Monday, February 28, 2005

Waking up to Pink Floyd.........realising you've procrastinated the hours of your biological clock
She laid in the shadow of her way,
Hazy were the visions overplayed,
Sunshine in her eyes.............
But moonshine made her blind everytime!

The Beatles

It is a revelation.... the more I rest on it, the more conspicuous it seems that I wasted ten years of my romanticising with music but not courting the Beatles. The Beatles! Show me a person who claims to have explored into their music and throws his verdict out calling them a quartet of 'thumb-sucking sissies' appreciated by a coterie of sorry nerds and I shall show you a foolhardy liar. With Lennon's poetry, Harrison's melodies, McCartney's vocals and Ringo's percussions, they rank at the top of my favourites second only to....well, The Doors. Listen to 'Let it Be' and you shall know of their innocent purity. Listen to 'Norwegian Wood' and you shall learn the happiness of knowing you're in love. Listen to 'Blackbird' and you'll never have to haplessly contemplate on metaphorical evocation. And listen to 'I'm only sleeping' and you shall realise that you were indeed sleeping all this time and you could always do with a little more of hibernation.

Sight

A hazy shade of misty hue,
caught my senses red.
Providence had me shut my eyes,
and the vision trickled upon you.


You walked benignly towards me,
my numbness saw you through.
For the first time and the last,
I could sense my fifth gift.


Not it was the one that life-
had depraved me of, as they say.
The wise men and their vision
depraved of light as they bray.


You ran your fingers upon
my temple. Even the lord asleep(inside)
could not resist your company.
And even if it were for a heart-beat,
He set his holy foot in the room.


His kindness brought me you,
your silhoutte and his lust
wants to lock you inside,
The labyrinth where i have
wandered all this long as
he watched my misery
in helpless patience.

Sunday, February 27, 2005

Death

Death seduces me,
She pulls me closer,
I heave, I jostle,
She grips me coarser.

I look into her eyes,
I see- A Divinity,
A look of Serenity,
of unfathomable Sanctity.

It's ironic, so chaotic,
A life so haughty, so prudent,
falls prey to this -
Comical incantation.

i follow my guide on her path,
on the way disrobing my last loin-cloth.
The path darkens with every step i take.
Erasing every footprint, every memory i make.

As closer to salvation as i further tread,
A master turns into a hapless slave.
My destiny shows me a soft bed.
And i sleep like an infant-in my grave.

On Music

I saved a goblet of turquoise ink, virgin blue,
In it are words, rhymes and epics scattered.
Find me a Morrison or a Barret. Bring me
a Dylan who'd rather be silent contented
waiting, anticipating in the Hyacinth house
Than put on a treacherous mask on a dour face,
And philander with the mistress of shame.


I have some strings of Yew, unmisted like new
whiskers of a handsome cougar.
Adorn they shall the bows of Rob and Jimmy.
The notes they contrive shall Glimmer in Waters
that seep through to revive the forgotten.
Here comes the sun! But I liked Waiting for It all this while.


Each Ray bestows its light upon a singularity.
And they coalesce to make a Rhapsody.
Yes the river knows, it remebers the summer,
that of a year 'less' known. When sunlight shone,
through the dress of a maiden in white.


Though I cannot petition the lord with prayer,
I can beat the cymbals of hope. Or would he?
Well he's busy with his Battles More than Ever!
Or is he intoxicated far away over the Hills?

Birth

Well, you may begin your story,
I promise patient ears sublime.
Comfort in my territory,
Residence till the end of time.
I promise-The Moon shall not pass,
shall not mock the breath of your lips,
The Choir shall call upon the grass,
Cease their twinkle as Silence drips.
Not shall Shame debauch your heart,
Nor to Wisdom ever surrender
your pure scent. The symphonies
play as the muses bathe you tender.
Angels of the night cleanse your womb,
The Divine Offspring shines in glory.
Cocained, delirious, I pen your story,
As I dust the epitaph crowning your tomb.