Explorations of fading footprints on the tide,
You'll never be done, they tell me, just enjoy the ride.
My heart did forecast the dreary grey clouds I see
but maybe a change of perspective's all that I need,
Holding on tight, to the silver threads hanging from the sky
I won't let them fade away.
Explorations of heartbreak park in the night without a flashlight
You'll never be done,they tell me, just enjoy the ride.
There's a place that light may never reach,
but maybe a change of perspective's all that I need,
Summer days foray, and I know just the place to get some respite
I'll let her fade away.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
Kraedon mythos - The Sins Of Our Fathers
Light was legion, marching forth from the rising sun to conquer the world with swords of unforgiving purity that the ambiguity of night retreated from hastily. Though the world bowed to the self-righteous conquerors, portals remained to the all consuming night that was the beginning and would be the end. Within a realm of such shadows formed from the mighty trees of the rainforest of Deirdahor, a boy sat before an old man, beating away at toy drums with his tiny hands curled into fists.
The old man gently took his drums away, and the boy looked up at his grandfather’s face with wide eyes in which swam a hint of indignation, but did not make much protest for he knew that his grandfather would tell him a tale. The boy did love the rich baritone that was the older man’s voice.
‘Time enough to play the drums when you grow older, little one’, said the grandfather his words tinged with melancholy, ‘you’ll spend half your life doing nothing else.’ The boy stared at his grandfather the way only children could, drinking in everything that was said with undivided attention. ‘It is time again to tell you the story that will shape your life, a tale I have told before and will tell you again so you never forget it, for it is our inheritance to seek absolution for a sin committed by our blood ages past. It is ours to keep the extinction of our people at bay.
’Ten generations ago, there was a man in our tribe, a man who possessed all the virtues that our tribe demanded in abundance. He had the strength of the mighty elephants the savage predators of Deirdahor fear to hunt. He was quick as wood-hungry wildfires. The greatest of his virtues however, was that he could hear the secret words whispered in the rustling of leaves, in the cries of the animals. He could harness the wild magic of the forest, and ride it with a skill that rivaled Ahedam, the first man, the apprentice of the Demiurge himself. Aptly then was he named after the sorcerer.
‘Time fed him with these virtues with unprecedented generosity, and soon the tribesmen began to envy and fear this man who threatened to grow into something more. Yet they did not act upon these trepidations, for his words had the power to pluck the strings of the mind and the heart. These trepidations were also overpowered by another fear, that of the demise of fear in rival tribes, which would be birthed by the death of our greatest warrior. So this man not only survived, but thrived.
‘One night when the moons stared wide eyed at the follies of mortals, Ahedam went hunting as was his wont. Among the creatures of the night he became one, and his keen ears listening to the hints of predators that the blood oaks sighed. Upon his visage surfaced a feral smile as his heart began to beat faster. That night he would hunt the panther, a king crowned by the sun’s departure.
‘So he stalked with his senses attuned to one purpose, for he knew that if the knowledge of his temerity became known, the distinction between the hunter and the hunted would quickly blur. He was quick and silent, stepping on dead leaves and fungi lightly. Soon he found himself walking upon a familiar path heading towards the carotid artery of Deirdahor, the Deirdareis, which was a river holy to the Nine Tribes of the Exodus.
‘As he approached the ever flowing waters, he heard the soft lilting tones of a woman singing. The voice curled around him, merged with his soul, carrying it everywhere and nowhere. His body floated in the currents of the song and took him to the source. A woman stood by the river, clothed in naught but the light of the moon. She had the night woven into her thick flowing hair. Her eyes were the green of glistening leaves after a rainfall.
‘The inhumanly beautiful eyes turned to regard Ahedam. For what seemed hours they stared, neither speaking a word, until the woman faded into the wilderness. Ahedam made no move to follow. He sank to the forest floor, his mind unable to comprehend what had occurred. He discovered that darkness remained. He returned to the Sedtun that was his tribe's when he realized hunting for a panther paled into insignificance.
‘He returned every night to the place he had seen her, and she did not return. After seven nights she returned to sing the same song. Once she was done she gifted Ahedam with her regard once more. It took Ahedam seven more seven-nights to summon the courage to speak to her. It took seven times that for them to fall in love.
‘The happiest hours of the life of Ahedam came with a pause of seven, yet soon his heart grew greedy. He knew deep in his heart that the woman who had his love would not grant her consent for more. So he channeled the wild magic into his hands and shaped the Heartwood of Deirdahor into a drum.
‘When he sealed the act with his blood, the breeze that gently caressed the canopy grew into an exhalation of fury. From the wood of the trees flawless brown skin was formed. The shadows wove into each other and became velvet hair. From the leaves emerged green eyes, terrible in their rage. She roared with anger, and then faded back into the forest, and in that terrible instant Ahedam knew that by putting fetters on that which should not be chained he had tainted his soul. With that act, the love that she had for him turned into hate.
‘He learned to play the drum as quickly as he always learned. He learned to manipulate the mood of Deirdahor by changing the rhythm of its heart beat, the rhythm with which his hands hit the Heartwood. He played night and day to pacify the forest, to keep it from destroying the tribes. Only one night in seven was it safe for him to rest.
‘The forest kept away from the Nine Tribes of the Exodus, but the blood of Ahedam was cursed. After a child was born, the mother would die. Yet a child must be born of that blood, for only he could play the drum and keep death away. Thus, in every generation, the Ashfall tribe sacrificed a woman to such a marriage.
‘The woman with the emerald eyes was never seen again by any man of the Nine Tribes, but her haunting song clung to everything that was green in Deirhador.
‘That was the tale, young one, which you must never forget. An obligation you must never forget. It is our inheritance to fight for the absolution of a sin committed by our blood ages past. It is ours to keep the extinction of our people at bay.’
In the many layered silence that followed, the boy grew impatient. He rose up to his tiny feet and wobbled to where the old man put the drums. He held it close for a moment and looked up at his grandfather with wide guileless eyes, and then proceeded to smack it with his hands with all the earnestness he could summon. The grandfather watched him with sadness and pride, and so did eyes that were the green of glistening leaves after a rainfall.
The old man gently took his drums away, and the boy looked up at his grandfather’s face with wide eyes in which swam a hint of indignation, but did not make much protest for he knew that his grandfather would tell him a tale. The boy did love the rich baritone that was the older man’s voice.
‘Time enough to play the drums when you grow older, little one’, said the grandfather his words tinged with melancholy, ‘you’ll spend half your life doing nothing else.’ The boy stared at his grandfather the way only children could, drinking in everything that was said with undivided attention. ‘It is time again to tell you the story that will shape your life, a tale I have told before and will tell you again so you never forget it, for it is our inheritance to seek absolution for a sin committed by our blood ages past. It is ours to keep the extinction of our people at bay.
’Ten generations ago, there was a man in our tribe, a man who possessed all the virtues that our tribe demanded in abundance. He had the strength of the mighty elephants the savage predators of Deirdahor fear to hunt. He was quick as wood-hungry wildfires. The greatest of his virtues however, was that he could hear the secret words whispered in the rustling of leaves, in the cries of the animals. He could harness the wild magic of the forest, and ride it with a skill that rivaled Ahedam, the first man, the apprentice of the Demiurge himself. Aptly then was he named after the sorcerer.
‘Time fed him with these virtues with unprecedented generosity, and soon the tribesmen began to envy and fear this man who threatened to grow into something more. Yet they did not act upon these trepidations, for his words had the power to pluck the strings of the mind and the heart. These trepidations were also overpowered by another fear, that of the demise of fear in rival tribes, which would be birthed by the death of our greatest warrior. So this man not only survived, but thrived.
‘One night when the moons stared wide eyed at the follies of mortals, Ahedam went hunting as was his wont. Among the creatures of the night he became one, and his keen ears listening to the hints of predators that the blood oaks sighed. Upon his visage surfaced a feral smile as his heart began to beat faster. That night he would hunt the panther, a king crowned by the sun’s departure.
‘So he stalked with his senses attuned to one purpose, for he knew that if the knowledge of his temerity became known, the distinction between the hunter and the hunted would quickly blur. He was quick and silent, stepping on dead leaves and fungi lightly. Soon he found himself walking upon a familiar path heading towards the carotid artery of Deirdahor, the Deirdareis, which was a river holy to the Nine Tribes of the Exodus.
‘As he approached the ever flowing waters, he heard the soft lilting tones of a woman singing. The voice curled around him, merged with his soul, carrying it everywhere and nowhere. His body floated in the currents of the song and took him to the source. A woman stood by the river, clothed in naught but the light of the moon. She had the night woven into her thick flowing hair. Her eyes were the green of glistening leaves after a rainfall.
‘The inhumanly beautiful eyes turned to regard Ahedam. For what seemed hours they stared, neither speaking a word, until the woman faded into the wilderness. Ahedam made no move to follow. He sank to the forest floor, his mind unable to comprehend what had occurred. He discovered that darkness remained. He returned to the Sedtun that was his tribe's when he realized hunting for a panther paled into insignificance.
‘He returned every night to the place he had seen her, and she did not return. After seven nights she returned to sing the same song. Once she was done she gifted Ahedam with her regard once more. It took Ahedam seven more seven-nights to summon the courage to speak to her. It took seven times that for them to fall in love.
‘The happiest hours of the life of Ahedam came with a pause of seven, yet soon his heart grew greedy. He knew deep in his heart that the woman who had his love would not grant her consent for more. So he channeled the wild magic into his hands and shaped the Heartwood of Deirdahor into a drum.
‘When he sealed the act with his blood, the breeze that gently caressed the canopy grew into an exhalation of fury. From the wood of the trees flawless brown skin was formed. The shadows wove into each other and became velvet hair. From the leaves emerged green eyes, terrible in their rage. She roared with anger, and then faded back into the forest, and in that terrible instant Ahedam knew that by putting fetters on that which should not be chained he had tainted his soul. With that act, the love that she had for him turned into hate.
‘He learned to play the drum as quickly as he always learned. He learned to manipulate the mood of Deirdahor by changing the rhythm of its heart beat, the rhythm with which his hands hit the Heartwood. He played night and day to pacify the forest, to keep it from destroying the tribes. Only one night in seven was it safe for him to rest.
‘The forest kept away from the Nine Tribes of the Exodus, but the blood of Ahedam was cursed. After a child was born, the mother would die. Yet a child must be born of that blood, for only he could play the drum and keep death away. Thus, in every generation, the Ashfall tribe sacrificed a woman to such a marriage.
‘The woman with the emerald eyes was never seen again by any man of the Nine Tribes, but her haunting song clung to everything that was green in Deirhador.
‘That was the tale, young one, which you must never forget. An obligation you must never forget. It is our inheritance to fight for the absolution of a sin committed by our blood ages past. It is ours to keep the extinction of our people at bay.’
In the many layered silence that followed, the boy grew impatient. He rose up to his tiny feet and wobbled to where the old man put the drums. He held it close for a moment and looked up at his grandfather with wide guileless eyes, and then proceeded to smack it with his hands with all the earnestness he could summon. The grandfather watched him with sadness and pride, and so did eyes that were the green of glistening leaves after a rainfall.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Part of the Book in Conception
Many ages before the ascent of man, when the world was still young, there lived the Giants. Gentle creatures they were, these Beings so beloved to life. Coaxed by their song the forests grew filled with magnificent trees that spanned the height of hills. Coaxed by their loving touch flowers bloomed in the most arid desert. The most feral and the gentlest of creatures lived in harmony in their presence, for to be in their company filled hearts with a joy they could not fathom.
Ages passed in peace, before the Corruption arrived. The black rot spread slowly, preying on the innocent unsuspecting nurturers, twisting their souls and emerging as an evil vaster than could be borne by the realm. The deeper the pain they caused the deeper was their delight and rarely did they gift the relief that death brought. Oceans were born of the blood they shed of other races and of each other, yet it seemed their malevolence was insatiable. Mutilated was the wilderness that they once so cherished.
Thus to rid the living of this menace were created beings Six, mightier than the destroyers within whose powerful grasp the world threatened to crumble. Their body was shaped from the earth itself, their sinew entwined with that of the strongest metals that slept within. Windstorms blew to fill their lungs, to give them life. Their hearts…
Three hearts were carved of the coldest ice, and Three hearts were fire molded. And so they drew their first breath and the eyes of the mightiest race that ever lived opened in unison. Those that witnessed knew an awe and fear with an intensity such that it seemed would never visit the living again.
Part of the prologue of a book in conception
There were places upon this realm that were untouched by time, where memories and prophecy became indistinguishable and mingled like the fine threads of a rich tapestry. Only when those threads were woven into a fabric and lost their identity was the picture they were destined to make evident. In one such place was a lake whose other side was lost to the horizon, and over its waters that were the shade of a stormy twilight sky, was a fog that never dissipated. Upon the shores of this lake was a small dilapidated house, its wood rotting. In this small house were impossibly long corridors and palatial rooms, buried in layers of dust accumulated for each age the house stood defying time.
Through the silence that hung thick upon this house the patter of tiny feet could be heard. The sounds came from a roomy hallway that had an uncountable number of large mirrors on either side, held in frames that were suspended by stands of pure gold. Inscribed upon the frames and stands were a script that could not be recognized by mortals, and though covered by dust, the inscriptions shone through with a dull, bluish light. The maker of this sound was dressed in dusty, torn clothes that were once the finest that could be found, raiment of royalty. The little girl was smeared in dirt. Her face held a serene expression as she held her tattered doll close, her unkempt golden hair flying as she danced with her eyes closed, to a beat only she could hear.
The rhythm to which she danced came from a place that was far from the dusty corridors, the house it was in, and the lake whose shore it was on. It came from the hooves of a magnificent stallion, a remnant of a feral age untainted by the efforts of man to tame the powers of the world he lived in. His muscles rippled underneath his fine coat that was the color of a shadow upon the snow, and to look into his eyes was to know a small part of the True darkness of the First night. He cast no shadow, and left no mark as he ran, but he was more a part of this land than any imprint could ever be. His velvet mane flowed as he stamped the ground, and the music of Kraedon was composed.
The song of Kraedon was born when the land was, each life upon it became a note, lending to a magnificent masterpiece that its composers did not hear, but lived. So the music played, and would play. On that day, however when the day was dead but the night was not yet born, the music stopped. For a moment, all of Kraedon stood still. The eyes of the horse rolled as it skidded to a halt for the first time in its long life. And far away, in the dusty house, the girl stopped to dance, her doll slipping away from loose fingers. Her large eyes filled with dread, joy and sorrow, and with a tiny gasp, she fell to the floor.
In that stillness, rose the wails of eight newborns.
Through the silence that hung thick upon this house the patter of tiny feet could be heard. The sounds came from a roomy hallway that had an uncountable number of large mirrors on either side, held in frames that were suspended by stands of pure gold. Inscribed upon the frames and stands were a script that could not be recognized by mortals, and though covered by dust, the inscriptions shone through with a dull, bluish light. The maker of this sound was dressed in dusty, torn clothes that were once the finest that could be found, raiment of royalty. The little girl was smeared in dirt. Her face held a serene expression as she held her tattered doll close, her unkempt golden hair flying as she danced with her eyes closed, to a beat only she could hear.
The rhythm to which she danced came from a place that was far from the dusty corridors, the house it was in, and the lake whose shore it was on. It came from the hooves of a magnificent stallion, a remnant of a feral age untainted by the efforts of man to tame the powers of the world he lived in. His muscles rippled underneath his fine coat that was the color of a shadow upon the snow, and to look into his eyes was to know a small part of the True darkness of the First night. He cast no shadow, and left no mark as he ran, but he was more a part of this land than any imprint could ever be. His velvet mane flowed as he stamped the ground, and the music of Kraedon was composed.
The song of Kraedon was born when the land was, each life upon it became a note, lending to a magnificent masterpiece that its composers did not hear, but lived. So the music played, and would play. On that day, however when the day was dead but the night was not yet born, the music stopped. For a moment, all of Kraedon stood still. The eyes of the horse rolled as it skidded to a halt for the first time in its long life. And far away, in the dusty house, the girl stopped to dance, her doll slipping away from loose fingers. Her large eyes filled with dread, joy and sorrow, and with a tiny gasp, she fell to the floor.
In that stillness, rose the wails of eight newborns.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Random
The whispers in my mind are three,
The first has a voice I can't free,
The second is of thoughts I flee,
The third lights hope when I can't see.
The first has a voice I can't free,
The second is of thoughts I flee,
The third lights hope when I can't see.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Blood and Paper
Attempt to pound a crack into my writers block with the help of my ibanez..
The vines surround
The vines creep around
The vines hold me down
The vines surround
The vines they grow they grow
They sow they flow they grow
I’ll get me out of here
Cut me out of here
I’ll fight me out of here
I’ll get me out of here
The ice enfolds
The ice the ice its cold
The ice enfolds
Fogged breaths they told
The ice it grows it grows
It snows it flows it grows
I’ll get me out of here
Thaw me out of here
I’ll fight me out of here
I’ll get me out of here
The vines surround
The vines creep around
The vines hold me down
The vines surround
The vines they grow they grow
They sow they flow they grow
I’ll get me out of here
Cut me out of here
I’ll fight me out of here
I’ll get me out of here
The ice enfolds
The ice the ice its cold
The ice enfolds
Fogged breaths they told
The ice it grows it grows
It snows it flows it grows
I’ll get me out of here
Thaw me out of here
I’ll fight me out of here
I’ll get me out of here
Friday, May 08, 2009
Discovery
Too many times I set forth to journey,
with a path to guide my stride.
Too many times have I walked a path,
with a light to guide my sight.
For beyond the ordained lie my dreams,
in a dream that dream they might.
And so I must find myself, be lost
To claim the darkness as mine.
And seek the fate that is mine to make
To claim this night as mine.
with a path to guide my stride.
Too many times have I walked a path,
with a light to guide my sight.
For beyond the ordained lie my dreams,
in a dream that dream they might.
And so I must find myself, be lost
To claim the darkness as mine.
And seek the fate that is mine to make
To claim this night as mine.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Simplified
It's a lazy day song :)
Unpeturbed by the rushing tides,
I stare into a piece of the clear sky,
The smell of fresh grass crushed by my back
Makes me smile.
dont wait for me i'm gonna
be here awhile.
The Sand is trickling but i dont care
I can stop to smell every flower on my way
Look at them hurry its sad they cant
stop to appreciate.
Look at them hurry and laugh because
today for me is a holiday.
The world is turning but i dont give a damn
I'll take my life one song at a time
My faithful six string hums along yeah its good
its good to be alive.
The fire crackles merry and warm
tonight.
Unpeturbed by the rushing tides,
I stare into a piece of the clear sky,
The smell of fresh grass crushed by my back
Makes me smile.
dont wait for me i'm gonna
be here awhile.
The Sand is trickling but i dont care
I can stop to smell every flower on my way
Look at them hurry its sad they cant
stop to appreciate.
Look at them hurry and laugh because
today for me is a holiday.
The world is turning but i dont give a damn
I'll take my life one song at a time
My faithful six string hums along yeah its good
its good to be alive.
The fire crackles merry and warm
tonight.
Friday, December 05, 2008
Deluge of Dreams
What cuts into the rock,
around hearts unresolved.
As faith sets alight,
the uncertainity tonight.
With bricks of prickly pride
walls of fools divide.
When will the sky
be painted with colours,
as rain births hope again.
These drops of love
come crashing down
washing away
all of the pain.
Parched is the soil
severed bonds uncoil.
Kinship begs to see
a little humanity.
The world spins away
without the slightest care.
When will the sky
be awash with colours
as tears birth hope again.
around hearts unresolved.
As faith sets alight,
the uncertainity tonight.
With bricks of prickly pride
walls of fools divide.
When will the sky
be painted with colours,
as rain births hope again.
These drops of love
come crashing down
washing away
all of the pain.
Parched is the soil
severed bonds uncoil.
Kinship begs to see
a little humanity.
The world spins away
without the slightest care.
When will the sky
be awash with colours
as tears birth hope again.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Green Revue
Gently she floats
From the heavens
Into my waiting hands
A feather, a golden sheen
Walk, my friends
Upon the unworn roads
Into the living light
The benevolent sunrise
These moments
As they seem
This treasure of
Immortal dreams
The darker memories
Forever fading
In the light of
Nostalgic dreams
A tenuous grip
Though it may be
On bonds of
Fearsome fragility
In an age of hearts
Of quick-fixed shards
She sets my
Soul free
From the heavens
Into my waiting hands
A feather, a golden sheen
Walk, my friends
Upon the unworn roads
Into the living light
The benevolent sunrise
These moments
As they seem
This treasure of
Immortal dreams
The darker memories
Forever fading
In the light of
Nostalgic dreams
A tenuous grip
Though it may be
On bonds of
Fearsome fragility
In an age of hearts
Of quick-fixed shards
She sets my
Soul free
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Untouched
Tears of ice melt
into your skin
And gently winter fades
Alone behind the
curtains closed
where the sun can never betray
the stars may weep
but the heavens decieve
ignore the seasons change
Pain will
never suffice
to mourn for
lost emotions
Falling leaves
A rain of gold
Unseeing eyes peek
through unwashed glass
Barren trees gazed by a barren heart
Desires longed for yet
moves nothing at all
change, a stranger where
time never flows
No visitors chance upon
your closed doors
into your skin
And gently winter fades
Alone behind the
curtains closed
where the sun can never betray
the stars may weep
but the heavens decieve
ignore the seasons change
Pain will
never suffice
to mourn for
lost emotions
Falling leaves
A rain of gold
Unseeing eyes peek
through unwashed glass
Barren trees gazed by a barren heart
Desires longed for yet
moves nothing at all
change, a stranger where
time never flows
No visitors chance upon
your closed doors
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Of stillness
Silence
Fills me,
As what's in my eyes
surrounds me.
Shadows
of an unseen light,
dance along the
edge of my
sanity.
Glimmers
of
hope,
lost in
the black of
perdition.
Entranced by
the beauty
of sorrow,
Forever
i stand in
the night.
Fills me,
As what's in my eyes
surrounds me.
Shadows
of an unseen light,
dance along the
edge of my
sanity.
Glimmers
of
hope,
lost in
the black of
perdition.
Entranced by
the beauty
of sorrow,
Forever
i stand in
the night.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Nameless
My second full song. Wrote this n the previous in a span of 1 day (the one before the day we had the fresher's party). Damn my bad memory for dates..
A laugh so
enchanting,
I coulda sworn
it was a spell.
a smile so
beautiful,
and eyes that held
a billion stars.
so i took her hand,
when she asked me to dance
and sing like i had
never before.
That spring I saw what
spring could be like if
spring was a
woman.
She had a crown of
roses in full bloom and
silken clothes on
skin more smooth
I couldv spent an eternity with her
but soon the time came and she had to leave
she said she was sorry to to say goodbye but
atleast we have the memories..
A laugh so
enchanting
I coulda sworn
it was a spell
A smile so
beautiful
and eyes that held a
billion stars
I never saw her again
but there isnt a
moment i regret
of the spring that year.
I sang and danced
with an angel
and she taught me how
to fly
Oh, and my thanks to laxmi for pointing out the last line in an entry i wrote a while ago. hope i put it to good use.
A laugh so
enchanting,
I coulda sworn
it was a spell.
a smile so
beautiful,
and eyes that held
a billion stars.
so i took her hand,
when she asked me to dance
and sing like i had
never before.
That spring I saw what
spring could be like if
spring was a
woman.
She had a crown of
roses in full bloom and
silken clothes on
skin more smooth
I couldv spent an eternity with her
but soon the time came and she had to leave
she said she was sorry to to say goodbye but
atleast we have the memories..
A laugh so
enchanting
I coulda sworn
it was a spell
A smile so
beautiful
and eyes that held a
billion stars
I never saw her again
but there isnt a
moment i regret
of the spring that year.
I sang and danced
with an angel
and she taught me how
to fly
Oh, and my thanks to laxmi for pointing out the last line in an entry i wrote a while ago. hope i put it to good use.
DEBUT!!
Played on stage with a guitar the other day... considering my influences, the song's.. erm.. mild.. but with an acoustic in hand, the mushy spirits of the ancient rock n roll/blues/whatever gods possessed me. Anyway, here i post the lyrics. May this be the beginning of a new legend.. [:P]
I can see clearly
now the rain is gone,
into the clear blue skies,
and the morning sun,
through the winter's nights
and summer's sweat,
welcomed to
a new dawn.
Scale the horizons
into a new way
into a new life
into a new day
I lost the second part, and i will extend the post once it is found.. which is a doubtful scenario considering d mess my room is..
I can see clearly
now the rain is gone,
into the clear blue skies,
and the morning sun,
through the winter's nights
and summer's sweat,
welcomed to
a new dawn.
Scale the horizons
into a new way
into a new life
into a new day
I lost the second part, and i will extend the post once it is found.. which is a doubtful scenario considering d mess my room is..
Thursday, December 21, 2006
The Temptress
Persuasion by my parents, and a horrible feeling that I was providing a tempting habitat for a vast number of creatures, unknowingly and dangerously bringing tears of joy to PETA campaigners, convinced me to clean my room yesterday. As I trekked through my personal Amazon, I stumbled upon a number of torn sheets of paper, which included my first stab at poetry. Though my handwriting remains undecipherable even to me, I could decode much of it, and this is how it goes...
Turning my head to the morning sun,
the sea I see stretching to the horizon.
The sea I see that I pledged to conquer,
the dream I sacrificed everything for.
In the sweet smell of the infinite waters
my stomach stopped to burn, my mind did turn,
away from hunger, away from thirst,
in happiness my heart threatened to burst.
Ominous signs that would end our tale,
we did see, but we had to sail.
Through the seething sea we did navigate,
Under clouds gray, warnings from fate.
As the ship took the storm's blows,
the deck boy in his ragged clothes
was taken into the sea's embrace,
a lover's hug in death's face.
Turning my head to the morning sun,
the sea I see stretching to the horizon.
The sea I see that I pledged to conquer,
the dream I sacrificed everything for.
Death shall come and go again,
I shall die in my lover's arms again.
Never shall I leave the infinite cycle
With the pledge to conquer unfulfilled
Turning my head to the morning sun,
the sea I see stretching to the horizon.
The sea I see that I pledged to conquer,
the dream I sacrificed everything for.
In the sweet smell of the infinite waters
my stomach stopped to burn, my mind did turn,
away from hunger, away from thirst,
in happiness my heart threatened to burst.
Ominous signs that would end our tale,
we did see, but we had to sail.
Through the seething sea we did navigate,
Under clouds gray, warnings from fate.
As the ship took the storm's blows,
the deck boy in his ragged clothes
was taken into the sea's embrace,
a lover's hug in death's face.
Turning my head to the morning sun,
the sea I see stretching to the horizon.
The sea I see that I pledged to conquer,
the dream I sacrificed everything for.
Death shall come and go again,
I shall die in my lover's arms again.
Never shall I leave the infinite cycle
With the pledge to conquer unfulfilled
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Sanctify
Holier than thou
When might is virtue
hell ascends to earth.
Tortured dreams
to quench a power lust,
insatiable.
Feed your evil fantasies
with tears,
mangled bodies.
What saviour
dooms hope,
shackles the world.
Sanctify your hell.
Bring the world to it's knees,
to satisfy your greed.
When might is virtue
hell ascends to earth.
Tortured dreams
to quench a power lust,
insatiable.
Feed your evil fantasies
with tears,
mangled bodies.
What saviour
dooms hope,
shackles the world.
Sanctify your hell.
Bring the world to it's knees,
to satisfy your greed.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Unnamed
From the velvet skies,
dark velvet skies
stare countless eyes
'neath my skin they crawl
bare my soul.
My mind's a maze
emotions ravage
yet they search
all they find's your face.
Memories of you
I try to bleed away
but they stay
no escape.
Long has been
my exile.
Lost wanderer
castaway
fleeing thoughts
of your embrace.
Memories of you
I try to bleed away
but they stay
no escape
dark velvet skies
stare countless eyes
'neath my skin they crawl
bare my soul.
My mind's a maze
emotions ravage
yet they search
all they find's your face.
Memories of you
I try to bleed away
but they stay
no escape.
Long has been
my exile.
Lost wanderer
castaway
fleeing thoughts
of your embrace.
Memories of you
I try to bleed away
but they stay
no escape
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
The Path I Tread-1
An update about how my life's going. It's been three weeks since my college started, and I would say things are getting a hell lot better (this is especially for those to who have seen me catch the highly contagious I'm-more-miserable than you syndrome...) but as you might have guessed, yes, there's a but...internals next week...exams...*sigh*
The madness ensues, and I have no idea what to do. The books prescribed by the coll suck, and one of my reverred lecturers has gone backwards, teaching the most obscure lessons without teaching the basics, thereby making us bump into the door to the world of electronics repeatedly and getting concussions since we don't have the keys. Infact, she was so mind-numbing, I at one point started to hate the subject.
My methods of survival are as follows...testing my engineering abilities by manufacturing paper airplanes and testing their capability of flight when the lecturer turns around, chucking paperballs at the fan and watch it hit some random person and thereby starting a covert paperball war, screaming in class with like-minded fellow backbencher's (though I'm a middlebencher), and occassionally pretending I need a visit to the ICU because of the brain-damage caused by the wisdom imparted.
Unfortunately for me, plans to study remain plans as I try to recuperate by watching TV, and chatting on the internet. I hope to start today, so wish me luck...
PS. if I dont reply to any mails/messages after october 6th, you know where I am...hope I rest in peace...
The madness ensues, and I have no idea what to do. The books prescribed by the coll suck, and one of my reverred lecturers has gone backwards, teaching the most obscure lessons without teaching the basics, thereby making us bump into the door to the world of electronics repeatedly and getting concussions since we don't have the keys. Infact, she was so mind-numbing, I at one point started to hate the subject.
My methods of survival are as follows...testing my engineering abilities by manufacturing paper airplanes and testing their capability of flight when the lecturer turns around, chucking paperballs at the fan and watch it hit some random person and thereby starting a covert paperball war, screaming in class with like-minded fellow backbencher's (though I'm a middlebencher), and occassionally pretending I need a visit to the ICU because of the brain-damage caused by the wisdom imparted.
Unfortunately for me, plans to study remain plans as I try to recuperate by watching TV, and chatting on the internet. I hope to start today, so wish me luck...
PS. if I dont reply to any mails/messages after october 6th, you know where I am...hope I rest in peace...
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Blinded
Beliefs iron wrought,
battered, torn down,
Unable to shield my mind.
Fears unseen,
lurking in veils,
Shaped into my deepest desires.
Cradled by the dirt
I lie unnoticed
Beside the grave of truth.
I’m losing my essence
Trapped in a moment.
My path still unclear
With my life broken.
Leering destiny,
Vengeful death,
They haunt my every step.
Hateful misery,
Sadistic pain,
There seems to be no escape.
Cursed words,
Taunting me,
Pull me towards the dark.
I’m losing my essence
Trapped in a moment.
My path still unclear
With my life broken.
battered, torn down,
Unable to shield my mind.
Fears unseen,
lurking in veils,
Shaped into my deepest desires.
Cradled by the dirt
I lie unnoticed
Beside the grave of truth.
I’m losing my essence
Trapped in a moment.
My path still unclear
With my life broken.
Leering destiny,
Vengeful death,
They haunt my every step.
Hateful misery,
Sadistic pain,
There seems to be no escape.
Cursed words,
Taunting me,
Pull me towards the dark.
I’m losing my essence
Trapped in a moment.
My path still unclear
With my life broken.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
The Beast Within
Tantalizing light from the moon, the stars,
And a hand reaches to the sky.
Deluded by the voices that call me a farce,
I can't hold on to who I am.
Voices, voices I hear,
Resurrected demons relishing fear.
Terrified I flee,
But where can I go, to free myself from me.
Imprisoned fury now unleashed.
My unhealed scars now they bleed.
I can't hear my screams,
when I'm lost inside
I'm losing control,
Why, why?
Accusations I hear,
Of thoughts I detest when my soul disappears.
So hard, so hard I try,
But the monster within, it craves to fly.
At the altar of my past I'm sacrificed.
The unforgiven rejoice my demise.
I can't hear myself scream
When I'm lost within
I'm losing control,
Why, why?
What have I become?
And a hand reaches to the sky.
Deluded by the voices that call me a farce,
I can't hold on to who I am.
Voices, voices I hear,
Resurrected demons relishing fear.
Terrified I flee,
But where can I go, to free myself from me.
Imprisoned fury now unleashed.
My unhealed scars now they bleed.
I can't hear my screams,
when I'm lost inside
I'm losing control,
Why, why?
Accusations I hear,
Of thoughts I detest when my soul disappears.
So hard, so hard I try,
But the monster within, it craves to fly.
At the altar of my past I'm sacrificed.
The unforgiven rejoice my demise.
I can't hear myself scream
When I'm lost within
I'm losing control,
Why, why?
What have I become?
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