Uh, oh, oh!

So, who’s going to go?

Go?

Yeah, go, you know?

Oh!

So, who’s going to go?

Why, though?

For a better tomorrow?

Everybody says that, you know?

Is that a problem though?

No?

No!

Oh!

So, who’s going to go?

Go?

Yeah, go, you know?

Oh!

Will you go?

I think so…

Ok, cheerio!

38

some days
last a lifetime

some weeks
are seven years long

a life time - less
than years thirty and eight

the end
is a little less than a second

dreams last
only till he wakes up

the dreams last
only till he falls asleep

(a deep gray sky, almost black)

silence breaks through the walls
of yet another cold night -
(a deep gray sky, almost black)
'what worth was it?' - the
question uttered, echoing
in unison - a million silent voices
inside a million turbulent minds - cutting
through the surrounding stillness
of the night with hopes, almost
greedy - that the question is only
one's own and none else's.

the night stills itself further
strengthening every secret belief -
'it's only me that feels this way'
while the song of every soul
is just the same, only in a
different tongue. some do it
with a hiss and some with a
sigh. silence freezes and hardens
itself around every thought and
every question.
(the deep gray sky, almost black)

for the glass panes

empty evenings of meaninglessly prolonged chatter and unnecessary dark miles traveled on mechanical stallions with glass panes, by the glass panes, when droplets of rain pitter-pattered - are only for the glass panes that offer hazy vision through days and days and the film of gathered dust that could be time or the lack of time or the abundance of it or just plain satisfaction and the struggle for existence.

evenings

any evening is good enough for you to see through the grave your own
for time repeats and time is so full of stories and the stories repeat with time
moments replace one another as moments pass by when today is a fond memory
and yesterdays long forgotten to take you to the next day when new flowers are abloom already
stories of people wearing red caps only to prove the uncertainty in real or in paintings
everyone has a version of their own yesterday and it is only a lesson
for one's own self and for everyone else when realizations do dawn from somewhere
across the table or from somewhere besides when you know what from inside woke up
to show you things in real a lion or a red bit of paper of only shadows of eyes for
nostalgia does help at times but not always for nostalgia only blocks the way to rush
forward towards tomorrow or the next day of life or the next pointless living moment
with no element of surprise, woo - hoo, and this is new, yes, brand new
totally out of the gift wraps that we never knew
neither i or them or he or she or it or you, oh yes neither i nor you
time to taste the latest brew, the super potent dark brown brew
the shade of the dark night sky
the shade of a failed try
and the moments pass, as the minutes now are then past, as you grow old
you only know it's all

gold gold gold gold gold gold gold gold gold gold gold gold gold gold gold gold!

the june tune

realization of time repeating itself
and the moments in life hence
june ends, begins july

to fly

and the very last day at the end
of the world, the place of mythical
legends, the sun sets in

ha, oh my

then are born the stars and golden
fountains and black clouds in steel gray
and red cherries in fruit juices green

only to try

to be and to talk consciousness
of philosophers and men of the mind
and philosophies and the ways of the mind

by and by

the golden glow fills from inside and
disappears from outward in when
the words get intensely intense

deep and high

stories and books and depression
and paranoia, is not uncommon amongst
tamed lions of the circus behind the cages

a string and a tie

easy to see and easy to be
limitless and mindful and free
to be clear sans fog, as can be

and then a sigh

to be all hopeless inside but
still be hopeful on the outside
for tamed lions in a circus - and to confide

is no lie

and then to know hope
when the smell of hope fills the air
all over and all around, hope and hope

is worth a try

the ways to where you should go
in twos or in threes or in fours
only long thoughts when follow

a night and a good bye

Nuffink

While I should be here
I’m only not here right now

Without a fear
I wonder how

The world goes around
Round and round

On the set axis
With life in excess

While I should be here
I’m only not here right now

And that answers nothing
If there is something called nothing

To be or Not to be (Freud)

To dream is naturally
Alright

But to dream that
You see someone
Throw up - they say
Only means that it

Signifies false pretenses
Of people who try
To take advantage of

You

But how, I wonder?

Sense (?)

Songs and words
Cryptic poetry
Do make sense, do

Make sense

A lot and a whole
Lot of it

When you want them
Not to

Or when you expect
The least

Reflections

a reflection
brings in a phase change of
(pi)

a wave of me
bounced on a mirror
shows me

with a phase change of
(pi)
only a belief

shattered

Recall

(1)


"So, do you have a mole on your head?"

"No... Erm... But I do have a mole on my upper-lip..."

"No, no... something on your head? Say, a mark?"

"Yes, I do have a birth mark on my head..."

"Ah, so I was told..."

"Yes, I told her..."

"You told her too!"

"Yes I did!"

Laughter

***

(2)

"You have a squint!"

"So do you!"

Laughter

***

(3)

"Ha ha ha!"

"Ha ha ha!"

Laughter

***

and a string of shameless lies

summer
and it rains sunshine
and a string of shameless lies

the blade is not thought of
or talked about
just hurled

statements made, protests registered
silence them all
just blame the sun

blame the son
for he is everything else but that
and waves red flags

and revolts,
revolting!

buzz

At times late in the night, the hum of the air conditioner inside a speeding car on highway 5 is the most intolerable thing that can buzz inside your head.

Buzz, it buzzes on against your own will and wish and continues even when you fall asleep making its comfortable way through your dreams.

But then in your dreams you do not realize if it is the hum of the air conditioner or if it is the echo of your own sighs or your heavy breaths.

what the pair of shoes told them clouds

and when you know running helps
and that only running can help
you should not
walk

but when you know not why you run
but think only running can help
you should not
run

so when it knows raining helps
and that only raining can help
it should not
stop

12. Thursday

In the middle of the night you wake up, sweating. There has been a bad dream. You open your eyes to see the dark ceiling up above. You can't see them stars scattered on the clear sky, probable clear sky. You hope it is a clear sky, cloudless and star filled. But now, there is this ceiling above, and that is all you can see. You got doubts in your mind. You are not sure if you are alive. Or dead. You do not know if the concrete surface you see there, there is the ceiling or the inner surface of your own grave. You do not remember anything, from the past or the present or future. You are not sure if you just woke up or if you are born here all over again - old and wrinkled, some dirty twist of fate. You close your eyes. You think it will change everything and set everything alright. You know for sure, that things are happening all around you. You are sure that something and somewhere and all around do exist. But you got doubts in your mind about your own existence. So you close your eyes tight and tighter, hoping it would change everything, and clear all your doubts off your mind. A mind clear and cloudless and star filled, like your clear and cloudless and star filled sky that you hope for. You are awake for a very long time and do not remember when you fall asleep again. You wake up in the morning with blood shot eyes and wonder what went wrong. You are almost happy, but for the irritation in your eyes.

lfp

last few pages of a wonderfully good book almost always make me sad.

oh my god, the end. I'll never read this again. I can re-read - but it'd be way too different.

very sad.

tch.

Q

'no' is the easiest answer I can give
just as 'no' is the easiest answer I can get

'no?' would be the toughest question
I can ask or be asked

and then
'when?'

WoC

(DS, for!)

to learn sorrow
or to spend a weekend alone
or to learn to live wise
or to be the way it is

is no sin
is no shame

trees sans leaves, do live
so is living with none to give
nothing to

is no sin
is no shame

forgotten fibre

...that one fine shining thread that once threw rainbows at you when you looked through it the sun, the sun, the sun that shone through that single fibre that shone like a strand of diamond, diamond, diamond, that filled your days with joyous bright light, light, light that soon was swallowed by darkness and was soon forgotten, forgotten, that forgotten fibre of silky web...