my life

I have been in a constant state of crisis for a long time. The reasons have shifted time to time but the state hasnt yet. I was wondering if the crisis is life. Critics would say crisis is me. My mind. But I dont think everyone in this world is like the type who are always complaining about their present situation, and praying for a better life every sunday morning. May be its my age. As my mom would say - 'real life' hasnt yet started for me. But then silence will be the answer for my question--"when does life really start?". I hate to grow up by adding subtlety to my 'extravagant' desires. I hate my calculations. I hate my planning for tomorrow.Certainly I dont hate my life. The ephemeral happiness is so uncertain, I live my life in its surprise.

............if she listen.

Still the nights are heavy, memories shadow the dream

that day keeps on coming back, like evarlasting grim

A painting u started to draw, colored in your love

singing with the mountain breeze, smiling with the sun above

along came the blizard storm, no where to hide

took away the colors, leaving pain by your side

Now the canvas lies in a corner, drenched in warm tears

though the colors have faded, the pain hadnt gone in years

and there is a constant fear of loss, the mind cant escape

every thought of drawing it again, paint-brush out of shape.

Now the gleam has gone but surely there was light

midst of this pitch-black void, why the darkness seems so bright?

even though the windows are closed to deny outside

why the muddy smell of rain brings in such delight?

Now the curtains are drawn and the moon-light cant get in

then why seldom in a starry night the sadness gives in?

flower vase is empty for long, a couple of dead leaves

why the sweet smell of rose ? the fragnance never leaves.

these are the hints from above, ways to make choice

listen to the whispers, beliv in his voice.

its time to open the window, feel the summer breeze

time to dance in the snow, let the pain freeze

never told her..

there are these nights i am watching the stars
the snow on my hair, it feels like moon-dust
u come down from everywhere my roving gaze fall
your eyes tell me fairy tale, the happiest of all
my feelings are not words,I can't speak what I feel.
but whatever the scars of yours,I want to heal
my eyes have the answer of the questions you ask
this distance is no real, the time is just stuck
your laughter is my life, your tears that i cry
my heaven is with you, far below the sky.

My Girl and I (Korean)

I never thought I would watch a korean film one day....when I did I met with this one.... its now one of my favs..

http://stage6.divx.com/user/AirR1c/video/1642037/My-Girl-and-I

spoken tears..

I live in a room where feelings hang from the ceiling
like spider-webs they try to cling and i strike them off
the window of emotion is closed since the last rain, it's got rust in the frame
one day i rolled out my car
on the highway, you fell like a drop of tear
the wind swept you away but not the pain
i wish i could freeze u there, i wish i'd stopped my car
i blame the crazy wind and the bright sun, i blame whatever i was made for

in the night when the light of dead stars hit the earth
i wake up thirsty and open up my rusty window
breath in the air where you have disapperaed
close my eyes to see how u have glittered for the last time under the Sun
I find myself in neverland,
scattering my ashes into the river I'd cried for you.

Sunrays..

colors of night are fading ..
darkness is feigning its hide
sunrays are searching to see.
whatever the night hav cleared..

rushing down from the sun..up on the twentieth floor..
grazing against the window pane into the dark-no-more
slowly coming out of hide.. corner of a pillow,
scattered few sleeping pills, a broken glass down below
the limp hand and the pale face..
serenity lying in cold embrace..


on the side-walk by the trash bin..
far frm the sun ,,late for the sun beam
lying thr a wrapped up flesh
one of them whom God doesnt bless
sunrays come down and hold thr pace..
hesitating before striking his blue face.
they walk across the paleness, the dark frozen lips
melting dwn the frozen tears, heating up the cheeks

they thought the blood's gone, no more cold fear
no more cursed hunger, no more ugly tears
they thought the lungs wont take in this sick air
they thought God might have lost another unrequited prayer

suddenly the eyelids shiver, the wind brushed his hair
suddenly rays realized theres something nights couldnt clear...

..dig me up..

shout out loud
cry the devil's laugh!
whom u r foolin honey?
i'm writin my own cenotaph..

whr the preachers lie
and the Sunbeams skip the land
blood-drops pretend to be dew
innocence lie face-down in sand
all into my eyes and ears for years..
all into the air tht filled my lungs..
evrywhr else is sick desire..
filth of happiness, the wrath of love..

look at me i'm stinking beneath..
dig me up let the world smell my rot
smell my life honey dig me up.

!!!!.............

It isn't night coz i'm thinking of you.It's not only night after night i thought about you,the truth is, in between nights i never gave a break to that thought process.You and me are different. We are like two national flags; one neatly folded and kept on a dead soldier's coffin another on the mast of a fishing boat midst of an ocean, torn in places fluttering vehemently in the storm. Your body isn't like mine. But I sometimes feel your body is just to deceive others.You and your body are different.It's quite amazing how u keep urself detached from it sometimes. You use it like a fancy apparel. You put on it and face the world outside, "the world of deceive and pretension"-in your words. Once you asked me a question "why God has given every soul a body to stay inside? Why should a soul has to be trapped inside a body of flesh and blood for a period called life? Is life is a punishment for the free spirit?
[sid's additions no obstructionisms meant..... when freedom is the most expensive gift that u can buy urself to be happy garner urself for that.......we rnt free thats true , but to reach for freedom in the sense of a destination is the greatest journey, the road less travelled is the most beautiful.]
a constraint for the immaculate soul?"-well these wasn't 'a' question. I forgot wht was my answer. It might be that i did not have any answer. I remember the question though. Finally you did it yourself. You learned to free your soul whenever you wanted. You never told me how you used to do it, perhaps it was impossible to explain such things to others. The most important fact about us was among our differences we sought confluence. That added a meaning to our otherwise mundane life. We once had an argument about what we should go for - a meaningful life or a beautiful one. Ofcourse a meaningful life could be beautiful as well. But, we were considering a special case, if we were allowed to choose between a beautiful life and a meaningful one what would be our choice?We both agreed that 'beauty is in the eyes of beholder' but there is something called perspicuous beauty which you can't ignore or pretend ignoring. So we refind our question to a choice between perspicuously beatutiful life and a meaningful journey from birth to death. We never beleived everything happens for a reason, for the very mystery of life is never explained by this statement. "If there is any reason behind all this external reality, this apparently ceaseless cycles of birth and death, from inside the process we could noway be able to comprehend it. Our observation and experience specific knowledge has given rise to multiple fields of study which are nothing but small playing grounds surrounded by enormous boundary walls and we are still pushing the boundaries as far as we can. But we also made provisions for them who dont want to play in there, who dont like boundaries, who dont want to obey the rules of those restricted places. We have given a name to this unconditional place of infinite span - Philosophy. It penetrates through all the huge strict boundaries and spans the entire so called logical playground." - saying this you had a sip of black coffee which i had prepared and both were drinking. I'm getting more of my memory back. We were sitting in a room, a dark room lit up by a burning taper. A normal human mind could think of hundreds of question after listening/reading such a description. They would probabily ask why the room was dark and would then try to relate it with an absence of electrcity. Some people who think they think out of the box might come up with an out of the box reason like a faulty light or a blown fuse. A romantic candle-light coffee can be another proposition. But there was no reason at all, everything doesn't happen for a reason after all. Then I remember how i was looking at you. This wasn't for the first time i was looking at you. But my vision was shallow this time. I was looking at the 'flesh and blood' you ...that in millions of ways was so not you, and i knew it. My roving eyes fell on the shadow of urs on the wall....