D E L U S I O N S...

each year i come back to where i had been earlier,
wasn't i ever meant to be somewhere?
where did my destiny go?
the whole of which i was meant to be a part of..
All i see is my reflection in a hall of mirrors
i see them fade away
the dreams , into a watercolored sky and leafless winters,
the mechanism is hard to explain ,
i am gettin what i have wanted...
then what is this waiting about,
as if hoping for something to shape up,
a tangible reality is feeble ,
my surreal existence is making no attempt to confront itself
reducing it to insignificance,
rediculing life,
running up, against the walls of a caged delusion,
i am lackadaisical,
content to let the moments come and go,
my faults are common ones,
but cant be forgiven,
because i cant blame others.. when i decieve myself,
the silent rage of unspoken words .
i am an answer to what i've subjected my soul to.

....

take me, where we can sit a while
in silence
not thinking
not planning
bring back the twinkle in your eyes
wipe away the horrible darkness
lets get swept away
wrinkle up your nose and give me that smile
shrug the shoulders like you do
pour in some life
lean back , fold your arms and look through me
like you do
go on , crack silly jokes
i'll pretend to laugh
like i do
do whatever sets you free
even if it means that we have to let go
doesn't bother , if that is what it takes
am eager to bring the change
like i do
walk ahead ,just don't stop
even if it means walking alone
don't stand still
like i do
make me do, whatever it takes to make it better
i'll do it
like i always do
rise above yourself
for i place you higher than the rest
bring me a hope
the pulse
the rythm to wich my heart beats
the hope that it'd be ok
not just now
and not just tomorrow
tell me "so shall this pass too"
like you do
you can fake it , if you want to
but you know that i'll know
like i do
don't turn your back, face it
like you do
and the life will bring to you what you seek

Let it be

i dont want to dream ,
the ugliness is creeping into the veins..
don't ask me to stay...
i am drifting away..
away from myself..
the distorted reflections through a broken window..
the dew drops slide down the cold window glass...
I stand still and watch the sky move...
life goes on..
dead inside..
step by step...
soul is ripped..
the hollow body is dragged along..
losing the sense of space and time..
let it be..
let it be now..
just let it be as it is..
i want to stand where i am..
make no promises..
make no wishes..
let it be..
let it be..

Like a circle in a spiral Like a wheel within a wheel..Never ending or beginning. On an ever-spinning reel,As the images unwindLike the circles that you find.In the windmills of your mind. - - - Michel LeGrand "Windmills of Your Mind

Move On ...

The battles of wits should not be fought unarmed.Don't let the kind hearted pink soul inside your body rule your strong desire to move on.Unleash the decisiveness and hit the weak, decayed twigs hard. To stop being yourself is to stop living.Firm hold on one's beliefs is a key to unmasking the core of your existence.Take the errors off the examining table , even if it's the wrong , scary , dark tunnel - the possibilities of digging a way out are not feeble.Charge the electric impulse to stimulate the dead neurons , staying smaller than your true girth of wisdom is an insult to your intellect.Brush off the jumbled ends and lose threads , that tie unwanted knots. Set your thoughts free , win over your soul and protect it . Do not let the leaps of momentum against the currents die . To be yourself is the greatest joy in the world.

C H A N G E

Its not pain that provides pleasure , it's the idea of staying smaller than the true existence that provides comfort..
blindingly heading in a direction, building a pseudo thatch of weaved ,complex mesh of threads..
It's gathering noises around , too loud and too deafening , drowning the only voice that reminds one of the existence..
a drop of sunshine,
on a misty day ,
under the purple haze of orange edged clouds,
unfolding a new chapter,
blowing life into a dead night,
a puppet in the hands of nature?
beautifully designed to create a mirage,
could u then read the silent transformation,
of helpless change?
eloquently decorated,
perfect?
following a certain pattern of change..
again and again?
confessions of nightly secrets whispered into the ears of a new day...

Beyond The Common Door...

Trying to flex the fingers..grabbing the pillow ,n arm underneath..
twisting and toiling..writhing in pain , coiling up..
air feelin cold against the dampened cheek , a tear leaving its trace behind..
pulling the sheets up to the neck , turning the lamp on , the hand with the needle hittin the lamp shade..
wincing eyes , reachin for the book at the side table ..
flipping pages ...outlines of words gettin blurred..
anger , woe , disappointment
a point where the visions fades out and numbness creeps up.. needle pricks climb up the spine..
holding a hand over the lamp , warmth , life , sense, touch , vision , smell , sounds..noises
screams , waves lapping
i lock the doors again ,
clogging all the seives emitting light outside..

Behind this door,
That never did open;
Lay my tended garden,
No one ever did explore.
Sunflowers, daisies, and roses,
All colors kept alive & bright;
By the springs that flow,
With waters sweet,
reflecting light.
Many came;
some returned,
Thinking it was locked;
Some stayed a while,
Looked around,
Yet never found a key;
Funny how now they complain;
When they could've knocked,
Or just asked me?

Q U E S T

When the evening falls , the light merges into the dark..as in life in the hands of death and happiness in the hands of sorrow.It's like the nature chooses one over the other , the spraying of the night sky with a millions of specs like little people giggling and illuminating a dark hallway..shapes forming , elephants and zebras and a mother holding a baby ..illusions.Squinting and squeezing the lids to watch the light dance and touchin the rays with the tip of the finger to make them dissapear.Lying down , questioning the questions ..the dark secrets and tombs of the history..the answers lying in the present , the future..extracting bits and pieces from the past. A confusing conflict , one thought consuming the other..Skeptically going through all the details of thought process , ifs and buts and wishes..Keep bombarding the brain with more quests , losing touch with the reality.Misleading , faking ..to be what the mind has fabled up ,yearning to be found ..we deliberately drift into a sleep of ignorance..sweet lies and world of dreams..stay helplessly at peace , numb and empty.Devoid of soul ..

Crave

Crave for more,
Life?
No
I weigh my woe..
Do u?
No
It hurts to live,
Years pile up,
One over the other..
Moons and suns,
Seasons without you,
and yet i crave for more,
More than life,
My eyes give me a faded vision,
My heart a faded emotion,
I dont keep track of time,
The ticking of the clock mocks,
Return to me what i have given u,
Bring me back... ME,if u can;
My own cries seem distant to me,
An echo to what i was,
The sky is gray with hate,
Time standing still,
I cannot step ahead ,
Nor do i look back...
I build a wall,
a line,
Dry burning eyes,
I stand in my own way,
These words are the ones i wish to speak,
But do i?
No
It is hard shouting out with voices that go unheard,
But do i hear them myself?
No
I close the common doors,
Insight to me,
The key to look through me..
Let me crave alone, till the end,
Just something that makes me go on.

Hand in hand..

lets walk till the end of the world,
through opal mist and yellow green canaopy,
lets walk hand in hand with feet not touching the ground,
smile and float in a bubble,
you and me ,
me and you,
together , when waves lap at the shores leaving the sand moist,
waves clinging on to the shore and the shore clinging on the waves,
lets walk till we meet the moon and the stars,
lets become a part of it all ,
you and me,
me and you

back to life

Bring me back to life,
be an intimate shadow,
be me,
the crease of my palms,
the scent of my skin,
the core of my existence,
the strength that puts shards o me together,
be the whisper o my quivering lips on a winter's eve,
be the moon of all the ebony nights,
be the words to my silence,
the tune that the strings on my harp sing,
be an endless dream till the end,
be my soul,
be me , be me..

Unmarried And Happy...

Have you ever thought what differenciates women from men.. apart from anatomical differences.What puts women and men at the opposite ends of the table.I am not experienced enough to put forward innovative thoughts on the subject but to quote from life itself.Passive, lack of confidence and self esteem are variables that repeatedly differenciate women from men.The lack of confidence seems to follow us from childhood.Women in general tend to function below the level of their native abillity for reasons hat are both cultural and psychological-a system that really doesn't expect a great deal from us.As children , females are not taught to be assertive and independent: indeed they are taught to be nonassertive and dependent.The discouragement given to the young girls is to avoid anything that makes them anxious.By staying just the right amount small, and by controlling that balance very carefully, the woman can keep them both symbiotically merged and happy.Studies show that girls usually smart ones have severe problems in the area of self confidence. They consistently underestimate their own capabillty.Women who seek security in men generally choose husbands looking for the prince , somone who will rescue them from responsibillty .Give them a padestal high above the dangers of authentic living and they'll be happy just sitting there...having nothing to do but act wifely...obsessed with getting proof of how much they are loved, perceiving themselves as having a claim on male provided security.The myth is that: security , for women , lies in remaining forever and parmanently attached, coiled within and stuck to the "family" like mollusks within their shells.Aggressiveness, drive, and will to succeed are precisely those not wanted by most men in wives. they look for mere puppets who cannot function in the world with as much sophistication and independence as they.Women are reactors.Ours is not a stand-up, self generating position. We still make our primary decisions according to what "he" wants, what "he" will allow. because deep down we still see "him" as the "protector"Women make far greater personal adjustments, men have no intentions of changing the routines of their lives.They figure that basically they'll do the same things, think the same things- in general be the same person - only now they'll be married instead of being single.I remember once ... a woman tellin me that : "we become wives the same way become mothers. We are expected to change , to soften and blur what ever exists between "me" and "him", we are expected to merge, a re-definition of the self re-shaping of personality to conform to the wishes or needs or demands of husbands"
Heard another woman in her fifties describing her situation: "departure of the children was like a slap in the face, awakening me so rudely to the dumb servitude of my existence. What am i to do now? who would i be? for i am no one seperate and identifiable at all ; i have always been a part of "them"
Concluding my discussion i reject the phenomenon that there is saftey in fusion, i have no fears of growing up and standing alone.I dont want the vows to put me into a state of protective pseudo hatch...and give up on my identity as being "me" alone and no one else.

dark is the night...

dark is the night, darkest is the inner core of thoughts,i'll let silence prevail,let unsaid be unheard...n unknown be n unsolved sphinx,paler the moon gets,louder u hear the howling,stay silent n let the night sing to u,tenderly and melodiously,let the headless shadows dance to the mysterious beats,in the fog of dread,sway into arms,that never show,whispering wind wandering aimlessly,shrink ur existence into the aura,where u merge into the night..and the nightly darkness merges into u...

search

Only when i let the colors slip through my fingers,my soul flies back to me....
in the criss cross of lines , i try to find a line that holds the truth..
i smear dark shades of blues and reds merging them into each other, trying to get hold of my life..
rubbing my thumb over the bark of a tree , tracing its texture..
i crave for more, the nature ...its serenity..
a human form sketched at the last page of my sketch pad...a figure bowing..
i search for the voice within...shrill and yet sacred...
i rush my brush strokes blindly...
coats of paint overlapping,
i add in more colors to feed my hungry thoughts..
the unspeakable ..speaks volumes through the curves and twists..
the tree and the pigeons...the huge blades of yellow green barley..
i paint with the hands which dont belong to me..
they move with a thought of their own..
goin to where the brush takes them...
stroke after storke i stand in a trance, with my feet numb..
i drop my arms , close my eyes and surrender my existence..to the moment..