Fold me in your palm and let me trace, the lines of sorrow on your immaculate face. Take me through dingy passages oppressed with ennui and the trampled streets of your threadbare existence. Move in closer as we drift in this half and half world between night and dawn, between slumber and wakefulness.Move in closer into this self sustaining moment …the tears lying in the parenthesis of my smile dry on your fingertips. It’s been a long December evening, protracted by trivialities that delineate the day. Nameless faces with strange underpinnings, short stubby fingers jangling change, feet shuffling around in pursuit of happiness while old newspapers and grimy leaves tangle about like dead remnants of days and seasons past.
But who would say that you and I are parts of that broken nondescript world if they saw us leaning against each other, shaking with silent laugher or quietly confiding about irrational fears… What do you think they would say?
“They would say that such artlessness isn’t to be encouraged…”
Monday, October 22, 2007
You and I
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Caliban returned tonight, it’s a happy hour he said
Dreams being spun on the looms of thought are dead
I told him there was a rumor among men
That perchance God is still awake
When will he rest? Leave those thoughts aside
And wear the ebony shroud instead
Let’s play a game of solitaire
Watch how I play to lose
Playing the muted ivory keys
Singing my black man’s blues
Take my mask of harlequin
It fits me ill tonight
I won’t be a tale twice told
Counting stars with blind sight
And death is desired for new life to flower
Your dreams are dead, tis an happy hour
So, wind up, wind up your conditional trust
Before you recoil in the automated shell
Write love-songs while love bites the dust
You are alive yet it feels like Hell
When love is starved and arrested development well fed
Then its time to live, for now your illusions are dead
.....................................
@ Pranav, thanks for reminding me about it's existence:)
