It's been so long...

It's been so long I loved...
It's be so long I lived...
The promise of happy ever after that life once held..
is fading away like the colours of an old techinicolour photograph.
the yellows are more predominant than the reds...
and then the greens take over.

Jealousy becomes me...
in every breath I take it consumes me...
like the fire of my personal Hell...
The gentle touch of a young lover's hands on his pararmour's back
an old gents gentle guiding hand to his lady love of many years
youngs parents with their hands on the same stroller
yes! jealousy becomes me

hope with it's glossamer wings is flying away
with every denial of self
with every rejection of soul
with every greying of hair with every wrinkle
and every laugh line


the eyes are now shut
all images are gone
the scents stop doing there phantom dance
the walkign stick taps against the door
but i hear it not
he calls out my name
but
mu deaf ears hear it no more
the last breath is all drawn waiting to be expelled
and his hand touched mine
in that brief exchange between life and forever
I live my lifetime
every colur coursed vibrantly through the veins
with resurge of energy
the will to live came back
just as life it self passed into the deep blue yonder

Look ma no strings!

A small step for Hawkings - a leap for the intellectual mind! it might have been stephen hawkings dream since his firs wheel chair to be no longer earth bound. to be as free to travel the atmosphere as his mind was free to travel the conplex cosmos. ceourage of conviction of this man is a testamant to the ability to achieve only if the dreams are big enough. Crippled at birth and condemned to die at 22- at 65 he floats on air! kudos!

I am mad, am I mad, I want to be mad!

'Madness is the inability to communicate your ideas. It's as if you were in a foreign country , able to see and understand everything around you but incapable of explaining what you need to knpw or of being held, because you dont understand the language that they speak there. we've all felt thatway at one time or another and therefore in one way or another we are all mad.' Paulo Coelho - Veronika wants to die.

If you look at it sanely from the intelligence you have gathered over the numerous years of your existance any one you has said soem thing slightly non conformist in this conformist society is considered mad. Plato, Aristotle, Galileo.. to some degree, Einstein, even Jesus Christ , in their day and age were all heretics or mad. Only because they looked at things differently, thought differently, however, today we encourage herd mentality.

Today life is filled with so many amenities, comforts and the race to attain these that we dont have time to free think. Either we are stuck in attaining the luxurious nirvana, paid for salvation or making ends meet. We dont have time to paint, create or even think. The renaissance period had it's share of Picasso, Leonardo and Rembrandt and we have our share of trojan and the love worm . the hackers and virus creators are perhaps the painters of today. They are in their own way artists - are they not?

आपके अनुरोद पे

अच्चा शायद आपके नहीं अपने मन के अनुरोध पे मैं यह ब्लोग एक बार फिर से शुरू कर रही हूँ। एक अरसा हो गया है कुछ लिके और फिर ख़याल आया इस ब्लोग का।

sorry it's been a while। । । Planning for life had overtaken living it and then living it overtook the need to write anything - just it meant everything and now the mind brimms over with ideas unexplored unwritten and feel the need to chronicle them again।