Strength from you to me

I need strength. I need it now. I want it to flow from you to me. You forge a connection; hold hands. Warmth flows. Strengthens. Me. You.

Tears dry. Throats unchoke. Laughter returns. But the feel of your hand on mine remains forever.

Early morning poetry

It started with a single verse of Pink Floyd. And he wrote. And i wrote.
It is... I


Pink Floyd: Tongue-tied and twisted just an earthbound misfit.. I


D: Left-alone mystery just an unimportant history.. I


R: Blue black and bruised just a solitary muse.. I


D: Pink purple cliche'd just an only climax delayed.. I


R: Wrap-around and hopeful just an introverted local.. I


D: Much taunted insanity mixed glum-haunted sanity.. I


R: Whipped-up dreaming with cotton candy scheming.. I


D: Stuffed up confusions but unstoppable intrusions.. I


R: Darned holy intentions and yet screwed up redemptions.. I

This shall be my escape

Those three little words...reverberating in my head...again and again and again. They had been whispered for someone else, but i knew they belonged to me too.

Whispers.

Echoes.


They pounded against my skull like the drumbeat from some mystic lore, some myth that had resurfaced. I tried to whisk it away, flapping my hands around my ears; tried to blot it out by sheer will, and by holding my breath, and by closing my eyes, and by surrendering to.. begging for..bad dreams. But i couldnt escape it.

Films flashed before my eyes - entire reels with big block letters that did more than just taunt. Much more.


Take away the little security i had did you?

quaint

"mein ne rkhay thay kahin dil mein chupa kar kuch log
ab mujhe yad nhi kon kidhar rakha tha"

Faisal Ajmi

june 24th

I have carved your name in ebonywood,
Solid black with spidery rifts.
Stick figures dancing across the length and breadth;
Essence
Of scented sandalwood.
You will run your fingers across these scars
Until
The numbness gets imprinted.

a week..or more..

Thoughts swirl in and around my head all day – thoughts that shift and jump and morph from one form to another; half-formed barely-virgin ideas, salted, unsalted; bittersweet poignance moulding into rough, crabby chunks of unreasonable reckoning; stringy and bold fancies warp into petite, contrite thought-substance – and yet…faced with an empty page, I cannot remember what it is I wanted to discourse on.
I had dozens of ideas to expound upon…and now I am empty – more so than the page.

Even then. Let us begin.

I have found it rather pleasing to put into words this phenomenon that I have been noticing recently. You form an idea, or opinion about something, and then you revise it. Again and again and again. New thoughts come about and change your thinking, and you voice a slightly changed opinion…and this goes on.
The only problem is…who to voice it to.
I’m being overwhelmed with emotion.
I must stop.


-

i am bitter...aaho!

-

I was goth today. It felt strangely liberating. It meant I could be however I wanted to be and not have to face any of the ugly, stubby fingers people like to point at me. Yessir...that is my definition of it!

I've gotten back in that race, when time begins to matter. Your pulse races along with every tick of the clock, every second, and a single misstep threatens to throw you off balance and turn your world upside-down.

I want to write in flowing ink, watching the black fluid spread across the page in chinese runes, every dash of the brush elegant and smooth.
I want.
But I am bitter.

No wants with bitter.

End bitter
first

Hard.
Very hard.

*sigh*
-

I am a back and I hurt.

-
Scheduled outage at 2 a.m :D

It's not that late yet, me thinks. But my back is giving way.

Let it drag!

-
There is nothing more strange than thinking about something passively and then suddenly seeing it erupt into existence right before your eyes.
*smile*

I believe in slow, passive thoughts at the moment. Thoughts that are slowly swished around the mind; watching them sparkle in the light, grow, and change shape with each turning movement; thoughts that leave this satisfying warmth as you watch them mould into new ones, leaving that stardust impression in their wake on your subconscious.

I need more flexibility, and more freedom. I haven't yet let down those walls around me, and the stiffness is painfully visible. I wish to flaunt, but am held back. I don't know if it will just take time, or the right kind of atmosphere. Or maybe both.

I can wait.

-

me likes.. *smile*

-
"Patience is power.
With time and patience the mulberry leaf becomes silk."
Chinese Proverb

-

I am a day flower

-
I have seen better days,
Under azure skies and purple clouds;
I have felt before,
This light, and darkness,
And the cold wind stinging my face --
Not cool, not refreshing.
I have seen the autumn leaves strewn across your path
And crunched my way
Toward oblivion and peace;
Rockets spewing hazy smoky somethings,
Out and over your head.
I have felt before this modest beginning,
This search for truth,
This display of innocence,
This image shattered by thorny lives
And hopeless endings.
I have seen before the walkways of your life
White sand beaches and gray sky mornings,
No deep-fried throbbing, only bitter pain,
Waiting to be spit out.
I have watched, and waited,
And then watched some more
(Waiting needs to become a habit)
I trod carefully over your scattered bones,
Lest I made another misstep
Again.
I tended the plants in your garden,
Then watched them
Wither.
I choked the vines with my bare hands,
Then watered the
ground, with my tears.
(Exceptions).

I have felt.

That is enough,
For now.
News when I do, not when I don't.
Exemplifying mindless mannequins
Twisting marionettes - hollow sawdust
And bones.
Watch foreheads wrinkle,
Temples throb,
Eyelids twitch
Forever.
I have seen before this sunset
Crimson-red, gold, lavender, gray
Swirling rocky mountain, and blueberry streams;
I have tasted your candyfloss dreams
Let them fade and dissolve and swirl away
Until anomalies appear;
And crush them.

(I am a day flower, I bloom in the day).
-

From the past...

-
The past few days I've been posting old stuff...old prose-ish things I wrote a long time ago. I found an old journal recently and decided to put up the stuff I liked alot. My style is kind of different now, so they sound weird to me, but they represent a part of me - an age that I went through.
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