So timid and show vivid
Organs, rhythm, the shade of steel
Glitter the rays, that strike upon
And sorrow, the heart, joy it fills
So soft the thicker tuft
Radiate, reflect the adored pride
Simple, mediocre, sophisticated
Confetti, the better bride
Alas! the groom isn't so
Bride, the rest, the self abhor
Filled with agony he struggles on for miles,
As the glamor herself - simply smiles.
So many things are happening here,
So many hearts are being broken,
It's all too obvious - never so fair
But, justice here is mistaken.
And, so, I leave this forsaken land,
At the gates, with utter awe I stand,
And wave it all bye with my dirty hand
In search for some home, forever grand
Saturday, February 26, 2011
The time has come
Perhaps, the time has come for the curtains to unveil the show inside.
The useless part of a theater to be used again. Perhaps, the time has come for a new life to resume from the earlier-paused trance. The lights to shine violently over the beauty upon the stage and for the cheers and roses and a bit of stones and hates to shower upon the performance that's about to stage on the stage. A serenade to be performed and flirts and flatters voiced on the show.
An Idyll. A bliss artificial and yet soothing to the heart. A writer's imagination to flourish and the characters in his play to come out of the grave and be alive. A narrator's time to appear from behind the curtains and direct the show as if it were a part of his soul. A heroine to dance and shine and collect the hearts of the audience drooling over her. A hero to ride his horse, climb up the high walls and sing a song of love under her balcony without fearing the canines and the cannibals on his side. A father to accept defeat and retreat from the way of true love and a new Romeo and the old Juliet to be born again.
A new Casanova to reign this foreign substance that is slowly trying to accommodate within 'self' and failing to keep it undistinguished. A pride to subside. Vanity and Chastity to hide and the Courage to venture new lands and give up on the one he couldn't so whole-heartedly acquire. For the brilliance to radiate furthermore as it can and the Passive to die and fall apart. The Adventure to reach new heights and continue above - new dangers to be fought and victories to be sought from the evil-doers to the heart. A new treasure to be discovered and used in every single way to acquire fame and name and true status. Expectations - Great Expectations.
A feeling so vain that it can take no shape other than of a heart that is so unwilling to accept the blood of a lesser being.
A series of rehearsals in front of the mirror and never to be performed live on the show to end. Poems and Plays and Stories and Hearsays. Games of heart, cheesy words of flirt and the dirt of failure and the glitter of success - momentary. The time has come for the curtains to unveil the show inside and for the performance to loot the shower of roses and applauses and stones and scorns of the audience watching the show. The time has come for the men to stand and make the moment grand.
Taking back the words wont be what the heart desires. The body craves are to subside by nights so dreary one can hope but to sleep. Requirements are to be met and the gates are to be opened to let the breeze flow on the level. The nest on the post-box is to be kept untouched - the innocent eyes are to be protected. It's a new world in which there has to be hope and faith and care most of all about everything that matters - self.
The dreams are to be re-seen and the touches to prevail as far as 'self' cares. Lucid ideas that require nothing but 'self' to accomplish. The dreams to furnish and the game to flourish. The time has come for the words to be re-spoken and the ears to be closed for the fear of hearing those shrills are also to be fought and prevented. The game of the mighty is to be taken off and the trophy to be thrown in the gutter where it belongs. Sex and Love to be moved aside and the tranquil to be saved for the other day.
A new deck of cards is to be drawn and the queens kept at last and the kings burnt to ashes. The aces are to be hidden for the game with 'self'. The aces are to be hidden for the games the 'self' claims. And the jokers are to be used as a smoke screen where they only find their use as mere jesters of the show to the queens. The click to retain the scent of the hands that pressed it so soft. The words to be tidied and printed for the world to see and the name to show off. The time has come.
It's now and always.
It is now.
The useless part of a theater to be used again. Perhaps, the time has come for a new life to resume from the earlier-paused trance. The lights to shine violently over the beauty upon the stage and for the cheers and roses and a bit of stones and hates to shower upon the performance that's about to stage on the stage. A serenade to be performed and flirts and flatters voiced on the show.
An Idyll. A bliss artificial and yet soothing to the heart. A writer's imagination to flourish and the characters in his play to come out of the grave and be alive. A narrator's time to appear from behind the curtains and direct the show as if it were a part of his soul. A heroine to dance and shine and collect the hearts of the audience drooling over her. A hero to ride his horse, climb up the high walls and sing a song of love under her balcony without fearing the canines and the cannibals on his side. A father to accept defeat and retreat from the way of true love and a new Romeo and the old Juliet to be born again.
A new Casanova to reign this foreign substance that is slowly trying to accommodate within 'self' and failing to keep it undistinguished. A pride to subside. Vanity and Chastity to hide and the Courage to venture new lands and give up on the one he couldn't so whole-heartedly acquire. For the brilliance to radiate furthermore as it can and the Passive to die and fall apart. The Adventure to reach new heights and continue above - new dangers to be fought and victories to be sought from the evil-doers to the heart. A new treasure to be discovered and used in every single way to acquire fame and name and true status. Expectations - Great Expectations.
A feeling so vain that it can take no shape other than of a heart that is so unwilling to accept the blood of a lesser being.
A series of rehearsals in front of the mirror and never to be performed live on the show to end. Poems and Plays and Stories and Hearsays. Games of heart, cheesy words of flirt and the dirt of failure and the glitter of success - momentary. The time has come for the curtains to unveil the show inside and for the performance to loot the shower of roses and applauses and stones and scorns of the audience watching the show. The time has come for the men to stand and make the moment grand.
Taking back the words wont be what the heart desires. The body craves are to subside by nights so dreary one can hope but to sleep. Requirements are to be met and the gates are to be opened to let the breeze flow on the level. The nest on the post-box is to be kept untouched - the innocent eyes are to be protected. It's a new world in which there has to be hope and faith and care most of all about everything that matters - self.
The dreams are to be re-seen and the touches to prevail as far as 'self' cares. Lucid ideas that require nothing but 'self' to accomplish. The dreams to furnish and the game to flourish. The time has come for the words to be re-spoken and the ears to be closed for the fear of hearing those shrills are also to be fought and prevented. The game of the mighty is to be taken off and the trophy to be thrown in the gutter where it belongs. Sex and Love to be moved aside and the tranquil to be saved for the other day.
A new deck of cards is to be drawn and the queens kept at last and the kings burnt to ashes. The aces are to be hidden for the game with 'self'. The aces are to be hidden for the games the 'self' claims. And the jokers are to be used as a smoke screen where they only find their use as mere jesters of the show to the queens. The click to retain the scent of the hands that pressed it so soft. The words to be tidied and printed for the world to see and the name to show off. The time has come.
It's now and always.
It is now.
Sweet Retreat
Unrequited - most of it.
The glitter of diamonds. A smile of persuasion and the rhythm of serenade. Happy valentine's day! Perhaps, the flow was suffocating and perhaps, the moment was humorous but the intent of un-harm was uncanny. A heart that contained a heart - so willing, so appreciating, so bizarre. The recipient was more than what words can confide, more than what expressions could confine, more than what the heart could convey. The eeriness was effable, the efface desirable but the perseverance prevalent and yet the divine refusal. The greater on denial and the lesser surprised. What was it that the sole wanted? Why was the cipher misunderstood? Ah well... the deed was done and the message demodulated and delivered. And, that was all that was required, eh? Crippling psychology. Besotted soul.
But, then again, why bother the heart that's bound to bear more than what the sole can share? Let 'it' be. Let it be just the way it wants to be. Protect 'self'. Save the greater the embarrassment - the insult the lesser can cause. Maybe it's time for the sole to seek the soul it hasn't yet sought than to seek the soul that doesn't see to seek the sole on question. Maybe it's time for the misery to end.
Quivering defeat.
Sweet retreat.
The glitter of diamonds. A smile of persuasion and the rhythm of serenade. Happy valentine's day! Perhaps, the flow was suffocating and perhaps, the moment was humorous but the intent of un-harm was uncanny. A heart that contained a heart - so willing, so appreciating, so bizarre. The recipient was more than what words can confide, more than what expressions could confine, more than what the heart could convey. The eeriness was effable, the efface desirable but the perseverance prevalent and yet the divine refusal. The greater on denial and the lesser surprised. What was it that the sole wanted? Why was the cipher misunderstood? Ah well... the deed was done and the message demodulated and delivered. And, that was all that was required, eh? Crippling psychology. Besotted soul.
But, then again, why bother the heart that's bound to bear more than what the sole can share? Let 'it' be. Let it be just the way it wants to be. Protect 'self'. Save the greater the embarrassment - the insult the lesser can cause. Maybe it's time for the sole to seek the soul it hasn't yet sought than to seek the soul that doesn't see to seek the sole on question. Maybe it's time for the misery to end.
Quivering defeat.
Sweet retreat.
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