Saturday 21 September 2013

Wither Pale

Rest not,
       in augmented passions

of the bleak.
            fade away in oblivion 
the mind does seek,
                   a blankness hollow to the brim,
                   when the memory dies and the pain is a whim.

How does one not embrace?
        the numb wind dance
on a naked face
as the winter scalpels the chill
at a pace at which you run against its gale.
 

To burn before or after wither pale?
                         

Tuesday 17 September 2013

Experiments of an Autodidact. Observatory.

There are chances of explosive chemistry brewing in the mind of a person who has known no precaution in the lab. Non culpable suicides do not amount to fatal punishment, they result in them.
Having said that,did you know that dynamite was an accident after several suicidal attempts and a by product of fatal mistakes? Innovation and revolutions can never be stirred at mild  precautions temperatures .

Tuesday 10 September 2013

Echo

Stare down a bottomless pit,
and then wait for the thump of a fall,
and the sound never reaches your ears.

It has been counting years,
the fall to meet its end
and in the ever lasting free fall
the fears I have I fend.

So to test the theory true,
I screamed my heart to you,
in a hope the end was met,
and the crash caused none dead,
cut through the ominous silence
lest the emptiness be the same.
I yelled at you not yours but my
own fateful name.

I hear nothing new,
I crave to hear some voice,
The pit must be bottomless
for my ears do not meet an echo.
and the free fall is not a surge
and I am no string tied bob,
that will dangle on a string to hang
and then it's state recall.
it is an endless fall.
and the fall it shall be.

Monday 2 September 2013

Hope(The bird in the nest and her offspring)

Tell me Love, Will the birds fly south?
or would they keep their nests this frost.
Will or won't the birds fly south?
or would the skein be deformed and lost?
Lets fly the birds away a while
lets fly the flock in hope,
the winter is too harsh to last,
for the mother and her child alone.
Pity the children know not to fly
pity the mothers sorrow,
They'll fade to the winter,
together then
they'll not see another tomorrow.

Why won't the birds fly south again,
why do they stay ?
To die in the chill of winters harsh
To bear the labour of pain.
leave behind the petty ones,
they'll cruelly be made to perish.
what survives shall only last,
what lasts, the spring will cherish.


Sunday 1 September 2013

Crumbs

September:
Crumbs from last years fill,
have dwelt in pockets for so long,

The rains have swept the colours to bleed
summer can last only in a lyrical song
and the seasons closing to the season frail
and the sun is dying in the pale,
the night has not still
crept of a chill,
my days are bearable in autumn's gust,
the riviera of leaves floods the dust.
last September took away so much
this September I faintly believe in,
for the taking away led to grieving
though the end of the month brought,
a cold frosted numbness, a plethora of thoughts
tilling the insides when nothing would grow
all would wilt and none to sow,
how much have since the soils recovered
and the groves of spring lament uncovered.
the fruit of pain that dwells in the heart,
is an un-cautioned leap with fears apart.
and boldly did we step in December,
my numbness and my love of the end September,
swiftly did we bring in spring
February has its own musings.
but I will dwell in September,
if nothing is to last forever,
for there is hope without the spring's burst
and despair without the winter's thrust
and I live in both.
hope and despair
choosing each from time to time.
My own subdued, my own sublime.

Crumbs from the last year,
I throw to the birds.