Wednesday, September 21, 2005

No more

To move into a slow phase
I rather stand at the gates

And no one can see thru
locked are the soul-mirrors

Rough boney fingers,streching
and a little more,for a grasp.

When you take everything out of nothing
nothingness still survives.

For such is the effect of love
and such is the effect of wine

Casually I send spiralling puffs
tracks of long lost years they leave.

Steady the ocean which heaves
in the eyes of the beholder

No more I care for release
I surrender to my abode

I hold my head high
where the silences shriek and hopes die.

Sunday, September 18, 2005


Seaside eyes and the stirring contents of oceans they create at will.My kiss imparted to the air we share; it blows on breezes to a distant land to capture and caress your fragile hand.A fragmentary earth, a sphere once whole. Until it broke in pieces like our soul.These tears don't dry for years, and I hear of a golden arrow that is love. It flies and falls and lands most randomly. Or, seemingly.
Like the memories of blood, and veins that pump lineage old and worn and strangely mysterious. A familiarity and timelessness inherent even amid intangibility. No cheek to touch or song to absorb,nor even a flickering eyelid to behold and understand.Just understanding, wherever told, untold. Or misunderstood, but known.
It will always be, beyond this day, as it was beyond the unwound full and unfilled moons of so many thousand yesterdays. These stains and strains mark the blueprints of two fragmentary souls, which join again today, tomorrow... So many tomorrows into forevermore.

Friday, September 09, 2005

For the love of dead

With what sleepless nights
the Gods above created flowers
A dreamy sketch,soft globes
faint,featherlike whispers
too fragile to the touch,these petals
evanescent in their freshness
they fill me with tears.

They fill me with tears
these lovely flowers.yellow,red and white
and some faded.They are dead.
Sharing space with their brothers
too timid in their faded beauty,sinking in their ugliness
For them,the most,my eyes go moist.
won't they feel so lonely?

won't they feel so lonely?
these odourless.lifeless,beauties
limp in their shame,they hang their heads low
Their skin still so soft,so tender
bereft of the Spirit-Goddess they wonder
what human hand would throw them in the bin
so they turn to dust,to become fragile again
fresh again,and loved again.

The dead brothers-in-fate,I weep for you.
I love you.

Saturday, September 03, 2005


Madness O madness
why don't you leave Ashes alone.
why? Goddamn you.