste.
Medicine. Cocaine.

Fate tied a red ribbon on your neck as she watched you sleep.
And as it comes undone,
the last little wisp of you life remains,
hanging onto a tendril of your hair,
as the world depends on this moment.

My Daughter

I'm sure I had a daughter in my past.

I can feel her presence, sometimes.
When I think of baby things, I know it's her things I think of.
When people talk about the joys of having a daughter- I know,
because I had you.

I can't help but think of your beautiful long hair,
each strand perfect,
and your cheeks soft and chubby.
Sleeping in my arms, you had candy dreams.

And I remember your first brave smile as you smiled up at me,
as you stepped into school alone.
I remember that sweet touch that handed me a share of candy.
I remember a sweet little girl, twirling around in her long, thick, golden embroidered skirt, trying to look grown up.

I was just mesmerized the way you put on your make-up as you got ready to go out with your friends.
You waved me goodbye as I watched you drive out.

And I remember the wet napkin as I wiped away your tears and your cold.

And tea.
I feel we have a bond like no other.

The way your eyes would plead me for an extra book, an extra hair-clip, an extra sticker sheet.

I remember your wedding day.
You were marring the man of your dreams,
I couldn't believe my daughter was going to be someone's wife.
And I was hoping for her own baby girl.
Those beautiful gold and diamond necklaces your wore,
the lace and embroidery on your bridal-ware...
It was fascinating.

Dear,
if I meet you in the street now,
I know I will recognize you.
Will you remember me?

A Daughter of Mother Earth

I was born a daughter of mother earth.
In a city, crowded by a million people;
I cried as I took my first breath of the stained and impure air in the hospital;
in the arms of my parents I lay sleeping.

As I clutched the dry, red mud and
tasted the dry red earth in my mouth,
far from the cleanest,
I wonder what I was thinking.
It tasted like Mud, they'd said.
Mud.
It tasted heavenly.

I drank my first drop of the rain.
It made me thirsty for a thousand years.

The city whined to me,
her fatigue I could feel.
Lodged in the corner of the heaving bus, I stole a moment of peace as a hundred, sweat-drenched bodies poked fun at the indolent sun.

My feet crunched dirt,
my red eyes watered as I prepared a meal
and the sky looked dry as the desert.
I was praying for a little rain.

I was 15 and a half when I left the place I'd known for the last 15 and a half years;
scared to the last fiber of my being;
happy thro every single one.

The mud across the 7 seas was particularly the same.
I tasted the rain again.
Like a toddler, I babbled.
I smiled and did my homework like a good girl.

I was born to mother earth.
She had me in her stomach as long as my mother did.
Even longer.

Longer

I'd talk the night away.

In your eyes,
I can see the universe
as it floats in your conscience.

To the time that we were together;
I long to hold you close
tonight.

In your deepest dreams,
I want to be the flower in your hair, the shining sun.
To the coldest evenings,
the fire.
Of marshmallows that melt into gooey goodness,
I burnt my tongue a few times
on the toasting fork;
But the sweet soothed the pain away.

You glance at my hands as they lay in my lap,
folded.
They are quite useless when you want to express the truest feelings.
A picture speaking a thousand words is worthless
if it cannot speak
your mind.
Lingering on the lengthy twilight,
its tail brushes past my cheek as it settles for the night.

The food in my plate is only to be served once,
eaten once;
The taste lingers
long after I swallow.

Like a faint dab of perfume through your sparkling strands of wet,
dark hair.

Closed eyes,
open senses.
I can see you still.

A song I know too well,
yet if I were to sing it;
I can't.

I won't either.

The parting words will be
remembered forever.
Say it carefully;
hold your breath
and let it go in our arms.

As you move away slightly,
I feel you going.

I said not a word of what
I'd written for you;
hoping you'd find that memoir
written in hiding,
left openly hidden in your hands.

You'd see a different me.
You'll see a different me now too.

I never said a word more, a word less.
I said enough to fill you with hope;
But now....
I'll talk the night away,
only to keep you here
a little longer.

We could have been.
Somethings in the night sky
changed.

I longed to stare at the moon
but, it made me cry.
There's no moon in the
light of Day.

Light, a dear friend,
a severe enemy.
Do you want me to hate you?
I ask out of exasperation.

I would, if I could.
I say, My love won't let me.
Let me disappear,
But I can't.
I can't let you go.

Piano can play a soothing tune.
As of night, I can hear melodies
bu like always,
I got too excited and
I couldn't see anything.


I jumped from rock
across glade.
Into space speckled with
stars a million
and I barely got back.

Felt like dancing.

The music died down
and me, lost in the flurry
of my arms and legs moving
involuntarily,
haulted me in no-space.

Blood rushed around
before I could take a breath
and stop.

You took me by the arms
and dunked me into
an ice-cold river.
I shivered. My happy spirit
sank.
To my deepest attempts
to get my breath back,
I rush to the edge.

And feel the sun lash
against the skin of my
face
harder than the cold water
had.

I can understand
when you say I can't
blame my self.

But how can I not?
Does it not prove
that I didn't deserve to be
happy?
that I didn't deserve
you?

I can't believe I could
never see,
what you said to me
was a jest;
It was true and you
ment not in a way that would
cause me hurt.

I got fooled alright.
I believed in something that
like a comet
sped away.

Leaving in its wake a
forked, burned, twisted
path of hearts.

I could cry and cry and
fill the empty sky;

I could howl louder than
a storm,
let it scare the violent
winds away.

Betrayed in it's true form
is made of 2 words
as is treacherous,
One says cutting up
you true wishes.*

急死
(sudden death)

My heart's stopped working.

驚くべきことではない.
(not surprising)

Honestly it's a wonder
I don't feel like doing
anything.

I can only soothe myself
by writing a
sweet little
elegy.

Then I pray,
that you may find a love that
puts you back together.
A love you can be comfortable wit
and a way that won't fool others the way
it did.

I pump up the music,
dope, tranquillizer and
anesthetic.

I'll sleep it off.

Like a hangover, it'll heal
with hot tea and some
fresh air.

I don't regret that I loved you.

I just hope you don't regret
not holding on.

I know you want to protect
me.
Somehow I can't see.
How can you be like all the others
who were comet like too?
I thought you were different
much like a spring-born butterfly
that fluttered over the drab
concrete jungle.

疲れた.
(I'm tired.)

Let's meet only when I can.

I can say yes to you.


I really can.
I am full
I am strong
and I can love.


But once I do,
I will never regret.
Or would I?

Hamlet-like
I am strung
between two words.

Your shadow lingers
in my thoughts.

Words, stripped to alphabet
are hanging on white string
in my room.
The ceiling holds them,
like little puppets
they twirl and
torment
and calm.

The world behind my wall.
Do you think there is one?

You say you are.
But how do I be sure?!

Is this what they say
"FATED?"

I can hardly breath
or think straight.

They tell me it's golden
but so is hot iron.
It shines
and it burns.


On the tracks that
keep playing.
remind me that there is
hope.

And to think,
I am supplementing
the laws that worked
in ways that I never
want to believe in.

They say, it makes you believe in things that don't exist.
Is that true?
Existence.
It's a doubt.

Kick me,
maybe I'll find my direction.

I'm sick
and demented.
Wanting too much.
Guilty.


I'd wanted someone else's warmth
a day ago.
Am I making so that this works
and then I can blame it on you if it doesn't?

I can't do that.
It doesn't go with that
sincerity.

That look in your eyes.
It robbed me of my breath.
am I too cynical?


I must have lost my pink-tinted
glasses in the hallways.
deep labyrinthine thoughts.
I wish there was a full-stop hanging
around somewhere in my room.
I'd punctuate your thoughts.
Puncture them, quite precisely.

Don't kid me,
I don't lie.

I lived for a moment,
loved for the same.

do you love the moment we had,
or do you love me?


I can't tell either.
I just loved the way things were back then.

I put you thro' so much,
but you kept at it.
Each day everyday,
a scrap of communication.



to chronicle it all is stupid.
I may regret that too,
that a punctuation might be a breath
too hard,
a choice too quick.

You really give me no choice.
I have to accept what I cannot think about
don't I?

I asked that you fix my heart.

You want to fix my being.
Make it just right and
continue to flight high.


I will break your heart as many times
as you do.
Revenge isn't just medicine.
It's tourniquet.
Maybe you'll change my view.

But time.
timing is everything they say.
When did it start to matter
what they said?
It had perhaps begun
when you gave me that call.


I trust you.
Only an inch with my body.
You chose my heart.

pulled its string and tried to pull it apart.
But no,
It was EXERCISE.
Hell's sake.
What were you thinking?!

I can forgive and forget for a moment.

Did you think about what you said?
I curse your gut,
I cruse your gut for trusting and knowing.



Will I cave in?
I have a feeling I will.


Or do I want to?

For once give the controls to someone else.
Who cares.
Who wants me to open up the doors barred
up and locked,
latched away in side
the labyrinthine
mansion of a mind.


I'll fight.
Like I'd repeat.

Man enough or not.

I'd rather not.
Man?
Gosh. Its a pain to think about it all.


I'd rather be the winner.
I don't ask.
I'll do.

A Human Love Story

Amongst the golden Marigold plants,
the leaves are green and thin.

The bees buzz about making
nectar of life.

If upon the rocky earth
crashes a sea of salt;
would you call that love?

Gentle emotion,
softened vision,
heartfelt utterances.

Upon the sandy desert,
a lonely image
of a lonely man
walking,
thirsting,
is met
by an angel.

She granted him one wish.
He wished for
the perfect love.

It was granted.

A man stood before him.
He was beautiful and rugged.
he looked at him with kind
and beautiful eyes.


Flowers did not bloom in the desert,
nor did it rain.
But his heart was filled with fluttering butterflies.


Upon a distant land stood a girl at her balcony.
she whistled to a darling thrush,
and he whistled back.
For a long time she sang and
so did he,
so it turned out that he was
an angelic mystery,
whistling out to her like that..

He gave her one wish.
She said,
"I want the perfect lover,"
and so she did get him.

The man from the desert
was transported
to the distant land
and in his arms
lay the most simple of
girls.
She had simple eyes with
warm expectation.
And they shone in the light.

His heart full of butterflies,
was shot in the light.
He called in to the angel and
claimed a crime committed against him.

"I want the perfect love," spoke he.
"Ah," sighed the angle. "do not condemn me this way.
I did what was best in my power.
You wished for the perfect love
and in your arms it is;

But you spoke not of the perfect lover
that fits you, so you cry that
my way of granting is
incorrect."

The man, to the sand, sank
and cried tears.
Of joy for the wish
and sorrow for the same.



Of all the virtues that humans are blessed with
the greatest of them is
to grow with time;
the lone vice being
to forgive and forget
is quite beyond him.

The maiden,
was swept away by the man;
her joy was like a sea she'd seen,
constantly growing and rippling.
She was glowing and glittering
as she gave him company,
walking along the trails
of the moving dunes.

The sun was about to set,
and man and woman sat down to a meal.
Man shared his bread
and woman shared her water.
To the setting sun they bid good day.
In each others company,
man noticed how lonely he had been.
And woman noticed how empty her life had been.

Words and phrases between them
were lighting up the night sky.
Often time they both felt like sleeping,
but kept awake
for they wanted to keep
each other
Company.

Of companionship born out of love,
humans find joy;
and of love born out of companionship:
is pure sublime bliss.

Man began now to understand the judgment
and the granting the angel exercised;
and came a full circle.

To a love that was born under the stars
and in the sands of time;
he prayed to God
a prayer of thanks.

Granting his wish in a way he
grew to understand
and giving him a chance at
renewed life
in a way he came to love.

In his arms lay his love-child.
She was beautiful,
like a jewel that sparkled
and glowed with energy and
joy.



In each man is woman
and each woman a man.
Coming to love that person,
is the best, sweetest love story
of all.
To the man or woman on the outside
becomes one with the inside,
does then one understand;
to love we all pray it be granted to us,
and hold in our hearts a memory;

Won't we really cherish it if we really found a love like that?

A night of tears
and a dawn of peace.
Someone gave me the grip
on the reigns
of my life back.


Feels like I could dive back
into the everyday grind
and survive a little longer.

New Lease of Life

For a burden I'd carried for so long,
it's a relief.

I feel I've broken free of
iron chains
that clipped and bound my wings.


I'm so free and light!
I am fresh at dawn.
Awake before dawn and
ready to take on the world
by its horns.

Breathing wave after wave of
lungs full of pure air,
I'm feeling as bright as the sun-
Even brighter!


To speak the truth,
I had no idea it was so
liberating.
I am proud of who I am an what I did.

No need to hide,
only need to shine.
To be the person I am,
to live a truth
quite divine.

Starry eyed,
sparkling.
Feeling grand like the Ganges!

LET ME STAY WITH YOU
AND WHISPER TO YOU SOFTLY
SECRETS OF THE UNIVERSE
AND THE MAGIC FROM
ANOTHER WORLD...

LET'S MAKE US BELONG
TO A PLACE
SO FAR
THAT WE CAN NEVER RETURN

MAKE A HEAVEN FAR AWAY
FROM HOME
WHERE EVERYTHING IS TRUTH.

DARKER MOMENTS ON A RAINY DAY
WILL MAKE WAY FOR SOMBER NIGHT
OF SWEET HEAT
AND THE SILENT PAPER FLOWERS
IN FIELDS OF THOUSANDS
WILL BEGIN TO SPEAK.

FOR ALL THE WALLS WE BUILD,
CREEPERS FIND THE CRACKS
AND DIG IN DEEP
WIDEN THE CRACKS
AND
MAKE US CRUMBLE...

TUMBLING DOWN THE HILL-SIDE
SHORT GASPS
AS THE ROCKS HIT DEEP BROWN
EARTH,
THEY ROLL AROUND THE MOUNTAIN
CHECKING ITS GIRTH.

IN MOMENTS OF SUNSHINE,
THE SEA MAKES SALT,
IN THE GLIMMER OF TWILIGHT,
IT ECHOES HOWLS FROM ABOVE.
LIKE LITTLE BIRDS BY THE MILLIONS CAUGHT
IN A FISHERMAN'S NET
HOME TO BE BROUGHT.

HEAR THE RINGING IN MY EARS
AS YOU CLAMP THEM WITH YOUR HANDS.
FOR MISTAKING MY TEARS TO BE TEARS
OF PAIN,
AND MY VOICE TO BE CALLING FOR HELP.

SEEKING IN ME THINGS THAT DON'T BELONG,
IS IT NOT A CRIME?
TO MAKE THE CLOSEST OF FEELINGS THE
FURTHEST OF REALITIES,
A SIN GREATER THAN MURDER-
TO DENY TRUTH, MAKES THE THE LIE
FALL ON IT'S FACE.
AND GROW CLAWS
TO REAP YOU OF YOUR SENSES.

UPON THE DISTANT HILL-SIDE
WHEN I'D CALLED YOUR NAME,
THE WIND WAS SLOW,
MY VOICE IT DID NOT CARRY.
THE CLOTH OF MY SKIRT IT SHOOK,
GENTLY,
YET LEFT MY THOUGHTS INSIDE ME.


AS THE STORM OF FEARS COMES,
I WILL STAND UPON THE SAME HILL,
THE WIND WILL CARRY MY VOICE
AND DISPERSE.
AND PERHAPS, TWIST.

THE GREATEST OF THOUGHTS CAN BE MISUNDERSTOOD.

UPON PLUTO'S CROWN, WAS A JEWEL SO BRIGHT,
COULD LIGHT A PERFECT SEA WITH SHIMMER
OF GOLD.
LYING DEEP IN THE GOLDEN BODY,
PLUTO'S HEART LAY INSIDE ROCK
FROZEN.


LACHRYMOSE,
HER LIPS DYED WITH BLOOD OF THE DEAD,
HAS SHE FEELING? HAS SHE ANY GOOD DONE?

WHAT SEEMS RIGHT MAY NOT ALWAYS BE GOOD,
FOR WHO WILL DO THE WORKS THAT NEED DID
YET FEW VENTURE?

I LAY BENEATH A SECRET SUN,
IN MY HEART THE SAPLING
MAY BLOOM.

AND THE DAY IT DOES,
A SEA OF THOUSANDS
OF FLIMSY PAPER FLOWERS
WILL WEEP.