Mindwaves..

There are no random thoughts. Nor do I sit here without any thoughts. Blank…white or dark…empty spaces…I could only wish for.
Instead I can see them, almost touch the thoughts that linger just beyond. They wait to devour me, if only I would plunge into them.
A lump beneath my breast blocks my way. And only the frown between my eyes acknowledge the lump that blocks my way to salvation.
Faceless thoughts and thoughtless faces, they pass me by just as I close my eyes. My only hope is that they don’t speak.
For to survive I dream up an abstract. Memories to cling on to. Memories of hope, but that which I truly know is the proof of my hopelessness.

Words don’t come to me when there is no subject. Of nothingness, that which I wish my mind to be, I cannot write. I need music to guide me. They pick out the words from within me. Just a dancing of the words, of which I can only be a spectator. At this scene as I stand watching, my mind drifts. Slowly moving out of my control, my thoughts they lie waiting in the dark, waiting for me to slip or maybe just to be within their reach, and then they shall grab me into that bottomless pit of my memory.

The music she seduces my words, and as I stand watching, that lump beneath my chest pricks at where my heart must have once been.
Glimpses and memories of memories fly past me, and I can only but try to understand what my frown is trying to conceal.

At the first light from dawn, this darkness will end abruptly.

In another space, the tear that rolls of one cheek will soon burn the eyes that have seen them.

In this space, the heart begs for death off its own beating.

I chewed the legs off one, the other will soon tear a much larger chunk off me.

From where it bleeds in her, I try to hold back my own blood.

aah and just when I begin to smile with the night, the dawn crawls in.

26 February 2011

Saturday, 3:46 am

Whilst from over there, these untouched ignorant eyes,

let their tongues slip out blasphemous songs of poetry..

and the eccentric fools paint scenes of life and love in yellow!

a death by my finger tips, my eyes soon red, feelings anything, but yellow!

The winds they must be soft, as she floats down to the ground.. 

Her eyes fading away, who has left? in her mind...neither a song nor any poetry!

I am rooted here, not trespassing and far away from all your concerns...

why then, does your autumn have to take away, one by one, all of my leaves ?

~

A delicate balance of fragile intimacies 

held by passion from the depths of complications

as each in its turn, looks away.

In the darkness sparkles a sprinkle of dust

to only flicker around, but soon settles down

In time, even rust is but the color of skin 

but the rhyme is soon to die, 

when words betray hope, in a lie. 

                                                29 January 2011
                                                Saturday, 2:35 AM

I wish to write now...I wish to bleed now
Write down these words, leave its mark on this paper
Heavy with the memories of years before, picked up by yesterdays
Through you I see the bright lights off all of them, they hurt my eyes
I have to write now....I wish to bleed now

Ever so slowly I spread out my fingers and hold them, trembling
I wish to feel the touch, the touch of you when for me you’re breathing
Your lips slowly parted, but now i remember them, into the night you’ll be crying
Ever so slowly I close my fist, my lips parted, with each breath my memories they’re trembling

In the stillness of the night, I kept moving, my mind unsure of any reasoning
I dared and rested on your smile, only an illusion, I pulled myself away
Reasons brushed aside, I went back, desperate for an understanding
I pleaded, let this be mine....just like this I wish I could forever stay.

You resistances were broken, my hands were blinded by desire
I felt you tremble of exhaustion, your breath a gust now grew fainter.
What failed at pleading you tried to hold down, and you now began to tire
my complications of existence, flamed by despair, guilt longed into desire.

I had so much in so less...
and now I am left with so less, with so much...
Maybe this is how she too feels, I suppose
But here I speak not of her from yesterday, yesterday knows.
I can still feel her heart beat in my breath and on my fingers
In these darkness, my passage through sad memories, loneliness triggers.

Separation seeks me to confide to her, but to bear it within I think is a must
The dagger that cuts others, should sometimes hurt us too, this is only too just
For someone to hear, just one honest sigh my breath they seek...
my eyes plead, just one warm tear to roll off my cheek
What have I become ? my mind a cursed seed
I do not wish to write anymore...I just wish, even I could bleed.

I do not understand if I should call it a dream, for there was nothing abstract about it.
Looked straight through my cold eyes with its own warm gaze, dancing around the faintest of metaphors.

I could now see those trodden dusty paths of sorrow,
I understood the confusion between my brows,
and I swallowed down tomorrow.

Just to know if my palms could feel, what my breath could no longer justify,
I held the wind by its shoulders, as it softly pushed me away.

Knowing now I would then be in regret,
still with bended knees, her doorway I crossed.
The stairs I was not allowed to climb,
But still that gaze would hold me, by each limb.
Together to swallow our hunger, I could no longer stay
To later devour, my memory I could have, she’d say.

Only as she let out the most surprised moan
Did I realize what it was that I had done
I am glad his palm they crossed my face
As I looked through time, this memory to erase.

Never before has by the daylight, my mind been so weak
My heart it still paces through last night, an explanation to seek.
There was no malice in the violence, this I know is understood.

Only by my own justice shall this act be forgotten
No more river to this sea, let this be known,
Till that each last wave and each grain of salt has been fully understood.

Slowly but surely did your inflection soothe
Slowly but never surely did I move in close
.
.
.
.
There was never a need on the other side
Of boundaries and wire fences to stop my stride
With fields as wide as my tongue could spell
To run and to explore and to dig around
Wandering around, a bit confused and surprised,
Eyes wide open, yet Into my own grave, soon I fell.

No helping hand is offered for me to get out
Just a smiling stare to see me crawl back out.
I am just as welcome now to see around
If I can but dare to stand your silence and its mocking sound.

Even though I knew every single line in the palm of my hand
I now understand, one can never know every single grain of sand.
Some graves you must first lie in
If the dirt above you want to tread in.
Into your books I have now again entered
A few of your pages I too have now gathered.

~ These few lines I don’t write on purpose
    for the poem, should never disturb the prose ~

The days drowsiness finally crawled over the night
As your voice it started to fade into your breath
Silence was louder now with the sounds of your whisper,
and my voice it was betrayed by the the faintest of quiver.

A few metal pieces fell off the skin of my face,
and my heart on it left the slightest trace.

And with such inhibitions that I now leave behind
Sit down, that perfect line of yours first to find.
.
.
.
.
Slowly but never surely did my inflections soothe
Slowly but surely I did move in close.

Like a child she came hoping around joyfully, excited.
Extreme emotions always stops us from expressing ourselves in any way loud.
When there’s such laughter in the smile in front of your eyes...
How can there be no reflections?

Complexity exists only till the moment of understanding of the relative or absolute complexity which then from this moment on commences to exist simply, till the next moment of understanding of the simplicity(asuming relative and not absolute) and hence by its own validation requiring the orginal complexity to be reviewed once again.

The most beautiful songs even though she may sing
And her words and her voice..could feed even the most frail souls
The sparrow netted in her own nest, of hunger is she bound to die.