Last man standing

The hand of time sweeps the earth, nights lantern slowly flickers to a fulgent moon..the way of the stars stir a hushed night born blue sky, like star studded blue dress. I see the fire fly dance as she is lifted by the soft breath of a living night in the hallway of cold november month. No door or window opens to this world. Its right here and I'm standing in the middle of it. Yet we feel shelterless and seeking.

Do you hear whispers in the night or stare endlessly in to the distant horizon? So tangible yet absolute, all that connects me to this world is this breath I take. Inbetween there is just the unknown.

Rhythm of time -

Well in to the day now, do you feel the rhythm? do you feel the hunger? well if you dont then you dont belong here. Everyday when I used to climb those steep stairs to the gym with a thumping heart, the fire to beat the odds, the zeal to better myself. That was when I was truly alive, alive with the best of energy that woke me up at the first crack of dawn, freezing december mornings.

Somewhere along the road I've lost them, maybe it is buried under the depths of this wanderlust heart. Its not the way I want my self to be carried. I dont want to be carried, it has become a fuckin burden, its just too damn hard. The heavy me makes everything around heavier. Its like another gym, nd without the fire to lift no spotters around and everywhere them mirrors bring the worst out of me.

If you're a simple human being with simple thoughts and simple dreams then you dont care, you may not even feel the weight. And I'm not one amongst them, I have dreams and I struggle to bring them to my thoughts and I struggle more to bring them out of those yonder walls and in to the real world.

Its a struggle I know, and most of the time its been this way because I'd given much importance to everything other than me. Its a good feeling though that when the storm takes what it wants I get to build everything my own way. New.

Out in the desert the common thinker has just one need. To cross it. The one with free spirit has a different need. Stand there and watch the contours, see the desert come to life with passing time, when the shadows come to life and life transforms to become one with the desert. The free mind does not have boundaries, it cannot be anchored. It has a sail and it needs to sail. Time, place, weather all are just nuts and bolts of this panorama.

So long--

Understand The Me

Come here beside me, dont be afraid of darkness coz this too shall pass. Years and months as dust of time, the dawn would yawn again. Men would rise and walk the road, the day as the ship sailing on the sea of time, would carry this couldron of life, carry every living soul on the face of the earth to the shore of 'better tomorrow'

But nobody would get off, we all want tomorrows to be better than today. We never draw the line. Between these choices we exist by mere chance. Men and woman, sheltered and homeless, handicapped and handicapped (in my canvas theres no human who feels life fully), brothers and sisters, lovers and hater, friends and foes, earth and sky...between them all there is just space and time.

Listen up friend if you arent anywhere between ecstacy and mayhem, you are better off dead. Between dream and reality there is just me.

Is it so tough to accept where we come from?

One of those many nites which is not so rare but then doesnt happen too often. If this sentence is too twisted then thats how the subject I'm goin to deal with, is going to be. Again one of those young nites. My day has just started without the sun. Well who cares as it is winter anyways in Chicago. The day is so shy of being born that it hides behind a dark curtain. Temperature howling around 6C.

Just one of those days when I felt I should step back, get connected to my roots. By roots I mean my birth where I belong. When we think, we reach out to our self. But then that is communication too. So how do we think, our thoughts has a language too? We are just so obviously negligent of this fact. You dont want to think of what you think. Thats too deep.

I got lost tonite, well nothing new about it. The lost flame brightened with few beers but believe me that has nothing to do with the flame itself. It was because I got connected to my self, my roots. Growing up in a demanding environment where not knowing the number 1 hit in MTV count down is a sin, you start whats the fad of the day rather than what you exactly want.

Between ordinary and extra-ordinary you always choose the latter, because of the definition and not too many timed because of the content. Every line of these songs built on classical tunes gives me a deep massage stimulating and rich. I avoided them infact remember even thinking that listening to these songs was unsophisticated.

Now I have the most sophisticated things around. What more can one ask for than living the American dream. But then I'm more curious to get in touch with my roots. Know them, smell them, realise them and more so love them. I have travelled far thousands of miles in search of what I dreamnt. Now that I'm living the dream, I'm dreaming of the place I missed. I cant bridge this distance though. Neither can I measure it. Like the decuman, you are bound to be sunk.

The uncut man

Its five hours past midnite, the sun is oblivion of this side of the world. This is a world I hallucinate confined with in this walls I think and ponder. The realms of existence ceases as I personify a character. If you need to raise hell you should be a goliath beyond hell. The power to create does not equate to power to destroy. But then true power comes from with in. And this power is not of destroying others but of saving one self from being destroyed. Once in a while comes a moment that shakes the very root of your integrity. Rise to the challenge and take it by the horns

Wayward Son

Looking back 10 years, the cart near the highway was our resting place right after dinner and smoke. The blinding lights of speeding cars, the shimmering stars together with them clouds. It was all around us. We slipped in to time unknown a world beyond that existed only in our dreams. When I say us I refer to my chum Vicky. I never had a bro but he was all.

I'd been always a wayward son, wayward boy the kid who astrayed and saw the world through the moments eyes. Nothing else mattered then. Nothing. Everything that had life and was new with life made me ecstatic, high and lost. This is not a time of introspection, but sometimes when you are so in the midst of crowd you steal few moments to be on your own. I find these priceless. Whether it is to write a quick thought or compose a tasteless prose or a lifeless poem about my life.

Its one more month and I'll be visting home after 2 years almost. Time flew, 2 years and where 'am I? The world has not changed though why should I or should I? I still see the same emotions in different place, same people operating on different scale. No matter where you are the world is the same, happiness is only a piece everyone wants. There is a cost to it too. The means to it has become harder I guess.

Well yeah may be not..what do I know when I made it high priced. Arent we the one who sets a price to happiness? Who defines how to live your life, my life? Is it me? Sometimes I even wonder whether I'm in control of my life or do I put my poor self to the endless chauvinistic obligations of a restless world I'm surrounded by.

The thought to break free never ceases, the more it clings on to me the more I try. I end up walking on the clutches of past and present on the road to the future. I believe this to be the one, night and day I travel. I listen but the words dont last forever. I look but the vision gets blurred after the scene. The vision of being alive only lasts so far when thinking ceases completely. It gets to a cessation and I relent to keep it that way. The struggle for better ground is so profound. This is when I take forms.

Staring at the high flyin eagle I imagine its me, soaring high and clear, where the whispering cliffs are mere specs and mankind below is an unknown. The perennial river suits my thirst, I appreciate life as much as it appreciates my life. At this point high I'm one, in one with the cosmos and everything around. I see the oneness everywhere, when the endless sea meets the sky, when the mountains rise to whisper to the moon, when the gliding breeze sails on the great blue oceon. I see it all as one, together in synergy, as fresh as the bud as new as the new born, as timeless as time.