This space is dead. I do not know if I will ever have in me to revive it again, I'm no fortune cookie. All I know is that now is a time for something else, a time to prepare for a new beginning. So to all who have borne these rantings with patience over the last couple of years, Thank You. I am sorry. Maybe some other day.

May the force be with us all.

Of Hope and Misgivings II

I thought of you and where you’d gone
and let the world spin madly on.
Blinking through shades of time and memory;
so carefully I lost,
to the man I chose to be.
Now these ticking hands of a mechanical heart
move too fast to allow a new start.
There are no new days so long as there’s memory;
what’s left to say
is better unheard.
Unheard by the world and unspoken by the tongue
burnt inside a mind cursed to be on the run.
I cared about them rules but just not enough;
now its time already,
to save a last dying laugh.
A last dying laugh for all them teary eyed lies,
trading broken peace for too high a price.
I tell you it ain’t worth dying to an old cheap trick;
so long as you’re standing
on your two feet.

ps : snatches of words and ideas and have been unscrupulously whacked from certain writings by The Comedian & Peter Pan.....aaaaaaaargh! the poets have been hunted.

pps: also words have been borrowed from Meenakshi who hasn't been caught laughing for a really long time.

rainbow

cool november drops glide

down my window pane; to lie lazy

at the bottom, never to

feel this way again.

little drops of water look

like little offsprings of the sun; clinging

to the cold glass, of my window

in a city on the run.

on the run and in the mud

trip and fall and scatter; holding on

to sunshine times, when

the rest of memories do not matter.

speedboat blues

Oh lord won't you get me a speedboat,

a boat as fast as a boat can be; to take me

across this grey lake,

to a place where the sunrise I can see.

I've been living under them dark clouds

which my evil baby tied to me, a prisoner

of soft spoken knots,

a free hobo I desire to be.

My lord you know I can't cross this lake

that separates the night from sunshine; I've left

behind my walking shoes

with them beggars I've been wasting my time.

So lord please hear me now

before it grows too late, my baby she sings

in the major scale

while I await my minor twist of fate.

The village has grown real busy,

unkind in the darkness tonight, my baby

she is a lame black crow;

watching my plight and crowing with delight.

Now I know the answers to them questions

and words uttered in a hushed whisper, and I know

none of it matters,

unless you don't hear my prayer.

So my sweet lord, I sit hungry praying

while my baby slips me into the urn; to heat

and feed her foolish pride,

on the stove she puts my heart to burn.

Oh lord Oh lord listen to me now

and get me my speedboat please, so I can

go find a kind hearted woman

who would like to have my hand to squeeze.

I remember I walked down this road,
a serious boy, a child I’m told.
Clean cut, wanting to save the world,
to the devil’s own I sold my soul.
The trade was simple; quickly done,
power injected, I was a son of a gun.
I shot everyone who dared come close
to the heart of a man that was tomb to a rose.
I clambered up them hills and over and far away;
I ran undaunted, the drug had taken its sway.
Lines grew blurred, my teeth clenched I looked
up into my vision, a smile was all it took.
I knew where I was, whence I came from;
I saw me burning in my own dream’s prison.
‘twas that smile, the wax on the bond;
my boon granted, the price to be exacted to the pound.
I, thinking its a sign, pulled the trigger
at the face staring at me, through the mirror.
I am not sure, maybe I got it wrong;
I am after all another dead son of god.

Navy Cut blues

Every night when Ms. Slumber invades
the privacy of the master and mistress,
time finds me sneaking to the loo,
my comfort zone in times untrue.

My cancer stick lodged firm in my fingers
I light away my midnight blues.
I breathe in deep to my lungs relief
as my heart slows down and smiles a bit.

Its strange that I find you when I
got nothing to find and nowhere to go,
my oldest friend, my killer, my love;
I’d choose you over any other dove.

The exhaust fan keeps our affair a secret,
And the window provides you with the surest escape.
I need you, I want you, I love you, I hate you,
and no night shall I end, without a kiss from you.

Trade Prayer

For every drop of joy and hurt,
love and betrayal, affection and pain that
would have been mine; give me truth.
For every grain of dust and sand
of every place I have ever been and would be
to, give me a shelter where I will not find you.
For every inch I have snatched and stolen,
fought and hidden, found and lost, give
me a defeat less low than now.
For every face I have wished to kiss and
every dream I have wished would stay; give
me a nightmare I know will not last.

'leaving town blues'

tonight you sit, inside the rain

tasting a wine, I'll not visit again.

fog settles upon your window,

kisses the panes, hugs your self and

you recall, an old record, a boy once played

for you at his own expense,

where the man sang to the darkest hour

that comes right before the dawn.

But there is to be no dawn, not in this town,

not for me.

I'm homeless, unknown amongst them yokels

you despise so much, yet care more

about the foam falling off their mouths

to their feet.

and these streets blow, poison air

to me from you

as I swear I'll leave your town,

before the coming of the morning dew.

Queen Marie Approximately & The Unholy Ghost

Come down from your high seat, Queen Marie;
you're a virgin no more.
You're hands they're painted by
the blood falling from the faithful who
followed the light in your words to the darkness of their graves.
And them bones of your young lover
who went to war,
lay washed up 'neath the rocky shores of your lonesome castle of love.

Queen Marie, Queen Marie you look so fine now,
the saint of killers in a nun's disguise.
You wanted the world with your lopsided smile,
and now you watch from the sidelines of spent calamity
just how much pain a nun could cause.
Why so silent now, Queen Marie? (And forgive the audacity
but you're vultures don't scare me)
Are there no more chances left to be taken?

The Ghost Prayer :
The powers that be,
let me see.
Don't claw out my eyes,
even if you don't let me feel.
I want to see how it all turns out,
though I know I'll still be dead.
I know what she wants, I know wat she needs;
But doesn't she know, what she already took
from me, isn't mine to give anymore.

rest house road

there are all kinds of love

available in the cool summer wind,

carrying the scents of the night crowd

in this drunken dusty alley.

'tis here that poets wait

for the stiffness of a hit, and the young

and broke dream the cheapness of liquor.

'tis here that Ms.Propreity takes a back seat

to Mr.Passion, driving the soul

truckin' down the sordid hours

as the city drags to its close.

'tis here that i wish to waste my every summer night's dream.