Travels in a monologue
i am tuneless and devoid of vigor
the world is the same
wherever u go
just different colors
and different weather patterns
they do nothing to ease the thirst
for a mental orgasm
no amount of searching will get u there
an orgasm is reached from where orgasms are
and no amount of traveling will get u there
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And there i stood caught up in a moment
one which a moment ago was the last i expected
and a moment later i wondered
why the hell did i experience it?
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A sitar or a violin
the instrument of sin
in the beauty it articulates
wired on the brink
of constant collapse
where wil the story
of this long drawn symphony end?
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Suicidal escape
nevermind the afterlife
now is living death
escape the torn
broken down
thing i once called home
escape the wife
that i once thought nice
and now simply turned into a
burden.
Escape the children
or take them with me
who will look after them?
For they are just kids.
The shotgun is loaded
i am at peace with it
now let me kill them first
before i myself use it
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Sitting and crouching like a fly on a wall a genetic absolution where the opposites hav contracted to form a large tongue.
It is the answer to all life as it flicks in and out. A belief of sorts things will be all right but there is just one problem. All that floats within killing range are more flies.
Our subject is confronted by a perfectly perplexing conundrum. To eat and cannibalize or to stay honorable and mostly not reap the potentially satisfied feel of sitting in one place for a feed.
and there lies the proof that the grass is not always green for the fly wished to be a toad and its large tongue flashing bringing it more food while it just sits but how can a fly eat another fly if it doesnt wish to cannibalize? And if also moths are hard to come by and they are anyway too big?
But the fly doesnt totally want to be a toad of sorts for he knows that toads dont fly. And dont look as nice as flies.
and there the thought will arise. Is the grass really that much greener on the other side?
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Once a pauper i was made a prince when a light shone down on my face. That light shone once yet it blinked off but i stil remember the tingle of it on my skin. The memory that brings it back to me almost does justice to its affect. As i turn contemplative with the cycle of the moon i once again knew that my madness was blooming anew. But that doesnt matter. Im on to a silver platter for thats all v recieve unto us by Him. Only matter is to look only at our platter. The trouble only starts when u start comparing
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The deadly rain fell down on that fateful day and buried my love within me. It washed it away never to resurface into the valley beneath me. And now iv got but a slight memory of the flame that once shone. For now the deep dark mysterious love that i bore for u is gone
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grouch will be forgiven by the great Lord of the skies. Allah will guide you into the reaches of light. there will be night but the night will not harm. there will be a blight but the blight will be of a light form of a swarming deserts sandstorm, whilst you will be safe inside, an oasis of light.
Peace, let the beast inside subside, let the enegrgy flows positivize the dream will have to be realized, oh please let it be realized. Allah please, let it be realized.
The prayers are in the night, and in the day and the evening at times. A constant wish not to be left behind, a constant wish not only to survive but to soar, to adore and be adored a selfish dream? a harmful dream? a dream nevertheless and here humble on my knees and feet i have been, humbled before your might. indeed you are right. you always have been right, and always will be.
The Eternal One.
Alive on a bridge
where reality is unseen
and the dense fog hides within
the elements of an unrealized dream
murky. Clear. Murky. Musk
an odor so thick
invoking a strange lust
not remotely sexual,
but nevertheless
it is just.
the solitude
erks my soul
it sides my benefit
and my heart is a sheep
trained to follow
the mellow
advice of my head.
rage, uncertainty, doubt
eats sometimes but then
i remember the solitude
that helps
and the murky mist
that hides even murkier waters beneath
i know
will clear up with time
beneath my gaze
sometimes steely
sometimes angry
sometimes desperate
but mostly i know
it should be patient
a gaze of a whale
above an abyss
of the deepest trench.
and there im drenched
in latent emotion
drawing in breath
steeled against the onrush
once again a sheep
following the rational
things my mind said
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And then i dream
and i see
oh i see
bathed in that golden light
the lady
come to chase away the blight.
but is it true?
Is it a possibility
that a fantasy could be so real
that things imagined and thought to be
so surreal
could ever come true?
and yet i seem
to be unable to break away
from that dream
of perfection
of a utopic personification
my own personal angel
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When the afternoon sun doth shine. Strange thoughts, they course through my mind. Thoughts of her, thoughts of love, thoughts of happiness unbind. Thoughts that free me from the burdens that have beset me. All these years down the line. Thoughts of love they shine. Only to be frozen under the gaze, of experience's hateful sight. Telling me it's not right, the logic tells u it does not exist. The path that burns so bright, is a path that will lead u to an eternal plight. A plight of never knowing what u search for, a plight of distant might, ever felt but never grasped. The hopeful may still divide. Into believers and nought. But the gaze of the beast of experience. Solemnly tells u otherwise. But the young buck that is hope, quails at his sight. And shows him the finger of defiance, and thinks the world should let life decide, what is not, and what is right. To the future we ride.
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