Twilight

TWILIGHT

The peach and purple melting
Where land and water meet
Shutters come down on wilted eyes
This is the vision I seek.

The whisper of decay in my blood
My soldiers with parched throats
Have surrendered me at last
To this numbing twilight.

The Parting

It isn't the going
It isn't the going

That made me so still

It isn't the void
It isn't the void

That kills all my will

It's just that I couldn't see
It's just that I couldn't touch
It's just that time froze back
Three years ago
When we were smiling still

It isn't the lack of space
It isn't the lack of space

That chokes my senses

It isn't the people
It isn't the people

Who did not jump my fences

It's just that I can't run
It's just that oblivion's so far
And I don't know where people are
The ones I can't see
Or the ones pretending to be with me.

Riding my life

I don't want to live
In this large house
surrounded by
What aesthetics can do
It is a prison for me
And maybe a haven for you.

What matters anymore
Is what I cannot sense
And what I can sense
Has long left my core.

I can't find my corner here
Or even within me
So blurred
Are the worldly lines
It's hard to see a point
In these never-ending mines

Oh this eternal ride
The house stands still
We must run outside now
Before this ride can kill.
Before this ride can kill.

The little dream

She had a little dream
Where she was very big
Where people gazed adoringly
At the queen in her rig

She had a little dream
Where she was very famed
The healer of those ailments
That had several maimed

She had a little dream
Where power was her aide
Where she only had to whisper
And new rules were made

She had a little dream
Where wealth was her shield
Want and desire were rampant
But there wasn't any need

She exploded in the space
The barren untouched lands
The ghosts came much later
The ones that held her hands

She the blooming flower
Her dream the soaring bird
Wilting, she watched it fly
As she slipped into the herd

Creativity and Emotion

Is emotional intensity a precursor to creative intensity? One would say, what a redundant question, the two are co-dependent. Creativity is an uncanny blend of rationality, emotion and a strong individual desire--when released to the external environment, it triggers a complex reaction in the audience that even they cannot understand completely. What does this entail for the artist, the creator who puts himself through storms, deserts, deep blue oceans and bone-crackling cold? An original creation, they say, is born from the depths of the soul where that emotion auguring the creation is experienced with all its richness, from different angles.

The Coffee Cup

Pristine froth at my lips
Scorching through my fingertips
I grab the scene with both hands
Of happy lovers in distant lands.

The brown depths have brought to life
Days when dull grey clouds were rife
When every moment had turned sour
It ushered in the happiest hours.

The winter mornings of deep thought
When its steam penetrated the frost
Or mellow evenings of unspoken words
Seen over the rims, but never heard

The warm debates it chaperoned
The enduring bonds that it honed
The strangers it turned into friends
The friends it brought together again

Even now when the insanity strikes
And life is a streaming blur of fights
My brain kicks in, my mind soars up
As my hands close around my coffee cup.

The Ant and Me

A tickle on my arm
Sends a shiver through my veins
The tiny black creature
Crawls up with wriggling legs

Undaunted in its journey
It plods in patience
Until a finger's flick
Attacks it like a storm unforeseen

Thrown off dizzying heights
It gravitates to its origin
I observe in silence as it hangs
Poised between life and death

Murder was not my intent
Neither the tortuous struggle to live
Releasing it gently to the soil I think
Coexistence is just a myth.