The village Stiff

Stillness
The cold blue frozen lakes
Wide and beyond
Like a beautiful dream
Where i can be found
Somewhere in my vivid memories
Thoughts
Some wanted memories
Haunted ones albeit
Drawing circles in the canvas of my mind
Casting a mystic image
How the winds bring back the times
For a moment brief, grief! stricken with sorrow
A heart that i knew , and i no longer possess
That lies dead beneath my feet
Dead finally and winter has arrived

VIBGYOR

Amongst the shade of grey they say is colorful display
For which you must wait for the sun to arrive
and they say the sun arrives for sure, in the aftermath
when the world is wet from the wash.
This helps the spring lilies bloom, and the wind if fed the scents
the winds shall then enchant,some wanderer who shall have strayed
Thus help him find his way, get him home
Such are the thoughts a rain brings

The violet, the indigo, the blue
the green, the yellow and the orange, the red
light up the sky and make it seem pretty
but to some vagabonds like me, we don’t care
the clouds don’t call us, nor does the rainbow,
not the morning lark, not the returning birds at dusk
we often are in lament, but we cherish the moments
and complain if the rainbow in us shall ever emerge.

Coloured

 

The demons of the heart, so strange yet so powerful
They pilfer the energy of the soul
And then some, break the will
bewilder, awe and amaze me often
break my will of commitment
razor sharp, those icy claws
of realization, when it dawns
it finds my conscience dead
Petrified , in some bog

I solemnly criticize my stand
one that I have taken
I often wonder how it was ever done
a heart of shattered glass
stuck together, like an unimaginable task
with the hurt hands of my own, still dreaming
the reddened hands, fated to be red forever, in pain

A life worth dying.

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The words spoken, the tidings you portray
Have been an illusion, you are a disgrace
Of the life you showed you live
And of everybody who has taken what you give
How much the pleasure has been for you
And they derive it of you, and you too do
But some day the winds shall blow clear
And the face of your falsehood shall be painted
Across the eyes of many a men
And then you shall ask, was it really a sin
You shall be answered, but not in haste
For you have lived life , a waste
laid waste, and spoken the same
And then you shall find remorse ever again

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Merge

so as to often breathe,
feel the air warming up as it leaves my body
mind and soul combine
stands as a body that breathes
and then it shall stop, and be still, very still
they may look at it, wonder why it no longer moves
and then play with the corpse, consume it
make it one with the dirt beneath my feet
ashes to ashes , dust to dust
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Fumer Tue

The statement seems correct often than most. Everything kills. Thoughts kill, Memories kill, Love kills and the best is that life kills. I sometimes wonder if it is my aching for writing that makes me blabber at times. But the truth may reign supreme that we will always find something that may kill us and we will indulge. Wont we dear grasshopper.

Set Adrift

You called unto me, from my dark slumber i awoke
I found myself in your company
maybe just in your words, and in mine as I wrote
I was happy then, though i was happy before
Happy as I could feel the need to express
Like having stepped out of a comatose condition
I could feel the warmth of your breath in my soul
I became a boat, set it aloft beside you
tagged along, while you rowed
I let you lead me to the midst of the sea
the day later you were gone, you drifted away
lost forever at sea, and i was all alone

Set adrift, no oar neither the sails
calls out to me the water below, calls me again
asks if i can be one with it now
like a beautiful advertisement it encompasses me
I look across the horizon, my company has long gone
so there is nothing i can long for
no more shall the seagulls seem pretty
no more shall the orange make sense to me
The sand shall cover me, and make me cozy, wrap me up
and there i shall sleep, never to be awakened
never to be awakened again, like I was before you woke me up the last time

You know

The world doesn't bother me, nor does it make me happy anymore
sometimes I question and often quote to myself the following from Pearl Jam.

The eyes below are of Nautica Thorn
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'The direction of the eye so misleading, 
The reflection of the soul so nauseously quick,
I don't question our existence
I just question our modern needs'

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If you look so into me you will know,so don't
Those vile pleasures are not what I don't crave
just as human as I am as you are
but I steer away from the wants of the flesh
they lead me to unworthy desires and craving
uncalled for, unwanted, unwarranted and unfathomable
so let me walk amongst the woods at peace
this soul that has dissected itself from the body

it's only pain that often portrays the meaning of life
often its your own, some that affect others
these feelings I do not treasure, nor do I care for anymore
my soul now is no more in a wanting denial,
the soul needs no one now
as much as it never had wanted
There are those moments I claim to fame
there are those that embarrass me even to date
I just wait that someday I slip into a coma and forget those as well

22 days to go

some mellow scenes of the palm trees
overlooking, casting an image of them into the river
flowing carelessly below, gently, as the touch of her hands
it shows the skies, like in her eyes, the oars splash water
sounds like her laughing, as she plays
she plays on, like a song in my heart
how much I wish to say I miss her
how much I do, I cannot imagine
maybe as much as my heart wants to set itself on her love,
watch it glide in her love
but for now I have to wait , only 22 days to go

An ode to the Self

Often to regret, often more so to

I ask myself what it means, sometimes ponder

Only to endlessly meander in the realms of the unknown,

In an unforgiving mind that I harbor, and I argue on, endlessly

Once as a child, I dreamt of life

How it would be, to grow, be young, be old

Now the dreams have become a reality

A nightmare at most, if not entirely

Somewhere I see the streak of my childish desires

And wish to sit and watch the sunset

Knowing that the world owes me nothing, nor do I owe

 

The song of me

It seems that the mind has died away
The imagination is lost, the dreams of a child
The thoughts describing things as beautiful, as pristine
As what would keep me occupied, in mind and soul
Now to the dust, it’s all cast
As if it’s just erased, as if like an eraser rubbed it away
The scribbling of a now dead soul
Often seeking to escape into the higher realms of imagination
To write, as if to speak in volumes
To write poetry, it seems gone now, all in vain
The feelings now dead, the felt now as if caress on an uncut stone
Hurled into oblivion, and the colours
Red, and green, and purple and blue, and all those we see
All mixed into black
Staring at me in the face, as if to question
What has become of me? What has?
And I reply with the same, what has?
Both without answers, we stare at each other
Me and myself, as if two complete strangers
Who seem incidentally quite alike, only one equally opposite
What is same, the loneliness
The separation of the self from the existence
As no one may have known, as no one may have wondered, ever
And if they did, may not have understood
Not as if they want to, not as if they care
Nor that they can, nor that would think of even
But i guess that is what it is of life
Such is life, mine, and of myself
We sit often, stare each other at point blank
What are we, who, why?

Origins

Are you not afraid of me child?
Does not all this blood scare you?
That this is your father on my lap dying in pain
And that I am the one who is as you see devouring him!
Asked the divinity,
A face of a lion under the roof of snake heads

Afraid? How can I be when I have not known its meaning?
Not known fear in any form since I have seen you
Always, till now when I looked into my heart
Now I am seeing you with open eyes
What is pain now, what is death, what is life?
I am in surrender
Says the child, transfixed at the face of the presence

What is the ‘I’ in me now lord?
The self is no longer what was
‘I’ and ‘me’ are no longer words with meaning
I feel like a drop of water in the ocean of you
But the ocean scares me, it seems so unstill, ravaging, storming.
How shall I let go and merge into it?
How will I find the ‘me’ when I mix in you?
I asked.

Fear not child, when you fall into me, you are me
And once me you shall not need to find the ‘you’
And then you shall know that you have finished your search
And that your fears are what led you to me
The ocean is calm and gentle; close your eyes that you see with
Open the eyes of feeling; open the eyes in the soul
And you shall see, but only if you surrender to me
I hear the wind speak

I close my eyes; I see the ocean now calm
I hear its waves gentle to the touch, like a feet stepping on lotus
I ask if I can open my eyes now, I hear a ‘yes’
I find myself in the lotus he holds in one hand
Sleeping like an infant, and him watching me, like a mother
He is my mother.

Boom I exploded

Conversations with the self:

What I dream of, what I am, what I forget myself in
That is what you are, what are you
Why does the mind in commitment follow on your trails?
And make my mind explode in a dust of the glass
Feeds me the happiness that is so un-consolable, uncontainable
The thoughts of you, one who is strangely unseen and unknown by large
Why does this mind wander in futile searches like such?
Is it the end of my so called self or is it the birth of a ‘me’ that I had hid!
I search to not find these answers, for their mystery feeds my veins
Fills them with the blood of your cravings
More often than not of why I should not think so


Searching:

I waited for you and you did not arrive
In my dream, and even with open eyes
I still did not seem to miss, but I missed
I saw her, I saw you, I missed myself
But I could not cry, she was with me, and you, away, but with me
I could feel the absence harrowing me, eating into my mind
Felt the blood in me go cold in shivers
Was it the cold in the air? It was not cold today though
Why should I turn 29 when I am 4 now at your thought?
Let me be in my own company, and be the company amongst me and her
Her I cannot live without and you I see in my living
How did all of this happen so all of a sudden?
Will this craving fade, like so many of the others that I have had?
I never could feel the emptiness fill me up and still feel empty
And to run away from all this, as if to forget
I stand out of my own self look at me; you have come as a question as me
When I am already in unison with her at soul
But I feel so lost when I am away from her
I wish for her, she like the air I breathe, like the light of my soul
And you like the soul itself
I do not follow these symptoms I show, or think of
My ‘self’ just ran off, it’s pondering away, at some distance
Is it at your desk space! Watching you? Then who is it that is missing my love
I do not know, I do not want answers, I do not wish to wake up
This is my trance

Its been long she said

here is to you

Someone left a comment for me and i feel that there is someone among those millions who likes my work.
"you must change your name. you are not "abominable nutcase". you are a sensitive and talented artist--a poet. please don't ever stop writing! peace to you, from nirtana"

Nirtana here is one for you:

Waiting
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Witness the scattering
amongst the broken clouds
the rays just seem to intoxicate
like they make my head spin
make me crave for you in passion

only to want more,
of you,
of us,
of unattainable heights,
of your arms,
of all that I seem to miss

Truth or dream
Its' open eyed
It awaits your rise at its horizon.



Oh I changed my name as well, hope you visit again and if you do add me on gmail its nair.ritesh at gmail.com

Voices

What could I say, make believe, fantasize?
When the world I see is not mine
Where are the things I miss, why do I,
And what shall happen next, why I think
And mention such, and so much that makes no sense
Debt ridden, doubt harboring, daft and desolate my heart

How shall I while away these thoughts?
The ones that visit me only a few seconds every minute
And spoil the the 15 left
With me ending up a worry wart
Is it me or is it my choices that has brought me here, left me behind
Or is it my ignorance, that I subject my heart to such callousness

I shall not find an answer, no one does, nor will anyone
I talk for myself, not you, not him nor her
Why does the heart feel so lost?
And left isolated again, and over
Amongst the millions of souls I own

Such to ask are vile and in vain, in a heart load of pain,
What shall I ask more than lunacy!
As I feel it’s set out to meet me already
Where will we meet, when shall we, somewhere deep I hear,
My heart thinks aloud, I await now, stare into space