Friday, August 14, 2009


Another name on the list.
One more heart amiss.
Scathingly, to false sorrow you admit,
for parting only brings new tomorrows.
I can fathom not what you think.
Is your mind the master of its will?
Deeply besotted in your ways,
saturation leaves me disheartened.
Somewhere deeply imprinted inside,
a scar that you may’nt identify;
The only proof that you were here.
Memories can be doctored,
all evidences tampered,
but this fail-safe method,
the fit of your words to my own,
Assails any shallow sense of victory.


Anonymous said...

You sound like a very complicated person, even though you don't look one ! :)
mystery man

Anonymous said...

My hands reek of oil and turpentine,
And colors of life splashed all over my scrubbed face.

Every day break I struggle with the paint and the canvas.
Pour out my passion on a piece of cloth with colours of my emotions.

And when the sun goes down,
I drag my beauties to the bazzar, where I sit like a begger,
And people throw a few chunks of gold in exchange,
Of labour of my love.

I greedily pick up the shining coins,
And seek solace in the shade of the nearest tavern.
And this is what I find.

Alas! I sold my passion,
Just for a cup of wine!

Another day rises,
And I pick up my brush,
Dip it in a mix of my sweat, tears and blood.
And start the dance of life once again.

farustar said...

mystery man: thanks for the mysteriousness. adds some intrigue...LOL!

Anonyomous 2: that's simply breath-taking. do you write regularly?

Anonymous said...

Not regularly,

Only when in dark deep nights,
It rains, Opens old wounds,
And Fresh pains.

I wake up, as if from a dream,
Face to face with my sorrow,
Fearing impending doom,
I scream,

Not regularly..

Anonymous 2