Sasha

That night he couldn't let go, neither could she let go of him
 Dance he shouted or die. One two three and a million times more, swing he cried. You show me some spirit, lift me higher, more higher she responded.
She mocked him with her soul showing him the dance, he used his body as she danced, shouting move, move, move to his spirit. Come on she howled.
He swirled and swirled and swirled. Hell, she was talented and he a master.
Sasha was yet jealous, the passion at it's peak and yet there was sorrow in the dance, she saw that he was still dancing with the past.
Sasha knew she could have torn him tonight, the jealousy could turn either ways. May be he too saw the passion burning in her breath, but he had his own flares to deal with.
Dance or die, it was she who shouted now.

Lost and Not Listening

Tremendous investment in guns
We carry it everywhere we go

We love to hold it tight
And pull the trigger out of happiness

I would love to see you
Hold it in your own mouth and
Then talk

My Own

Keep writing
keep forming an entity
No moment from moment
That living must be a myth
Or a joke

Let me maintain my pain
Continue my continuity
And constant use will create new images
Bring them on
Is this how culture was born
and the identity in that culture survived

I can
explain everything and
How all definitions in space
make thought matter

What is mine now?

bLESSED.

I'm blessed by my MESS

It's a boat
What came out of it
Is
What went in to it

My papa said
Get off that boat
No papa am lovin' it

I bought myself an umbrella
And I walked in rain
An unburdened me
Being blessed by my own
MESS

She asked me :

Have u ever come across one morning u wake up unable to move?
  Unable to do the things u love the most?

And I sang:

Every morning I get up to see myself dead
In my home
is where I sleep
In my home
is where I wakeup

Dreams never stop flowing
they see me alive
they see me dead

they see me alive
they see me dead

they see me alive
they see me dead

Thanksgiving Unwashed

You looked like a doll
A suburban middle class flat doll

Hello!
I'm delivered
Baptised and
my mouth cleaned

Wish you could come too
To my lunch with
My angels unwashed thanks giving

Get out of here.

Here I'm in your living room
Or your garden
why?

You and I are different
My pains to your pains
Positions being the same
Insane
Change?

We compare
And how do you experience
A place that you never own
I worship you woman
What?

I love you
Yes I do
Sign me in
Let me ride you the high town
Pretending?

Some rose
And oil
on tuesdays and all your days
Is your life in hiding
Asking?

Infidelity

My silent wine
heals feels and seals
hey jesus why am i infidel

my cherryberry high
you in a cage
and i think new
me the infidel me

is there a cross
or a drag
hey jesus your angels hagin' out with me
hell yes

i would never be done
i would hide and shun
my lifes and afterlifes
call me where you want
in your living room or your wall
me the infidel me

I REFUSE

Relationships.

"How can you laugh?"
"I know, it's a scar and I'm enjoying it."

"I think, I can't do anything without you."
"Am I, do you think, a bud without a root?"
"Alright then put yourself in my boots."

"I feel used, not because of the client, but because of me not wanting to see him after. Damn, am sick and tired of waiting, but there are times, one comes along and I develop a kind of care for him."
"I don't know, I'm half dead. I wish I could carry some oxygen masks with me."

"Yesterday night, it was a piano teacher."
"I know, but who do you think are easiest to blackmail?"

"Oh!, I thought you would ask about love. I try to touch hearts."
"That is why you can't smile, I can. I know I'm with trash"

"There must be someone, some night, something that must have got you close."
"Oh hell, it was the only night I burnt the money after I left the hotel."
"You were in love?"
"Don't know, but it was birthday night and may be I had some extra shots."

"Some act like my father."
"They do bring themselves in totality."
"We repair their relationships."
"I don't do it for some brownie points from church, sometimes I whisper scums and they hear ums, crazy."

"What are you looking at?"
"The word, relationships, I wish I could set myself free from them."

The Lotus

Nothing moves without the mind:

The gardner who uproots his plant
that flowers.

The dance on thin ice.

A sweet song.

Either in the world or when
lockep up.

With or without begging.

A stone tied in your heart and
yet it can move, if you fall,
you can still stand up and walk.

Undo everything done.

Every One Is safe

'Every one is safe
Every one is safe'
The fakir sang

'Children will have children
And nothing will happen to nothing
They can wait forever for a home
Every one is safe
Every one is safe'
The fakir walked on

'Bombs
Car bombs
And the safest now are
Human bombs
It's a breaking news airborne
Every one is safe
Every one is safe'
The fakir was now in shadows

The voice of fakir in my head
A nuclear explosion in my heart
Sing me for sympathy please
Every one is safe
Every one is safe

In Control

It wasn't a joke
The kidnapping was for real
He would have killed
Even if you smirked
He said he was in control

The reassurances came in time
That though he couldn't be understood
Neither his act as he sang
That in the end
 It would all be fine

Untie my numb hands
I cried and pleaded
I'm not the one you thought I am
Why put me in this mess

Ah! you think this is for money
Come on he sighed
You've let me down
And now I would see a bullet
In your head and
That would end fine

But I'm not
I thought I said that loud

OK, I would kill you anyway
If that was that

NO, Please , NO
Oh please let me go

I'm a hero
Born under stars
My momma told me
I could never ever go wrong
That I would always be in control
And never in a war
I don't care who you are
You among all bought this on me
Now
How would I face my momma
In this costume with this scar
Look, look momma
I'm in control finally
Here is a life
That begs me for life

*Bang*

Darling

Are you a princess
He asked as he slapped

Living here is like
Living in a prison
I cried

Cheers to the cigarette stubs
On my backs

The slapping continued

No, he never wanted
To kill me
The fun would end

Down the elevator shaft
I was destroyed
It was the day he whispered
Darling

Trapped

Streams in river
Flowing in layers
Ending what I call a river

I see me
After living
In tremendous ignorance
A layer flowing above me still
Hinting at something more
Some other layers in self pity

As I land up in a layer deep
The image above me dies
Ending what I call ends
For the depth still persists

I come here
I lose there
The movement born
From something that ends

Floating

Shallow waters holding me
I weigh like a feather
Drifting in the wind
Some bones and
Some missing ribs

Like a watermelon
This skull of mine
Filled with vodka divine

This death is very cruel
And so dangerous
Stop preaching
You read your bed time stories
As for you
Souls like me
Never exist

The Word.

The question is not if I can experience the reality of anything, a lot has been said about it. Theories change and so does God. All theories and all God offer guides and order.

The question is what would be the right action with whatever reality that we find our self in? The problem here is that there are no guides here.

 I find millions of words in thousands of books in my local book store trying to make sense to me how I have deceived myself and that I have to see myself through my self-deception.
So many words to tell me, how neurotic I am.

Why was I standing outside my classroom? Was I creating disorder in my class.
In the last few years  of my school  when I went quiet, not a single minute was spent by me outside the classroom, may be the teachers never knew of my existence in class too. May be I stopped questioning the reality.
I was caught in moral discipline which I could not reject. I became a co-operator.My relationship with my teachers never changed, only that I was lost in the class.  And I could operate easily in this neuroticism.

What I see now was very disturbing for me then. This is/was my consciousness. This was how I was made from millions of years, exactly the same way. The words were and are never real but only fixed for the word was never the thing.

The Word.

I am on my own.
How do I arrive here and why do I arrive here.
Am I satisfied with the answers given to me of what is happening to me inside of me or am I looking for some objective reality?
Whatever I experience demands a new language, some richer vocabulary, if I do that, it can be left alone, but if I search for objectivity, it will only end in some problems. Let's try.
I need to find the physical side of I am on my own other than words here, that is an objective reality. The first area that I will have to look for is in the inter-subjective frame work. To that I will have to depend on answers from the theory of relativity.
May be that is why we write love letters.
That I am on my own today and now how do I observe the world around me and do I apply the same for all the objects living or non living.
This should apply across all existence. If applied it will bring in a finger that only points to me.

Turning around in mind
I search

For me
And love that lies hidden
A tear trapped
Some shadows and secrets
Questions of sorrow
Clouds and springs

So much so
In my mind
All the whispers
That you sang
As I consumed you

The Word.

From childhood I have been wanting things, things that were given to me and the things I had to fight for. For some wants I had to use all the activities of feelings and manipulations. The brain has lived shared cultivated itself with so many wants and how to use words to solve problems and how to think itself out of wants or go for it at any cost.
I was told I had problems, why was I being told that. How was I to resolve that which was hammered in to me. Always felt as if caught in the middle - to let go or go after it.
Functioning in an organized religious structure which was supposed to be easy as told to me seemed a problem the minute it was questioned. The brain might have understood that somewhere along the line that word is the thing.
That it was easy this way to live and to accept the reality as imposed on me. As years went on the issues became complicated, falling in and out of affairs. I, Understanding, manipulating and creating new patterns to be in love.
The wants were coming in the same way as in childhood; they were dealt too in the same way.
The conflicts could not be brought to end. Why was I concerned about me and people around me.Thinking was giving more energy to words.
Realizations of wanting two things at the same time did not help. This was my situation.
I am on my own.

The Word.

The word is not the thing and yet the word is rigid having behind it movement of millions of years. The word when looked upon is the thought and not the thing. Words, pictures, images exist in memory forming a reality, my psychological reality.
Psychological reality looks real and says God is there and it is not a construction or self is there and we have a theory that it exist.
The word is now used or seen as the thing and that movement forms the content of consciousness.
I may be horribly flawed here though.

Freud and Penis Envy.

Freud Triumphs! The pig that he is. We find ever increasing volume of evidence to support his theory.


Rajini Narayan sets her husbands penis on fire. While the case and arguments may be many but I think Freud triumphs with a demonstration of a THEORY he gave BIRTH to.


Case Summary: She burnt his penis while he was asleep after pouring a sufficiently flameable liquid in generous doses. Apparently she saw him hug a woman. Her Claim is that "His Penis belongs to me". The culprit died when he was rudely woken from his dream with his furniture on fire rammed the rest of the flameable fluid onto the floor and accidentally set the whole house on fire.


Rajini of course survived because she innocently ran out of the house to confess to the neighbors that she didnt mean this to happen. Her confession: "I just wanted to burn his penis so it belongs to me and no one else, I didn't mean this to happen".


Apparently she even confessed in court that she just wanted to purify his genitals. Yeah, we understand, she simply wanted a scarred marriage to be saved by another scar.


Fair enough. In a world of cruel impure men, who is to deny one woman some justice by fire?

Brave men ought not be scared of simple purification rituals. Then again, devil in us was never open to purity.




Here is the link (couple of many):
http://www.truecrimereport.com/2010/09/rajini_narayan_sets_cheating_h.php

http://frigginloon.wordpress.com/2008/12/08/woman-set-fire-to-her-husbands-genitals/

What I found most hilarious if somewhat perverse since it ignores all the actual truths was a comment on one of the message board that read:


"Mohini Chandra, you need to ask yourself do you know the intricate details of their lives. Keep those opinions which are wrong to yourself.. She didn’t do it on purpose and he technically deserved it..he dropped the bottle"


While we are not sure if this is "well meant" or "Sarcastic", True, we agree - if only he had the common sense and forebonding to stay put on the bed with a burning crotch, he would not have knocked the bottle (Which incidentally happened to have some petrol in it)  and brought the house down.


Hell, life is like that.

Funny Or Sad - 2010 DARWIN AWARDS

2010 DARWIN AWARDS

8th Place
In Detroit , a 41-year-old man got stuck and drowned in two feet of
water after squeezing head first through an 18-inch-wide sewer grate
to retrieve his car keys.

7th Place
A 49-year-old San Francisco stockbroker, who "totally zoned when he
ran", accidentally, jogged off a 100-foot high cliff on his daily run.

6th Place
While at the beach, Daniel Jones, 21, dug an 8 foot hole for
protection from the wind and had been sitting in a beach chair at the
bottom, when it collapsed, burying him beneath 5 feet of sand. People
on the beach used their hands and shovels trying to get him out but
could not reach him. It took rescue workers using heavy equipment
almost an hour to free him. Jones was pronounced dead at a hospital.

5th Place
Santiago Alvarado, 24, was killed as he fell through the ceiling of a
bicycle shop he was robbing. Death was caused when the long torch he
had placed in his mouth to keep his hands free, rammed into the base
of his skull as he hit the floor.

4th Place
Sylvester Briddell, Jr., 26, was killed as he won a bet with friends
who said he would not put a revolver loaded with four bullets into his
mouth and pull the trigger.

3rd Place
After walking around a marked police patrol car parked at the front
door, a man walked into H&J Leather & Firearms intent on robbing the
store. The shop was full of customers and a uniformed officer was
standing at the counter.. Upon seeing the officer, the would-be robber
announced a hold-up and fired a few wild shots from a target pistol.
The officer and a clerk promptly returned fire and several customers
also drew their guns and fired. The robber was pronounced dead at the
scene by Paramedics. Crime scene investigators located 47 expended
cartridge cases in the shop. The subsequent autopsy revealed 23
gunshot wounds. Ballistics identified rounds from 7 different weapons.
No one else was hurt.

HONOURABLE MENTION
Paul Stiller, 47, and his wife Bonnie were bored just driving around
at 2 a.m. So they lit a stick of dynamite to toss out the window to
see what would happen. Apparently they failed to notice the window was
closed.

RUNNER UP
Kerry Bingham had been drinking with several friends when one of them
said they knew a person who had bungee-jumped from a local bridge in
the middle of traffic. The conversation grew more heated and at least
10 men trooped along the walkway of the bridge at 4:30 a.m. Upon
arrival at the midpoint of the bridge they discovered that no one had
brought a bungee rope. Bingham, who had continued drinking,
volunteered and pointed out that a coil of lineman's cable lay nearby.
They secured one end around Bingham's leg and then tied the other (!)
to the bridge. His fall lasted 40 feet before the cable tightened and
tore his foot off at the ankle. He miraculously survived his fall into
the icy water and was rescued by two nearby fishermen. Bingham's foot
was never located.


AND THE WINNER IS...
Zookeeper Friedrich Riesfeldt (Paderborn, Germany ) fed his
constipated elephant 22 doses of animal laxative and more than a
bushel of berries, figs and prunes before the plugged-up pachyderm
finally got relief. Investigators say ill-fated Friedrich, 46, was
attempting to give the ailing elephant an olive oil enema when the
relieved beast unloaded. The sheer force of the elephant's unexpected
defecation knocked Mr. Riesfeldt to the ground where he struck his
head on a rock as the elephant continued to evacuate 200 pounds of
dung on top of him. It seems to be just one of those freak accidents
that proves.... 'shit happens'

Do not talk of rejecting clinging
Till you feel the need of security

Be
Ruthlessly honest & that
Even this thought of
I am a good athiest
Is a clinging

Skid-marks: Permeability

No one gets a second chance in life. They get a chance in a second life.

How to name it?

The map I hold is not the roads I roam. Those who feel that the gap is merely very difficult to bridge are men/women with purpose. For the landmarks I sight are the destinations I want to reach, and makes me believe that that the universe can be simultaneously apprehended at once. It makes me leap from recognition to recognition and my ingenuity bridges the gap creatively to apply my principles. I become self-obsessed and congratulatory and it is perfectly plausible that happiness becomes my second nature. For I am no longer incapacitated by the enormity of what I see, only my mechanism of selection is much stronger than the awe of the unknown.


Then there are differentiators, those that seperate the being from the knowing - Living the drama and understanding it share a mutex relationship, for both cannot be apprehended simultaneously without destroying the purity of their essence in isolation. And then we could laugh at each other, for emotions, for fears, for their unknowns. And life at once becomes merry, buzzing, and between all the mutual explosions we seemed to have found the harmonious universe, teeming with contradictions constantly resolving themselves like the melting ice - serving just the right purpose. I know my universe then, and become its non-physical center, perhaps even able to spin some universes on their axis at will and I breed gravity, as everything that looks at me closely enough falls to me, either to crash, or do the waltz at a safe distance. Everything becomes real, alive, colored and bright. I ignore the shadows while basking in the glory of light. Yet when I am tired, and before I sleep, there is a minute when I introspect, amazed that I beautify everything I touch, and everything I dont. It is in that minute, that I invent my dreams and rearrange my furniture for a better living. And what spills from my brimming claudron, simmering on heat, becomes my art, my signature, an alternate identity that I cant hide.


Sometimes when the malice touches the melting point, it flows as hope. Block the flow and it settles down as acceptance, let it flow and it covers just enough ground to lose its identity. And then we have names for all that grows from its carcass.

Through Knowing

How should we be living

1) Through knowledge
That I am
What I call me
It is possible to absorb everything
All my emotions
With so many techniques available
I can be free one day too

2) By accepting
The knowledge of action
Hoping mad with anger
Never wanting to be free from it
It is not a myth that
We can deal with all matter

3) By maintaining continuity
Maintaining thoughts
Of me being an entity
Neurons available in plenty
Creating images with limitless possibilities

4) Understanding sensations
And the unitary movements of thoughts
Then with the help of time
I survive and
I find the reality of joy

Symbols and logos.

I always found it amusing to see logos on meat factories. Animals apparently are mostly "happy" to get to slaughter houses to be packed in bags of plastic.

Afterall its how we package our goods that helps us hide our insensitivity to life of others in general.

Came across this blog dedicated to this: http://suicidefood.blogspot.com/

PS - Note the Psych evaluations:

1 noose = Mildly troubling

2 nooses = Appalling

3 nooses = Perverse

4 nooses = Deeply disturbed and disturbing

5 nooses = Ye gods! I must go wash out my eyeballs!

Sample these:

I Have All This

Sing me in to the streams
All at once
Exciting is the adventure
It's the law
And I can flow

I like hearing you
Your sensations
Looking forward to see
You join me in my dreams

Consciousness time and space
Allows me to play endless games
Of sensations and freedom
All in this moment
Closer to you as much as you are willing to....

I Feel

Feeling felt in well being
Pulses with enormous throbs


Hang around
Stay
You are in lap the lap of
Harmonious nature


The resources in my craft
The abundance of its availability


I love what I am and
Me and me in all my responses
Keep talking
You are in a very quiet place

Magical.

Everything magical, hides a trick, And beholds the fool.

Truth.

Halted trains,
Signs to a silence,
A trinkle,
The burden is now light,
Light that twists,
Receeds to a distance,
By the street lamps,
And a picket fence,
A dull mist,
Two dancers dance,
Constructed from memory,
Dancing like apes, a tradition,
Brought to a halt,
Under the kingdom of sun,
The head bent,
Through the glare,
Cold, sensations,
as I close my eyes,
In the effort to motion,
The creaking of steps,
Gaurded fences,
A need to exploit,
The manure of a world,
I walk past faces,
Following the coat,
And a cap,
And some Blinding white hair,
Purposeful,
peering through the hollows,
Walking Ghostly,
Perhaps a ride by the river,
I see myself,
One in many,
The song comes to a stop
And I follow my procession
Out reach my ability
But refine and soak in,
Into the domain of solace,
Let the story in,
Live the story,
That I wrote,
inch after inch,
To the end,
By the switch,
I walk the steps,
Into the day,
Of work,
And into a destination,
The train is now moving

The Four am Breeze

A certain kind of primary in the
Four am breeze
Gross and subtle

Energy seen in the
Four am breeze
Clear crisp and light

Increasing my subtle state this
Four am breeze
To a point called birth

How To Think?

 My certainties come from my power of imaginations. My imaginations come from concepts.

 How to think?
Evidence suggests that we have facts about us and the universe we find ourselves in. Amazing and gigantic data available about the universe and how the speed of light has been a great instrument to measure the entire galaxy.
What we see across the skies are pasts, this is what gives us the idea of how it was then, how was ours then. We do not know for sure what kind of universe are we living in. What kind of formations and what motions are at present out there. The chain reactions are known and the speculation of how it started has not yet been experimented.

Till we do not close the loop in physics it remains speculation.

How to think with a state called zero size?

 Nothingness like emptiness is simply a concept. Nothing of these concepts exist. You are always in some kind of production.

A moment comes in to being from a moment. A moment is also a self contained moment. Logic says this is absurd.
I a finite being imagines being the center of the infinite universe.

Can I begin now with:
I don't know.

I the observer of existence exists, how am I impermanent.
If it is evolution, does evolution have a self. It does know what is good and bad and what is valid for life sustaining itself permanently.
This mechanism cannot be self generated. And even this is now being analysed internally so as to accept it or reject it.
Without reference from memory there cannot be any movements internally.
Randomness of evolution looks certain as of now but the biologist cannot do away of order that they see in mutation and they do see the causes too. So these genetic compositions are stable. Something regular is going on here.

Rough Notes

Give me reality, not objective relationship reality. There are questions about absolutes and they are from my daily life, my relationships with humans around me. I search and I see only time tick away. I cannot even see time as you can. Relations between objects and their attributes and assumptions through objectivity are of no use if the need to find absolutes is abandoned. Metaphysical reality cannot be abandoned just because it does not find objective reality. What school do I belong to? What is that I hear? How different it is from others?


If metaphysical reality can be focused on why should it be abandoned?


If I reject emotions or desires of a human I'm interacting on a daily basis and so is what is being done to me by that too, it proves a point that these emotions or desires are devoid of intrinsic reality.
We understand causes and effects thereoff, how important are certain values that give rise to life sustaining emotions.
This thought of values to emotions is what is called the karma theory. Are values primary cause?  The difficulty of accepting them as primary is that it indicates an intelligence prior to causation.

Purpose decides interpretation
Of reality and of emotions

Fit myself somewhere
Is not an easy task

Working assumptions
Are for only the goals that I pursue

How important is experience
Framed through
Objective elaboration alone

Thoughts being born thus
Which may not find any neural networking
Alters the nature of reality

It is not something beyond
Externally we are very advanced
And the purpose is my ease of my mind
Which becomes the purpose of my reality
Which is never beyond

What is me
Is what I explore
And then the
Purpose decides interpretation
Of reality and of emotions

First Bloom of spring 2010. Iphone - on way to work.

The path that leads to the graveyard. As I walk to my work.

Taken from Iphone. Spring 2010. First bloom of spring and the first windfall.

Frozen Nest.

Taken from Iphone. Location: Des Moines Iowa, downtown, Winter 2010.

Friday evenings.

Every Friday evening, while I am travelling back home from work, I stop at 50th street 7th Ave. Just silent look around to feel the pulse of life all around.

Hundreds of men and women standing and staring at the lights all around them broadway shows, comics calling, gaint screens with images all round. Lovers arguing, with raw cuss words.

Mesmarizing. One needs to feel Manhattan by night.

Hold on!

How does one hold on to a whiff of air, to catch a breath, the knowledge that I need to open with a gasp what I hold in denial of your existence and my need of you?

Yet, I cannot feel you, nor with senses, neither with will. I can only exhume the dull acknowledgement of a sensation of life being sucked out when I first held my breath to end you.

I was not aware of you before. Not that I am specifically aware of you after, but this vague fear of not knowing how you died so effortlessly while I am rooted to my ground. Not moving an inch in all the miles I carry in my memory. Trying to hold on to you flowing away into the distance - all the miles lost in your memory, except a dull floating into the void and out effortlessly, fluid, languid.

Sometimes I wonder, if you travel away to span all distances where I might reach needing you. Wishing never to leave me wanting. Yet, do I know if the vast expanse where you live, omnipresent, is really centered around my existence?

You did not deny when I asked. You did not acknowledge when I probed. And the uneasiness of your silence chokes me like I choke you one breath at a time.

You tell me that I bind you to flesh, but its mine not yours, and its breathing and beating stubbornly to create a new world over the corpse of the one that died last night. And I was rocking you, like a child, Perhaps today was the justice I sought, where I could open my eyes and see the empty space, run into the winds, and tell myself its all you into all of me.

But it is not enough, how do I hold on to a whiff of air? You carry my sounds, into the distance, perhaps its your way of holding on to my words.

But all I hear back is my echo, a whistle past senses, of joy? or moans? How do I know what you said back to me? Hold on! let me hold you again in a gasp, and hear your throbbing heart, if you have one.

Conditioned waking
Realizing you and me

Perceptions of then
My feelings
And emotions arising
Conditioning the dreaming

You see
Knowledge
In continuity
An intellectual conditioning
Filling in and pouring out of
Joy

Words.

There was never 
a word of god.
What spoke 
was the god in you.
What was said 
was hell, devils,
When there was 
nothing to tell,
Say I must, 
let the gifts burn,
Let beauty perish, 
to my ugly turn


What is said is all hell,

When there is just nothing to tell.

Drunk!

I sip my wine. I do.
What descends is my ascent to glory.
I am told I am drunk, I am.
I am told I should care, I do.


Through the drunk beaten eyes,
You look beautiful too.


What descends is my ascent to glory,
I am drunk, am I?

My Own

Over my shoulder
Lied what I never understood
It had a source
A fear in some darkness
Surrounded by energies

If I wish
Words are will
Being is far far away from darkness
No other door
And yet the process that never ends

The State Of Living

The difference between living and getting caught in the state of living:


To be involved in the state of living promises entertainment and a million choices to choose from.
I am honest and I make a lot of sense in what I say and I know everything and I'm not interested in what you have to say. I never listen to you, for me you have to learn a lot, you are flawed but yet I like you and that is for my personal reasons known to me. What I say is new and you only repeat. Unfortunately I do not accept anything until you come to me with charts and figures. Yet I have faiths and beliefs which are sacred to me and if you happen to share them with me I will be very happy. We will transform together. We aren't ordinary you see. This is state of living.
Am I there or here?
Here is where?

The Notes Of Silence

The Notes of Silence
Sings a bird
Somewhere deep in forest



Singing the truth no more
"Yes I never lived
And I never will die"



The dust in its eyes
Same old song
All it hears is



The Notes Of Silence



The trees shouting
'No More, No More'
The spirits choking



Makes me wonder
These silences of whispers
A thought that I see



Yes the echoes
Makes me lonely
This forest of silences
In my pipe I cry



The Notes Of Silence


A head rolls
In pairs of yes and no
The winds blows
A song
Of a bird
Somewhere deep in forest



The Notes Of Silence

To a Wild Flower

Die ye, die
for the Wildflower
fits not in wild,
like the wildlover,
not in love,
is it acme,
the flower
to plant?
Like a mind
to ye body?
Die wild,
or live groomed?

Die, ye die,
and never
be born again,
to joy or pain,
I"ll shed a tear,
nourish you,
with a pear,
and the wild stump
will live again
a memory
of a scent lost

die ye die.