Elysium

The room whirls into a vortex
As the colours slowly fade out of focus

The stale air breathes it's dying wish
As light shines down into the vacuum

A song plays along somewhere nearby
While a bird flutters across the window

The moment time forgot to walk
And life ceased to talk

The moment darkness outshone light
As I sat down to wait.

[3:40 PM
20th January,2005]

Words that keep coming back to me?
No.
They just make me wait.

Definitions

It has more to do with hope than the knowledge that something might actually come of it.
It is the epitome of passiveness, and of acquiescence.
It is a pleasure in the guise of pain.

There is a very thin line between hope and resignation.And it is that.

They call it 'waiting'.
I call it 'life'.

Kairos

I scribble away as the manacles threaten to asphyxiate the flux..
Muted screams inundate my head as my memories fade away into dust one after the other.
A travesty of a life rolls out in grey as I seek to rearrange the derangement.
Faces swimming in and out of focus..words erasing themselves from parchment..numbers counting numbers..lines curving into circles and circles becoming centres..black fading away into white..

Life is a void only its absence can fill.
I am a mindless mind nursing a heartless heart living a lifeless life.
Worn down by an illusion called reality, I seek my vengeance.

My life needs a lesson in life.
And I collude with a lie to make it a truth.

The remnants of my un-gone past and the splinters of my un-come future coruscate before my eyes as I fall down on my knees one last time.
Somewhere in this nebulous obscurity around me is my crepuscule, my Kairos.
My past, future and present crumble into a single moment, a moment of such breathtaking clarity that I could gaze into timelessness.
It was the moment everything came together to become nothing.
The moment death came to life.

Sangfroid

A weak heart takes it's place
Right here behind my face

Apprehensive of finding new pain
Too afraid of hurting itself again

Says it's getting too cold in its slot
So had to run here fraught

Don't ask me now what's taken its place
Not everything always shows in the face.

[4:27 pm,
5th Nov,2005]

Shapes

There was a box.
A cylinder beside it.
There were circles that hosted music.
And a rectangle that contained windows.

There was a rectangle below it,holding another rectangle.
Some white on the wall to write.
Another box.Some more windows.
Some music.Some images.Some memories.
Some time.

It was a square. And I was a corner.

Funny how some shapes take shape with time. And end up shaping you.

Anonymous

Well,well,well...

I honestly appreciate the foolishness of your answering your own questions but then..

Hmm... So,then.. Shall we?

Just a muse

It's a moment.
It's a point of view.
It's a memoir.
It's an expression.
It's a canvas.
It's a reality.
It's a collage.
It's a trick.
It's a smile.

It's a photograph.Well,maybe just.

Another picture.. and another muse.

My mind never ceases to cease,
And I'm never left to work at ease,
The clocks never forget to chime,
And it's always just 'about time'.

A picture.. and a muse

I gave up and she gave in,
She wanted me to set her free,
We danced and I took her for a spin,
I was the wind,and she..the tree.

Highs..

My head is on a high,
And I'm feeling way too damn wordy,
But nothing escapes me except a sigh,
For - ah,ah - I've just read Rushdie.

I know it's cheesy.Damn Rushdie for that.