illusional reality

I see him sitting in his rocking chair, under the cool shadow of the cherry tree we planted all those years ago. Eyes closed, a smile on his lips, he’s doing what he loved doing best.. listening to the wind rustling the woods that surround the old house. Grandpa’s ears,always alert, pick up the sweet music of the dry leaves crunching under my feet. He looks at me and grins. I feel like a six year old all over again,making little paper boats with him by the lake.. I sit at his feet ,leaning close towards him ,laying my head on his lap. I open my mouth to tell him how much I love him ,how sorry I am that I couldn’t tell him that all those years ago.. but no words come out. I try again and again… but words die in my throat,frozen,dead.. Suddenly I hear grandpa say “ I know ”. My head shoots up to his face. He is still smiling, the molten brown of his eyes swirling hypnotically , as if he could see right through my soul.. I can’t take it anymore...

Sunshines and moonlights and a milky stream the shadows of the morrow go blink blink blink... a pen a paper and a million lines. going one-two one-two ...three three three the raindrops on the window's ledge.. the weeping lilies of the night.. a corkscrew, a knife and a bottle of wine. a litre of water and a careless glance. powdered cheek and a painted nail. tin cans and soldiers all forgotten.. long live this freedom.. that love has begotten.

I wake up with a start.Yes.It had to be a dream.No.A nightmare. What else could it have been..? I am a little ruffled.Glancing at the alarm clock i groan… still an hour more to go...this won't do.No. Waking up in a sweat,night after night,only to curse the dawn. I snuggle under my sleep warmed quilt and my hand reaches out to stroke the cold half of the bed...it's a ritual now... since the last seven months. Still,I tell him what Angela told me about our baby, and I want to cry. But the tears have all dried up,sucked out from me by the same dark angel that crushed his skull to unidentifiable pieces that evening... I feel empty inside...no feelings,none at all ,the way you feel when rage,love,frustration..and all those feelings squeeze the breath out of your lungs...am I slowly becoming detached... or is it just a phase? The sky outside is still dark… a sliver of a moon is all I can see from the window..no stars.. The scars are all healing slowly, as if to remi...

Le vent me pousse vers la solitude une existence éternnelle de l'ombre Des aveugles et des aveux se rencontrent à la porte La gare encombrée et les gens courantes la vie légère et la folie de noir Une vision de pouvoir des aigles la melancolie qui traque l'île de circonstance au seuil d'une révolution une révélation grande toute seule..j'attends le commencement du deuil..

innocent.reedless nights. an age of abandoned stilts.. sifted edges and a gilded plane nothern winds and blaring horns lamps and oils and velvet tans sweet dreams of an ageless charm you,me and a nameless face. a pleothora of faceless people blackboards and chalks and leopard prints green fields fo corn and ripe plums an endless vision of existence a pale furtive silence and the other side of paradise..

a whispered tune of the lonely tree a balm on the wounds of the morrow the moral blinds of all my tomorrows a single thread of white shame. of black sorrow and seclusion. a blistering pain at the pit of my vision crooked fingers and unbent backs. the hardy labour of a sunny day big brown packets and lonely tears a calm threat knocking at the winds of my door.. and the eternal query... "does it matter?"

Another cool salve on the blue blistering wound.. "Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief; Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss: The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief To him that bears the strong offence's cross." --Shakespeare(sonnet34)

how many times have i faltered on this green grassy mead a false breath of love and sorrow promises that never were kept. truth.a history. white linen or cotton? an esteemed look of desire.a glass of port. the vein of sad tomorrows where have all the flowers gone? innocent rays of sunlight or burnt wisps of a past? trembling moments of grace . and a whispering heart. a good luck charm.a charmer. fake notes of sweet surprise. a sonnet.a ballad.a love song. no proof of dark despair. a book in my hand. clotted seeds of grain. the mewls of the tiny kitten . whose folks did her betray not a dream.but very much Real. the notion of a loyal knight.a vision. not light. for it's an axiom seldom false. "veiled eyes , a thousand signs,ignore"

a fog of love on a pillow marked A and B crystals of sugar on the window sill boiling water.and fire. led by the hand. to the altar of truth. eyes blind.plain acquiescence. red and mauve and pink. a blue so startlingly white. that i know not what to say. fingernails and blinds. curtains and pitfalls. evens and odds round and round soothed egos and parched throats a dash of love. a litre of wine.and star studded evenings lithe blossoms tossing their dainty heads in the wild wild wind. a note of surprise not sorrow. when she said "i do" hands held and fingers entwined. a fair breath of spice and salt. white and black and all things nice. and me...the well wisher of the stars

As i scan through the pages of history,i discover the old trodden paths,ancient rites and charms worn by the sacred heart... - "I saw, and liked; I liked, but lovèd not; I loved, but straight did not what Love decreed: At length to Love's decrees I forced agreed" -Astrophel and Stella-Sir Philip Sidney

swirls of ecstatic moments onions and rich grapes deep purple and green. tender stalks of innocence and a mighty hand that knows it all the gathering storm of the night and a puppet. i all alone on this shore of silence. a dark warm night. the loneliness of the long distance runner pants and sighs. a muted hello. a wilted sound of excitement on a deep black shore. an overflow...a hand and a vision of the future. sweet songs to sing. or just a parody of an emotionless heart the strings of the violin chant a magic rhythm. the words of which are an enigma a smile. a thought. a careless whisper the blisters on the body of a soul or just a fling? the smouldering cloud gathers all the pearls not one .not two. but a thousand twenty two.. two shades no different from one another eyes closed. the fall of a million days is it black?or red? the colour of roses? or the murky pool of the desolate lash? i know not.for it is my destiny... a screech a sound.and two hundred years..

copper coloured pots and the chime of bells a vast blue ground. and lots of grass the warmth of an ocean the kiss of the nights sweet drinks. two loaves of bread. and iced tea... indulgent chocolate lollipopped glory... green and red.. and charming winds. dickens and wilde and a Christmas carol and sheets of paper saying "i love you". weak spots and strong.. and whispered songs.. and a generous heart that loves to share the blanket of dreams and you and me a word.not one. go on and on.. the eye of the needle under the brown arch white shirts.two.one long gone.. vague figures on the écran Gable and fantasies and Scarlett hues not tennis..but two sports shoes.. mighty winds of authority.. a one and a two.. an addled computer going boink!boink!boink! phone calls and giggles Recharged Questions ! "I am serious about her!" shared loves and lives. a deep green pail and herbal essences.. baked garlic and cheese olives and those scornful baby-corns the sound of "would ...

musings and songs twinkles and stars brown and white the lyric of the twine a cream coloured robe fringes of ice snow.melting and slow. mine and mine and mine. a bottle of blue coloured wizards waiting for the whistle of the train jutting out from its shelter candied almonds. a ladybird looking up at the stars two-three-four and dreams in yellow. a big fat envelope overflowing with nectar a jar of jam .raspberry a pot of cheese.brie a plateful of cherries.blushing. a fistful of daisies.wild. instincts ,cower and grin. advance and retreat..that's the name the winged mate of the dancing girl a ballet of all things.. red.bright.blue.

a pool of mystic blue a parched sky and a pillar of strength changing the old ways of the earth planting new trees feeding.gently moulding. a slab of see-through glass and my Soul to give. I live and exist. You, love. anonymous singers and a sea of gold a tuneless whistle and a graceful bow. interlinked Fingers and curly Hair. the shadow of a Smile. the Eyes of a mystic. countless stars .and a green horizon. one, two or three..the numbers grow. a reed of music. and a jet plane. a quest for the truth. unsullied. a colour so new and pure. old habits DIE.Hard. crossing the threshold of thorns wiping the dust off those roads. a new path.new hopes. warm tingles at the base of a heart. someday it shall be so. painted roads and red alleys. humming the happy blues. an eye ,that nose.. a Red, red rose. And those little Words.. at the Harp.

the richness of its colour caresses my hands in lean long lines that define the path of my life a silk like vice around my throat a whole tin of dewdrops white and disillusioned cold and uncaring emotions that mean nothing and people who do. the world,my oyster. bursting at its seams clouded by misty rain a fear . solitude?loneliness?rejection? the boat has sunk. its treasures all lost and forgotten where are you when i need you so? the threshold of despair. and longing. molten.simple. clear as glass what have i come to? an icy hand . a spear of gold through my brain shivering .shuddering. split open.violated. what have i done? regret?loss? a game of the past? a legacy of hers lovingly piercing my thoughts with its sting of poison ivy what have you done? ruined.desolate.empty. standing at the altar of life begging for a little mercy. a soothing touch. two big tears salty sentiments.foolish. and a tombstone that reads- the curse of the black eye lives on. Even the mighty fall...

a trauma that blinds the senses a breath of ice on a shiny silver platter a note of white on a black dewy night words and feelings it takes an aeon to crystallise the images of the mind and then i wait despairing ;for the letter which shall never come. fronds of sweetness and love wrapped around a cordial finger chocolate brown dripping with honey sheathing a dark blue mate a million miles apart you and me. and nothing but the sea can smell the hopelessness of that burning desire vapours of indolence and hurt mingle with those secret cries a hand to hold a death to mourn and nothing to cherish and love

patience and letters dark and violent lending a helping hand to all who care flints in the eye.. roars of the sun catching every little laughter that burns old or new? or a garb ,all blue? yet ,a little ray of light seeps in through the cracks at dawn dusky feathers rattling all untrue this way or that? nothing ,ever, is true or certain.or big.or really new. white circles on a violet ground leaky wet , all brown. dripping.red.blood on his hands. and a four letter word aching to die.

picking up the silken threads of time weaving a coarse fabric textured like wind and sand moving on and letting go, when the journey of love is done. an episode so stirring so moving no time to think or tell just random thoughts and feelings wearing a mysterious spell; colours bright and sublime pots and pans clanging coins and desperate cries and joys that subside one step at a time gearing up for every move but when you look back at reflections all you see black white and blue... no broken hearts to mend no broken wings to sew falling on stones is easy but the red headed giants bear on.. --In memory of certain someones I loved and cherished

worldly pleasures all forgotten a quest and a search for something lost it never existed or did it? from times immemorial? the beat of hooves on solid rock or the mysterious buzzing in my ears the unclear patch of wood or all that iron rusting .and red a dangerous illusion that floats by waves in the sea or sands in the air? rounds and squares of pillars and froth. the hands of fate brewing a brackish broth. a mirage of tranquility that cheats the eye a stone against a softness so calm peace and white and warm delights. beating in rhythm the wings of a dove and a bleak dark heart. --I later found out that 'Wings of The dove' is something that very much exists as a novel (by Henry James) --The title is, thus, a complete coincidence!

old habits die hard. a moment of suspended animation all clear and blue. grains of sand. peals of laughter dying away. singing their lonely song. i see a distant vision one two three. and years of love. one weak moment and years of pain. three -to-one. three.two.ONE. fragmented mind, body and soul. a crash a fall a howl and me measure for measure tale for tale. One two three again! years and years of gain. darkness or white. i know not. swallow and chew and taste and bite. a lingering shadow sweetness and haste. and more of them to follow...