May 29, 2006


Now comes yesterday's
joy away from pain
some thing comes from nothing
that seldom happens again

Blood flows in streams
of thin branches in the sand
the dry earth cracks
open exposing promised lands

Time collapses down
and moments drift apart
its time to leave this crazy town
let these memories play their part

Too many things have changed
and too many things are same
a lot is yet to happen
but a lot has happened again

You were sitting here yesterday
as we laughed through the pain
now you're leaving everything today
I wish once we could laugh again

Lost in time
you've aged like wine
I can taste you still
you'll forever be mine

May 25, 2006


What is it to know?
Where does it come from,
and where does it go?
What is that thought,
hidden behind
the pointless show,
some dream that we sought.
just an idea
of cross-eyed ponderers,
wondering why?
whispering out
loud silence
hovering about
waiting to know,
and dying to show!

Voices and opinions
sermons and communions
prayers and curses
gunshots and protests
commercials of plastic
does it seem a bit drastic
selling souls for real
so that YOU can feel?

Time and its shortage
power and its carnage
greed and enlightenment
locked in a primitive sage.
caravans pass by
and the clowns sometimes, cry
divine fear is here
is it worth a try

Decide for yourself
wait alone in the rain
again, the sun shall shine
until then, enjoy the pain.

To listen to these words RIGHT-click and open in new window

May 21, 2006

Lucy Love

Contd. from...

It is a state of mind like anything else.
Hatred, Anger, Desire, Enlightenment, Wastedness, etc etc etc etc...

All... just states of mind.

All unique,
but finally,
just different states of mind.

Lucy was thinking of all the people she loved. She was wondering if they had met her. If they met the OTHER her...the OT-her..

Lately she was losing her focus a lot.

Focus is not the lack of distractions, but the ability to not be affected by the presence of distractions.

Lucy wondered about what the other Lucy was doing with this situation.
Was she thinking these same thoughts?
Could that be the reason for her annoying lack of focus?


Nofuss... happened again!

She got up and waited for the sky to lose color. Different kinds of birds began to sing as the evening approached. It was like the change of bands in a disorienting rock-concert.

She didn’t know why she thought about a rock concert suddenly, but the analogy had a chilling semblance to her hallucinatory situation.

She could hear the notes of Hendrix flowing in the air. They were coming from some radio, broadcasted from some remote station, by some random DJ, playing the Hendrix Blues CD that was copied from the master record off the MCA label sometime in the 70s...originally!

What a journey the notes have made! And to think that it does not even end (or begin) there.

The notes were first conceived in Hendrix's mind (brain?), subsequent to some complex muse making her mercurial-though regular-appearance, then running through Hendrix's body in the form of beautifully coordinated neuro-chemical signals, ultimately culminating into a muscular action that physically translated the notes in his mind, to the strings of the guitar, got swallowed up by the pick-ups, and then through acoustic-electromagnetic-acoustic transitions, went into the recording equipment, and made a permanent mark on the storage device.

Played again, the notes went through yet another complex series of energy transformations before coming out of that radio speaker, floating in the air, reaching Lucys ears, getting translated into neuro-electro-chemical information and then, via the auditory center, making a permanent mark on some cellular equivalent of a storage device in Lucys brain.

Quite simple if you think through it.

Lucy walked into Mark's Guitars.
She walked into the jamming room.
She picked up a black telecaster.
Plugged it in...
Turned it up...
Struck the strings, firmly and confidently!

C---9p7-----9p7-----9p7-----9p7-----9p7---9---10---10---10---10--- !

G-------8-------8-------8-------8-------8------7----7--7b8----7--- !

Eb---------------------------------------------------------------- !

Bb---------------------------------------------------------------- !

F----------------------------------------------------------------- !

C----------------------------------------------------------------- !

Hmm..."Not Bad", said Tom, who was standing by the door.

"Yeah, I know", said Lucy.

"How long have you been playing?" asked Tom, picking up another telecaster.

"The past 5 minutes!” replied Lucy.

"Hmm", mumbled Tom. "I’ve been playing for about 7884000 minutes!"

He started picking the strings.

Out flowed Hendrix’s Hear My Train a'comin', verbatim to Lucys debut performance. They both jammed for a while, forgetting any other universe besides the one their music enveloped them into.

That night Tom made love to Lucy again.
He then, for the first time, wrote a poem:

something is going on
something is happening
something that she lives on
something is underlying

“I have read that one before,” said Lucy.

"I think I know why!" said Tom.

"I think I know!"

May 18, 2006

Last Dance To Death

Colors enhanced in the dark,
Creatures in the mind lying still,
Bright flashes hurt the eyes,
if you want to will!

No voices from deep within
Can answer you tonight.
This is the last hour,
before the final fight!

You'll lose your peace of mind,
let go your values behind,
This is the last hour,
before the final fight!

Your breath is counting hours,
to stop for a while.
In an instant of eternity,
you close your eyes with a smile!

There will be flashes from the past,
and premonitions of the future.
Your present is a dead grave,
and your life has gone obscure!

You see the tunnel vision,
And your body levitates in the wind.
You imagine the Heavens-
Taking your martyred soul within!

You have hated and you have loved,
You have sinned every sin.
You have called the almighty at times,
And worshipped the Devil within!

Now you lie in the grave,
of pious purity-
and you wonder what you've done,
to die among these loved ones!

May 16, 2006


One by one
the units come
together they become
one under the sun

Energy packets rush
to feed the union
of the united singularity
that danced under the sun

Complexity takes birth,
and simplicity is its mother,
In a way its all worth
for the units to come together

A pattern began to form
under some mystical hold
without rules or norms
The Ultimate Puzzle unfolds

First, there was matter
guided by the force,
Then there was the thought
In a quest for the cryptic source

Life begets life,
but ends into death
the dead then come alive
the cycle never quits

If you are alive
you will surely die
to tell yourself otherwise
is just a cupid lie


The ancient units
still reside
in all that ever lived
and all that has died...

May 13, 2006


Contd. from...

Lucy was running. Running hard...
It is difficult at this point to say which Lucy we are talking about.
But why dont you view this as an opportunity to share my confusion?
After all, it is a confusing situation. For god'ssake, Lucy was confused!

Lucy ran for a long time. She did'nt literally run.
She was on the bus, in the car, on a plane, in a train, on a ship, in a boat, on a horse, and in a submarine! But in essence, she was running.
Running away from whatever it was that was happening.
Running from what was happening.
What was happening!!!
How can one run from what is happening?
Does it not mean that because it is happening all the time - no matter where you are - there is really no escape from the effects of that which IS happening?


Lucy paused. She sat. She took a shot of whiskey. She smoked a cigarette. She slept for 2 days. She tried to wake up for another three.
She went to see a parapsychologist.

"Tom was his name, and reading minds was his game"
Lucy's situation did not surprise him as much as it disturbed him.

He was finally making progress in understanding his own situation, and suddenly this chic comes up to him describing experiences that threatened to confuse his own.
Tom was already confused. His obsession with parapsychology seemed to have opened the pinhole a bit more w i d e r.
Hell, it seemed to have punched a huge hOle in the door.


That night Tom made love to Lucy.
Intimacy is a very powerful interface.
ONE cannot deny that it is unique to experience TWO = ONE.

But in this particular case the above equation carries even more depth. Because in this story, not just TWO = ONE, but also ONE + ONE = TWO = ONE = ONE + ONE.
Multiply each side with Lucy and TOM.....
Ahh...forget it. Mathematics is just a complicated way of telling a simple story.

In the warped up space-time scenario ("which is the plot" for those readers who are not lost yet) of this story, ONE can imagine how genetic inheritance may work.
ONE can also imagine the meaning of god. Or can contemplate about the meaning of death.
Think about thinking?
Imagine imagining?
Laugh about laughing?
Feel about feelings?
R e a l l y think about what is real?

"Damn!", thought Lucy. I gotta run!!
She sneaked out of Toms bed.

She was on the run....
running hard.
To become one.
Not someone.
Not anyone.

May 12, 2006

Amused to see

It is amusing from here
to watch you there
staring at her

trying to go somewhere

hiding from her


to have me here
watching you there

I can understand
your quagmire,
your twisty situation

I used to be in that band

of confused desires
trying to alter
that stagnant situation
waiting for her to turn

She is finally waving
at the setting ball of fire
behind the dusty horizon

while the moon has risen
over the head
to get in bed
glowing a silver light
it has commenced this night
to get in bed

Strange isnt it

the way she moves

feels like a hit

of pure ecstasy?

I wonder how she looks
when the room turns dark
when she wakes to the sun

little girl,
rising like a woman

I can see your eyes
want to see
what I see

I know you want to be
everything that is me

It makes me smile
and more amused for a while
to watch you there

trying hard to feel

a little more here

and a bit more real

May 07, 2006

they call him strange
caught in the deep
they call him strange
waking through his sleep
they call him strange
deranged in sane
they call him strange

From the surface to the core
it is the same place the same door
the question is right
but the time is not
we must wait another night
to figure out what we've got

Let go deranged stranger
let go insane friend
let go those surfaces
open those closed doors
come down to these places
where rests the deep core

we will watch the waves
and stare at the skies
we will hold the moon
cover the night with our eyes
but wait....
not so soon
listen to them first
they call you strange
make up your mind
about which one is worse
and no matter what
dont go blind
coz its time
it's time to change...

May 06, 2006


It is time now
to change
to get out of range
to rise above
and accept the strange

Dont be scared
to let go fear
to rise above
the now
and here

shine in the dark,
stand steady in the wind
dont lose that spark
that was so hard to find

There is no need to crawl
or feed the lords
who built these walls
and these shopping malls

Like beads of sand
come trickling down
the thoughts flow
like time;
waiting for a change
to get out of range
to rise above
and accept the strange

Dont fear being fearless!