Change

Two things:
Shit scared.
Cannot wait.

Pagan Poetry

Cocoon

I was thinking of a butterfly. And felt sad.

I love this

And Today

Then suddenly.....
a series of images flashed across my mind's eye.


They looked like this.

Latent

Sometimes, my reflections don't necessarily fall onto paper as words. They can emerge as bars of a rhyme, sometimes even drawings.

Somewhere amongst my entangled thoughts or as a result of them, this was born.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

I don't know why but Reverend Charles Lutwidge Dodgson has a nice ring to it. I Don't know if anyone is familiar with the name. I'm sure everyone knows him as Lewis Carroll. He wrote one of the most endearing characters in Alice In Wonderland. He gave birth to the Hatter. For some reason I have a strange fascination with him, the Mad Hatter that is. Maybe its his manic appeal, or his quick-witted replies to Alice during the Mad Tea Party. "If you knew Time as well as I do, you wouldn't talk about waisting it.Its him." How the Hatter has crept into modern film, drama and music, is rather interesting. I like how the Hatter's image has evolved over the years. Here are a few pictures that depict the various interpretations of the Mad Hatter.


Have you guessed the riddle yet?

....Perhaps Poe wrote on both.

Callous

Sometimes, I wish I could sever all ties with the heart.
Cut of all nerves to the brain.
Slash the umbilical cord which gave me strength.
Regrow a new layer of skin.
Freeze all emotion from coming through.
Sometimes, I wish I was you.

Dead Eyes See No Future

A poor woman commits suicide, along with her two children by standing in front of a train. A man kills his own sister over a domestic dispute. A man overwhelmed by the high prices in his country, sets himself on fire. A young girl dies at a wedding, because firing guns is a sign of celebration. All of this in another town, in another village, in another country, somewhere across the globe.

Have a look at the headlines in a country different from your own.

House of Cards

Time takes a cigarette and puts it in your mouth

Its been two days. Two whole days, without you. I remember the way your smell fills my head, how it slowly slips into the corners of my over-worked mind, rendering my senses free of all fears and reservations. Where are you now? I think I've abandoned you. Being dependent on you for so long and for so much,scares me. How did I let myself become like this? I've thrown you away, and now I miss the way you taste, the way your warmth fills my body, the smell you leave on my fingers.Its been two days and I don't think I can wait any more.
Tomorrow, first thing, I'll buy another pack.

In Flames

No, not the band, but the feeling one gets when they get burnt. It seriously kills. Last night I accidentally spilled hot water over my hand. The klutz that I am, was busy in conversation with Zarain, not realizing I was pouring water everywhere but in the mug. As soon as I realized, I jumped(clearly unnecessary) and happened to pour a nice waterfall of steaming liquid over myself. That was the end of my hand and my sanity. Instead of yelling in pain, I started laughing. I think Zarain was just a bit too traumatized by me. I'm not a masochist, trust me.. but I just felt like giggling.. It was the strangest thing ever. It's like being in one of those situations where you end up in tears due to an overdose of laughter.Only in this case, it was more laughter and no tears.I wonder how different our lives would be, if every painful experience could elicit such a reaction.

Here's Evil In A Closet by Inflames


The Lyrics are worth looking up.

End Game

I like plays, watching them, reading them, heck maybe even performing in one someday. But watching a performance of Samuel Beckett's End Game was a novel experience. It was performed at a small venue, and a friend of mine was involved. I've read the play before, and have to say watching it was bizarre. I use that word in a positive way. Anyone who has read any of Beckett's plays such as Waiting for Godot, will know what I mean. His work is seriously weird, but wonderful all the same. I mean imagine being amongst a group of people who are waiting upon four characters to die. The play is brilliant and its rendition was original . Totally obscure, completely abstract, in keeping with the theme of the play. I loved it. Being in a discussion about the various ambiguities and possibilities Beckett presents the audience with is enlightening, but writing about the play is even greater. I mean it can drive a person crazy, up to the point where they've forgotten what their initial insight was in the first place. Exhausting? Yes. Stimulating? Completely.

Here's a scene

Some videos.

So I came across this video. Its called Karachi Dheko Magar Pyaar Seh. Its a short clip on Karachi and its pretty interesting, especially for those who havn't been there. Check it out, its by a few friends of mine.







Another video to check is


Its by a very talented group of movie makers. The theme of the clip is based on Death,Dreams and Delusions.

Desert Suicide

Another vague piece of writing.


Sand, warm sand. I feel its burning heat.
Walking through its path, hunger turns to greed.

There he stands in the distance, on a dune growing high.
Golden brown in the sun, he becomes clearer to the eye.

Thirst only guides, desire only leads.
A beautiful monster, this craving has come to be.

"Sit" it whispers, a voice so close to the heart.
"Let it consume you, let it take a start."

Horizon's fading in this foreign land.
Everything in a flowing dream of sand.

Brown horse, dragon, will you run through my veins.
Make the sky blur, let everything fall to shame.

Take it away, let the pain go.
Running wild in the desert, this horse begins to glow.

"Just a while longer, my sweet friend.
Once the potions over,I'm sure you'll have more to send."

Let it slip,let it knock off your consciousness.
You can feel it, you can breathe it.
Now its running through your fucking veins.

Head's falling, blood's rushing.
Visions of snake's rising.
All fantasy coming alive.
Everything in a Desert Suicide.

Blazing sun on my neck.
With just another prick,
it gets you higher with each hit.

Blood's rushing, snake's rising.
All fantasy coming alive.
Everything in a Desert Suicide.

Rising within is a light,
from this Desert Suicide.

نصرت فتح على خاں

Thats Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan in Urdu. I don't listen to Qawwali music but I have to admit this man had charisma. He truly is Shahenshah-e-Qawwali,(The Emperor of Qawwali).
His lyrics, his passion, his range, everything about him was brilliant.I know music in another language can be hard to understand, especially when the lyrics are what makes it special. At least in this case, but I listen to a lot of Françoise Hardy and Jacques Dutronc. It might be French but it sure is beautiful. I understand Urdu, but actual poetry written by great poets such as Faiz Ahmed Faiz and Mirza Ghalib is something which requires additional help. Its deep, but hard for someone who doesn't speak Urdu that well.Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's music is like that. Its poetic and sensual,even though I don't understand all of it. But the way he sings and from what I can make from each song, his work is utterly moving.I don't cry unless the song is absolutely great, and I have to say some of his work has made me teary-eyed. If you happen to catch a glimpse of one of his performances, you can tell. There's something raw and genuine about his style. There's no processed sounds, no added beats from the keyboard, nothing but his voice and the Dhol (Don't get me wrong I'm a big fan of electronic sounds) But he's pure magic.
Jeff Buckley was a great admirer of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan as well.
Heres what he had to say
http://www.liquidgnome.com/JeffBuckley/nusrat.html

Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's Nephew, Rahat Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan is excellent as well. His vocals were featured in Mel Gibson's Apocalypto.

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's tracks to check out:

Yeh Jo Halka Halka Suroor Hai
Sajna Teray Bina.
bin Nahin Lagda.
Aaj Koi Baat Ho Gaye
The Long Road(with Eddie Vedder)



Pure Transcendence.



Translations are available at
http://nusrat.info/category/translations/

Waltz in the 4th Dimension

So, I don't know who all listens to Classical music, but I hear it has something special about it. I mean I think it does have something special about it. Sigh... and right about now I'm remembering that piece from Chopin's Nocturne No. 2 in E flat Major. Okay I'm not going to write about classical music and its beauty. But I have to admit, it does have its wonders. I've heard it makes kids smarter, especially when pregnant mothers listen to Mozart and Beethoven. I don't know, I wish my mother played it... haha.. ya well.. Too bad. So I was reading this book called This is your brain on music by Daniel Levitin. Absolutely brilliant.It describes its workings on the brain and the physics of music. Its pretty enlightening. After reading it twice, I went online to research similar books, and came across this site which talks about music and its soothing effects on the mind. Trust me, the first thing that came to my mind was Chopin and more Chopin. I think, you can tell, I'm obsessed. But I mean Mozart, Beethoven, Bach,Schumann are absolutely brilliant as well. I mean I never understood classical music, but after I had an acquaintance give me this moving speech on Beethoven's 9th and Mozart's Symphony No. 25 in Gminor and the hidden masonic references in The Magic Flute, I was seriously intrigued. So yeah, thats how I got interested. But, back to the website I came across. It spoke of the healing powers of soft soothing music on the human mind and how research showed that when plants are exposed to calming music, they tend to grow towards the speaker. While, they grew away from the speaker which "blared Rock and Roll",(Led Zeppelin, to be more specific) Have to say I almost choked on my coffee. Hm.. sounds a bit biased does it not? I ignored my inner mortification, being the Led Zeppelin fan that I am and read on. I came across a passage about how research also showed that when two people from the opposite sex were left in a room that has "Jazz and Pop music," they were more likely to get "personal and familiar" with each other quicker as compared to when they had "soft soothing music" playing in the background.
I don't know how far any of this is true, and I respect anyone who thinks so. But for me, music isn't an evil force. I can listen to anything from Miles Davis to Joni Mitchell to Schubert to Led Zepp to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan to of course my guilty pleasure, Arch Enemy. Music is just music for me, and much more.
In the words of Henri Frederic Amiel, "Music is harmony, harmony is perfection,perfection is our dream, and our dream is heaven"

Ishtar's Wrath

Hmm… I don’t really know why I wrote this. I think it was when I got possessed, at least momentarily by some other force. Actually, I wrote it after reading Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s “Venus in Furs” and of course after listening to The Velvet Underground song by the same name. Truth is its dark, but I like writing about love or lust and what forms it can take. Writing about ordinary things is easy, it’s the strange and unusual that becomes hard to comment on. Oh, and for the record, it’s not personal.

Shimmer wild, while moon throws its blue light.
Razor sharp in her hand.

Held high, over soft bareback.
Fierce fire coming down with might.

Bend double, soft fur beneath him.
Hands tied, body’s sore.

Writhing wild, on wounds still bleeding.
He feels his mistress and her warmth.

"Bend lower, don’t disobey me."
His mistress demands again.

Caught in chains, how she whets him.
Coming closer, whip in her hand.

Velvet sins await the bed of fury.
Face down, pinned, showered in love unkind.

Lost in sheets of purple dressing.
Legs wrapped, bodies intertwined.

How he falls, while belts tame him.
Boots made to walk on a road of skin.

Drowning deep in the ocean of the helpless.
He screams, while a foot strikes the chest.

“Waiting here you servant, your body.
I am only yours to keep.
Harder now, will you please me.
Once struck, the mind’s at peace.”

“Press, force,” whispers all night
“Scream, shout,” she cries.
Another, another round of your might.
Just another taste of love unkind.

The hand that sneaks(a brownie)

I’ve always wondered, do brownies mean anything? Well obviously they do, they’re made out of real milk and eggs and what not. No, I mean do they really really mean something? Of course not! Then again maybe they do, just like everything means something. Or are these just the ravings of an obsessive-compulsive mind. Yeah, they probably are, but heck, who cares.

When I’m at a party or any other social gathering, the person serving a tray of brownies and those grabbing a piece have always intrigued me. I don’t like to categorize, and I’m sure people aren’t divided into groups either. But people have always fascinated me and I love not understanding a person. There’s a certain kind of mystery of not knowing a person entirely. I tend to get bored with people I understand. Funny, one might wonder if I have any close friends. I do, don’t worry. And besides, I don’t understand anyone completely, as much as we try, people will always be mysterious creatures we cannot truly understand, for they constantly evolve and change. I read a book on psychology which said that humans have certain schemas in their minds, where any new information either gets assimilated into already made categories or then, information they cannot place or identify with, causes their mind to create an entire new box full of information. Similarly, when people meet new people, what helps them through the entire process, is that they try to identify those they already know with those they are currently meeting. It makes things easier. In other words, it’s the way the mind works, because familiarity is an element which we thrive upon. Or is it?

I guess that’s partially true. I think a part of us just wants to label the person snatching the first brownie from the tray as greedy and crude, or the person who decides against the brownie as anorexic and weight-conscious. But, I think there is a part of us that wants to learn more. People aren’t as simple as bad or good and that’s what I love about them. There are so many parts to one person that it can take a life time to even remotely know someone. (All those husbands and wives or partners out there, I’m sorry) No, I’m kidding, of course you get to know a person to a certain extent after knowing them for a certain period of time. But the truth is humans are unpredictable,sometimes for better, other times for worse. That’s one thing I’ve discovered about myself, and others.

So, do we really want to label the hand that sneaks a brownie or two or is there more to a person?

I think there is.

Embryonic

Some thoughts on whatever it is you want it to be.


Dormant and alone in a cushioned cage,
it resides within a special place.

Waiting on it to start its flight,
waiting for the rod that gives it life.


"I've been quiet, looking through,
the bars of a cage of your secure womb.

Hidden in your beautiful lair,
on a bed of flowers, I rest there.

When can I unleash myself,
so I can feed on the thoughts you suppressed.

I rest within your placental lines.
Its nourishing caress keeps me alive.

I lay under your uterine sky,
a seed wrapped in your virgin thighs.

Blossoming red under your skin,
waiting for the mystic ride to begin.

Just so you know, we're getting close.
Another step and I'll break the wall.

I am the ride that you must take.
A journey,we alone must make.
Pain and sorrow, smile and sweat.
Embryonic, you will not regret."


Now its over and she smiles.
A feeling of bliss elevates her pride.

She looks back at what they've done.
Embryonic,a journey overcome.
__________________________