Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
I am....
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Thursday, September 24, 2009
PROMISE
It was a confluence of minds with a promise of deep connection hanging in the air
but the demons hidden within would not let anyone in.
The smell of the damp fall leaves
the hint of a smile or was it just a trick of sunlight
Maybe I wandered off to the track no one had noticed before
or was it that I forgot my walking stick.
His cycle covered with mosaic of webs parked on the side of the lane
a cardboard box aimlessly skipping and jumping on the road.
The shanty barn shed where I imagined a picture with the sun
slanting from the side sending its light across your face.
The memories haunt while I watch the raccoon race across my yard
a smile fades, a tear sparkles on the concrete.
The words of advice, your resolution lies within
not visible but still yours own.
What do they mean "small steps...one moment at a time"
the nails through the metatarsals hold me to a moment long gone past.
I am sorry I did not see the promise,
I am sorry I just saw the demons...
but please remember they are always my true friends.
but the demons hidden within would not let anyone in.
The smell of the damp fall leaves
the hint of a smile or was it just a trick of sunlight
Maybe I wandered off to the track no one had noticed before
or was it that I forgot my walking stick.
His cycle covered with mosaic of webs parked on the side of the lane
a cardboard box aimlessly skipping and jumping on the road.The shanty barn shed where I imagined a picture with the sun
slanting from the side sending its light across your face.
The memories haunt while I watch the raccoon race across my yard
a smile fades, a tear sparkles on the concrete.
The words of advice, your resolution lies within
not visible but still yours own.
What do they mean "small steps...one moment at a time"
the nails through the metatarsals hold me to a moment long gone past.
I am sorry I did not see the promise,
I am sorry I just saw the demons...
but please remember they are always my true friends.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Lonely Path
What moves along the way caught through the corner of the eye is just an illusion.
We hope to see what the world has in store for us but never do we make an attempt to see what the world sees in us.
Does it even seek us or do we impose ourselves on it?
That shadow that lurks behind me, constantly following me even on the darkest nights; is that me?
Or is it the reflection I see in the ripples of your eyes?
People walk in and out of our life, but some just seem to linger in their absence to haunt the sleepless nights.
Its at moments like these that the confidence in your identity is shaken to the core.
I see them just doing fine without me but what is it that I still feel has remained unsaid.
The streets seem to be just as lively...
Where did I miss the turn that the rest took?
Do I wish to be a part of the unthinking multitude that is following some unknown direction?
Will I ever be a part of that "superficial fun loving" crowd?
I know, no...
But then there is another stream just waiting to drown you.
Where do I find that singular rock where my presence is without the shadow?
We hope to see what the world has in store for us but never do we make an attempt to see what the world sees in us.
Does it even seek us or do we impose ourselves on it?
That shadow that lurks behind me, constantly following me even on the darkest nights; is that me?
Or is it the reflection I see in the ripples of your eyes?
People walk in and out of our life, but some just seem to linger in their absence to haunt the sleepless nights.
Its at moments like these that the confidence in your identity is shaken to the core.
I see them just doing fine without me but what is it that I still feel has remained unsaid.
The streets seem to be just as lively...
Where did I miss the turn that the rest took?
Do I wish to be a part of the unthinking multitude that is following some unknown direction?
Will I ever be a part of that "superficial fun loving" crowd?
I know, no...
But then there is another stream just waiting to drown you.
Where do I find that singular rock where my presence is without the shadow?
Monday, September 21, 2009
New Spirits
We hold on to the mirages
The parched dried thirsting eyes
Blinks drive away our illusions
Festering bleeding pain in the chest
Searing scorching sand under our feet
Do you know the meaning of what we hold
Of the deafening sounds and bands under her window
Of wayward slanting walks on the pavement
The ocean tides driving back the rivers
Rains that fall like molten lead
Where indeed is the tree with azure shades
Or the grey lunar eclipse
That promised us a world of joy
The spiral hypnosis of his art
And the meaningless strokes of my pen
Stench of the dead from a pond in the woods
Long winding roads beyond the horizon
Our mirages still hold on....
Waiting for us and pretending in its own ephemeral reality
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