"She whispered her evanescence into me.
She would meet me in the valley, too
When she would be passing by
On the day of the bursting bubble
She would sleep upon my heart
Sing songs of melancholia to me
Taking me to...."
MY OTHER BLOG
I came loitering into the town Children - This was a night, different Then, it rained needles, that night The morning brought a moist sunlight
[Best viewed at a screen resolution of 1024 by 768 pixels]
MAGICIAN: The Clown
BIO: I'm living inside my shadows and trying to study the effects of darkness on my skin..... if only it was rashes, if only it was rust, if it was a tattoo....... If I could write poetry.
"My tribute to the world of magical realism. Where Imagination, too, is imaginary. The world of paradoxes and fallacies. Standing on the edge of the dreams. Falling asleep. Falling. A fall against gravity. And suddenly you realize that you have transcended space and now, are falling in time. To the beginnings of eternity. Illusions."
When Darkness Blinks
"A blog where I just keep on posting some of the random scribblings that I do. They are just some pieces of flash fiction that I scrap most of the times and forget. I use them most often as an outlet to by accumulating emotions. So, you can't really expect anything good out of them. But, at least, I'll feel I'm still breathing."
Facades of The Carnival - 1
This Christmas Ends
Of lingering children, untamed.
I found Christmas sans candles.
I found smile-illumined cherry-trees
And I heard playing feet, unreasoning
Into their life-ending night.
Unknown to invention of fire,
With darkness dazzling on their palms
Were fading into their shadows, slowly;
Until traces of a difference - fully removed
Like their dresses had once been by their parents,
In a different night.
From those different nights. Untamed
Like the children. Thier life-ending night.
Parents have secured their own busy heartbeats
To keep living after their children.
Their parents, no more, a part of them -
Left them. Left to themselves
They sprinkled Christmas in the air
And hailed the child stranger - greeted me.
On these streets dew-worn.
It rained burning needles in the dark
Where fire was yet unknown.
And they burned the palms of a dazzling dark
And they shattered some window panes
And extinguished the smile-illumined cherry-trees.
And illumined the Christmas ends.
Leftovers. A heap of expired piglets.
Pyramid. A perfect misnomer of Christian pyre.
And found under the needle-stricken, burnt heap
A baby Jesus, unburnt, saved from the rain;
Dead, under the burden of infinite deaths.
posted @ 5:36 PM
MY OTHER BLOG
I came loitering into the town
This was a night, different
Then, it rained needles, that night
The morning brought a moist sunlight