আমি ফিরতে চাই। আমি ফিরতে চাই !
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
They had talked of suffering..
Time.
And again.
Sufferance of an immense magnitude, but, without feeling.
Without taste, without color, without shape.
Hollow?
No.
Wonderful emptiness, if I say?
Perhaps.
Lastly it all boils down to confusion.
Every damn second is, a confusion.
Your whole life is a confusion.
Each and every one of us is living in an empty shell.
It is the nothingness that is driving us on.
I had read once that 'the only way to live is to die..'
That perhaps, is the quote of the millennium.
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
the light.
For
I shall walk
toward
the light.
Trampling
yellow leaves
on
old footpaths
past
sunlit tramlines
past
lovers on iron benches
past
yellow traffic
in
a flash
I
shall run
toward
the light.
If
I do not look back
I
shall not
return.
Out
of the shade
and
towards the light
against
dreams of a lifetime
of
mine and others
I
shall walk.
And
I shall smile
even
with a torn conscience
even
with a broken dream
For
I shall look
toward
the light
forever
and
always.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Friday, July 19, 2013
Something rises up like smoke from your lungs and you blow it into the air..
If you walk down
towards the end of the corridor
you shall see,
feel, and smell
the smoke:
black smoke from the old cigarettes
between every pair of fingers:
soft or stiff.
While in wet days
towards evening
if you walk past the Greens,
you shall see the sun
shining on your face
peeking out from among the grey.
And you shall feel
something rising up
within you:
some old feeling of longing,
or a bond with life
of a different kind.
Yes.
Life starts here.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Life of timeless moments!
We wait everyday
Living in empty pleasure
Of our strange society,
For the end.
As eyes shall learn of age
In the years of uncertain future
Wet glasses on brown pages,
Burnt leaves from a lost journal
Shall return to life.
"Tearful eyes when looked at the stars
Never knew when they would come down."
Derelict are the gates
We enter life through;
And Fate arrests this ever-going
Strangeness of life
And sends us to some lost heaven.
Remembrance of some lost significance
Breeds memories spent with
Old friends;
Like March they come,
And like December they depart.
Round we go about this world of contradiction
On a rudderless ship of cards
Sailing where the wind takes us,
Lost in the ghastly seas
Or reaching the oceans to drown
Or reaching our own door
All over again.
I am sick of the dull consequences
Of blunt imagination!
Holding the sun in your hand
Or being afraid to step outside.
And even now:
There are children
In closed houses
Within closed walls
Who the fear the sound of thunder.
September, 2012.
We wait everyday
Living in empty pleasure
Of our strange society,
For the end.
As eyes shall learn of age
In the years of uncertain future
Wet glasses on brown pages,
Burnt leaves from a lost journal
Shall return to life.
"Tearful eyes when looked at the stars
Never knew when they would come down."
Derelict are the gates
We enter life through;
And Fate arrests this ever-going
Strangeness of life
And sends us to some lost heaven.
Remembrance of some lost significance
Breeds memories spent with
Old friends;
Like March they come,
And like December they depart.
Round we go about this world of contradiction
On a rudderless ship of cards
Sailing where the wind takes us,
Lost in the ghastly seas
Or reaching the oceans to drown
Or reaching our own door
All over again.
I am sick of the dull consequences
Of blunt imagination!
Holding the sun in your hand
Or being afraid to step outside.
And even now:
There are children
In closed houses
Within closed walls
Who the fear the sound of thunder.
September, 2012.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Quite En Regle
I walk in drenched evenings
Following the smell of April twilights
And the faint sound of destiny
Lingering in the distance.
Dead skeletons shout slogans of
Emancipation
From overpopulated graveyards;
And hounds of the night
Cry.
Quite en regle.
They are
Sights
That torch our eyes.
Words
That scar our hearts.
------
Photographs in closed cupboards
Housing hundred memories
Are bedaubed with the blood of lost years:
Life's Ignis Fatuus is full of
Smoke:
Yellow Smoke that rises
From this muskeg
Of ghostly lights
And truthful liars.
Cacophonous gramophones
With their musical clap-trap!
What emotions?
What life?
What death?
What humanity?
We are but a soulless group of souls
Groping in the mud
For some lost coin.
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