Saturday, May 31

Into The Wild.


In these Long Nights, with No Ceiling, leaving the Society Far Behind for Setting Forth to Nowhere but The End of the Road is Guaranteed to come with Rise of a Hard Sun and The Wolf. :)


Song Titles are taken from Into The Wild - OST, pure pwnage.

and Since no tuolomne in India so "nowhere" is better place :D

Thursday, May 29

This poem's just six words long.

I was scared to be different.

Tuesday, May 27

Six Words

We can fly, but we'll fall.

Saturday, May 24

Under The Weeping Moon.


In the presence of the moon at large
He sat under the willow tree
(And wept)

The tears of sorrow
(Tears of pain)
Streamed down his lonely face

The clouds crept up so slowly
Like shadows from the sky
Bearing the hatred within them
(The jealous tears all hidden inside)

These clouds are looking down on the man
That looked up at the moon
Through the branches
Through the leaves (that gracefully sway)
Of this tree that looks so deprived
(so unloved... so unnoticed...)

Out of the darkness, they swept up the sky
And swallowed the moon in one bite

(The clouds took all control)

The one thing left in his shattered heart
(Was gone)
Vanished

Desperate to see his beauty once more
He searched throughout the stars
Finding that in which he needed
Finding not what he desired

All hope was lost
The night the clouds took hold of the moon

Alone again, he tilted his hat
And stared into the grass
With eyes cast down that shone so bright
From the pain that never came out

Until the night the moon returned
He sat under the willow tree
(And wept)


PS : Thank you bihar for the uncountable nights in ground watching the moon and Thank you OPETH :D

PPS : \Google/ for t3h Pic.

Wednesday, May 21

LIFE


"The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends. I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time. What do you get at the end of it? A Death! What's that, a bonus? I think the life cycle is all backwards. You should die first, get it out of the way. Then you live in an old age home. You get kicked out when you're too young, you get a gold watch, you go to work. You work forty years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement. You do drugs, alcohol, you party, you get ready for high school. You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities, you become a little baby, you go back into the womb, you spend your last nine months floating... ...and you finish off as an orgasm."

Saturday, May 17

The Poet.




He lives in his mind.
He wanders and thinks.
The poet closes his eyes,
and sees his beautiful world.

When he wanders through tree arched
groves, he is picturing the trees
as words, the sun as a symbol.

He takes his life, his feelings
and emotions and makes them
the sun. He takes his lost love
and makes her the trees.

The poet, wanders by fish filled
streams and likens it to a
a highway filled with cars. The
rippling sounds of the gentle
waters open his senses.

A lonely hut on the beach, he sees
himself, lonely and waiting. He takes
his loses and puts them into the words of
the beautiful house. Have they not lead
a similar life?

Gently wandering the poet is
always aware of himself. The poet
always wants to share, through beautiful
words of expression he shows you his
life on paper.

He takes every little thing and
puts its beauty to words. He takes every
emotion and makes them a being. The
poet seldom opens his eyes, for the reality
we see is meerly an illusion caused
by lack of words.


Pic : Again, I so wish i could draw sketches

Friday, May 16

एकांत संगीत

तट पर है तरुवर एकाकी
नौक है सागर में
अंतरिक्ष में खग एकाकी
तारा है अंबर में;
भू पर वन, वारिधि पर बेडे,
नभ में उडु-खग मेला,
नर-नारी से भरे जगत में
कवि क हृदय अकेला ।



all hail bachchan saab :)

Thursday, May 15

I.M.E.

2 4 6 8 . . . . I like to masturbate

6 8 10 12 . . . . thank god for the tissues in shelf.


:D :D

yes,I am highly bored and perverted now.


..and yeah IME stands for I Masturbate Everyday

Tuesday, May 13

My Blackest Rose


Under the gaze of the crescent moon
When I hold your face in my hands
I ask myself if this is too soon
Or if I should give in to what my heart demands
A sweet and gentle kiss
To bring light to words I cannot say
I do not know what will become of this
If you'll deny me and go our seperate ways

Turn your face towards me
And breathe
A sigh of relief
A look of disbelief
I've been here all these years
Through every night of tears
And when that night finally comes
When I hold you in my arms
At last I'll let you know
You are my blackest rose

I was there when you'd awake
From a vivid dream of discontent
And your hands I would take
To comfort you with words I meant
But the love behind my eyes you never saw
For your heart beat for only him
And despite it all
I always came to you like the wind

Turn your face towards me
And breathe
A sigh of relief
A look of disbelief
I've been here all these years
Through every night of tears
And when that night finally comes
When I hold you in my arms
At last I'll let you know
You are my blackest rose

I scream into the night
But no sound comes forth
If I hold on a little longer I just might
Be able to prove to you my worth
I've been there to hold you
And keep you company in your darkest hour
But nothing I seemed to do
Ever showed you you were my precious flower

Turn your face towards me
And breathe
A sigh of relief
A look of disbelief
I've been here all these years
Through every night of tears
And when that night finally comes
When I hold you in my arms
At last I'll let you know
You are my blackest rose

I suffered through agony
To show you that you were loved
And in the midst of my misery
Only you can lift me from the grave I have dug
I've loved you all along
And in my arms is where you belong
In my eyes you'll see the love that I hold
Forever more, you are my blackest rose

Turn your face towards me
And breathe
A sigh of relief
A look of disbelief
I've been here all these years
Through every night of tears
And when that night finally comes
When I hold you in my arms
At last I'll let you know
At last I'll let you know
You are my blackest rose




yesh,i have been listening a lot of OPETH latley.


pic credits : google. How i wish i could draw such beautiful sketches.

Sunday, May 11

I Miss You.

“I miss you”. It is a statement, up front and straightforward. It is a common phrase on life. But, if it is so common, why must I pull it out?

[I know]. The voice is unheard, and its owner unseen, but still it is there, and it is waiting.
“No, I’m sorry”. I fumble on my words, and try again: “I’m sorry I got you involved”. I stop short, unsure of how to excuse a mistake done twice over, a mistake etched into my history but completely overlooked and underestimated. I hope for forgiveness I don’t deserve.
[Understandable. Twice doesn’t make it an immovable sin]. The same indifference.
“Wait, you aren’t understanding!” I cry out spontaneously. “I should have never summoned you. I knew the consequences of dreaming…” I halt a moment, and all remains silent. “I should have known it wouldn’t work, my creating you and synthetic happiness-“
[Synthetic? It seemed rather real to me]. The unheard voice cuts me short, and I grow silent at the response. [Well, perhaps the first- my predecessor- was of synthetic joy. I, however, disagree with the idea that your happiness wasn’t real. Why else would you miss me?].
I am taken aback and at a loss for words, and gaze in perplexed appearance at the unseen person. My discomfort causes me to hold my breath and play dumbfounded.
[You miss me, and yet you fear me]. If the voice was not unheard, I might hear a mocking tone, or a chuckle. But I have no way of knowing…and it doesn’t matter.
“I know you aren’t real” I whisper half-heartedly to myself. “You are the child of my imagination taunting the physical world”.
[But a part of me exists in your world, does it not?]. I bite my lip, as I am unable to deny this truth. [Furthermore, there is much more of my energy present than you admit to realize. Do you know why?].
I am genuinely confused and unnerved, and close my eyes in hopes of disintegrating. But curiosity influences even the mightiest of men. “Why is that?”. My voice is quiet and cracking.
[Because I wasn’t modeled upon your imagination, I was modeled on an entirely existent piece of YOUR life].
“But I ran away!” I blurt out in exasperation. “I am a bloody coward, just like before!”. I tremble with anxiety.
[But you miss me…therefore I am not all that you are missing]. My eyes fall to the floor in agony at the truth and the confusion clouding my mind. Through the fog I see the unseen figure, and in the chaos I hear the unheard voice:
[Silly child! Don’t you know that you cannot hide form your fantasies?].

I miss you…whoever it is I am missing.




:|

yes I do :|