Out
Out
Out
No tinkles
No beauty
No tracks
No trains
Only distant pulsations
that reach
There should be something at the end of this lane
A golden gate
to another long road
Shringi
March 04, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
Justice?
Abused.
Unreasonably
by an unknown.
A shadow he was
of a well carved man
How vivid could he be?
when to me he was black
What could a shadow do ?
How far could an imagery go ?
He was relieved under reality's law
for they say, "It is no crime
to ravish a soul."
Shringi
Feburary 28, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
Don Quixote
"Insanity is an inability to come to terms with reality. Don Quixote was definitely insane, because he couldn't come to terms. But there was a reason: the reality in which Don Quixote lived was a sordid and ugly reality … Don Quixote didn't want that. He wanted to live in a world where there was truth, and human dignity, and, yes, love.… Instead of giving up on it, he imposed his reality onto the real world. Where other people saw a filthy country hostel, he saw a castle! Where other people saw a flock of sheep, he saw a mighty army! Where other people saw a windmill, he saw a dragon. Yes, Don Quixote was a crazy old fool. But, you know, he was more honest about his dream than most people, and for that, I honor him. "
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Colored
Fallen in a snarl of colors
he who can't understand
finds himself ensnared
into the very red
enveloped in beats, overwhelmed
he surrenders
on which the monitor lures him with life and its colorful jives
As a follower of the disguised
he who can't understand
falls in step with the trine
into the very red
with a pair of instruments
enveloped in beats
he
slowly unwinds
Shringi
15 Feb 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Beginning
Forsaken,
projected as the END.
If I am,
what could be my origin?
I was never a thinker
nor was I ever a man who could sing
I was never an enthusiast
nor a person sprinkled with any glory
Now that I have fallen , I think
I must have been a flightless leaf
shed of a wholesome tree.
The moment I lost connection with the branch
must have been my beginning.
Shringi
Feburary 03, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
In a womb of sand
I am here and I must say something before this fades.
Foolishly starting just after it did. To realise nothing matters, nothing does.
Smiles dont, neither do tears. Words dont and actions are written over by newer words. Everything fades; memories - people - time - needs - we fade, most of us do.
I might resurrect
I might stay within
I might shrink to a tiny seed
I might grow illusory wings
I went in
carrying with me the sound of waves
folding elaborate experiences
losing crowded - wilted - pied days
...
I shed my body to fit in the hole
along with people who clung to it
I shed fears, treasures and stories
along with those who helped building it
I am in a womb of sand
asleep with the sound of waves
I am a part of me
that shall stay when I fade
Shringi
January 25, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
Very soon
A few, a many, a few
They shall be here
very soon
on a river of blood
wearing metal shoes
we shall hear them from far
and await the scars
we shall close our eyes
when they pull their swords
and kill a few of ours
a few, a many, a few
they shall be here
very soon
Shringi
January 02, 2011
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