Project Pathos- 2

Do you feel liberated
Burning free yet again
Tell me honey in this night
How do you taste the salt in the rain

Tell me how does it feel
Does it feel the same
Oh baby in the shadows
Can you see the names written on sand

Oh can you hear
Hear the sound shrieking out so so loud
The sun light
Trying to breach, breach this mist to touch
Only to touch your sweet hands.

Oh did I tell you
I had no one to blame
I had no one to blame

PS: Eternal Sunshine.

Project Pathos - 1

Dance so I think
Let s dance, but to whom,
Should I link
Is it you tonight,
Or my joy for losing you

Hear the guitar playing
In to the thundering skies
Soft Swing to the flute
Playing into these,
These glittering eyes.

Seducing to this morning
As the dawn embraces the cold night
Sound rising with a gentle touché
on the piano scales
the lasting sweetness of lips
it Holds the moment tight.

A moment is passing
Don’t dare leave me darling
Breeze is flowing wild,
Into the silence,
Rambling waterfall of memories
Into this dark night.

P.S: Dusk and the deep willows.

Requiem

Into the skies a dimension opens wide
The rising of the night sky
Into the darkness,
Shines a million eyes

Under this time,
We walk alone,
Into this cold
As the mist tears to fall and fly

Into this wild the whispers cry
Into this stillness silence flies
Into our corners,
You and I

Look over Our crimes

Last flight of music

The day he sat. Wondering about life. In such simple terms an understatement unknown to him as he mingled in the crowd of reasons. And of music that was mesmerized both with romance and sustaining dreams sinking into horizon of reality and desire.

It was a crazy night.

It was a crazy night. She told me, she would call up. I have been waiting now, for like ages. Trying to keep my anxiety and anger at bay. Once you let excitement and fear creep in, they just take the grip of your life, in an unusual, choking way. Making you insecure and afraid and always on the toe with the thoughts and imagination preoccupied with worries. We live in that sort of the world. So I am trying my best to keep the other wise dark curious thoughts about time at safe distance. It’s a pace, I cannot keep up with, and I wish it would stay still. But, I know, it has a slithering speed.

There is an occasional burst of over excited questions, which spring up in the head. Just the like sudden rise and rustling of the curtains as the wind unexpectedly makes its way into the room.

“We are floating like winds”, he had said. Remembering those words brings smile to my face. It was a cold and chilling night. When I look back at it now, I guess death circled that night making wheezing sounds through the rustling leaves and the cracks of the old decrepit wooden door. The door, that emptiness of the room, the silence temporarily for a short while enveloped us together. It is probably the context of the situation, that immortalizes the words, the scene. We can’t remember the faces but the memory remains imbued in its gray shade.

Well how good are the memories there worth. Just a notion of what is past. A whimsical figment of imagination that remains imbued into time. Like trail of life’s presence, to define the course of journey and the abstractness of time. Like a face, chasing its form into a mirror. Existing for no other reason but only to define value attached to the worth of a moment.

But there has to be plot in the theater. And there has to be silence in the words. Even the winds and the oceans and the dreams shall gently come to rest. And the motion shall seize to exist into pristine purity of silence and darkness. In perfect stillness and in peace the earth shall stand. For one moment, desire shall gasp a lonely wish and the moment shall sink into the past.

And he wrote a few notes, words sneaking to the underbelly of seduction. One towards death.

Two men and a movie

Movie about a real life scenario.

A: That’s really some art.

B:What?

A: Its an art to portray a life in such crafted manner. I say, nice movie, great talent.

B: Hmm. I see. Yup, great movie.

A: Don’t you think it’s a talent to make such a movie. Don’t you think, that it’s a skillful art.

B: I guess, that’s too much into it. It’s a nice plot, good acting, and innovative technicalities, refined nitty-gritty, formed into a nice movie.

A: Ok. What do all these people feel when the watch movie, some cry, some laugh, some even find inspiration, or dejection, some form opinions, dialogue on counter opinions. Isn’t it an art to stir a soul..if there is something within you, to stimulate ones senses.

B: yeah dude, that’s some talent. Brilliant skills. Ha!

A: Why is it that movies, music disturbs emotions or sensitizes a person. Isn’t that in a movie theater one discovers more human emotions than in reality ?. Is it that in isolation and darkness, one accepts the emotions which otherwise one is cautious about.

B: Whats up man?. Well, That’s the magic of movies and music.

A: You sound so cold, as though, you mean nothing changes in the world with such forms of creativity and dialogue, no inspiration to be taken from movies, no stories, no idols, no music…as though all that is a waste?

B: Its only magic dude, all this is a magic, it sounds like that , it feel s like magic, but those inspiration, desires and those heightened sensations ..that’s all temporary, fickle and impermanent ...a phase…and thee moral of the story: That’s all entertainment. And it too is an industry. So what’s food for thought for few, is bread-butter some and Of course, glamour, glitterati, and fame for others, some one like me. That’s the irony.

Whisper, into my ears

words of despair

tale of a parting lover

holding broken strands

stitching moments together

left for time to repair

my girl, its not a love song

he just told me, he doesn't care

my girl, its been long

long enough to feel you near

sing to me, touch my heart,

I don't remember, but a secret wish

to go cold, with a bleeding scar

they are for a reason,

he told me,

like lingering past,

Another sweet memory

my girl, just hold on

he told me, hes scared

my girl, he ain't coming along

letters on the floor now fly bare

Feather

So I set my imagination fly,
instructing left brain be free and high,
let the clouds burst wide open
And a feather float from the sky,
doesn't matter even if it takes a nose dive.

Swim for a moment in the stillness,
over this cold empty thin air.
Laugh and wish for those
who couldn't be here
fleeting colors in the crystal maze
like smiling moments in a heart ache.

let it sing through mist and hue,
for caressing cold breeze bathing you.
under silent starry night
float behind a longing stretched,
till the never ending deserted road
dance for a while in your fizzling tender mold

let it fly with your secrets,
a veiled beauty behind the fog.
to unknown prayer, before the flickering flame,
trying to rise above gravity,
for heart felt song.

Can you feel the pricking velveteen,
of the souls skin,
bordering the unconscious realms.
As the feather dips,
tracing beads over these strings
and smears itself into blue ink.

P.S Laying there in the bottle
into the soft stillness of the night
flying it drops
as lofty imagination sets to write.