She smells like butterflies.

Earth and Water and fueling leaves

After a while I write on the stones left behind by the river that once flowed here. I gather my thoughts like leaves on a track in an autumn evening; trying not to step on the noisy notes and not distract the dead river which lays next to them.

The wind blows twirling and swirling the leaves in circles rotating around the axis of a void, and wind. It could have been a storm in a teacup, if Shakespeare was right, and this whole a one big play.

Enough said of creepy leaves; of winds that go round and round; and of the dead river. What concerns us is not the stones but the writings on them, rightly. Arcs of varied angles subtend from rock to rock. The hard earth is breached with lines parallel, which never meet, and intermingled circles which forms stars if looked upon with not much attention.

These stars shine and brighten up the night; not as a moon of joy, but as if one was to float on a piece of straw in a mighty river; hanging on to the last strings of hope.

But its all grey - the stones are grey. My autumn - the hallucination of my indulgence is of concrete. And why would it not be?

I fell in love with Medusa.
I turned back and saw behind the shadow;
towards the crisp whispers of stepped on leaves
howling in the winds of silent seas (of my dead river that is).

I gave her my leaves, my river; gave her an archaic smile, as the world turned to stone.
Now, I sit scratching my memories on these well rounded stones. My arcs are wide, and they reach from stone to stone like a bridge back to myself.

The Cat in the last post

Don't feel pity for a scary looking kity!
it may look clean but underneath its gritty.
Who conspired to kill me,
this kitty,
is chairperson of that committee.

Vini vidi vinci or I am not afraid of you Mr. Bigglesworth

I spotted a cat who was minding his own business; you know being arrogant and stuff.

I was able to convince him for an interview, but he wouldn't answer any questions.


Started making faces at me.

A second before he attacked me.

San Diego Dec 06 - Jan 07 Bay Area

San Diego Dec 06 - Jan 07

blank

"I have said everything and I have nothing more to say." This is the first thought that surfaced in my head when I opened the blogger today. I have been trying to write something for a few days now, but invain are my tries. As always the reason are the scattered thoughts. I have not been able to pin point an idea to write about.
Altough I am not interested in outlining the underlaying psychological foundations of scattered thoughts, but I will say that there has been a lot going on. My blog is two years old now. So there are two years of transition of my thoughts in bits. May be I will delete them one day.

Mistress Platitude

After starring at the screen for 35 minutes, i have decided not to write about her. Its not because of some moral dilemma, but for a simple reason, that I have not been able to focus on any particular point; something that explains and builds a complete theory.
I wanted to write about her; something that would sum up her personality in a few lines. But, I guess I am not sure myself and she is still shrouded in some mystery. Mystery, not as in some mythological beauty, but more of a boring platitude. I'll see if I can find out what she wants the next time we meet.

A dog named Fire

If I ever pet a dog
Ill name him fire
after his personality
and not as a
satire.

He'll go out to hunt
do various stunts
and even jump
through a ring of fire.

He will bark
at the shadows
in the dark
and will rescue your ass
in case of a fire.

When you will go blind
and will need a K9
and wonder if he is for hire?
I will be happy
(it is my desire)
to tell you to go
and set yourself on fire.

OSHO - Strange Consequences

After Friedrich Nietzsche declared that "God is Dead", FUCK has become the most important word in the English language. This guy, whom I recently discovered (died in 1990) apparently carried the flag of Hermann Hesse, and all those people who follow the philosophy of self-realization. A prolific speaker, and a mesmerizer, Osho once said that "I love to disturb people", since it makes them think.

Shadows over Lahore

In the softness of the bed, I lay with the shadow - lifeless, yet full of life. I whisper in her ear, as it moves on top of me. I feel the fullness of her breasts on me, as I get carried away in the feeling. A noise of some kind similar to a call of "Halt". My palms sweat as I hold the shadow's, and then it whispers something in my ear.
I look in her eyes, and I shrink from three dimensions to the just two of the shadows. One with the sheets - two shadows holding hands. On the floor we creep, and to the window - we fly out. Over the trees, over the roof tops, and pigeon cages; over we fly. The soft October wind, the twinkling stars; the silence of night of a sleeping town - the stillness, the shimmering, and over them all, we fly; Floating in the wind, gliding on the waves, holding hands, as one shadow.
We land in this bright place, and suddenly, no shadows anymore. The life springs back, and the mercury bulbs shine on the ceilings. A chill calls out, and runs down my spine, and she holds my hand, and we fly away through the small window with irons bars in it. We fly over this small town, where everyone sleeps. The soft wind caresses my temples, and her breath breaths life in me, and we stay one as shadows.
Until, the cock crows, a caller calls out for daylight, and the sun brims out its beams from the east, and she parts leaving me where I was. Where I have always been.

December

Its December. The tree outside my window looks upon the only blossoming rose with envy. The rose notices the tree with the tears of dew. The scent scatters in the air at the first sight of the dawn. Sun rays appear in the dew as light rays from an emerald in a crown. The rose smiles. The tear slips down her cheek and into the green. The pearl is bound to be found - the depths are meaningless now.
A breeze blows like wind through a beauty's curls. The fragrant locks cover the horizon; bowing joyously to the crown. In the whispering of the tree the rose smile fragrantly.

a fist full of sand

Thoughts are astray. The glass is shattered. The eye of Sauron is watching ...?
Honestly, I have no clue what the hell is going on in life. I don't. I wish I was a pair of ragged claws scuttling across the floor of silent seas. I wish I was.

Apocalypto is a must see.