... If rape or arson, poison, or the knife
Has wove no pleasing patterns in the stuff
Of this drab canvas we accept as life—
It is because we are not bold enough!
- Charles Baudelaire
(Roy Campbell's translation)
"a mile or more in a foreign clime, to see farther inside of me" - syd barrett
But I sold my freedom
For free room and board,
Like a monkey in a zoo. - Daniel Johnston

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

slipping over the ice.....

(Note: wht follows is fictional matter)

Out in one cold morning I to a walk on the feet
Treading the stepping stones that make up the street
Before me a snow shower has blanketed the show
And ahead there lay a road telling me where to go

So I strode with joy carelessly over the walk
Lest I knew tht I would soon be the street talk
One feet fell confidently over the hard ice
i went slipping through the country with the speed of a mice

I recall my hours spent floating in the moist atmosphere
The sky hung over me and the ground so far below that i didnt even care
But could I remember the landing on shore ?
That memory seems to have slipped away out of the door

Though I do recall spending hours lying in the fields
Wondering about african farmers harvesting their yields
After decades of contemplation a passerby lent me a hand
And Then I began to wonder what I was doing on this hard cold land.

The cold of the ground took much longer to creep
But by then i was cozy in the warmth of my keep
And I still wonder what it felt to slip on the hard ice
when time flew as a slow as a turtle and as fast as a mice.


Thursday, February 22, 2007

the road ahead ...

And on and on we parse and strive,
To farther lands we steer our drive.
And though the sun shall set upon our road,
The moon shall rise to tell the tale untold.

And like the star far and away in the vanishing sky,
A light sparkles in the deep of our eye.
And though the wind blows cold through our heart,
The night cant tell our joy and fear apart.

And as the parakeet perched on the tree lets out a call of an awe,
Under the moonlit sky our path takes a yaw.
And when the moist in the air carries the scent of her smile,
Its time to let reality fade away for a while.

And over the distant mountains where the winds blow high,
Where our dreams take form and where the grounds meet the sky
And up where the voices of the past fail to rise,
It is there my friends that our destiny lies.

-him ...
(dedicated to the dude - quasi ... ;
photo by: him... )

Sunday, February 18, 2007

another day in paradise ...

Morning flutters in through my window
The rays of light creep in through like a mole
The raging screams on the streets outside
Sounding more peaceful than my soul

My eyes open to the world beyond
With a squint i look at the empty wall
Light cascading across its breadth
scattering on its face the colors all.

In the city i take a ride
to shake off the haze in my mind
but the city itself is a desert filled
by the empty footprints of mankind

I look out at the ocean
The dry air's scent awakens the pain
And in the cries of the wild banshees
I hear the echoes of the past again

(words & views by him...)

Monday, February 12, 2007

sing-along-song ...

u close the door once another
thr wasnt anyone knockin', thr never was
just a wind sneekin' past thru',
all u needed was just some imagination and a little cause.

u sing along a sing along song
make urself feel better and not so blue
while u sit crouched in the corner
waitin' for the next song to take u thru'.

Cryin' alone in retrospection
Cryin' alone in a room full of nought
Tryin' to steal urself away
Away from all the thngs tht u 've bought and brought

Thru' ur window u see the day shifts
Thru' the windows u see the people go abt
Colors on the streets changin', seasons passin' by
but still from the broken sound box, the same old sing along song is cryin' out

- him...

Saturday, February 3, 2007

On Solitude" - by him...

Some of us have the tendency of enclosing ourselves in
a capsule of loneliness and "one"-liness.
You too seem to be wrapped around in such type of a
flurry little world of yours. Its probably the best
thing that could happen to you - "A little world". May
be thats why they advertise paradise usually as a
caribbean island - small, isolated, peaceful,
someplace where one can feel alone, and yet surrounded.
Kinda like a world in its own.

And maybe if you do, by some twist of fate, creep out
of that tahiti of yours, and step into the common
world for a while you would find it interesting, and
quite appealing, to plunge into the pool of economic
blabber, sociologic chit chat, and pyrotechnic
mishaps. You try to feel at home in the wild sea of
globalization and worldly communication finally to
realize that you are not at home. And then you race to
catch the sunset ferry back to your little dominion.
In the hassle, you stumble across some long lost
friends and some short cost acquaintances, that you
once had wished to reconcile with, but hell - you
have a ferry to catch. So you hope that maybe they
would all understand and that fate would once again be
generous some other time, and you wave a half frozen,
half roasted good bye to your long past buddies who
appear to be wearing a rather injured look, as you
disappear into the crowd that also seems to be heading for that
very sought-for ferry. Perhaps latter on as you lie in
the comforts of the soft sands that blanket your
little worldly island, you'll question the winds as
to why you had ever thought of getting yourself away from
home into solitude. And hope that, unlike fate, the
wind would be kind enough to whisper to you the
answers of this long asked question.

Anyways, hope the wind does whisper to you and you are
not so pre-occupied or unoccupied that you wouldn't
notice its whispers as they die and fade out in the noise and
cadence of the material world.

Among the very many things one has to do in life, we
sometimes take time out to consider the motions of the
past and trends of the present in an attempt to get a
glimpse of the future. Sometimes we realize that may
be the sail is not set in the right directions and we
make attempts to recourse the flow of events. And it
is during this process of steering your petite boat,
across the ocean against the tide and into the new
direction that you have considered and set for
yourself, that you encounter experiences like never
before, experiences some good, some bad ,and some ugly
but nonetheless all cherishable. It is these
experiences that will define "you" and that'll take
you away from the prosaic self that you once were.

In turn you may also find that you are becoming a
person that you once did not want or expect to be.
But then you were young and unlearned and now you have
grown tall and possibly proud - you were in a
different boat then and in a different boat now. In
any case, the future is determined by the present and
wht you do in it and not by the past and what you had
thought then.
All that you must know is whether you are steering the
boat or the boat is steering you.
And that is the difference between loneliness and

-(September, 2005)
Photo by him... from yohan's cam - Feb,2007