Life In A Crystal Pot

Goodbye Blogspot

2011-03-17T13:53:00.000-07:00

This page is no more active. Kindly visit www.nithinjacob.com

Thank you.

Mirror

2010-12-24T09:24:00.000-08:00

I think we think alike

In despair or delight

For long years; lone

Further glow; shone

And I see you nightly

When the day is done

Once the sun goes down

For the dream to grip

And the time to slink

Through the bare lane

Upon the gush of spurt

Until the end of its urge

For I feel we see same,

Oh, my lovesome mirror

The Symbol

2010-12-23T11:13:00.000-08:00

Once there was a bridge that lured these hitchhikers. And the lane towards the west stooped upon the reflection of their shadows. Each of them had obsessive blot of silver linings. Like a chain of lightening tattooed across the sky. I do remember the relics of laughter. But the picture portrayed on this shale had a startling symbol. All the promises revealed in it had happened to the hitchhiker. I remember the first day I met her, and set her as my only love in a dream. I knew she had a fondness to the roses. For I knew they had thorns – but it was worth it. Every time when I used to shuffle off in this hall of mirror space, I saw myself broken into pieces. But – there were roses shattered along with me in each of them. My journey was in between a lane to another. And the wooden bridge is all I had to cross the blockade. As I turned back the pages in a log that I treasured close to my heart, I found a silhouette on the 27th page...

It was a wintry dawn. The day the flowers in my lawn refused to leer. They stood alone, soaked beneath the soil where we have come from – and go to. My spirits rant. They don’t pant. The symbol on that shale had a tremendous brunt. And ever since I discovered it, amidst the barren land, above the platoon where angels resided, I longed for a new beginning. Today, I remember the lane that lured the hitchhikers. And the wooden bridge dangled like a ring to the hills. For all the time spent in a hall of broken mirror space, I, and these roses craved for the same crescent face in my heart. And it beats like a child’s first taste of freedom away from his home. Do you know how it appeared to me? Do you see the symbol? As when my mind wandered across the sweet sorrows of yesteryear, I heard the distant hymn of a child. She sang a sweet song in her sweet voice. And it lured me. All I knew was that, the place had a forsaken church. And the wooden bridge was the only way to get there – to worship the grand saviour, in a place where the angels fly so lo and nigh. That silhouette... That silhouette on my log and the symbol on the shale had a similar meaning... And it guided me towards the wooden bridge once they used to hunt for... For it used to haunt all...

Today, I stand upon this bridge. The wooden bridge... And the rose flower that I have got in my hand is for her... It’s just a bridge away... When the clouds pour, and the breeze move the haze afar, I’ll take a huge step... to cross the bridge... And I still hear a sweet voice from the other side... Where the angels fly lo and night... For I should have known a long time ago that... the symbol was her love...

The Ninth Lane

2010-12-21T12:41:00.001-08:00

The monarch of Roman Empire rode on his steed

Through the ancient dream; once left in sadness

But the unknown loam led him to an awry byway

And it sent shivers to his cold bones; flimsy spirits

For the framed mind never firmed at the crossing

So it cruised towards the downhill, down the dale

For he knew his princess would stay; at ninth lane

And he sped across the sleety silver stream; uphill

To find the mystery lane; stretched lower the sky

For he chased until the sun gave way to the moon

And upon every twigs lingered a furtive message

Through the dark hills, towards the ninth thruway

And his steed sped to seize his dream; his fair love

Amid all the vantages; around the twelfth hour

When the night slept away, and the dawn arose

His heart whispered of her unwearied waiting…

Music's On

2010-12-21T12:39:00.000-08:00

It was a Christmas Eve. The winter had seeped into the lush, green city in and transformed it into a mystical white haven. All the twinkling stars upon the trees had given colours to the ghost white snow and it looked as eerily enticing as it covered the ancient street. The roads to my house were wet, yet I pined for a bright night within the dark night. The deep iris blue sky showered, inch by inch to buff the surface that was dry, to reflect the gleam of the lights from the rusty lamp - posts which lined the slippery streets. At every corner and turn, groups of musicians belted out soulful tunes which merged with the season's festive grandeur. The haunting beauty of the city had lured many drifters that night. I was one among them too.

I belonged to their world…

I am a drifter. A drifter with a song... But I am not a musician nor am I a singer. Yet, I had a special song. For a special someone... That song had my heart in it. Every time when the common folk at the inn insisted that I sing that song, I used to look with my big brown eyes, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the face which held me captive. Her lovely face had a lonely tale. A tale which stems from her cocooned upbringing... All her dreams revolved around within those walls. Four walls…...Sometimes she felt she could hear her heartbeats echoing under the wooden roof of her room. But, ironically, she liked her room for here; she could flee from the cares of the world and weave dreams of freedom. Then one dawn, she was awakened, disturbed, from her sleep, for she felt her vision rebounding on the walls, and lured her to the stage where ‘he’ used to play.

‘He’ was ‘I’.

And it was a Christmas Eve. The day we met. She was dressed up in the most beautiful red dress – to me. Red. The colour of passion... The colour of my love... Her sapphire eyes sparkled and radiated heat enough to set my heart on fire. Her smile rooted me to my spot; I was unable to look away. Her hand raised in a half - wave to me. I ran my fingers through my hair; it was a habit; an exasperating one, at times. In it, she read the art of chaos. When the crowd moved in circles, finding someone to dance to the music that we played, I found my feet walking effortlessly towards her. Her name was not known to me. She was a mystery. But the pretty child turned back, and smiled. In her, I realized with astounding clarity, I found my love.

Years passed by....summers melted in to springs and those, in turn, gave way to many winters...

Today, as I turn back and take a stock of my life I see these musical notes, the faded posters, and the colourful scribbling on my wall... It seems like they are all urging me to sing another song. But for whom? For my love? But where is she? Where did she go? For all the years spent in this dim lit room, I had buried myself within million notes that patiently waited to be sung by someone, I sat upon this wooden chair, searching for my specs to read the line from a bunch of letters. ‘Hope’ is the most beautiful word in my dictionary. For some, it is “Love”. But I had always been an optimistic child. ‘Hope’ paves way for ‘Love’. My dreams were never complete without filling the empty space that I kept for her. She knew it. Did she? I doubt it. But never did I doubt my love for her. Look at me, I’m full of chaos. All the adventures begin when we seek for the right person at the wrong time.

And then, I found this letter, from a stranger. Perhaps, she wanted me to know how a stranger could fall in love. She was a stranger to me, for I knew not even her name but she alone possessed the key to unlock the torrid of emotions locked up in my heart. But she knew that I was her only love. Then you ask, so have we met each other? Have we spent quality time being together? No. In fact I knew it was a big NO. When the rains fell so slow, through my window pane, I remember her, because it rains in my heart as well. Her pretty face… and her intense eyes… her passionate smile...

And that letter had a word. Hey you, did you ever read a line twice before you act? No. Now, the time has come… It’s Christmas. And I know… I very well know that it’s been fifteen years since I have laid my eyes on her… But I am a drifter, a dreamer. My job is to dream. And I deal with it if it doesn’t come true. But I don't give up hope. For, you see, Hope is the most beautiful word in my dictionary. I am not old, but I am just forty. This Christmas, after fifteen long years is very special to me. Because I’ll be playing for one last time… On that stage… the same old stage… that stage where I saw her for the first time… the same old song that I sang for her… Where did she disappear? The clueless scenes floated in my mind. But the letter beckoned a bright ray of hope. It fixed a smile upon my dry spirits… Today I will get my answer...Today, the mystery will be solved.

And I got dressed in black… And got myself prepared for the big event, the grand finale… It’s another Christmas… The winter had seeped into the lush, green city in and transformed it into a mystical white haven. All the twinkling stars upon the trees had given colours to the ghost white snow and it looked so eerily enticing as it covered the ancient street. The roads to my house were wet, yet I pined for a bright night within the dark night.

And the world looks so beautiful tonight… All the colours I know have been sketched across with that word... The word… that word…

And as I walked through the backstage… to perform… the song that she always loved to hear… I looked with my big brown eyes… to soak… to feel… the love she sent my way, fifteen years ago… And from afar, I spotted a petite head crowned with auburn hair, I held my breath and waited for it to turn....and it did......and the face which gazed upon me with awe had an undying smile and her sapphire eyes sparkled and radiated heat enough to set my heart on fire. Then I knew… and she realized it as well, with astounding clarity....that dreams never fail…

Sweet Child

2010-12-20T12:36:00.000-08:00

Macy, take thy poor child for granted

His young cold blood bleeds in gloom

But he has hoarded love and concord

Nor did your eyes seen, or ears heard

Macy, why did you kill your poor child?

His pale face, sore eyes know no pain

But he has put a wish to the mankind

And they pierced his chest, ah vicious

O Macy, why have you betrayed him?

Like the prickle thrusting through in

Like the darkness clouding around in

O Mother Macy, why, why have you?

Weep, O Weep, he is dead, just dead

90 Seconds

2010-12-20T12:29:00.000-08:00

Once, a beautiful dream weaved its infant in my sleep. And it lived for ninety seconds in my sleep. I was twelve years old. But the picture it portrayed was of a seventy year old hangman’s. His job was to hang people. ‘Death’ was his only disguise. He wore his proud mask to commit his brave job. They say, ‘work is worship’. They add to support the very same lines with, ‘Every job has to be done proudly’. The pole that was kept alongside the fort had many victims. Every heart pounded when he ended up with many lives that way. That was poignant. And he wasn’t really ‘proud’ of what he was committing.

I met him at the edge of the town a decade later. He was then eighty two. He nearly lost his eyesight and his voice was hardly heard. “Hello, brave soul, I remember you”. I said. He stooped on to me and whispered, “Have I killed your spirits?” I replied “Yes, once”. And he nodded with his bravest mask and shuffled off towards the east where the west touched the shore, to bask and see his life for one last moment.

Everything you do has its emulate. For all the time spent in that cold shell, struck by the paintings, and the blues songs, he held his heart close to the box that she gave him long time ago. The moment of freedom occurs when we pursue what we love. His love gave birth for many paintings. Paint the wall, the dry draft from the north comes to soothe your soul. He heard it, felt it, and copied its waves with those canvases. The box… That box… That black box had a letter… The only thing in that box was a letter… A white letter written with blue ink… And the note is incomplete… The ink must have run dry. But her heart was on it. She was his special friend, the one who whispered fairy tales to him. They dreamt together, and woke up every dawn with a lovely smile. He was in love with her smile. There were then no blues songs. The nightingale as she sang for him every morning. When the shaft swept the street towards their stay, thrusting warmth through the pane, they rose up, with their endless love.

A sudden fall of distant ray diverted from his thinking. His eyes shed tears. He felt good. The shore is crowded with strangers. And the grand fort lured the hitchhikers. The gates to the entrance has been locked and sealed. No one is permitted to witness the mighty pole that hanged many people. Its stood up on that stage, like a devil, to lure and squeeze the wanderer. Even the sun dies away when it appears behind its huge clock. Time is life. Life has nothing to offer beyond time. Stay away, step a step back, or sideways, but stay away. Echoed the spirits surrounded by the rock made fort.

Once, a beautiful dream weaved its infant in my sleep… It was “I”. And he hurt my feelings in my sleep, in my dream’s dream. I was ‘He’. And the dream was incomplete… The dawn has led its way to the dusk… The shore has buried the sun… And the moon has come out from its shell… And the pole… The starry pole… That stood up on that stage and has become history… And the way to the hangman’s house has been glittered with myriad stars… And he, for once, smiled for the very reason that he cried… He is free… Free from pain… Free from his proud work…

And the moment he stepped inside his house, and opened that black box, the letter… Her faded lines… Memories… And the background music from his rusty radio, the skies poured inch by inch on his roof… For the letter said, “Remember, When I am away, you are so close to my heart...”

"The Rainbow Smiles" by Aarini Sharma

2010-10-12T06:33:00.000-07:00

She had heard the voice many a times. In her dreams, in her fantasies, in her thoughts, amidst all the crowd and din. It was clear in her mind as if somebody has been whispering in her ears for long. As she would be sitting on that mango tree, her eyes would be looking at the space next to her many a times. And she would silently fold her hands at the distant sounds of the “aarti” which mom would be singing. Mom said she belonged to trees, birds and skies. While everybody thought she was a happy go lucky child, only a mom’s heart could see through that she never conversed. Never bared her heart to anybody. But she being the hopeful one would never give up!! She would still search for that voice which matched hers, the eyes which would mirror her true reflection and a silhouette by which she would be able to sit shoulder to shoulder. And she had promised herself that her voice will only find way when she would find those ears which will not listen to the tone but the intent behind it.

One of those days in her solitary pursuit, she stumbled upon a stone. They were words engraved on it in Red, words which sprung from stone and started conversing with her. She was mesmerised!! She tried to walk past the stone, but there was something which kept her drawing back there. It felt to her as if these words were just meant for her, especially carved out of somebody’s heartiest desires. She tried to find the source, but could find none. The voice had drawn closer. Something told her that if she sat by the stone and waited, her lifelong search will reach its destination. So she sat by it. There was a certain sort of solace there, where she had not been able to find anywhere. She would sit and chat with it, speak of her dreams, lost and found, her trials and tribulations, laugh her heart out, cried on her bruises and marks. She knew it heard, it responded, gave its advice, wiped her tears and applauded at her success. Days grew into nights, nights to dawns and she could hear the voice drawing closer. Something within her told her that her quest would be ending soon.

It was one of those days when the springs had drawn nearer, the rains had washed off the lush green fields and bright yellow flowers had started smiling. She had slept off thinking about the voice and in her dreams she heard it loud and clear “today you will find me”. She woke up with a start as her forehead perspired. Somewhere a dawn was breaking and as she rubbed her eyes, “He” stood there smiling at her. And as she looked at him she realised she “always knew” him. The voice came and embraced her. She suddenly knew she belonged!!

A bright rainbow smiled somewhere!!

Slavery...

2010-09-21T06:58:00.000-07:00

My wings of feathery dream sprouted in the month of November. Inch by inch the icy cubes of a frozen brook broke out from its shell. There was I and you. Among all the blues, I sowed this seed of love without any prejudice, for I knew the fuel of life – in pain or so deep. I have a hitch. It’s not you or your history. It’s not me or my sense of self. But it’s the dark wall that I have painted in maroon smear. Once when the lane that emerged out of my dream, I held myself on to the victims of calamity. They had no one in this dark globe...

Sweet dreams are often made in deep sleep. And the moment you are awake, the sleep carries away the dream that you wished to acquire. Life is in the run of desire, at the grand highway, to the rough patches of creepy sewer. Every time when the door bell used to chime, I stood straight to stare through the dark pane beside the huge print hung from the roof to bottom. Because I knew the lonesome visitors never asked for me or my whereabouts. They wanted to quench their thirst. And set their voyage to an unknown terra firma…

Now, I have a hitch. But I got nowhere to sketch it. When the rain falls softly on my dry land, I step out, get drenched and walk away to the glitters of glory glided by the street lamps that stood lean and sturdy. The dry hiss of the breeze shook my past away. Everything and everyone in the street are so strange. I and you… The mirage that I see on this stream… We meet every day… And I know the fact that, each day is a drive to the next dawn… And my wings of feathery dream sprouted from here… Among all the blues, I sowed this seed of love without any prejudice… without any pain… any name…

Two'gether by Raymon Thomas

2010-08-09T09:06:00.000-07:00

I was wondering why people get so worried and tensed about what their future spouses are going be or who it is going to be. I was recently sent a link of a person I know who created their own ID on one of the matrimonial sites. It got me thinking about how we spend so much of our time dreaming about the person we want to be with

Ø The humble type,

Ø The loving type,

Ø The God fearing type,

Ø The caring type,

Ø The type that is there for us,

Ø Spirit filled,

Ø Good sense of humor

But have we ever taken a minute off our busy schedules to think “Will I be able to fit into anyone’s type?” Well let’s concentrate on the list that we have made for our future spouses. It’s always nice to think that we are always right and that everything is ok with us. “As I myself am preparing to find the one for me, I find myself quizzed with the same questions that I require in my future spouse.

During my Prayer times, I find myself praying for a wife as described in the book of Proverbs 31, And recently as I was talking to an elder sister of mine, I found out that as I am going to be the head of the household, how much time have I spent praying for myself? It was a wake up call and not a peaceful one but a rather rude one.

So I decide I would try to change myself, I started to check out the qualities of Good Husband from the Bible,

Þ I Corinthians 7:3 Let the husband render unto the wife due benevolence: and likewise also the wife unto the husband.

Þ Colossians 3:19 Husbands, love your wives, and be not bitter against them.

Þ 1 Peter 3:7 Likewise, ye husbands, dwell with them according to knowledge, giving honor unto the wife, as unto the weaker vessel, and as being heirs together of the grace of life; that your prayers be not hindered.

Þ Ephesians 5:25 Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it

Þ Ephesians 5:33 Nevertheless let every one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself; and the wife see that she reverence her husband.

So here I am staring at the threshold of marriage, again, not at all prepared. So I take a step back to wonder how I would get ready for something like this. Well for the wedding I would have people assisting me in the preparations, but who would I go to get myself ready?

It’s ironic how, for the most important times of life we find ourselves the least bit prepared. I have known people who say that “it will come to me” or “I will rise up to the occasion just like that” etc……

I beg to differ, because you are not just going to rise up to any occasion if you don’t know what it is that you are going to face? And the best way to be ready is to have your own counselor! You see all world leaders and Big business houses have their own set of advisors who are with them when they need advice the most. We usually have our comfort groups to whom we look to for advice. But in all situations we have an Advisor, One who looks at every problem from a higher point of view, so high that He can see your past, your present and your future. Don’t you think it is good to have advice from such a person? His name is the Holy Spirit; His main duty is to counsel you on all issues of life. Please do not limit his role to the church and spiritual activities. He can advice you on any situation!

So if you are looking at getting ready for marriage and are setting up the “Do’s and Don’ts” behavior list for your future spouse, I would suggest you start to prepare your self to be in someone’s list.

“Stop searching for the Special someone and Start being the Special someone, some ones searching for”

the rambler...

2010-08-05T17:13:00.000-07:00

It was a wintry December dawn. The empty patch was not really empty. They had those beautiful lilies shriveled across to affix its beauty. In his black suit, he stood tranquil in dismay. The fresh fragrance of the colorful flora or the rush course of the rivulet didn’t appease his wounded heart. In his eyes, through the reflection of his own image on the rousing brook, he saw a desperate soul raving for a blustery time in life.

The most gruesome part is to cross the past that was struck whenever an akin phase traverse through our mind.

In her eyes he saw love. Her eyes were like the pebbles in the Blue Nile. The heart has no reason to be hush. No one has any control over it. The silence or the whispers of yesteryear can never replace memories.

For hours he had this thought cruising across his heart like a lightening, stuck in-between the past and future. And suddenly the clouds split opened and showered slowly. The rain fell slow whilst the man in his black suit walked like a drifter, to a land where many tales were buried. All one need to do is to pick a fable and make it a life. On his way he found the pixie birds nesting for a shelter. Even the birds need a place to rest. They have wings to fly. But that doesn’t mean they own the sky.

Sooner or later the spirits in him will craft a magic. He may be able to carve them for good deeds. Like they say, every emotion rouses to build a good or bad act. All we need to do is to make our own choice and see them ensue.

The heavy rain didn’t stop him from the voyage. His desire is to reach the hills and look down to recall the journey. The journey of the human mind never completes until the eternal desire buds a longing in a dream that we all get once in lifetime. He is walking. He doesn’t want to give up. He did hear a lot of fairy tales. In them he found his love. What we are is what we think. He thought fairy tales had great brainwave. It never had any wretchedness in it. They all lived ever blissfully.

The days and nights passed by… The December flowers withered away… The summer storms lead its way… In the wilderness he ought to find an oasis. And that doesn’t make him relinquish his endeavor. He kept walking… In life, the idea is not to find a shortcut. That doesn’t make anyone smarter than the rest. It’s to reach the destination by experiencing the whole thing. He had faith. Years passed by. Summer has gone by. The rivers dried away… And suddenly the whole life was rafted across to a world he always wished to attain.

Today, it’s a wintry December dawn. The empty patch is not really empty. They have these beautiful lilies shriveled across to affix its beauty. In his black suit, he stood tranquil in dismay. The fresh fragrance of the colorful flora and the rush course of the rivulet did appease his fresh soul. In his eyes he can see thousand stars dazzling across to share and care for one another.

And then, the December rain once again spread its colors. And he walked on to another hills, waving his arms in the air… to a hazy land… because… all he got to do is to keep walking…

Love, Hate, Hatred

2010-08-05T17:11:00.000-07:00

My heart was placed in your heart
Chained, tattoed or cornered
And layer by layer it shed its scent
Love, peace or humanity

My dream was placed in your sleep
Seized, dazed or dangled
And reel by reel you cut the scene
Selfish, desire or pleasure

My face was tattooed in your life
Dark, white or blue
And dot by dot you washed it away
Love, hurt or hatred

My love was merged for a cause
Grey, silver or jade
And day by day you began to regret
Ray, shiver or hope

the hitchhiker...

2010-08-05T17:09:00.000-07:00

The frosty dews swept the way

to swirl and dot his far-flung aim

upon all the twigs a tale buried

below the dry hiss of wiry roots

for they waved arms in the air,

and heaved the hitchhiker so nigh

to seal his vase onto the course

and swig until his thirst dies away

The Innocent Child

2010-08-05T17:06:00.001-07:00

A child in the prison cried for fare,

To fill his bare belly with the food;

And an inmate spread strawberry,

With a spiteful smile set on his face;

And it lured the dying child in dark,

But in vain, he was in pain; oh pale

And he prayed to the God, Oh Lord;

To save his soul, from shade of loss,

In paradise, when the snivel heard,

Dear Lord swept his tears away…

freedom...

2010-08-05T17:04:00.001-07:00

the day I left to feel frosty brook

buried beneath the pictorial sky

that stood above the grand pile

where I found my mirror image

along with the moving billows

until the dusk fell upon the isle

for I tasted my former freedom

away from home, alone at sight

blue Globe...

2010-08-05T17:03:00.000-07:00

the unsullied skies spread the smell

of a globe we dreamt to live, in calm

where the poppy birds flew for nest

towards the dark blue castle, in love

and the twigs shed their virgin bloom

to greet the fair fairy princess, pretty

of a world where we began to dream

and to the far-flung terrain of fantasy

in peace or love – but in pact, for sure

Love, In a dream ♥

2010-08-05T17:00:00.000-07:00

Turn the page, and evade the ink

For it is dark, like the dusk lay arm

Upon the meadow, amid the rain

Frosty and hazy, in a sunlit dream

For she is your dream; archangel,

Oh! Caring, loving, and so daring

And she spread the wings of bliss

But none heeded the love she had

For the page had a sweet tale,

Where her story was inked in blues

But none read the poignant note

A Rainy Night

2010-08-05T16:58:00.000-07:00

the day I kissed, and cuddled

when it rained, and breezed

where we set fire from wood

that was wet by the tempest

in a dim room lighten by eyes

whose dreams were to adore

in the wilderness of existence

with hues of romance, in rain

for our eyes drifted evermore

to be in the moment of delight

the blue...

2010-07-30T12:40:00.000-07:00

The maroon wall that you see is not my lavishness. It’s my empty heart. The dark blue sky that you see is not my love. But it’s my pain. For all the dry leaves you stepped on to is not my autumn memoirs. And it’s the spirits of days gone by. I know... you know... All the way you rant to devastate the barriers... Once the hidden wall was built on the shores of light blue aquatic. Eventually the wall that was crafted with buttress fell upon the race against the fiery sun. Like a bridge falling down, deep down... down to the unknown land... And it was assorted with the fine blue salty sluice.

The more they tried, the worse they were worried... They hard they thought, the weird it got soften. Everybody wanted to be somebody. Everybody thought to be somebody else. It all went in vain...

And the picture that you see is not my trinkets. But it dangles around my neck to spread the ray... to the one who is in need of a smile. And for the ones who are desperately in need of a shining shield. I know... you know... All the way you ramble across the empty streets in search of a dear comrade... A sweet friend who lets you be the way you are... Everybody wants to be somebody... No one thought of being the mirror image they would wanted to see... Ah, i know... you know... love is your friend... And when the strings of love beats, you may want to bleed for another life... Like a november rain falling upon your roof when you are grey and lone... Such is the masterpiece of your sound mind.

And the maroon wall that you is not about loneliness... It’s my heart shedding tears for love... for humanity... and for candour... And when the clouds fall apart for the rain to pour, i will see the magic in your eyes... in your heart... and in your silky silver smile...

I 'n' U

2010-07-23T12:30:00.000-07:00

There’s sadness in your eyes. Like a river, your tears roll... In the end, the amount of love you give out is what you going to take in. True. Towards the exit you run... Another door opens... In life, you see what you wish to. All the good things sprout from a dream... And I believe in dreams. She had a dream. In her dream, I held my heart in her heart. But her love went afar – to an island. Through these sweet memoir, a sweet flaming tale smudged upon the wooden wall. These walls... if these walls could hear... or talk... the whole error would have been fixed. Today, the dreams of an ancient warrior stood still... Dreams... What exactly is a dream? What exactly is life? They said, upon all the little deeds, a sweet reward is kept aside.

Tomorrow is only seen in dreams... There’s hope... In my great grandfather’s times, I saw million warriors losing hope to the death. None. No one can ever fight against time. One man’s time is another one’s patience. No one can ever fight against time. The distant hymn I hear is my own echo. And the heart throbbing music is played by a trumpet.And when it’s played... the waving spirits of the yesteryear flashed through my deep dark black eyes... The nights and days when I used to walk miles to study... love... Ah, well... Everything flashes through these dark eyes... There’s sadness in my eyes, said my love... And years later, I ran from my love... from everything and everywhere... Life... Lost... Last... Never did last... Nothing is eternal...

In the spirits of nature’s concord, we dance. A tune that which played in the backyard has been heard every time you break down... And your train of thoughts stop. The world appears to be flat... And you lose balance... You lose the energy level to carry on forward... But... the dreams that we have cannot be replaced with the battle of heart and mind. All of us will have to go forward... There’s no stage for mistake... but it’ll make only stronger... There’s sadness in your eyes, she said. And the sadness is the spirits for humanity... But there’s also hope in my eyes... And all of us will live to love... When the distant harmony brings us the sweet melody, I smile... Like a rush of silver stream, heading towards the dry patch... Through these sweet memoir, a sweet flaming tale would guide the way... to the ones that comes after us... after I and You... until then... the fight is on... And the fight will be on... until the last moment...

Facebook: www.facebook.com/njwrites

The Morning Kiss

2010-05-27T02:51:00.000-07:00

Hiss of the summer rainstorm

Spanks and congeals the pane

Flaking away my tacit feelings

Taking us to the empty shores

Where, I and you trade smiles

And whispers a verse in silence

For all the ancient tales to fade

And to sprout blistering desires

Until the dawn bursts through

And wakes us up with its gleam

Where, I and you begin the day

With a kiss, to be prized forever

Dry Leaves

2010-05-15T06:51:00.000-07:00

I tried to write

On martyrs, satyrs, and saviors

Yet failed –to note

But dreamt – in a dream

On saints, sailors, and shepherds

Basking and bragging

Years ago – ancient times

For a life ripped from seed

To sow – and saw

A pensive shore on a sheet

Glitters of yesteryear

In history – recurs

Yet dark - blues

Dry leaves – or colorblind

One sky for all...

2010-05-08T06:35:00.000-07:00

The silky moon hangs in the sky

Like a silver stone spreading ray

Upon all the inhabitants on a hill

Away from the clutches of spite

To swell up the arms of harmony

Athwart the bridge of unfairness

Streaming along in a fiery force

To blend its race in the deep sea

Angels & demons in a dream

2010-05-06T01:17:00.000-07:00

Once I was lost on an island, in a crystal glasshouse. The glass was painted in blue, tainted with dark sketches of a once existed myth. There was then a lighthouse which stood afar the fields, across the streams. And the crystal rays from the lighthouse awakened the child in me. I, for once wanted to cross the silver streams, and reach the spark, to touch or feel. Emptiness… to fill the emptiness in me…

Maybe, yes – true.

They never said “Impossible”. Alas, the darkness around me and the absurd myriad sketches tattooed against the glass left my spirits wander like a soul sailing for his love in the wilderness.

Once I was in love, on an island. In that island, on that pretty stone, a sign was engraved. It read “Endless”. Irony…? Yes-true.

The dark angel in the myth had a smile fixed upon her face. In her eyes I saw the pebbles floating across the silver streams amid with the fallen stars. Stars… Moon… and the smog... When we yearn for the love of life, the spirits of any existing tales will shun away. Impossible - No, true. The dream and the grief lead the pathway filled with roses. Roses… They have whole lot of colors.

Once I was lost on an island… The island had pretty floras… And the dark sketches had many crossroads… Every crossroad lead to a pretty lane colored in grey and green. Today, as I look back, the memories and the signs of crystal bell blathers about a better dawn... The dawn… The dawn is too near… The dawn is right here… Impossible – No, True!

Never more to roam...

2010-04-29T05:19:00.000-07:00

Have they started it yet? *Fire* …the war on the playground and the bloodshed… Ah, peace is a mile away where the child at the orphanage wails for food… The sudden burst of downpour cleansed the bleeding soldier’s wrecked body…

The country and the young people will be proud of him for the freedom he inherited. Freedom… Freedom to exploit… Freedom to slay… Freedom to betray… Oh my dear soldier, why have you burned your body? Oh beloved soldier, why have they left you alive handicapped?

Remember that time, white flags in the summer land… The days and the nights where those sparkling stars reflected upon the silky streams… Ah, there you had a dream; heavens spread all its haze upon you...

Now the final curtains are down… The stage is no more for you to perform. This stage was your last ground to act. The blow has ruined your dreams… There are tears in your eyes… The day was bright, and the dusk was splendid... He smiled at his only love, kissed his child and opened the doors… And the rest is history. There’s a blue song in the dark room. There she’s waiting for his return… And she waits for him, all the night, staring at the empty street, through her dusky pane…

But… the empty playground and him… Never more to roam… Never more to roam… He’s gone… She knows not… there the candles are burning… In a while, her tears will drench its flame away…

Melodies & Meaning by Michael DiGrande

2010-04-19T10:01:00.000-07:00

I’ll admit it: When NJ asked me to write a guest post on the topic of music, I was both intimidated and excited.

I was intimidated because NJ’s blog comes from a headspace that’s deep seated in emotions and feelings, where my blog tends to come from an analytical perspective. True, I talk about emotional responses to music, but I imagine the approach he takes with his blog is vastly different from the one I take with mine. However, the excitement I felt stemmed from the chance to write candidly about the greatest thing in the world, and those feelings are always a lot stronger than the apprehensive ones.

So let’s get to it with something that Aldous Huxley once said:

“After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.”

I didn’t read all of Brave New World, but I don’t think I need to in order to figure out what Mr. Huxley is going on about. In fact, the odds are no matter what kind of listener you are, audiophile or casual pop follower, you’ll understand what he’s going on about too.

You’ll understand it because you’ve felt in, from the very music you’ve listened to in your life.

In my 22 years alive, nothing has come close to the experiences I’ve had with music. It’s an anomaly as a form of media as well as a form of creative expression, an incredibly public experience while remaining strikingly intimate. Think about that for a moment: What other artifact can human beings experience in a crowded room, or on a lonely night drive, with said artifact retaining the ability to move one’s inner self? What other tangible thing can get a whole room dancing, or make the moon seem that much brighter? What can lift the weight of the world while giving gravity to our lives?

To my knowledge, only music can.

Regardless of the setting it’s experienced in, music is a profound presence in our lives, one that can simultaneously make us look outward and inward. With a backbeat and melody it can move mountains, heal the hurt, harness a mood, a feeling, or an experience. It can effortlessly imply a universal commonality inside one’s ears, reassuring us that we’re in this big black unknown together, even if it doesn’t seem like it. It can take you in between the shadows and spaces in your mind, while measuring out time itself within in song’s length.

I’m not a religious man, but I’d argue that creating and experiencing music is perhaps the closest we can get to the spiritual, to the cosmic that’s outside ourselves.

With the 20^th Century’s advent of the 7” and the 45”, everyone suddenly had access to this magical thing, and it’s only gotten more accessible as time’s gone on. Now all we need is a radio and a dial, an iPhone, or a stereo with that mix CD you’ve been meaning to listen to. Our turntables and CD players become alters in a way, a sacred space where we ritualize our listening with great care. We listen when we’re working, when we’re moving, while we’re sleeping. We allow this thing to move through us, and because we can never touch it, taste it, see it, or smell it, we ALWAYS feel it.

I’m romanticizing it of course, but we take great care to lay these discs down, to create this playlists and mixes. Even the most flippant music consumer is aware that what these mp3s contain is special. We give these sounds our undivided attention, letting them probe the deepest parts of ourselves. We’re more open to them than we are to our loved ones, more attuned to them than the outside world.

We don’t want them ruined, marred or destroyed. We want them to last forever because, in a way, if their presence is infinite, ours will be too.

Because the final thing music does is it brings us back to moments in our lives, the places that are caught between dreaming and remembering. Better than a photograph or a journal, music takes us out of the now and puts us back into the moments that have shaped us. It allows us to travel to the memories we cherish most, the ones with most meaning, the experiences we want to resonate forever. Music takes the feelings we feel, the feelings we cannot accurately relay (even in our closest relationships), and it allows us to feel them as if no time has passed. It allows us to live lifetimes in our mind, an incredible feat for something only experienced by one of our senses.

It makes the intangible, tangible, expressing it with a grace and eloquence that human speech could never fully articulate. It is a shared well of knowledge, gleaned from all corners of the world in a countless number of ways. And when you really think about it, music ultimately explains everything there is to explain: Harmony and discord, pain and joy, love and loss.

All we have to do is listen.

--------------------------

Author: Michael DiGrande

Author's Blog: This Song Starts A Craze

Mike @ Twitter: http://twitter.com/MikeDiGrande

I love her... And I miss her...

2010-04-19T06:30:00.000-07:00

She lived… Today, as I turn back and see the days that I spent with her, a short touch of a soft feather… Today, I thought about her… I love her… She lived.

The dark side of the lone heart murmurs a soft song. It bleeds… Until the last thick blood drop, it bleeds, and it bleeds away the pain… Ah, the sound of a terror hits upon the sailors ship… It doesn’t sink… It doesn’t sink at all… The music’s on… In the backyard it still plays like a nightingale bidding her final farewell. She lived… in the twentieth century. Who was she? She had these pretty eyes who could fix a smile upon my little face… The doors are shut and I’m in a lost land, searching for the shining stars… In her eyes I saw thousand sparkling stars…

The amount of love that she gave is enough for a life span to remember… In her eyes I saw ancient tales. And her eyes were connected with my soul to search and seek sanity. She lived in the era where the Kings and Queens ruled the land. Across the empty shore, away from the filthy land, she sculpted her dreams. Alas, the dreams were taken away by some inmates who had no clout over the terrain. There was a time where it used to rain, always... Ah, yes, I said, always. And we used to stare upon the little branches which used to plunge little drops of unsullied water. Ah, fresh smell of the wet sand and the slow arrival of the December haze… Life… Ah, it hurts to recollect memoirs… I never used to write diaries… I never used to keep photographs… All that hurts me… We’re no man’s army to fight against the freedom that our great savior has granted us with. Today, I remember her. She lived. Until the lost moment, she will live in me… In my memories, she’ll… for ever and ever…

Note: This post is about my great grandmother. I do remember her. I loved her a lot. I guess I was 5 years old when she passed away. We both were traveling in a bus from her sister’s place, and she reached back home, and slept. She had mentioned to me that her head was aching. I never knew her time had come. Respect them. All of us will one day has to go through the same life. Respect grey hair.

The carnival of freedom…

2010-04-05T13:09:00.000-07:00

This is the final farewell from his dreamy land. Here he waits for the sunshine, to carry him away to a fairy land. He waits… Oh, the sudden light falls upon the distant streams, coursing its way to blend with his dreams. Dreams… What exactly is a dream? His voice echoes, leaving him alone at disbelief… There’s no nightingale… There’s no November rain… he stands alone… His heart is as hard as the soul who wails in a dungeon… The powerful weapon thrusts his hard heart to ease his sight… Powerful weapon… Ah, powerful weapon… That’s his past tales… He isn’t too far away… The dark hour of his mystic ride is on its way to end the race… At pace it crawls, moving the entire hurdles to the empty playground… Memories… What exactly is a memory? His voice echoes, letting him wander through the sparkling reflections of the fallen stars… Ah, agony… Ah, ardor… His body is weak and his soul is strong. And he finds his lost friend’s last note… He reads it for one last time and throws it away… The spirits are burning for another life… Another dream… Another land… Here he waits… Somewhere the sun is shining… And he walks to the land where he has come from…

*The rain falls*… *He walks away*… And the note fades its way to an unknown world…

And it was scribbled in blues on a black sheet with his thick blood…

~~In a dungeon~~

~~On his knees~~

~~And his soul~~

~~In tears, lost~~

~~And the bells~~

~~Gallows pole~~

~~In his dreams~~

~~At her sight~~

~~His last plea~~

~~In an instant~~

~~Cell unlocks~~

~~Bells unheard~~

~~And he walks~~

~~And he leaves~~

The Redeemer

2010-03-31T12:39:00.000-07:00

There was then a little child
who craved for the blue moon
on a dark night at his doorstep
fazed by its sheer silky shade
that fell upon his roof to lighten
the spirits of a long lost magic
and a crystal ray shoved into
his heaved heart to hear its say
so softly to cease his ache, and
its glare blazed his spirits afar…

A tale in my dream...

2010-03-13T05:28:00.000-08:00

A loner lurked for his vile fate

In the feral trail of a lost dale

Where he was strewed by arc

That lured him to the hazy hills

And he swam across the rills

In search of a treasure he hid

Years ago in his majestic empire

And he dug the icy thoroughfare

To rake his lost horde of shield

But flailed by the tip of a pot

In glee he then released its top

And In my dream I saw him smile...

Note: I’m taking a short break from Blogging. Anyone who would like to read my poems can visit my official page in here http://www.facebook.com/njwrites at facebook. Take care, dear ones. Love N J

Last smile to a lost friend...

2010-03-09T04:13:00.000-08:00

Friends can save and sate and slay us
From a marooned dark blue room
To an empty coast in a western doom
That leads us to the dotted skies
Fragile; My heart
Agony; My soul
Nasty; My mind
Friends can love and lie and leave us
Like a stranger on the border
Ranting over his panting antagonist
To an empty street where no one lives
Voyage; My vision
Quiet; My notion
Plight; My aspiration
Friends, friends, have you won the war?
*Pause* *shuts the eyes*

An ancient prayer…

2010-02-16T04:16:00.000-08:00

The gust fell upon the ferryboat
For it naively sank to the moon, &
His love stood awake of his return, &
She sang a song to the blue skies

O Lord, Guard my guardian
For his craft is full of Gold
Send him a guardian angel
For us to live in love forever

The dark holes poured packed
For its fiery wrecked the yacht, &
the gale rushed upon the waves, &
pushed him away from the craft

O Lord, Guard my guardian
For his craft is full of Gold…
Make his sail smooth & sane
For us to live in eternal ecstasy

And whilst she recites the mantra,
ferry full of Gold sank to the west, &
Crossed the silver sea in vain, &
Went astray with all the glitzy gold…

Grievousness of flame...

2010-02-13T03:00:00.000-08:00

¶ Breathe it my love… breathe my love… here comes the fog lo and nigh, tugging our hearts to bond forever. The day is February 14th… you and I know the history, although our tale is going to be a little different. Sometimes the emptiness in me is sweetened by the memories. In my memoirs, your voice eases my despair. When my spirits crave for your presence, I wander through my dreams like a drifter in the wilderness, in search of a soulful song…

O my Valentine, when you stay alive with your dead spirits, I glance through the rain drops outside my windowpane. It’s all kissed by the smog, smelting life thru the leaves that looked pale and dry… a touch of tenderness heal many a heart, in whisper as when you deal with me, I melt down like a dreamy child. Grievousness of flare is yet to become paler. It arises from a blistering sense of urgency and goes to the dark ceaselessly…

O Valentine, close your eyes to see me right in front of you; to touch me, and to feel my rough pelt… the lovely day has come to an end, and the time still ticks by… here I lie down reading the songs you wrote for me… tomorrow when the dawn kisses the stream to feel the warmth of sun, I’ll stay awake… And I’ll be riding many a mile to another land… to feel the love, as the lone gist of love is love itself…

Until then I’ll treasure this special song close to my heart… for her… for an angel… the time goes by, and the grievousness of flame fades away, and I’ll never ever let anyone take away the dawn from me…

¶ Grievousness of flame fades away

with your memories in my life, and

the blue crystal bell rings yet again

rhyming in my heart to art them all

and to carry each other in despairs

to an island where we sit and sketch

a distant dream that comes through

riding with a pillion on the unicorn

climbing hills of woes in no intricacy

to set forth a fairy dream comes alive

and here we go away, across the sea…

goodbye to say hello…

2010-02-05T03:10:00.000-08:00

Spirits in my heart crawl

Evokes the bygone tale

Seize the scenes behind

Where

Friends forge to win pride

Breaks the terrain I owned

For

Time smiled at my hurt heart

Sighed in tears to fill emptiness

Days ran dry & nights died away

I sang a song counting on time

It heard the same song in tears

Soothe my broken wings in shape

To hurl the scenes afar, forever…

The bells…

2010-02-02T22:43:00.000-08:00

*Bells*

*Wind*

*Drizzle*

*Chant*

O dear dead, rise from your grave

Dark grave

Six feet, O you have departed lone

Cold shell

Once you lived as the king in a place

Peacefully

Sweet lass lay beneath the pastures

Bare sight

O shadows, passerby with its gain

Empty pitcher

Days in the life has been gone so far

Grand memoir

Driven out from the dark blue skies

Dead, O death

O flowers, bud your sweet thorns

Cover the clan

O death, strange secret fanatic

*Chant*

*Drizzle*

*Wind*

*Bells*

O Holy Zephyr…

2010-01-25T01:38:00.000-08:00

The dark lane was deserted. These walls won’t worry about yesterday, but I’ve got to go back to find where I’ve come from. Who wouldn’t love to walk through the strange days of delusion? These are the days of deadly serpents and swindler servants. I don’t see sunshine. It must have moved out to the west, crossing the silver rays. Miles away from the clouds, counting on to the whisper of long gone days, I wait in here for a fairy to disembark… to tell me an untold tale…

Mama never used to tell me stories. I always had an enthrallment towards fairy-tales. The moment you endure yourself to a tale is the time you let all your woes go forth, because you have been mesmerized and have been taken away from the real to a virtual world. This empty street has a tale to tell. I remember the bells that used to unease me when I was in my deep sleep prior to the dawn. Bells always bring aching scenes from the memory. The moment you glimpse those scenes, profanity shuns and shuts all the doors.

The dark lane has got no lanterns to light up. The one that was flickering has got its way to the dark era.

“Hey Man, how far is your journey?” He asked himself.

…but he never got any answer to it.

Perhaps, the heart by no means wanted to betray his conscience. I remember the lane filled with lovers and pleasers a long while ago. They all met up in a forlorn land. Few of them exchanged thoughts and the rest smiled. The grand doll house and the huge Christmas tree aroused her splendor in a touch with tenderness. So soothing yet too throbbing…

“Hey Man, how far would you wait?” He asked himself.

…but he never got any answer to it.

Every moment I spend on this lane brings back the memoir of a juggler spreading his cards for the rest to choose. Alone in the glitters of yester year’s pride, they chose the card ‘Joker’. The long gone desire rises up from the east crossing the west to find a reason for me to smile. Her name was sculpted at the corner of a wooden piece. My soul shivers upon the mighty love’s death. I’m no more a young lad who used to move faster than a fiery. My grey hair whispers in silence. The name I read was the ache that tattooed on my heart… The rage of a wounded dog spilled the last blood drops.

“Hey Man, how deep was your desire?” He asked himself.

…but he never got any answer to it.

The lonesome street had pictures sculpted on the ancient walls. It’s the same street… It’s the same dreams… The month and the day cycles again, bringing fond gentleness around the corner. On this wrecked wooden bench while I seat myself, the downpour falls at its best… to set the street with the colorful melodrama I had once…

The same old bells chant a blissful beat along with the zephyr… Miles away from the clouds, counting on to the whisper of long gone days, I wait in here for a fairy to disembark… to tell me an untold tale…

the end is the beginning…

2010-01-16T23:11:00.000-08:00

the heart bleeds in whisper
to swindle with forge and foe
O thy grandeur has no space
to ace the pace for it to sprout
the vague dream dies in despair
to itch the pitch for a bizarre ride
O thy fortress boasts of nation
to brawl with pride and prejudice
Alas, the grand warrior dies in vain
to cast his dreams afar the land…

Social Responsibility Regarding Sexuality & Semantics by Mike DiGrande

2010-01-01T12:51:00.000-08:00

Living in Northern California affords one many luxuries. We’re privy to good food, a diverse culture, and relatively temperate climates to aide in our comfortable lifestyle. I don’t think I’d be alone in saying it’s a modern paradise, a certifiable Shangri-La at the West end of the United States where dreams can come true for anyone.

However, living in such a great place makes one conscious not only of privilege, but conscious of those that cannot share in the most basic of privileges. The privileges I’m speaking of are those regarding the gay and lesbian community’s struggle for civic and financial equality. As someone that lives in San Francisco, the proverbial front line of the gay marriage debate, I’m extremely empathetic to those battling to maintain an equitable display of love and the governmental benefits that ensue because of that love.

Therefore, I’d like to take the time to outline what I perceive to be the crux of the issue. I’ve done my best to approach the issue from an objective standpoint, and I hope to illustrate why both sides (Not just those against gay marriage) fail to get at the real heart of the problem.

For starters, there is the plain simple fact that same sex couples are being financially discriminated against. By prohibiting these couples from obtaining marriage licenses (as they exist today), state governments are denying these individuals benefits based on one aspect of their sexuality, something inexcusable even in our country’s Constitution.

Regardless of what anyone’s personal feelings are on the topic of gay and lesbian relationships, denying these couples the financial benefits based on sexual preference is an insidious mutation of segregation. For lack of a better way to say it, if two people would like to spend the rest of their lives together, it should not matter what sex they belong to. If governments are willing to allow tax breaks, inheritance benefits, and legal privileges to heterosexual couples, there is little argument to withhold them from homosexual ones.

The other problem we face in the gay marriage issue is the traditional construction of marriage within our society. I specify this because there are issues of culture here, and such nuances aren’t played up in the mainstream debate. Since Prop 8’s victory in California, there’s been an overwhelming group of people claiming that state of marriage can only occur between a man and a woman. These cries have, for the most part, stemmed from religious groups, whose ritualistic take on marriage requires both a bride and a groom.

Here is where it gets complicated: Those battling over the idea of gay marriage are battling over semantics when the real injustice is financial equality.

The ideal separation between church and state in this country should allow these religious groups to practice marriage in a fashion that stays true their faiths. It goes against the tenants this country was founded on to force such changes on religious groups. In short, it would force a change a lifestyle to accommodate a few. Sound familiar?

Yet at the same time, it is also irresponsible for governments (Both state and federal) to lack an equitable channel for same sex couples to gain the same marriage benefits as straight ones based on a implied cultural definition of marriage. Therefore, while governments should not be looked to as the arbiter to change cultural institutions, they do need to be held accountable to change financial ones.

Unfortunately, both sides seem distracted.

Those opposing gay rights crusade to protect the idea of traditional marriage.

Those who champion for gay rights say they’ll fight to get married because the word marriage is important to them.

At the end of the day, do we really need government to say “These two people love each other…?” I’m not sure that we do. We need government to provide equitable privileges to all its citizens, and secure/protect the rights that are entitled to us as Americans.

So what needs to happen?

Well, churches should hardly be asked to modify rituals in a way that goes against their teachings, even if those teachings are exclusive in nature. Additionally, governments need to set up a method that assures gay and lesbian couples the same benefits as married heterosexual couples. Maybe it’s not called marriage, maybe it is, maybe they’re some hybrid of civil unions. Either way, there needs to be compromise regardless of what it’s called. Legislation needs to catch up with the times, much like it did in the 1960s, and it needs to focus on securing secular rights rather than infringing on cultural semantics. At the end of the day, no one can tell a person who to love, and a slip of paper that says “Marriage License” is no exception.

Instead, we should be granting these couples the same privileges we’d grant any other couple in love.

But more than that, there needs to be a fundamental shift in the way Americans approach the idea of homosexuality. Sexual preference is not a means to define a human being, nor has it ever been. Sadly, it would seem at least half the country “tolerates” homosexuality when it should be “accepted.” There is a strong “Us vs Them” mentality in this country (even in San Francisco), that gay and lesbian individuals are different from straight ones. Instead, there needs to be a conscious effort on the part of every individual not to ignore sexual orientation or preference, but to regard it as merely part of a person, not the whole person.

This isn’t a call to arms to picket, sign petitions, or go through the motions of empty grass roots politics. Such movements gather little momentum, or are focused on attacking the supposed enemy. Instead it’s a call to behave as a human being, a call to recognize the qualities of life that each person should be enfranchised to share, and a call to identify the cultural modifiers that keep human beings from sharing in them. It is in this way that I believe human beings can change attitudes, social norms, and, eventually, laws.

Still, things of this nature take time. A willingness to come together for change, rather than a rally to fight, takes time that neither side really wants to spend. Yet perhaps if both sides of the gay rights issue looked at what privileges are really up for debate, then maybe we’d come to a far quicker solution and far more compassionate society.

Mike @ Twitter - www.twitter.com/MikeDiGrande

Blog - www.thissongstartsacraze.blogspot.com

Blog - www.picturewortha.blogspot.com

Last walk to the pastures...

2009-12-25T04:08:00.000-08:00

Craving spirits are fallen free from a hole in the sky that looked so weirdly worthless. Miles away in a farm where they saw the barren land filled with colorless flowers dried and dread with the sudden rush of lights from up. Run you worthless soul. I say, run. to…?

Look, listen… I’ve got to tell you why I am in here. I see a smile on your pale face. When the sudden gush of downpour causing cold breeze melt away down beneath the mushy grass, won’t you hush? I want to wander through the pastures where those poets laid their hearts to blend the beauty of nature. In their hearts they had art to save, but they couldn’t save the ‘life’ and ‘love’ in them. The pale face and your smile taunt my rush. You got to hold back. Sing a song, for thy master keep them close to his heart. Now, pack all you want… take your asset with you and before the sun rests in her place, you got to chip that tiny stone away… the stone that says “I”…

Is there anybody in <3?

2009-12-11T04:01:00.000-08:00

The sudden burst of cloud’s fiery fire… Alas, the breeze hailed its warmth and dodged the way… Miles away a lonely branch rendered a tender leaf to cherish the long gone days, in a wistful chip, falling in motion. They seemed to me motionless in air…

Sometimes, a long gaze at the mirror talks something about us. Love…? Is there anybody in love? Sing a sweet lullaby for thy master and deal with him in whispers. Sigh… have you left the note in whispers to chatter the long gone days that’s been set forth for a bright future?

In my arms you lay your trust, to blend with mine and to see through life, in a dreamy land, where it’s just you and me. Shadow of colors and colors of rainbow in a crystal pot glaring at us to tell us we are in love… Love…? Is there anybody in love? Ask me not for I may speak out… I…

Well…I am not supposed to speak out… I am thy master and I got to deal in whispers… I want to sail to the moon; along with you, for you may call me as a sweet soul lived many decades ago. That’s life… that’s love… around the twelfth hour when the clock ticks its heart out, I may crave for your heart… for your presence… and hey, hello, it’s me whom you think about. I know… the song shall remain the same, and many have sung it… many will sing it again…

The sudden burst of cloud’s fiery fire… Alas, it’s in my heart… You may dodge and take another path… Alas, the falling leaves know not this craving heart.

And I ask…

Is there anybody in love?

Sweet November

2009-12-10T15:20:00.001-08:00

No more love songs from me
for you to value and worry
No more sweet tales from me
for you to wail and vent out
No more November pictures
for you to feel warmth in cold
Hatred is the new seed in plot
I plant it with pride and prejudice
On a white sheet with blue I ink,
my bitter bits of sliced heart
As a tribute to the people I met
for the clowns that I set
Ah, Sweet November died so fast
through the glance of a fresh leaf
In the garden of an eastern valley
In to the heart that I once knew…

Life in a terrarium...

2009-11-24T07:30:00.000-08:00

Sweet, soft yet mellow

Fib, fall, uh, oh, so fast

River in a dry terrarium

Misty clouds coat around

Filthy creeps crawl in, Ah

You reap what you sow,

In a paddy field full of gold

Some picked the stone, sand

And I left the green far alone

Are you through the patch?

There are twenty seven pebbles

Few men rushed to lay hands

Some died and the rest were killed

Oh, don't let the news reach home

Their sweet home, wives all alone

Row the boat, chase the twilight

Eat the joy, rush in a flicker

And comfort them, oh devil…

You know, that’s sad…

In a muddy land they plot huts

Sudden rush of the west breeze

Oh, ah, sigh… it blew them away…

Last trip to the Paradise

2009-11-20T05:37:00.000-08:00

Hey little bulb, wink, wink

Tiny creep, glow for us

To show the way and lead us

Through the grass, dry grass

Oh little gnome, wink, wink

Tiny creep, blink for us

To show the path and whisper

Through the eighteenth century

Oh, sigh, my little bulb

You died so soon…

Gnome, your spirits are dead

Ray and hope remains still…

It remains still…

Her last song...

2009-11-15T15:26:00.000-08:00

In a winter dark you whispered

a song, sweet song…

In a summer dawn you gifted,

a smile, warm smile…

Days passed by in a blink of an eye,

Nights died away like a gleam of gut

Now say, a story…

Same story to kill,

those days and fun times,

Dusty rays and dark shades…

When the rains fell,

while the birds sang...

Before the day’s end,

the song that you sang...

Thrusts in to my soul…

Ah, dear… come this way

Ah, dear… make a note of

the song for good times

Oh, you are away…

Far, so far from here

Way, in a way there are ways,

to reach the place…

And Kate, you didn’t care,

to wait for your turn…

Now, you smiles at me…

Among those stars in the sky

Ah, you smiles at me…

An everlasting smile…

Art thy heart...

2009-11-11T07:30:00.000-08:00

There is silence in here… It wouldn’t have got better than this… It’s his heart…

Heart speaks a lot in silence…

Could you tell me what it speaks? Won’t you show him where it leadeth to? …an island or to the hills…?

Shine oh you bleeding soul

Vent out your feelings

Rave mate for you to make it big

Save your heart to see it sink

Across the stream, climbing hills

Heal thy scar, peel your facade

To fence the dark shades

To cleanse the bleeding soul

Oh dear, remembrance time nearby

Someday someone will remember

All good deeds thy have done…

Until then carry your heart

For it belongs to you…

- Hush -O- Rush -

2009-11-03T08:36:00.000-08:00

“Sit there my child… You will be perfectly alright… There is nothing that you would want to think of now. Just relax for a while…”

The rains fell slow, touching those dry leaves that looked weary, waiting for breeze to end its race, and I thanked the skies for the rain… ‘I’…

Rush, oh hush my baby, they are watching over you… You aren’t going to give up and all we got to do is to reach the other side of the woods. Now, I see circles around us like a ray giving chance to fly along with it, around the clouds to abide the oath that we took…

Once you said “Honey, I have no tears left in me”… “I am running short of breath”…

Until then you made me realize how easy it’s to elude the woe and hence by fixing up a pale smile on the face… Sigh… Ah, isn’t it crude to fake? Although, I don’t see anyone around me other than my own reflection on the stream beneath this valley, I take it what he said to me. He is me and I’m he! I take it… Yeah, I do…

Now my child, you turn back and see yourself what harm has thou art done to the master! The master is expressing grief through his short sad song… Now, there are chances of him flying far… through the seas and to the hills…

Once you asked “Is it okay to act as if?” and I replied so softly “No”… No…

I guess I know the answer now…these rivers dried many a time… those floras withered away… I see myself standing tall on the reflection of my eyes through the stream in here… the child has grown up so huge and he knows most of the answer to his questions… In his words, you won’t know him much but, let the mystery laze coated with love in this frail space… the child is still staring at me… I see life through these eyes… wish I ever realized the fact that it belonged to me ever since I was born…

…it’s still raining and I know that the day is nearing for me to lay my hands on those pocketful stones I treasured once… it’s time…

Aleena...

2009-10-31T08:41:00.000-07:00

Aleena… that’s all I remember… I’m turning 39 this December… all I wish is nothing but her to pick a card along with those floras to visit me… for one last time... I know not if the trumpet that you hear may reach me the next dawn…that beautiful dawn…

Long lonesome street and shaded lamps flicker, flicker around me to show the way, to reach the place where I’m all lost in the fog. Aleena stood far away from the crowd, so absurd yet dazzling… They said real people get to know each other whilst exchanging a word through their eyes… Eyes… Aren’t they the soul, mind and life? Eyes… All eyes on my eyes and I stare at her like a man dreaming in his dream… Ah, uh, okay…

Let the word reach her whilst I pass on this message to convey that I’m on my way… to reach and to play the trumpet for you…

To know her is as simple as to know ‘white’… Peace, destiny and calmness of greenery… Aleena left a long while ago to the place where her Father resides in heaven, and here I sit in to reel a dream that I had a decade ago… a decade ago when she was all mine… just mine…

Peace <= => Love

2009-10-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

When words weal our heart & spare a scar
While memoir reel scenes of pain & blow
When the silence in darkness surrounds us,
Would you take a chance to bid bye to all?

Some of those stories had king and queen
In a few of them had clown and convict
In their times they all got six feet to rest
Now, do you wish for a little more to top?

When train of thoughts pierce our soul
To hear crystal bells, ringing far away
Signs of a distant ray soothing our way
Won’t you give time to cross this part?

...and I believe I can fly

2009-10-26T08:24:00.000-07:00

Have you ever taken a ride to the palace where angels reside...? Well, I have…

Palambathur is around 80 kilometers fromKodaikanal. This was not an adventurous trip to us however, as a part of National Social Service program, we had been sent to do couple of activities.It’s a village where people depend on farming to make a living. For they know nothing about luxury and live with what they reap. Farming is one of the greatest resources or rather I would say, to repay mother earth for the love we have in us for her. The short break from the college and those boring classes were an exciting aspect for us. An excitement to explore a new world…

The first few days we had spent learning about the lifestyle of the villagers. They can live, love and dream.For they sleep without worrying about the next day. Well, I have been to the places they reside. I have had food with them, shared smile and felt inventive with their approach to life. We spent our nights in the lovely cottages bounded with lots of tree and the mist that added the magnificence that quivered my heart. The spirit in me felt free when the nature poured slightly as a warm gesture of reception to their terrain. When the fog around the place thrilled to enthrall and the clouds above us reserved a lot of shower, I was on a whole different world. The wet roads, dark clouds and the foggy nights were enough for me to get caught up with the tacit magic of that world.

The land of peace, love and eternal beauty will be a blessing to many. Palambathur will remain close to my heart for the innocence of the hard working people who lives there. The cultural programs that we performed to entertain them will remain on top in my heart. The house that we built for the peasant will be a blessing to us...

Rainbows, sunsets and moonlights all were in the picture. There is a life we have on earth. We are born by choice or… chance... We are living and all of us, until we puff the last air…There are many Palambathurs in this world…

When the memoir takes me away from this summer heat, the cold breeze calls me to be with them… In the wild journey of imagination as when I look back, all you see is and all you know is how to love… I could still feel the beauty of that world. I still remember the shop where we used to have tea while fogs floated motionless in air...

They say world is small…

…and I say, there is a world that we haven’t seen. …and I believe I can fly with these wings called memoir attached with me.

A dawn to go…

2009-10-22T03:00:00.000-07:00

Here she stays awake

untouched, unseen

she weeps, it counts

Oh bad, that’s sad

she hears the clock

ticking twelfth hour

for his hour has come

to wave his arms,

and fall from the gallows pole

when the moon fades away

while the clouds cover its ray

he’ll be away, she will be alone

When 3/\O7 hurts LOVE...

2009-10-17T07:14:00.000-07:00

It’s a pretty sunshine that bursts out through the hole

While I’m lying down in here, waiting for rains to fall

These pretty floras getting dried and I’m waving arms

For rains to fall, wet these leaves and breathe them life

It’s a pretty sky and those birds flying for their nest

While I’m lying down in here, hearing their pensive prayers

There are pretty branches, touching the deep blue sky

And I see no place for them to rest, in peace and harmony

Now, I see a dark wall blocking my vision, passion

And I run towards it, to break the wall, crack its head

Oh, I climb the wall to reach its top to tap its wit

But I see a word scribbled out in blood, thick blood

Now, I’m hanging upside down, gripping on to the wall

Reading it as 3/\O7, for love is all we need…

A day in my life...

2009-10-11T07:26:00.000-07:00

Long, long time ago… This is how my grandfather used to tell me stories… Hold on! I’m not going to talk about a fairy tale in here... This is not a fiction too… It happened… sigh!!

There was an era, I always wanted to travel down to

India

, educate myself to be one among the millions in ocean who wished alike. So when my name topped up in the list to choose where and when to leave from

Saudi Arabia

for further studies, I browsed through Google… To opt for a place where I can set my prospect… The page at last took me to a hill station which, of course, is as beautiful as you are... When I say beautiful, it’s not about the object what you see through your eyes. It’s something beyond that... Days passed by until a fine dawn enthralled me with those fruitful memories which were yet to discern. So, I packed my bags and flew down to

India

…

I have always wanted to let you all know about the life that I lived. But, it wasn’t as painless as you may think when the experience (most) haven’t got any optimistic thought in it and had been ascended from no man’s land to nowhere... When the mind tickling moments you cherished at your prime, will be only there in your heart as a stroke, which could either prick or sooth while seeing similar occurrences… Ah, that may mar at times…

The education began… There were friends to share ills and wells… Time flew… Nature as always touched all of us with her everlasting grin in the form of rainstorm… fog… and unceasing breeze that made us blind…

That was the time we had a new joiner in our college. His name was Jobin and we called him Jo in short. As the days passed by, we became best of friends who could share about anything under the sky and above green pastures that seemed like carpet. Jo and I were in the same class though we had different set of friends in hostel, which was located on another hill. That reminds me of my hostel room that stood face to the cheek of clouds that descended upon our roof. To err is human, but the avowal can never be used at any cost when it comes to nature. It’s for obvious reasons that, God have created it so wholly that nothing could ever compete with her magnificence.

Time flew… Just like those birds flew for their new nest… Rains fell… from a hole in the sky that looked like it was just for us who stayed in Paradise Hills… Like the name, it was truly a paradise…

We lived there for 3 years and when we were in our final year, something happened. ‘Something happened’? That statement is not right…

On a Monday, when I was getting ready for my classes and while searching for my shoes, Jo rushed in to my room. I looked up to him in awe and asked him the reason for his pale face. He, on the other side showed me his bleeding face and asked if blood is a good sign. I never had any answers for it… I have always thought about many things in life but the sign of blood? That remained as a question mark to me. But, in life, there are always a lot of signs. Sign of love… Sign of care… Sign of affection… Sign of fear… Sign of blood? You see, that last sign was alien to me until I reached the college, thinking about it like a rambler searching for oasis.

The professor started his lecture on Discrete Mathematics and I could see Jo scribbling something on his book. He looked ill. Suddenly, someone from somewhere passed through a message to the professor that I have been asked to meet the Principal. I was in a way happy to flee from the class, since I always had a problem with Math’s. I walked through the corridor; thinking reasons behind him asking me to surrender, whilst, 'sign of blood' stood motionless in my mind…

Principal looked disturbed… While penning this very doom, I shiver, akin to how I did at that very moment when principal revealed the news that, Jobin’s dad passed away…

He asked me not to let him know until we reach his place… I didn’t know how to react… He spoke about his Father and his dreams a day before this demise…

I went along with him… He never knew that I had been told about this by the principle… I took him to his native, saying his Father is not keeping well… I can still see Jobin’s crestfallen face the moment he saw the black flag nearby his house… Something that pricks my heart, saying…, life is too short… there is nothing to boast about… to feel proud of… anything could happen at the very next moment… it’s only a matter of time…

World is beautiful… We are just a drop in the ocean… In the end, we live for once… Let’s live in harmony…

a ray in darkness...

2009-10-06T09:41:00.000-07:00

October 6… the day was bright and clouds looked beautiful… today I detached myself from all those social networking sites… not that I loathe them but I’m on my way to write something on the wall… forever…

Today, I’m a free bird… no strings attached… when my head kiss the ground, I’ll be remembered… by my parents… friends, yeah… I’ll be…

I have detached myself from the fragile globe and have set my journey to know more about life… people and of course, humanity… Oh, well… I’m high… flying high with these wings called hope…

Let the reason be Humanity...

2009-10-03T20:49:00.000-07:00

It was as usual a cold morning… The dawn burst out through the pane to tickle me awake. All these days I have been dreaming a lot. That sky knows it all. My dreams and reality at times blend for awe struck illusions. Hey, hey, hey, am I supposed to think different? Hey, hey, hey, isn’t it the other way? Those were two questions been exchanged while glaring at myself in the mirror to say Hello/Bye.

Two long days made whole lot of difference to the way I foresee things. I think it made a lot of changes in the outlook towards my society. This diary might not entertain many out here since it’s not a poem, experience or anything related to music. It has to be something that all of us think or would have thought at least once or more than that. Inward questions are something which makes us pen or whisper, and let it reach through the lonesome hearts. You know it’s true...

All the things that you seek will have two reasons. Maybe tomorrow the same ideologies that you search for will get back to you. Oh yes, that’s life…

The person in front of me is none other than my mirage where I see him through this pane. I know that the only person who understands or rather encourages me is the person I see in front of me. That’s me. Of course, it’s me. Long gone days beckon the warm tomorrow, where I changed my belief in an optimistic manner to stamp the fact that I can make a difference… to this world… the place where I live and the society that I belongs to…

Yes, I can! That makes a lot of difference. It took me almost twenty six years to get it right. I can! Yes, I can… and I’ll…

You know it’s true and all that we see turns out to be for our own good. Well, that’s how we spread our positive energies. Ain't we?

Long lived my grandfather once when he was late for a meeting, stated regretfully that he will never ever show up his face to the crowd who waited for him. Words… Oh well, he taught me all that… I remember him today for his hard work and those values that he taught me. I know nobody can forget the way he/she has come up in their lives. We all look back and see how at one point of time they all seemed so hard for us… on us… But, yes we have crossed the seas, thorn fields and have reached heights of the distant hill that wistfully looked at us one point in time. Life, changes so fast. It’s a matter of time…

Dream… Oh, that’s very important said my grandfather. He dreamt a lot. He wanted to take his driving license at the age of sixty five and he did achieve all his dreams until the last moment in his life.

Today, at this very moment, I discard everything for humanity… I believe I can make a lot of difference to the society that I live. Today, when I look in the mirror, I see a smile on my face. Today, I have decided not to look at my past. Today, I believe all of us can make a better tomorrow… Together we stand… All these small things for sure will make a lot of difference… Dream on…We never know if tomorrow belong to us… Fight for a reason… Let the reason be Humanity…

Angels in hell…

2009-09-30T09:25:00.000-07:00

I’m a little child locked in the clock room
And this rope and string fall from the roof
I see birds and clouds through the pane
And I can’t help that bleeding bird, sigh

I’m a little child who climbed the stairs
And these stairs look so scary, my Lord
I see heaven from hell through this pain
And I can’t go back to where it all begin

Now, there is a look in my eye and I moan
For I see no choice given but to bleed out
Hence I bleed until the last drop left within
In vain it goes through the words of hope…

Memories... they live forever 'n' ever...

2009-09-26T10:48:00.000-07:00

I have been staying in this dark room for quite some time. This silence speaks louder than voice. It’s been a while since I spoke. There is nobody around…

I love my childhood. Those days were fun… I got this video to show how exactly my life was when I stayed in a picturesque village with my grandfather. He is no more. Ever since he left this world, I never had any interest to visit that place which gifted me with fond memories. These flowers will dry and fall… Those rivers will stop flowing… All of us will rest in peace… But… Memories… Yeah… they do live forever…

Today, I got back to the world where I was surrounded with friends and flowers… Ah, Okay! Let the music speak… I shall sit in a corner and watch it peacefully…

...that lighthouse

2009-09-23T13:59:00.000-07:00

These bells tell the blissful tale

There we see mirage on walls

Away she stood, across the vale

Like a princess dressed so good

To bid bye along with her prince

These wings tell the wistful tale

There we see our lives on sand

Away he stood, across the stream

Like a hangman waiting for us

To bid bye along with the memoir

And the lighthouse that we see

And the golden ray that we feel

All the way from start to end

All that we feel, all that we see

Comes to an end when the race end
...all that we see comes to an end

~ A dream to sketch ~

2009-09-22T09:01:00.000-07:00

Do you see what I see?

Do you feel how I feel?

Have you been to a dream land?

Have you been in a fairy tale?

Here I sit and paint this dream

To see the sky, kiss the stream

To feel the icy hose chant for joy

And let the frozen rain fall from up

Did you see what I sketched?

Did you feel like how I felt?

And have you been to a dream land?

Now, would you live in a fairy tale?

Dream On... Dream On... Dream On...

2009-09-20T12:26:00.000-07:00

Two days ago I was thinking a lot about this song. Yeh… about life… dreams… long gone days and those breathtaking moments we had once… But, it’s not all over yet… Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take us away… Until then dream on… Dream on…

~ ~ ~ The Color Of Sky ~ ~ ~

2009-09-19T06:34:00.000-07:00

That sky knows it all, from the start to end

In her eyes I see sparkling stars, charming

When these strings pitch a song to our past

Oh, the same dark blue sky in yellow shade

Ah, all we know is about reflections of life

All we feel is what's been given and taken

And we all rest under the same sky, blue sky

Sigh, they are proud of this fragile globe,

And these darkness clouds around us soon

Alas, we all have nothing but six feet to brag

If and only if humanity had lone meaning,

I would have painted the skies in yellow…

¶ About a dream

2009-09-18T15:24:00.000-07:00

¶ Last night, I had a dream. In my dream a pretty face drew closer to me. There was pin drop silence and it was just both of us. There were times I was threatened by the shadows of night...Those nights were colder and I don't quite remember the last time I dreamt of something remarkable. Here I glimpse a beautiful world, where the quotes mentioned on a craft did tempt, seduce and hugged my lonely soul…so softly…

And it read "You are entering a mysterious and fascinating world of dreams where the rules of reality do not apply"

Reality is bias to what we act upon. So does the dream that thrive from a heart that wishes to live a life worth for mankind. I remember reading somewhere stating that a dream unifies the body, mind and spirit. How well you think if your spirit did blend with your mind when a dream took you away to a distant hill to let you rejoice in harmony? Such a long question has got a simple thought, yet perplexed, and at times leaving a blank illussion to fill the space.

Firstly, I have no clue about body, mind and spirit. Secondly, I don't remember most of the dreams that I see. Thirdly, I really get frighten by a golden face that visits me rarely.

¶ Last night I had a dream. It was a dream wherein a pretty face led me across the land where I stayed. She was so sweet… so calm… so real…

For once, I wished to live forever… For once I wanted to dwell in the present… For once I wanted to be under the same sky where birds chant, rivers roll and skies pour…

The red dress she wore did lighten up my spirit… mind… and while taking me across the street, crossing lanes and shops, I saw a black coated mask behind the church symmetry. The symmetry had the number 666 on it. The pretty face glanced through her big brown eyes to confront the terror that she saw on my face. She wanted to see me in high spirits… Did I just passed by a sign of life?

I know not… I know nobody other than the charming girl who took me away from my sleep to this Island where it's just both of us… I can hear no bird chant… I can see no star above us… There is hush around the place…

As when we reached the shore, she took me by the hand showing a way to cross the island in a boat. We paddled across the beach… At times, silence can break your heart… And the young lady who showed me the way is glaring at a distant hill… Spiteful words can hurt your feelings but her silence… It doesn’t hurt me… But it's s-c-a-r-y… I kind of felt silence had the LOUDESTvoice…

The darkness around me did jolt me a bit… My wits been withered in silence… I just wanted to get back from here… The girl was still staring at the distant hill and as when we reached the other end, she beamed at me. I got out from the boat and when she was walking in front of me, I noticed a number that's tattooed on her left arm. That number...

Just before I could even scream, I ran back and …

*** Dreams are not complete… And my dream ends without any conclusion.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps - George Harrison

2009-09-15T14:56:00.000-07:00

INSECURE dogs

2009-09-15T05:44:00.000-07:00

When we smile, weal and wail

On our way to wield the shield

Some may say their waves out

Whilst we confer no converse

Hence the names wither, oh awful

Fence the unseen, unheard, and unfelt

Rinse your mind, soul and spirit

Howl the bowl when it overflows

Wolves’ wool been used for us

Where all of us are been used

Break the rules, shake the ground

Wake the fools, bake their brains

Fake the wound, feel the pain

Roll the scenes, bury them away…

~ ~ Endless Desire 'n' Broken Promises ~ ~

2009-09-08T13:06:00.000-07:00

My brain shower thoughts like the rain

When this mind set its journey to the past

Alone, avid and vivid they become known

Red lights in the moonlight and cold gust

Oh so far away from fall and down we go

Alone we go; along they come, among all

When they gaze at me and phrase on me

A line that carved on my heart thrust into

And my soul is bleeding, weeping for light

A Light for right as truth stays bright, white

And my psyche comes back to the present

Oh the world seems to be old, wild, weird

Wired all the way since start to the end

These frames been moved and crushed

Dreams been thrown, desires been piled

Oh wait; ah hold on, life must go on… on…

...the tale ends

2009-09-05T10:27:00.000-07:00

For so long I’ve been wailing
In this dark caged space
And my wounds are not healed
So I will sleep here forever…

Move away from my scenes
Please take away your diary
Let these flowers fade
When those stars shade away

And then time holds my rave…
Oh when days cure the scar
And this ache sheds the heap
So please take away these tales

I Love this lonely face…
When it shows upon the mirage
And Breeze sweeps those leaves
When scenes been buried so deep

Oh, carry me away, far…
Away from this world, soon
Along to the shore, for good…
Let this tale end forever…

Spirits of evermore...

2009-08-17T12:59:00.000-07:00

I flew above stars to avoid the scar

And the scar never moved from its race

I sailed across streams to cross the graze

And waves never aid to pace the race

I crawled along the lane to evade ache

But spirits of evermore never let me go

Now dreams flew so high and low

Where the sun shone from far east

And I sit in here, stare for her

When the time comes, I’ll wave the way…

When the time comes, I’ll row the road…

A place to hide…

2009-07-26T05:47:00.000-07:00

Young face, bright face

Shower praise, show face

Some stay, and few say…

Words that thrust hard

Words that cut loose

And it’s time, its chance…

So, strike it for who you are

Strike it for what you are

Let your dark circles aside

Let your dark shades aisle

Young face, pale face

Shower praise, show face

They lost hope…

buried them alive

And time never gave chance

Chance was all they needed you are

So, be free for what you are

Let the past leave them alone

Let them know that they live

I hear bells ringing from a shore

These cells burn to flee the martyr

And I am he; he never want to be me

I wish to be away and alone

From the fame and love I had once…

Now I hear my voice echo from the hill

Strike it for who you are, what you are

And the lost souls shall be cared by the rest

And, I’m leaving to an island, to be away

And, I’m leaving to an island, to be alone

Alone I will live… alone I will die…

And the memoirs in me shall be buried along…

Find Me A Grave

2009-07-22T04:45:00.000-07:00

Alone in the mirror when I huff

Away they stay, caged in mirage

Around the twelfth hour, I frown

for hose as when my lips ran dry

Away they stay, the world and I,

ran for the human race and died,

for the same blood in me as theirs

didn’t cross riches and pride

Now, I rant, rove, bleed, burn…

So I love you and hate myself for

being so outrageous to this evil,

weird bigots who rule the globe

There is hatred, the soul bleeds

in me have departed a while ago

Now you smile, smell, hear, tear,

and die like me for being crude

To say the least in worthless,

To hell with all generations

To hell with caste, creed

And to hell with prejudice

Never, ever utter truth my ally

Never, ever let your soul fly

Never, ever strive too hard and,

Never, ever strain too much…

Now, let the rain fall and heal

your wounds and the woes,

Let it fall out from your heart

And let's live in love serenely…

...in a while

2009-07-22T04:26:00.000-07:00

Such a short note and its life

Such a short spot and its love

Have you been with God?

Did he show you the land?

Wines spill

Wars burst

Spines break

Rhymes fall

Such a long road and its life

And it’s the journey of souls

Have you crossed the lane?

Did he take you by the hand?

Lovers split

Rains fall

Legends die

Martyrs fade

Such a huge term and its life

Such a short breathe and it’s us

Just a breathe to take pride

Just a breathe and we are gone

Infants die

Tears dry

Sun sets

Life ends

Do you believe in fairy tales?

2009-06-22T19:27:00.000-07:00

Do you believe in fairy tales? Do you…?

I remember few tales been told to me when I was young. Well, I’m still young. So are you!! While listening eagerly to those tales, I often got lost in and as one among those characters who enacted them.

Long time ago when I spent my days with my grandfather, which is of course one of the best times I ever had, have soothed my ears to listen to more of them. He used to tell me stories every night when I used to go to bed. There are few stories I keep chanting myself when I go to bed since I lost my grandfather couple of years ago. But, have you been to a fairy land where kings used to rule and their majesty was all in our talks? Have you…?

I remember scribbling a review on ‘Tinkle’ and many of my friends who were with me at that point of time laughed at me uttering, ‘N J is still a kid’. Oh yea, the extreme thoughts in my mind never had any argument left for those murmuring souls. Now, here I play a song that keeps repeating and it does echo my displeased heart which is wanting for more of them. Oh, all my life I have been talking non-sense and here I’m proving myself to swap a character with one among them. I kind of want to scream at them ‘I’m the echo of your past!’, at any cost if I happen to meet any of them. There was a time when I used to get back from school, a bunch of students used to discuss about ‘Horror Movies’. It never freaked me out…But the isolated place where I used to reside, built up a set for me to get involved in those tales. The school bus used to drop me at an isolated land. While carrying that heavy bag and taking short steps to reach my house, I used to get petrified by a tree that stood so tall staring at me. It used to freak me out… I used to run hard to reach my home but then, somehow, something used to pull me aside. My heart beat used to chase the rain drops that tickled the dry sand. The smell of fresh soil and the hungry creeps did give me a hard time to get over with the tales that they narrated.

Today while flipping through the leaves in my diary, it was all fun. The days and nights spent in there was one of the best times I ever had. Now, I play a song that talks about them and it goes like this…

There was a king who ruled the land.

His majesty was in command.

With silver eyes, the scarlet eagle

Showered silver on the people,

Oh Mother, tell me more…

And I’m going… Across the stream with wooden shoes… bells to tell the King the news…

I believe in them… Do you…?

I'll...

2009-06-19T03:15:00.000-07:00

It all started from here… these trees… lights… they all recognize me… and they are the only memorable face out here...

I’m standing outside the hall… This was the hall that held many functions during my college life. They took me away from a distant hill and left in an ocean. An ocean full of memoirs and they are blissful... I believe we all grow older along with these sweet memoirs and as long as we are young at heart, everything is so green...

There are few flowers that look fresh to my soul and as when I pluck one among them, in tears they smile... They make us cheerful. They beam at us… And in return, we have nothing to bestow…
* ------------- * * ------------- * * ------------- *
Long time ago, when I was here playing along with the mist, there was a music that chased my soul. I used to wake up hearing that harmony and it used to haunt me… Hunt me… The music was unknown and I leaped to find its source. Was it from a distant hill? Was it from an island? I was eager to know more about it because they haunted me badly… So badly that I didn’t get any sleep. The hills I used to climb left my footprints for the rest to follow…. Did they chase me? They didn’t and I felt a bit lost for a while. The trumpet was soothing to my soul. It kept playing behind the visions I once had within me... While taking long steps on those drizzling dawn, my heart beat got blended along with the tune… and with nature… In bliss... It still haunts…
I started thinking loud… I guessed a route to reach there at a short span of time. And, the path that I followed left me in a confused state of mind. Life… at times… is all about waiting… Maybe, I should have waited for some more time. If I had an urge to cross the stream and followed the sunrays, the destination wouldn’t have been so long…
* ------------- * * ------------- * * ------------- *
It all started from here… these trees… lights… they all recognize me… and they are the only memorable face out here… I look around and see nobody. There is nobody out here. This place is new to me. The music is still playing loud and I just want to reach there before this misty clouds rest in their place.

I’ll… I should… the music is still on… the unknown music haunts me… I’m somewhere nearby… I’ll reach there… I’ll…