Riding The Winds Of Life

I like to cook. I don't swim

Fashionably Woman

In a single swift motion, the needle left its mark
Where only freckles and dust had laid claim
A hollow seat waiting to be occupied

Skin rosy and lovely, smeared with turmeric
Her eyes, welling with tears
Pain and despair,clearing a heart’s confusion

The yellow stain, her final battle scar
A ring of silence and two frantic beats
He was summoned, to take what he left behind
 

Neatly in piles of threes and scattered boxes
Half frames,knick-knacks and torn clothes
The carcass of a worldly death
 

The warrior princess shuffled about
Kissing lilac buds and clearing tulips
Dancing to the daily grind

She belonged in this garden of youth
Unburdened, independent and fortunate
Weaving destiny in red, blue and gold

Her anguished cries echoed
A railing against love and slavery
Desiring rain, tea and bubble baths
 

A shiny little stud held aloft in her hands
As the stone crown slipped on her nose
She was wild,ready and perfect,fashionably woman

westerus:

Kilver Court by Carrie WishWishWish on Flickr.

Yours

Standing in a serene corner, majestic and brown

Green hoarding that read “Yours”

An everyday place, open from 7 to 11

For 40 years, the place had stood

And everyday people came and went,

Some harried, some forlorn

A little smile plastered on exit

What shop is this, you ask me?

It is Yours.

The people behind the counter

Wrinkled temples and greying hair

The signs of ageing gave them glittering sheen

The tables bustling, some gay, some stoic

On some tables there were couples, loving

On some, there were agents and writers, haggling

And everyone got their cup and a reason to smile

What fantasy are you speaking, you ask me?

It is Yours.

In lean periods, the people thinned

But the counter was always busy

They were selling happiness,

Momentary but feasible and risqué

It wasn’t an easy business

But for them it wasn’t.

When did joy become monetary desire?

Yes, yes but where is this place?

Oh, it’s around the corner

There are times when locks have been broken

Thieves have ravaged the registers

Sullying an almost pure outlet

That gifts a commonplace quest

With riches of faraway treasures

Fictional and real, ever present but always changing,

Quick, how do we get there?

A little bit of this and that

Coveting the tangible, the buyers come

They unlearn and pursue the intangible

Some learn that it is but fleeting

Unchained and a tour de force

Everyman’s surreal dream

They sell this magical ecstasy

Pizza, vinyl and yellow papered dog eared books

Happiness, in the corner of your mind

It is Yours, to embrace or release.

A Absurd Section

Sand sticks beneath my feet,
Every step forward drawing a mortified breath
A hale body, the legs move
But how they hinder and flounder
Little messages are lost in the fight with 120 other people
The brain doesn’t distinguish between owner and tenant, steadfast and runaway
Have I lost sanity? , the heart prods
I stop, uncontrolled
The vast ocean staggering my senses
The ocean, a universe in itself
Ripples riding as stone searches for depth
Forgotten and indifferent the second the act concludes
Boxed and buried as life departs
Aren’t we all just ripples in this universe?
I need a psychiatrist, some say aloud
You need an astrologer, says my culture
The difference, I do not know
I believe in neither
An escapist roundabout
Behold, do also your senses lie?
How would I know when my mind is not mine anymore
An apathetic world, my eyes encounter
Nothing concrete, circularly directionless
The waves call me in their arms
I wait, allowing the call to ring
It asserts itself on me, like it has on thousands other
Like people claim art, the unclaimed
An enchanting subtext, my foreboding existence
Divided periodically,
Rationalism by the day
Romanticism by night
A vicious circle of endless greed
For love, happiness and answers that don’t exist
Mirrors, cracked and brittle stare at us,
Our lives, a perpetual hunt for the unsatisfying and taxing
Yet, we pursue the abjectness, worshiping an exalted purpose
Beyond the horizon, do the sky and sea meet?
Neither does our answers to questions; are fundamentally modified by time
Bleak, insufficient and callous
My words aren’t a lullaby or an alarm
I don’t call them the truth
For I am no judge nor jury
I only exist, unclaimed and relishing the failings
I am absurd now, absurd tomorrow, absurd and absurd.
vedantist:

ॐyou are the universeॐ
perfectcovers:

New Order ‘Substance 1987’, Factory Records, 1987. Designed by Peter Saville and Trevor Key.

perfectcovers:

New Order ‘Substance 1987’, Factory Records, 1987. Designed by Peter Saville and Trevor Key.

(via wild-nirvana)

I Wish I’d Known

All we ever see is what we want to
Ignoring every little clue that pops up
Now and then, every block just falls down

On the dance floor, we look for beauty
Disregarding that everything is made up
The lines are covered and blurred

Fastening our glances on the forties
Forgetting to live in the 20s
Oh boy what we are is lost souls

Slithering into old age desperate
Alone and awash with regrets
Where there should have been love,there’s debt

Surrounded by avarice and greed
Broken promises and deeds
Give it up now, before black turns blue

Everybody’s got their own dues to fill
Some are carpenters and some are lawyers
Everyone’s the same, without the road

Trinkets and baubles make up our lives
Every little laughter drained out
Where did they go, leaving after the first act

Nobody knows what the last act is about
But death will have no questions
If you can you will, stop the search
There are no meanings to decipher

I Wish I’d Known
I Wish I’d Known

Facing You

Sitting in the coffee shop,
Looking through the windows
I search in the crowd
For the black hair and oval face
The eyes that pulled me out of the abyss

Sweating palms and drunken talks
Every night remembered
In a flashing moment
Can I tell you I was a fool
To go away when the nerves caught up in force

Alone, I stare and wonder
Could I even go that far?
Away from the answer that’s you

Regional trains calling me
Taking me far,new and busy towns
A backpack with all our stuff
And a case of the blues my only possessions


Faking away all my life
The beatings are real
Chest always heaves with pain
I haven’t received my kismet call
But the cards have been read, I haven’t got too long

The tracks cut back and it is only black
I can see myself wither away
Without you by my side


Wandering wistfully
Crying for the rains
To wash all my sins away
Your little fingers rub me by
Everytime I feel the wind,brush my hair to the side

Questioning my desire
And my direction
Why I run away
People scare the lights off me
Or may be I am a misanthrope,like you laughed it down

Oh love how do I come to terms
I’ve got so much guilt in store
Wondering, how I’ll face you again.