Reflections in the liquefactious layer of your eyes are something like a salty convex mirror of unshed tears...



My memories are sometimes like a short horse ride on a rough horse through thick bramble.
Nostrils distended, ears pinned back, sweat in a lather on the neck, the horse neighing and rearing up on its hind legs...

Tis a strange ride...


The space between, physical and temporal and emotional, provides no final answer, just a hollowness of silent echoes.


There are some things I don't even try to remember and wonder if someday I should,
or if all really is for nothing then why not remember nothing.

Then Nothing will reciprocate.... ..Nothing will mediate. Absolutely Nothing.

Where do those abandoned memories go, anyway?
They just lurk there below the surface to haunt and taunt....

I have been looking for questions instead of answers.
All the answers are the same as they have always been.
If all we believe is death then all we do is die.

The rest is vanity, and what does it profit? What shall it, O Prophet??

Magical dreams of love

Eyes closed and we sounded like the ocean, some big wave rolling in to churn the smooth pebbles.

It swelled and receded, swelled and receded, swelled and swelled and swelled and we moved together,

Finally it shattered with a ragged breath into particulates expanding out into the atmosphere.

We both felt that.

Surely such energy is not all lost to entropy.

Insomniac Fantasies..

I suffer from deep insomnia.

The kind of sleeplessness which is beyond frustration and tossing, the loose limbed helplessness in bed, a sprawled devastation of caffeine : the sense of sheer and utter sensitivity to one's mind: the isolation of both memory and thought as organic, living processes which flutter and flicker in the insomniac night behind our still open eyelids like old movies; pale shadows on screens of skin


And as the day dawns you slip into a daze of half sleep, half wakefulness.. The thin boundary distinguishing the real & the unreal, prevaded by dreams.

The sense in the limbo of a dream, the half-alive REM flutter of one's motor-nervous response to dream stimuli.

The sense that the fleeting touch of a cool and dry female hand on one's cheek received from a woman long forgotten but reasserted and dredged from muscular - perhaps some core of emotional and sensual knowledge embedded as flesh not thought - recollection, is more alive and real than anything we experience in the waking world.

After a while you grow to love such a state of existence, when the sleep maiden has spurned you countless times, you find solace in such a state....

Night Watch

At midnight I lay on my back in the clover on the slightly bedewed grass and looked at the indigo sky with wispy high clouds and the stars and planets and wondered:

Why do people stop doing the things they loved to do as kids?

Why do we stop looking at the full spectrum of our conscious perceptions, the infinitesimal and the infinite.?


I hope I'm never too old to watch bugs, or ants marching or a spider busy weaving its web….
or lie with the spinning earth beneath my back while watching the heavens where they put on a celestial show just for me to behold and gasp in wonder at the beauty of it all.

When the trees undress and stand slumbering, their leaves blanketing the earth beneath them.

When mist rises wispy and delicate from the dark wet ground,

When the summer flowers have all faded to the color of straw, then

I know stillness.

Tagged

So have been tagged by Fingers *yet again* so I will try and do justice to this post.

8 things about what my Ideal Partner should be like.

Should be female belonging to the gens humana

1. Should be a fellow insommniac. And able to make do with whatever little sleep which we get.
2. Should Float like a feather and sting like a bee
3. Should have a wicked outlook to Life, Universe & Everything Ever After...
4. Should me able to live with me & my eccentricites.
5. Should shower every day & greet me when I come home long and tierd wearing these
6. Should be compassionate to my dogs and other animals and kids. Should be well read, verbose and possessed of a quick wit.....
7. Should be a merry old soul & believe in Non -Violence which means even the thought of doing this should revolt her.
8. And yes before I forget.... should have a Cherubic Face.... and not be a drama queen which means no scenes like this

Words...

The words don't always come easily or quickly.

This dawn they are proving difficult.

The words fly away like the hundreds of blackbirds in the trees that were shaped like tall severe wine glasses, branches draped above the first home next to the slough. I didn't notice the birds until they flew away, such were their voices and such are words.

Small, chattering, and when they fly there is a great rush of tiny black wings and then deafening silence

I am listening...



Last night was an oddity, something from somewhere else, unfathomable. Faces looked hidden and dark with secrets or worries, privacy was violated, the waning moon troubled the world with long shadows.

High Hopes

It is a haunted wilderness, a vortex, and there is no sound, no motion, no thought, only the false feeling of spinning, tracking time like a pendulum, decapitating and suspended in the dark water of some cold northern sea.

Much has been lost. Most of it will remain beneath the murky cold depths where it slipped to the dream of mermaids.

I catch a glimpse of pale green gauze and dark hair and when I blink it changes back into the deep rolling water.

Fragments of silk and eider down and the sickly-sweet breath of dreams, lost and wind-driven, crushed by bootheels, tucked into forgotten desk drawers in dusty old houses.

God doesn't expect anyone to have faith in Him but sometimes ..just sometimes
I wonder whether : Does He have Hopes, too??

Japanese Kanji Character
for

HOPE.

Enter Sandman

The sandman did not find our house last night;

No dreams conjured, no rest.

We lay limbs entwined and counted the heartbeats between us in the dark stillness.

The house creaked and sighed and settled as the earth rolled around again.

Life, Universe & Everything Ever After.....

The gibbous moon in the west cast a waxy luster, a lambent elfin light reflected and ricocheted through the vast dusty void of space.

The universe hefted and shifted and sighed, settled back again, whistling a wee disjointed tune of laughter and light in a sprung rhythm.
The air was clear and cold at three in the morning and I stepped outside into the cold stillness.

Stars and planets dazzled my eyes. Some reflectors, some generators and creators of their own glow. There the Great Hunter Orion who stalks the night sky & look there beautiful Cassiopea, , and over there The Great Bear, some constellations like Lyca & Sputum (the Sheild) too made an appearance

I imagined I could see, not directly and not out of the corner of my eye but only out of the barest perimeter of my vision, the mountains to the west lit by the moon's refracted silver.

We call it "west" as a means of taming direction and equating distance, while we're hurtling at an unimaginable speed through the dark.

One tiny spinning ball of rock we call Earth, held together just by the centrifugal force of its own spin,
and held in place in the universe by a star we call Sol.

All bodies in motion. Tumbling through this ever expanding universe.

--------------------------------------------------

I have always wondered what the universe is contained in? Where is it expanding... is there a thing bigger than a universe....

There are very few sources in our myths and legends which actually talk about the formation of the universe one of them is sung in the RIG VEDA (which is also one of the oldest books of the world).

An unknown poet, who was one of the world's great thinkers, had risen above the popular materialistic ideas concerning the hammer god and the humanized spirits of Nature, towards the conception of the World Soul and the First Cause--the "Unknown God".
He sang of the mysterious beginning of all things thus:

There was neither existence, nor non-existence,

The kingdom of air, nor the sky beyond.

What was there to contain, to cover in--

Was it but vast, unfathomed depths of water?

There was no death there, nor Immortality.

No sun was there, dividing day from night.

Then was there only THAT, resting within itself.

Apart from it, there was not anything

At first within the darkness veiled in darkness,

Chaos unknowable, the All lay hid.

Till straightway from the formless void made manifest

By the great power of heat was born that germ.

- Rigveda, x, 129

Come Together....

Everything will balance, like warm wind and cold water, like a dream of two bright sorrel horses running through a daisy field, like the birth of spring after the dead of winter.

A fistful of wet hair in the water and wet lips, wet eyelashes, passion mingled with ferocity, the water of the stream chilly in the late dark night. How tightly will teeth close against skin before pleasure turns to pain, and wherein lies the distinction?

Fingertips seek purchase on slick smooth skin, each inch alive with the chill of the water and the fever of touch. The burn from the cold water balances the burn of fleshy desire.

Moss grows thick and lush, tender and soft clinging to hard stone.
Stars float on the surface far below the spangling brilliant distant heavenly lights.

The light comes only from the sky. No clouds, ephemeral formations of both air and water,
mar the surfaces of either purity, but the steamed breath from two bodies rises and dissipates and the churned water where the surface is broken and swirling with bodies contains bubbles that rise and sigh at the surface.

This is where the lines are drawn and the elements seek to balance once again in the dark's pregnant stillness. The tingling prickled bumps of skin rub together abrasive.

Tree frogs and bull frogs sing their intricate far and wee chorus in the reeds amid the rocks as the water slides soundlessly through the crease in the earth.

Gravity from the earth's rotation pulls the water down from the hills to the valley, from the valley to the gorge, from the gorge to the delta, from the delta to the ocean, and there it is lifted again in great billowing clouds and dropped once more in the mountains.

Our heart beats, felt more than heard, loud through the rain against the window pane, keeping time with the rhythm of the moon.

That Ice Maiden - Winter

Slumbertime, The Winter Solstice , the sun stands still in Capricorn.

This is the ecliptic crux when the earth tilts her belly to the sun.
In the northern lands sunrise comes late and sunset comes early,
and the day between is illuminated with long rays of cold silver light.

Celestial coordinates and ancient holy days : The Winter Solstice was here recently, the shortest day and longest night of the year, and it is cause for celebration because it marks the depth of winter this is the middle of winter.

Winter is no old man this year; she winks her thick dark-lashed eyes, arranges her petticoats, and shakes ice crystals like diamonds from her black hat.

She’s not calculating, but is cruel and frigid for all her austere beauty.

Her cold sneer turned the remaining crimson leaves on the oaks into a shade paler than gold, and they fell as winterkill into the gutters.

Dreamtime

Sometimes when I awake in the dark I can feel the physical presence of dreams. Almost if I reach out, I could possibly touch them. They are living entities these dreams, so vivid, so real!!

While the day is not yet dawned and the dogs have not yet come creeping into my room. I can almost hear the dream breathing, can feel the shade of its shadow, and feel as it lays me gently down. The warm bed receives my weight and the dream leaves me to find my waking equilibrium.

Sometimes the visions flit quickly, birdlike, the reverie gone and forgotten. Other times the dream strolls away, great lumbering beast of the alternate slumbering world, glancing over its shoulder with a sigh.

Not all dreams are kind, not all are benevolent, but thankfully I am not often visited by succubae or cruel and frightening monsters. Most of my dreams are about the things I cannot see, or say, or read.

Puzzles I cannot calculate, words I don’t understand. People that I do not know, deeds I would seldom contemplate doing. Some times they are erotic and other times morbid.

In my dreams I work hard to read a line of print, and the visions that follow blow wide the blue horizon, flings the sky to the stars, with a sensation of flying headlong into the depths, until the spaces between the stars become filled with the crystalline souls of those who have first atoned and then suffered judgment.

The entirety of truth barely visible from the corners of my eyes, I can understand the ephemeral and the eternal.

I am weightless and rocketing a hundred thousand miles an hour and then I falter and breathe and settle and slowly open my eyes to see the dull yellow arc of a streetlight shining through the window on the ceiling, and hear a low train song whistling in the night.

Usually it is then that I wake up and realize that I had been dreaming. The act of waking up, is the last breath of a dream, exhaled.

Let me tell you about Heartbreak and loss ....

Tell me your heart doesn’t catch when reminded of loss, and don’t we all try so hard to grow protective barriers against the reminder?

Little walls, armored and reinforced, made of differing degrees of thickness, made of differing substances, depending on possible direction of attack.
A castle constructed in the wake of pain.

There is a strange admiration given to those who have the hardest hearts, and a contemptuous familiarity granted a bleeding heart.

When by all rights and in a just world, the heart unafraid of love and loss should be paid the most respect.

Perhaps because the hardest of hearts at one time had the softest of centers, and was pierced through?
And now disregards and rebuffs any and all possible cruelty. It becomes a reflex action, triggered automatically to protect the organism from pain.

We all want love, and seek it in different forms.

Be it respect or pride or power, but the only true happiness can come from freedom.

If we imprison ourselves to reduce the chances of pain, then we also reduce the possibility of love,
for ourselves and others.

Break these chains that hold you back, let them go.. those memories of a past which isn't your present & can never be your future.

Be free.

The Ring.....

And I said to her:

Yes, it is pretty

But Come , dear, need
you pride yourself
that much on a ring?



TOTALITY during Solar Eclipse 20th June 2002

The Luncheon....

She was clumsy, as he'd never suspected of her.

The smile she tried on trembled like a reflection seen in a puddle; she reached for her water glass and knocked over the salt. Quickly she pinched up a few grains and tossed it back over her left shoulder. This amused him deliciously, and a wry smile erupted on his otherwise stern face.

He wondered : What was she seeing when she looked at him? Did she see the cynic or the romantic fool. Did she guess the depth of his lonliness, or the burgeoning love he felt for the other one.

His focus dropped to her mouth, the firm discreet colour of a shell's interior. A slick of moisture from her last drink glossed her lower lip.
That mouth said, baffling him, "I don't care if you are serious about that other woman. I'm not giving up on us yet!"

He stared at her.

She stared right back, her limpid eyes ablaze....the beginning of a smile touching her eyes, a smile of triumph over her internal doubts.

Around them silverware clinked, conversation ebbed and flowed, surging in his ears like his pulse.

Hope

Japanese KANJI Character for HOPE~

Nuts.....

I seem to be going nuts these days..... 

Winter Rain

A fine zephyr sprang up from the North East, the air was pregnant with the promise of rain.

The clouds came too passengers of the zephyr & brooded in the murky greys of the skies, promising many changes but for the moment holding back to taunt and tease. Setting up the stage for the winter monsoon to cleanse the air and rejuvenate the skies as winter finally graced the plains.

The winds rose, the dust settled, the trees engaged in a leisurely sway as if to shake all its leaves awake from the heat of the city, like freshly shampooed hair every individual branch swayed to the tuneless and timeless beat of the zephyr.
The weather patterns promised a change, of an approaching cold front - the thick of winter. In the wind there crept in a hint of revitalizing coolness A faint aftertaste to tantalize the senses. Make you dream of pleasant times and freezing climes.

The Mists, which had increased in the past few days came tumbling down, humbled by the rain filled clouds, which streamed across the sky, the moon played hide and seek with the clouds, often obscured.

He stood there looking into the distance. A droplet fell on his cheek, and rolled down like a tear down his face and vanished leaving a trail in its wake. The wind increased as the clouds started to rumble and roar in the process of unburdening their loads with the last rains for the year. The last blaze of summer brought rain. It rained like it would never stop.

He just stood there, the raindrops pelted his face, but he wouldn’t blink, even though they stung him. The wind was cooling his body rapidly. It felt good to feel the rain wetting his hair and his parched body. It had been so long since he had enjoyed a soak in the rain alone.
The smell of wet earth permeated his senses as he breathed in its essence. It reawakened his senses and took him back in time in the realm of his memories.


The skies on his right lit up as electricity crackled, thunder soon followed in its wake. Somewhere in the night a lone bird cooed its lonely song. Melancholic thoughts left him as he entered the realm of his memories choosing to re live happy ones this night when the sky provided the perfect backdrop for his life to stream past his unseeing eyes.

The winds lashed him again, bringing him back to the present. His eyes still followed the cracks of electricity, which seemed to rend the sky periodically.

The zephyr made him shake off his blues as he felt the pulse of life begin once again to boom in his bosom. . The leaves still swayed languorously. The zephyr still blew. He hummed a rhyme in his deep baritone

I love life & life will have to love me back……
Tu- ru rooo……rooh……

We’ll fly away into the bamboo, with the wind behind our backs.
Tu.. ru… roooh…

Oh such hopes, such dreams
The wind carries us away

Who will remember me
When I leave this heavenly place

Tu ….ru… rooh…
Oh woman, leaf.

Homage to a Japanese Painting.

 

Mist

This cloud
has looked upon the world
and loved it so,
that it cannot bear to fling its rain down
as others do.

From it's cold distance in the sky
It has loved the world so....

that it has dragged itself down,
Stooping from the chill heights of the sky
and thrown its white, wet arms around the grass,
and kissed with soft, liquid lips the hilltops
and flung itself, in wanton abandon,

across the horizon - body of the world
fitting itself, snuggling into each crevice,
and every contour around the undulating landscape
kissing each individual leaf,
with it's swollen, sea - burden

Mist

 

Her Spell....

I see this woman of the night
shed more each time ----

First whole draped in black velvet
she winks a pearly smile.

She has a secret she's longing to impart
Carefully she tugs away the darkness
and slowly she reveals her growing bosom

Embarrassed for her, I look away.
But she lures my eyes to gaze
Upon her voluptous curve---

Hands reach out to touch a fantasy
of smooth marble marred only by the evening shadows
She feigns bashfulness
behind a fan of feathered clouds

Lonely sighs grope for solace and
their breaths graze across her cheek,
lovers so entranced, forget each other.
their hearts swell, fed by her luscious promises.

She tosses back her hair, glimmering with stars
How coy of her. She knows the limits.
Forsaken. They ebb and flow away.

Each night she bares more, dropping her silken veils

In her fullness, she is divine
her mammoreal bosom is unrivalled

She can fuse the hues of the blue night
and melt into the drippings of the setting sun.

Isn't this too much?? Does she know what she is doing?
Hungry for attention. She shouts in the darkness.
She resonates loud, brassy. Jazzy tones.----

She pulses to the tempo of her own
sings an aria to her soul
she shares all she has.

Oh!! she knows well what she is doing
Sublime and surreal.
She shines brightest
This serene beauty who rules my nights.

You remind me

Of a very gentle

little girl, I once

watched picking flowers

A New Begining

You know anything about chaos theory? I know it has to do with fractal geometry. That's about all I know.

But it also has to do with there being order and even... great beauty, in what looks like total chaos. And if we look closely enough at the randomness around us, patterns will start to emerge

I want patterns to emerge too…

Patterns that define my life better, right now they are all haphazard and entangled.

I would like uniformity in my thoughts so that I can write words….

Truly brilliant words with a deep insight and very elegantly strung together, to define a profound meaning within a few choice but apt words which sum up a basic truth about life, faith, belief and various other truths I have encountered in my life.

I would like to dream….

Dreams I can make my reality. Park my dream boat in a lovely spot by a chuckling brook of freshly melted ice with just me and her to keep me company. I want to dream of her. Of touching her, feeling her, talking to her, sharing everything with her so that the two become one.

I want to feel….

I am sick of being numb to all emotions all senses nothing penetrates this thick membrane of indifference I have been wearing as a cloak against heartbreak. Something needs to penetrate my sense of detachment that I so comfortable with.

I want to travel,

Travel and reach those distant horizons that I see beckoning me somewhere out there every time I look out towards the sky. I want to bridge the gap between my finite life and infinite ambitions.

I want to roam ......

unfettered by the shackles of responsibility I never asked for, but which were still thrust upon me.

I want to re invent myself.......

A pale shadow of what I am today, maybe a better self.

I look for a purpose.....

In this foray into life and hope to find it one fine wintry day when the cold winds blow from the north and come winging their way to me bringing much needed colour to my cheeks..

I want to bring order into the chaos that is my life.

I want to be at peace with myself.

Reconciled with my reason and in tune with my wandering thoughts.

I see all these things already inside me, but getting them into some order and make perfect sense is proving elusive.