The Lone Teardrop

Sifting through the memories of a lifetime
flashes of wrongs and rights,
inemptitudes and achievements.
Staring back at the blank plastered ceiling
waiting for, listening eagerly for whispers
of my last breath escaping
floating above all dear ones,
through the hospital roof
and into the eternal sunshine.
"Hold on just another day,
for your granddaughter's graduating today"
These lone whispered words
in the voice I so loved
of my soulmate, of my wife
wiping the long tear streaks
on her age-impressed cheeks
reverberated through my worldly demise.
I remember her still fresh life
memories of her sweet, buxom smile,
and her dear daughter, the star of our lives
still learning to navigate through life.
Ah! how quickly does time pass away
why it was just yesterday
when she paddled over to me on all fours
beaming with the brightest of smiles
prodding with her tiny little stubs
blabbering on in her eternal rhymes.
Remembering again, my life that has been
recapturing inside, the sounds and the sights
the moments and memories that I have acquired
I wish to carry along with me to the other side.
I look at them all once more through my hazy eyes
as a single lone tear slides silently but gently,
traversing its short life to the ear from the eye.

Comrade in Thought, Comrade in Mind

Raindrops splatter into static puddles
sliding down dusty window panes,
I suppress a shivering shudder
as I pass some flickering flames.
Darkness hangs heavy overhead
thick mist swirling tiny rivulets,
silent whispers beckon me astray
deep into the frolicy lane.
The staccato echo of my heavy shoes
falter a bit and draw to a pause,
the owl overhead turned to listen
as I risked a tiny side wise glance.
Creepy figures scrunched the gravel
beating to a hypnotic tune,
wispy strands of purple smoke
enticingly demand my senses luke.
Nervously biting the quivering lip
statically I toe the line,
Should I, or should I not?
Oh! its so hard to decide.
Slowly taking a single step
I glanced down the murky aisle,
but instantly the dark spirits
overpowered my pristine mind.
Oh what folly, retreat I must
try to take back that single step,
subconscious the battle thundered away
in the gray street under the dark sky.

Suddenly a touch of love
shattered the invisible bonds so vile,
as I felt the warmth within
of a true friend by my side.
Sweet love melodies flow through me
enveloping me in fetal smile,
elevating me to the level above
it made me see the brilliant sunshine.
I started to feel the goodness within
the beat of my heart, a rhythm divine,
pulsating freedom frisking me through
unchaining me and taking me high.
Gone were the days so dark
nothing left of the creatures of night,
beautiful birds chirped overhead
and people appeared living their lives.
My eyes opened to the beautiful world
and the first thing I saw were her beautiful eyes,
she held my hand in her own
and held my mind with her smile.
She whispered sweet nothings in my head
and told me to walk by her side,
we took a step towards the bright glow
and together we traversed the last green mile.

LIFE

Sometimes we need to make life-changing decisions. No one else can make them for you. And living by the consequences of such decisions is called 'your life'. As a parent, all one can really hope for is that by the time such decisions need to be made by their sons and daughters, they would have shaped the clay pot, so to say, to the best of their abilities, that their children would know whats best for themselves. After that, all they can do is step back and see how well the clay pot functions.

But what happens when the parents are reluctant to let go of your image as a young kid in need of guidance? Does it shield you from the responsibility of making these life-defining decisions? Can you blindly follow the orders of a general, knowing that inside, your heart is screaming out to do what you feel is the right thing to do? And more importantly, would it be your life you would be living if all you do is try to follow the wishes of others?

Being fair to the parents, they just want what's best for their children. But the thing they should ask themselves is, are they doing it the right way? I believe that no one, absolutely no one, in the whole world has found the correct answer to the question of how should life be lived? We are all trying our hand at answering it, and in the process come up with a formula that works in some cases, but fails in others. Agreed that the ratio of success to failure varies in all cases, but its somewhere in the middle for most of them. In such a case, how would an individual know how to get up if he/she never has to take a fall? Of course the near and dear ones can lecture at lengths about the pitfalls and lessons learnt from their lives. But that doesn't work half as well as making those mistakes ourselves and learning from them.

Therefore, a solemn request from the progeny to the progenitor, "You did a great job in the time you had to mould the clay. Now, in the baking furnace, its time to try my hand at living my life. You are always welcome to guide and suggest. That's your right as the clay potter. But the decisions to be made are mine to make. Please try to understand and help me do justice to my life. Let me play the dice, let me stumble if I have to, let me learn to get back on my feet, and by doing so, you would help me walk my life with my head held high."

I Am Nobody

- by Outlines of Shades

Its nobody
who touches my heart,
Its nobody
who feels my part,
Its nobody
who wipes my tears,
Its nobody
who holds me in fear,
Its nobody
from the start,
Its nobody
to mend my broken heart.

Several tears
I weep in darkness
in front of a silent mirror
choking in silence.

Its me
sitting alone now,
Its me
somewhere somehow,
Its me
lost in the darkness,
Its me
clawing in the recess,
Its me
falling apart,
Its me
dying of a broken heart.

Makin' Sense

Someone once asked me in an interview, "If that is the number of visitors actually hitting your blog, why do you have it anyway?"
To which I replied, "I have it because I love to write, because it is somewhere I can share what I feel, because it is someplace on the internet I can really call mine. How many people read it and what they think about it....well, that's just someone in the stands shouting out to the real players, about how to do their job better."

Looking back at those days, I guess that was one of the very few answers that actually came from my heart. You know, the ones that guarantee to impress the interviewer into getting you through the horrid cycles of evaluation and re-evaluation.... Sigh!

Well, things change and here I am, thankful to all of you for having a decent enough crowd breezing through this blog. It would be better though if most of you would actually stay for a while and read stuff, but I guess I ain't one of those guys who put up shit and still manage to have a menagerie of mongrels lickin' up everything with a slurp.

Its good in a way. I can stay focused. I can stay real. This place still distinctly belongs to me, is about what I feel, and is put up in a way I want it to be. Kinda like what someone close to me once said: "My life...My way!"

Can I add, "My Blog...My say!"?

Ciao

The Agony of a Heavy Heart

I walk alone
empty corridors
echoing my rubber soles.
Dead weight of
the pistol in hand
benumbs my senses
its lethal power
quivering, yet still
throbbing heart
restless, but at peace
in ghastly silence
expels a serene breath.

I walk across
the bench where
Haley and I
conquered calculus,
across the court where
had shot some hoops
with the Scott brothers.
Laden feet dragged on
reverberating, shattering
swishy whispers
where Brooke cheered on
and her smell lingers.

"Mea Culpa!"
chill, piercing sonic
slashes away
the shiny lights
with breezy sway.
I look down
and there I lay
head twisted in agony,
mouth agape,
the wound drippin' crimson,
exonerating, but
draining the vitality away.

Words And Moments

Words,

words that hurt
words that heal
words that are for you
words that are for me
words that I said
words that were meant to be
words that shake the ground
words that are surreal
words that touch
words that make you feel.

Moments,
moments that mar
moments that mark
moments that flow away
moments that come again
moments that open your eyes
moments that make you smile
moments that fly by
moments that pave the way
moments that are precious
moments that are just for us.

Struck out lines of incomplete thoughts

Another day, another fight. Another bag of hurt feelings for each one of us. Another day irrevocably lost and memory marred by us. Things happened, words were exchanged and I said the fatal words somewhere in between. And so I am here, sitting on my bed with this notebook for company. She won't talk to me as long as I don't do what she asks me to. That's bad considering she has asked me to dig up, re-remember and document each and every bad memory, hurting looks, scaring remarks or in short anything that has hurt me in the duration of our relationship of 2+ years. now I tried explaining to her, to make her understand the futility of the exercise, but to no avail. Yes for arguments sake you may say that maybe it would help her understand and avoid her mistakes, help her to hurt me lesser. But that's a long shot with the risks too daunting to be attempted. Moreover if that be the objective, I prefer to pass on and talk about such information in a piecemeal format, not jotting down everything in a bulk. Now the risk, one of many anyways. Forgetfulness is a bane, but in some situations its also the biggest boon. Things happened, I get hurt, I bleed but then I also heal. Yes some cases leave scars - some longer than normal. But when thought in an overall scheme, I prefer to leave all bad memories behind & collect the good ones. Its not easy, but I can bet it, its much more difficult for her. Of course I may not be giving her enough credit for her efforts but this is simply too big a risk for me to take willingly. So I decide, I'll make a list all right, but of all the happy moments that I can remember so that both of us have something to cherish, something to treasure...
So where do we start? I guess the beginning would be a good place to do that. The first time I saw the girl people in college used to call 'Jassi'. I used to wonder why. Yes its about all good in a person of somewhat non-ideal looks. Well thats okay but when I saw her, I thought she's not at all anywhere near the person she's being compared to. And then I went on to wonder, doesn't it hurt her feeling and emotions. Little did I know that she does get hurt pretty easily but only from people she allowed close to her. She told me recently, she used to feel good infact, if not indifferent to it. Well, back to the scene when I first saw her. I was sitting with same friends on one of our college lawn benches when she walked across the scene, kinda in slow motion as I observed her yellow suit (more inclined, like 90%, towards the green one) had a handbag or something of that sort on one shoulder and was walking straight across, unmindful of the other people around in the lawn, in a world of her own. fast forward a few months and a few occasional interactions and we were standing near block C staircase (although I still feel its block A). She was in a white suit with little pink flowers on it. Her hairstyle was different and I guess thats why had'nt heard of the 'Jassi' comparison for sometime. We had had a small walk chatting on various topics that I can't recall and while parting I wished her "Happy Valentine day". Apparently, that was something other guys were afraid to do. It didn't seem a big deal to me back then or even now for that matter. But it is a cherished memory nonetheless.

Silence

Silently she screams

bleedin' inside out
unspoken fears,
unleashing
the beast within,
weeping
deadly tears.

Silently she sleeps
screeching
unforgiving nightmares,
searching within,
screening
destructive sears.

Silently she sees
despairing within
broken dreams,
excusing
scathing within,
remembering
indelible years.

Hold me to Believe

I can see the hurt inside,
when you smile with broken eyes.
Pincers pierce with searing pain,
when I see my work in vain.
Woe be gone from your life,
blissful memories all step aside.
Just hold my hand and believe,
your side I shall never leave.
Why the hurt? Why the pain?
'coz for you I make it rain
from the stars to the sight
of heavenly minstrels bright.
Little girl still deep inside.
Let her go, let her fight.
Let her live again her way.
Let her believe together we may.
Let her see that its not that tough,
to sail past the briny rough.
Let her feel that together we stay.
Let her feel my love, come what may.

Prick Me Not, My Lovely Rose

- stirred back to life by 'La Cleora Ortiz'

As the shiny morning rays
gently caress your surreal waves
O' my beauty! O' my life!
you run me through, you make me smile.
I step outside and take a while
to dip into your pool divine
"Blesseth be thy lord above"
to let me have this gift of love.
In the gentle breeze you sway
lifting my spirit in a million ways.
Your sublime beauty with me stays,
takes me high, paves the way.
In this crimson aura I lust
everyday from dawn to dusk.

But as the silver moon smears
shiny sparkles on your million tears,
a thought fills my head with dismay
'will there be another such day?'
Dark clouds loom overhead
making me restless in my bed.
The thing of beauty, a joyous sight,
maybe may not, but then just might.
Boards creak as I make haste
not another moment I shall waste.
Labored on albeit a smile
to and fro, went a million times.
Till again the golden fingers play
on the Birchwood lying astray,
and all the seven heavens glowed
beaming down on your new abode.

Forgotten Flames

In my mind
where I beginning to think
where several paths
in front of me which way it links.
Intention too instinct
no route to be convinced
goes on in my own way
in hollow thought
in empty space
Lost in the crowd
world filled with hatred.

Its too dark
Its to feel
numbing cold
forgetting chills
stand up
take a step
forgotten past
can't keep you held.

If I pretend
a blink of freedom
uncaught in destiny
Melody in rhythm
lost in reality.
Leaving pieces
of solace behind
unwrapping your soul
to cover up sins
abandoned in corners of mind.

Its too dark
Its to feel
numbing cold
forgetting chills
stand up
take a step
forgotten past
can't keep you held.

Not so hard
to keep it real
end of day all you feel
passing green
passing gray
every stone
carried away.
Frozen screams
burnt to grave
tattered soul
demons crave.
Bleeding heart
pulsing fire
its my life
a lonely satire.

Its too dark
Its to feel
numbing cold
forgetting chills
stand up
take a step
forgotten past

can't keep you held.

By Outlines of Shades

The Burgundy Butterfly

In this life and the next

even throughout all the rest,
I'll be yours and you'll be mine
its all just a matter of time.
Girl I love you, yes I do.
That's why whenever you're blue
I see the tears you hide inside
ones that escape, I try to wipe
To keep you safe, I always try
but sometimes I lose it, sometimes I cry
sometimes I wish that I just die
just to show you what I feel inside
there is nothing that I wouldn't try.
But that's all I ever seem to do
try and try harder to deserve you.
Guess you're right and I was wrong
and that's why I am writing this song.
You are my one and I was yours,
the guy who used to make your blood course.
He lost his smile, he lost his rhyme,
he lost himself over a period of time.
We were happy, we were fine
but he wanted just a little time.
You see, I still shudder inside
every time I remember that night
scars and bruises heal over time
and this one here is taking its time.
You shouldn't blame yourself for it
it was just something I did.
After the night the clouds had roared
never again my spirit soared.
Unicorn murderer, he had sinned
and I knew I couldn't live with him
that's why now all that's left of him
is a vague blur with scars that scream within.
But in this process I just skipped
one essential fact that simply rips
apart this whole diabolical scheme
of why I did what I did
and who the real enemy is.
You see it was he and not me
who swept you off your feet,
for whom your violin strung,
for whom the birds and bees
flew around overhead
blessing eternal peace.
I know that now,
known it for a few days,
thought about it
and can put it all on replay.
But this time around
I wanna do it the right way.
Don't misinterpret me, know
we're both part of this relay.
Am gonna be him
gonna resurrect him from his grave.
He's young and foolish
but his path we shall pave
together, now and forever,
just stay with us come what may.

My Mockingbird

Fly little birdie
fly high in the sky
under angel's wings
sweet touchdown I aspire

Prologue To Our (goin'-to-be) First Novel

Somewhere in ‘05,

Dear Reader,
It’s 3 O'clock in the mornin’. I don't remember the date ‘coz I haven’t been updating the journal for quite a long time. For weeks I’ve been tryin’ to face myself, the person I am, the person standin’ in front of the mirror. But tonight when I was going through some captured memories of my precious, I realised just how amazing those moments were! I couldn’t hold myself from feeling gracious and smiling at the vivacious little acts she used to put together just to see me smile. Today, even though she’s not with me, she has made me smile after a very long time. I look at myself in the mirror, see myself lively and smiling, and question “Do I deserve to smile? Do I deserve to be happy?” Maybe not! But I can’t help feeling happy, satisfied and complete whenever I think about her and grieve at the same time that I can no longer be with her, or have the things I had, no matter how hard I try. Seems like I will always be hollow inside, filled with nothin’ but regret and agony. The darkness will never go away, the mistakes I have made will never stop chasing me, and my tattered soul will never be whole again. So am making the last entry, to my diary and to my life, ‘coz my soul can’t have a second chance to make things right again, ‘coz my life is left with no meaning other than conveying its mistakes, ‘coz my conscience tells me that I deserve to die.
I don’t know who you are but you'll come to know me real better when you read this journal of mine, whose epilogue you are going through right now. If you're starting this journal from this entry, you might be wondering who am I, what’s my name, and what’s the reason I am dead? Honestly and to be straight, the answers to the first two questions don’t really matter ‘coz if you're reading this you either already know me or will be knowing me after you’ve read this journal. And if you don’t wish to continue then you definitely do not bother about me. Yes, it could've taken a word or two to explain who am I, but I kept on saying things that are ambiguous, ‘coz I see the world differently and that’s the answer to the last question, the reason I am dead. Am not a coward, am not scared of anything, am not running' away from my responsibilities, then why am doing somethin' that am doing, because my death is the only way for the world to know my memoir.
Well, am not a guy who keeps memoir of everything he does, but then I started with this habit when I felt handicapped to understand the things that were going around me. Pretty crazy you know! Wasn’t' able to keep track of what’s happening when, why am standin' in the middle of a street, sleep walkin', hallucinating, and forgetting things. While sitting' beside my friend’s dead body in the morgue, I realised that my memories were playing games with me and decided to capture them into pictures or words and cage them on paper.
Am an artist by profession, the Artist who can’t part with its artistry, the one who captures the very flowing emotion that never comes back, the beauty of very instant that slips away if not captured on canvas, the beauty I used to come across every day. Now that she’s been missin’ like forever, what’s left in me is mere flesh and bones with running blood streams, walkin’ alone, heading nowhere. The last string that connects you and the world to me is this journal. And through this last page I implore you dear reader, never let go of the love you have, ‘coz there are very few people in this world whom you meet only once in a lifetime. If you lose them, they may never come back. If the story of my life recorded in here helps you in any way, then let it help someone else too. Perhaps that’s the only way I can redeem myself for the mistakes I‘ve made.

Jason Ames (a.k.a Jesse)