Requiem to a dream

A shameless narcisscism.I am tired again.Yeah I have decided to let go of music.Music has been a special friend to me all this time.It's difficult to let go of friends,but sometimes when you can't seem to enjoy the 'soul' of something as mystical as music,yoou should let it go.It's unlike life,where even when sometimes there are moments of despair,there is always a hope of joy.The limitless deserts of life have oasis of thirst quenching waters.But music? it dies in one's soul.It used to burn in me,crying withing me,exploding out of my vocal tracts and guitars.But now,i feel a icy stillness.The ashes burn with smouldering light and a pristine light sometimes ignites the few streaks still unburnt.Still..I was asked to perform once again.I accepted and then again,the night before I found myself writing this:

Heavy thoughts due to tiredness still strained enough to be disjointed. A lazy kind of erraticism. These eyelids weigh heavily upon my soul, and with their every silent flutter I feel it move in agitated resignation. When the windows to this soul shut I pale from consciousness, succumbing to the darkness which I no longer adventurously plumb. The stasis now draws me in like the sea, entombing me in quiescent solitude. I am beyond questioning, and instead choose to sit in silence. No will, no care. No energy left…

And that was the writing on the wall.I ,with a heavy heart left my friend ..the music into the infinite consciousness from which it decended on me.I still might play,the flame might still ignite.But as for now..R.I P my beautiful friend.

"This is the end Beautiful friend
This is the end My only friend, the end
Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes...again "-----Jim Morrison

My Poem(another one)

~~In the name of Love~~

Hold on ,the rustling river flows
whispers of sacred lullabies
float and die and float again.
The great pity of a soulful lament
agnoy of a beautiful smile
merge into the limitless skies.
Are we born--untamed and unkempt
the chants of the ancients..a warning
we stand ,we dither and we are frail
we dissolve in the murkiness of oblivion
are you with me?are you gonna laugh too?
The candle sighs it's last breath
and the untamed beast in me lurks
for a soft petal to touch and to smile
a dangerous,foolish,delicate beast.
The drops of love are few and far
in this lonesome desert of pleasure
and the cactus and the carcass of the dead
reminds us--of festivities..forgotten
Are you with me,my wonderful friends
the ashes of my past fly astray
and my future laughs a dismissive laugh
a many hued butterfly of thousand wings
flutters among you,and touch my lips
and the poison of it's sweetness
makes me shake away the deadness in me
I stand proud,erect and ready to crumble
And you won't let me..in the name of love.

this is the poem i wrote in the backseat of the car,last wintery evening.I think fog is so beautifully creativity-inducing.I have a very vivid imagination and i could actually SEE this huge butterfly. and the wonderful friends are all of you in IT,who bear with me despite my obvious madness and quirks.

I wish i could hug ya'll.But I wont----Lyane Staley (Alice in Chains)

Fury

Thinking ,and I mean clear and logical thinking does not come naturally to me.I have several cobwebs in the brain which are utterly monstrous and filled with pathos,sometimes meandering into the abyss of the flowing darkness sometimes taking me into the heights of oblivion.The mercurial temprament notwithstanding,I do have occasions of blind fury.A sudden stab of a clod slithering anger pushes me into the place where everything is molten.a white fuming metal,flowing slowly,aimlessly..destroying everything in its path.A complete annihilation of everything.Anger is such a purifying agent.Yeah I think it's more of a cleansing agent.Destruction is such a vital force,a steping stone to creation.From the ashes of the destroyed world will arise the phonenix of beauty.