Between Dying and Living

I was dead, then alive.
Weeping, then laughing.

The power of love came to me,
and I became fierce like a lion,
then tender like the evening star.

He said, "You're not mad enough.
You don't belong in this house."

I went wild and had to be tied up.
He said, "Still not wild enough
to stay with us."

I broke through another layer
into joyfulness.

He said, "It's not enough."
I died.

He said, "You're a clever little man,
full of fantasy and doubting."

I plucked out my feathers
and became a fool.

He said, "Now you're the candle
for this assembly."

But I'm no candle. Look!
I'm scattered smoke.

He said, "You are the sheikh, the guide."
But I'm not a teacher. I have no power.

He said, "You already have wings.
I cannot give you wings."

But I wanted his wings.
I felt like some flightless chicken.

Then new events said to me,
"Don't move. A sublime generosity
is coming toward you."

And old love said, " Stay with me."
I said, "I will."

You are the fountain of the sun's light.
I am a willow shadow on the ground.
You make my raggedness silky.

~The Illuminated Rumi, pg. 86

GAMES PEOPLE PLAY

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Power games, love games
Attention games and hiding games
Attraction games, repulsion games
Baiting and then seizing games
Releasing games, renouncing games
‘Who knows it all’ games
Open games and shrewd games
‘Me better than you’ games
Group games and solo games
‘Let’s keep ’em out’ games
‘This is mine and that is not’
‘Lets split the whole’ games
Why waste pearls in such a fray
After all its just games people play.

Late, by myself,

in the boat of myself,

no light and no land

anywhere,

cloudcover thick.

I try to stay

just above the surface,

yet i'm already under

and living

-

within

The Ocean

~The Illuminated Rumi, p.63

No one knows what makes the soul
    wake up so happy!
Maybe a dawn breeze has blown the veil
    from the face of God.
A thousand new moons appear.
Roses open laughing.
Hearts become perfect rubies
    like those from Badakshan.
The body turns entirely spirit.
Leaves become branches in this wind!
Why is it now so easy to surrender,
even for those already surrendered?
There's no answer to any of this.
No one knows the source of joy.
A poet breathes into a reed flute,
and the tip of every hair makes music.
Shams sails down clods of dirt from the roof,
and we take jobs as doorkeepers for him.

~The Illuminated Rumi, p.64

A Call

Waves have wet my feet too long.
My body aches to feel the ocean.
Sitting on the rocks, a whole life has passed.
It is time to live a moment.

Hard edges of containment,
Melt into the diffusion of freedom.
Beyond space the heart seeks you,
Desire for tawhid lends it strong wings.

Sohbet makes the impossible easy.
Alone one is lost in the desert of emptiness.
Your wine oh Saki! Makes me sane again,
Come, pour a brimful and slake the loneliness.

It's losing myself in the clamour of the world that I fear.

WHAT

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What expression doth blankness have

What questions do answers have.

What talk does silence heave.

What sights do closed eyes sieve.

What heart that erupts in pain.

What breath stillness feigns.

What mind is turbulent in calmness.

What sigh escapes pursed lips.

What two that one become.

What identity that’s a naught sum.

What existence that’s not a scrawl.

What love with meaning all.

What song that hath no voice.

What time that is sans desire.

What passion doth annihilation crave.

What aspiration doth a drop brave.

Another one

Only someone who’s hurting hurts others.

A person who is whole doesn't take pleasure in picking wounds.

Tum Aao To Sahi

An old but really romantic ghazal by Chitra Singh

Integrity

What is one supposed to believe in… the absolute is so fragmented that any attempt at comprehending it is daunting to the point of impossibility, though if one were to experience the absolute in its originality, perhaps comprehension would be a natural phenomenon. The fractured world we live in is so disfigured that it makes a mockery of the primal’s integrity even though quintessentially that is what every person seems to be in the quest of because integrity is the canvass on which the beauty and purity of spirit come alive.

Yeh Safar

Dil na umeed to nahi, nakaaam hi to hai.
Lambi hai gham ki shaam, magar yeh shaam hi to hai !

Yeh safar bahut hai kathin magar,
Na udaas ho mere humsafar,

Yeh sitam ki raat hai dhalne ko,
Hai andhera gham ka pighalne ko,
Zara der ismein lage agar
Na udaas ho mere humsafar,

Nahi rehnewaali yeh mushkilen,
Ke hain agle morh pe manzilen,
Meri baat ka tu yakeen kar
Na udaas ho mere humsafar,

Kabhi dhoond lega ye karwan,
Woh nayi zameen naya aasman,
Jisse dhoondti hai teri nazar
Na udaas ho mere humsafar

~1942

INCONSTANT

You know not what this heart beats
Fathom its depths with your meager hands indeed!

Let me whisper a little secret in your ear
Songs it sings, your hearts can not hear.

So don’t fret o’er this lonesome heart
Companions it needs none, for it is betrothed.

Yet if your curiosities and inclinations bid you to
Give names and leanings its wanderings to.

Remember your workings shall find
Beyond the horizon is its flight.

Satiated still if you are not
Consider it inconstant, if you must.

Life is a zero-sum game

Life is a zero-sum game. It is a closed loop, a circle, a Ferris wheel, a see-saw in that something comes down for anything that goes up and of course the reverse follows through. Like time repeating itself on the limited tablets of space, life follows the locus of a closed yet an extremely intricate loop and it does so in a system of perfect efficiency. In this system there is no loss of energy due to friction because friction itself is defined as an input that influences the outcome, so nothing really leaves the loop. Only transformation takes place; birth leads to death and death to birth or to put it more commonly: controlled change defines life. It is controlled because everything adds up to a definite total although that total may be vastly beyond human comprehension and so for the sake of simplicity it is termed as infinite. Though these unimaginably humongous number of variables permutate on an equally unimaginable humongous scale and leave the human brain addled just conceiving the possible limits of the physical universe, yet they are quantifiable. At a certain level it is almost like an energy play where energy flows and transforms itself into a myriad manifestations. Newtonian physics proclaims that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. And even quantum physics in effect corroborates it in its claim that E is equal to m times c squared. In religious or spiritual parlance this principle is stated as the law of Karma: As ye sow, so shall ye reap. What goes around comes around. There are no free lunches. All these statements can only be true in a closed system for open systems do not allow for such definiteness as proclaimed by these axioms.

Positivity

Accept: Just Be

I am tired of gurgling out the same garbage every other fool in the world spits out. I am tired of being a little bearing in the colossal idea recycling machine of the world.

The ULTIMATE

Ultimate Power: LOVE
Ultimate Desire: FREEDOM
Ultimate Goal: ANNIHILATION
Ultimate Strength: FEARLESSNESS
Ultimate Achievement: SURRENDER

Image by Beatriz AG via Flickr

Everyone seeks validation in their weak moments

and yet manages to be impervious when someone else does.

Image by Ryan Vaarsi via Flickr

SEPARATION

The bargain of love has been lead as a pledge

Are you not tired of beating the dead?

Like a ball in play you throw me around

If I utter a word you silence the sound.

You shot through me your cutting shaft

No name or trace of my self did last.

The flow of anguish is in dreadful spate

I’ve sought you so much, come see my state

Though this love is older than being

Yet you feel no compassion for me.

Tormented by separation

Like a cuckoo I cry.

I am a sacrifice to this

This secret love affair.

Image by 96dpi via Flickr

I’m on overload.
No more baggage please.
Or else I'll sink,
In this expanse of mist.

Only when you don't find what you are looking for in your own eyes, you seek it in other's, although it's your own eyes that don't tell tales.

Why

Why is simplicity not quite simple?
Why is straight all that crooked?
Why is eagerness a reluctance?
Why is inclination held in barriers?
Why is transparent so opaque,
And the obvious so obstruse?

Image by ecstaticist via Flickr

Taqwa rakh
Rakh taqwa rakh
Rakh taqwa rakh
Taqwa rakh mehbooban wala
Kaun khada darbar hamare
   kabhi to sahib puchhega...



 This kaafi goes a long way...

Perfect Proportions

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Life is not a tablet of perfect proportions, for if it was then things would be extremely simple and predictable. There is an interplay of too many variables for x to be perfectly proportional to y and consequently for it to respond in a single rhythm.

INQULAB

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Drawn I am to grooves of habit
Etched deep in concrete as solid.
A barrage of familiar stimuli
Inebriating the spirit
Parching my sense dry.

Sucking my will into easy comfort
A disturbed pleasure
Dissatisfaction resultant.
Remorse and contrition obviously succeed
Change is not easy to breed.

Step out and channel anew
Think aside and walk askew.
Do I have the strength in me
Resilience to offer and break free.

Flustered not by inconsequent derision
I stand upright and walk my conviction.

Randomness

Life is beautiful in my head,

Then I open my eyes and

Reality pierces through.

A falling leaf in midair,

It's draft and gravity stolen.

Still I feel perfect.

Image via Wikipedia

Exchange

Want to feel
Burn your heart.

Want to see...
Forsake the tomb.

Want to love...
Live my thoughts.

Want me...
Destroy yourself.

He said...
And disappeared.

Closer you are to reality, more control you have.

The sum of my existence

Contrary poles on the beam of my life

Strange bedfellows heart and mind make.

One finds solace in the other's disdain

The other thrives on its counter's disregard.

Yet a locus in my cosciousness is graphed
Though I bungle along directionless.

Thoughts, emotions and a cognisance

Is this the sum of my existence?

Acceptance is a function of the limits of understanding.

QUEST

The quest for you is a quest for me.

Oh you that is me, where are you?

Hiding from me, my self is.

Cast away, it itself has.

This purposeless separation is what for?

My all-knowing self answer me.

You and me, two beings to see.

What a farce, this illusion be.

Would the veils be lifted so

You and I could realize though

Until then cries of the half-self echo on.

What's the Point?

What is it that we strive for? What could be the cause of this listlessness in our beings? We complicate our lives with unnecessary mistiness and then we complain about unhappiness. Our life is like an economic situation in which one has to constantly keep running just to stand where one is as if it were a treadmill without a stop button. We are constantly chasing an unknown variable that is supposed to be the key to the magical world of happiness. All our pursuits, our desires, our ambitions direct us to that hazy, shimmering promise that is supposedly there, somewhere in the dark abyss of the unknown, waiting to be penetrated by the brave and adventurous. But this tail-chasing just makes us spiral after elusive mirages and leaves us with nothing at the end. Its like one runs around catching snow flakes but only gets one's hands wet.
It's probably because we live for others and not for ourselves. We are always thinking of what others are thinking and not what is going on in our heads. Other people's approval matters more than our own conviction. This inevitably pushes us down the alley to seeking validation. We are driven by a need to be accepted by others rather than by our own conscious. Our lives are just a farce, a pretence at life. But what does it matter when everyone living is living a farce?
What is the point of living such meaningless lives? Lives that amount to nothing, lives that are mediocre and are lived for no purpose at all but for the sole reason that there is no other alternative. What is the point of going through the same emotions, impulses, sensations etc that almost every other human and even possibly animals experience? And the irony of all ironies is that we set such a score by this old, hackneyed and cliched movie that plays out in every one's lives. What could possibly be so great about selling fancy pencils in the most enterprising way and then celebrating such a sorry accomplishment?

Silence talks, it’s just that we are deaf.

BREATHING

There is a breath that

I am choking to take.

There is a breath that

I am living to take.

Enriched by your fragrance

This breath I crave.

Of your essence made

For such a breath I pray.

Sealed and closed

Is my being to life.

To nourish and grow

I seek your device.

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Exclusivity or Generality

"I used to travel a great deal. I always felt just like that. I’ve been told it’s because I’m a hater of mankind."

"You’re not foolish enough to believe that, are you?"

"I don’t know."

"Surely you’ve seen through that particular stupidity. I mean the one that claims the pig is the symbol of love for humanity--the creature that accepts anything. As a matter of fact, the person who loves everybody and feels at home everywhere is the true hater of mankind. He expects nothing of men, so no form of depravity can outrage him."

"You mean the person who says that there’s some good in the worst of us?"

"I mean the person who has the filthy insolence to claim that he loves equally the man who made that statue of you and the man who makes a Mickey Mouse balloon to sell on street corners. I mean the person who loves the men who prefer the Mickey Mouse to your statue--and there are many of that kind. I mean the person who loves Joan of Arc and the salesgirls in dress shops on Broadway--with an equal fervor. I mean the person who loves your beauty and the women he sees in a subway--the kind that can’t cross their knees and show flesh hanging publicly over their garters--with the same sense of exaltation. I mean the person who loves the clean, steady, unfrightened eyes of man looking through a telescope and the white stare of an imbecile--equally, I mean quite a large, generous, magnanimous company. Is it you who hate mankind, Mrs. Keating?"

"You’re saying all the things that--since I can remember--since I began to see and think--have been..." She stopped.

"Have been torturing you. Of course. One can’t love man without hating most of the creatures who pretend to bear his name. It’s one or the other. One doesn’t love God and sacrilege impartially. Except when one doesn’t know that sacrilege has been committed. Because one doesn’t know God."

"What will you say if I give you the answer people usually give me--that love is forgiveness?"

"I’ll say it’s an indecency of which you’re not capable--even though you think you’re an expert in such matters."

"Or that love is pity."

"Oh, keep still. It’s bad enough to hear things like that. To hear them from you is revolting--even as a joke."

"What’s your answer?"

"That love is reverence, and worship, and glory, and the upward glance. Not a bandage for dirty sores. But they don’t know it. Those who speak of love most promiscuously are the ones who’ve never felt it. They make some sort of feeble stew out of sympathy, compassion, contempt and general indifference, and they call it love. Once you’ve felt what it means to love as you and I know it--the total passion for the total height--you’re incapable of anything less."

"As--you and I--know it?"

"It’s what we feel when we look at a thing like your statue. There’s no forgiveness in that, and no pity. And I’d want to kill the man who claims that there should be. But, you see, when he looks at your statue--he feels nothing. That--or a dog with a broken paw--it’s all the same to him. He even feels that he’s done something nobler by bandaging the dog’s paw than by looking at your statue. So if you seek a glimpse of greatness, if you want exaltation, if you ask for God and refuse to accept the washing of wounds as substitute--you’re called a hater of humanity, Mrs. Keating, because you’ve committed the crime of knowing a love humanity has not learned to deserve."

~Fountainhead, p.389-90

Think Do Be

Think Do Be

Nothing else to breathe.

Why is it you don't see

That it is not as easy?

Confidence is the trick of faith,

To find the feet of fate,

Burn the fire of septate

And go across the glorious gate.

As is your I, so is your world.

~Mirdad

WHEN

A circle begins,
A circle ends.

A stop is left,
Another sentence written.

A past unhidden
Wends to a future unbidden,

Backs are turned
New faces envisioned.

Separation and union make a couple
When nostalgia begets anticipation.

Every loneliness is a pinnacle.
~Ayn Rand

Secrets of a face

"What’s the matter with both of you, Ellsworth? Why such talk--over nothing at all? People’s faces and first impressions don’t mean a thing."

"That, my dear Kiki," he answered, his voice soft and distant, as if he were giving an answer, not to her, but to a thought of his own, "is one of our greatest common fallacies. There’s nothing as significant as a human face. Nor as eloquent. We can never really know another person, except by our first glance at him. Because, in that glance, we know everything. Even though we’re not always wise enough to unravel the knowledge. Have you ever thought about the style of a soul, Kiki?"

"The...what?"

"The style of a soul. Do you remember the famous philosopher who spoke of the style of a civilization? He called it ’style.’ He said it was the nearest word he could find for it. He said that every civilization has its one basic principle, one single, supreme, determining conception, and every endeavor of men within that civilization is true, unconsciously and irrevocably, to that one principle....I think, Kiki, that every human soul has a style of its own, also. Its one basic theme. You’ll see it reflected in every thought, every act, every wish of that person. The one absolute, the one imperative in that living creature. Years of studying a man won’t show it to you. His face will. You’d have to write volumes to describe a person. Think of his face. You need nothing else."

"That sounds fantastic, Ellsworth. And unfair, if true. It would leave people naked before you."

"It’s worse than that. It also leaves you naked before them. You betray yourself by the manner in which you react to a certain face. To a certain kind of face....The style of your soul..."

~Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead, p.228-29.

The point of everything is to realise that everything is pointless.

Catching a Thought

Catch this swift bird in its flight

And crystallize its form,

Enrobe it in words tight

Life, on another plane is born.

But oft it happen so

Its swiftness leaves one behind,

A fluttering leaf abandoned,

When the passionate draft recedes.

Only an echo resonates;
The friend now is gone.

A reminder that this way

May never be passed at all.

Yet a strange solace flickers;

That another wind may blow

And a different bird fly,

To be caught n made alive.

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WAYFARERS FOR COMPANIONS

Walking along many a companion one finds
Some promises, and shattered hopes leave behind.
Unfamiliar faces reflect mirages of the soulmate
A little togetherness, then everything just fades away.
Each treaded patch hums a narration
A searing ache to fill solitude’s silence.
With wondrous capacity the heart withstands
Endless gnashes from Cupid’s hand.
Bewildering innocence forgetfulness reveals
The song of my life the cosmos speaks.
Lessons unlearnt
Wayfarers for companions one takes.
Is a companion to be found ever?
Maybe, if one would look closer.

The security of the herd is not always safe for the individual. Usually it’s lethal.

Watery Entanglements

Awestruck, I sit here, gazing with wonder at these mighty droplet waves sailing ferociously across the sky. The trees, the leaves, my house plants, the windows all relenting under their daunting sceptre. The magic bewitches me and I reach out to feel its touch against my hands, but it eludes me, I am enthralled. I stand at the threshold dreamily watching this beauty dance to the lyrical wind. One moment it attempts embracing me, then suddenly it recedes, changes directions and moves away; challenging me to dare to challenge it. Vainly it shows off its strength to me as if to say, "What do you think of me now? Do you still dare to come near me? I doubt it." But I just stand there wondering, experiencing, marveling, nonplussed. Then like a little child demanding attention it suddenly kisses me on my face, awakening me from my reverie. I breathe the mint air as the maiden droplets brush against my face. Its coldness against my warm body enlivens me.
      I muster up a little strength, take a step towards it but stop. Why do I stop? What do I fear? I stand clutching the post admiring these beautiful splashes bouncing off the wall and garden table, but don't dare to go beyond. It beckons me again, teases me too, but I can't move. I am content to have my soul washed by its virgin freshness, to have its simplicity engulf my mind and its loveliness resonate in my soul.
      I open the door, the windows, pull a sofa and sit back, balmed by it. I muse over the puny wonder that is life. I wonder how similar it is to the rain. For most of us life beckons us, teases us, reaches out to us but we just stand by the sidelines, admire it pass us by. Funny how things are the way they are!
      As though it understands, the torrent mellows down too, realising that the game we were playing is over. It is now drumming down slowly, rhythmically and is ebbing away as I sit and write about the beauty of the rain!

Same Mistake


Saw the world turning in my sheets and once again I cannot sleep.

Walk out the door and up the street; look at the stars beneath my feet.

Remember rights that I did wrong, so here I go.

Hello, hello. There is no place I cannot go.

My mind is muddy but my heart is heavy. Does it show?

I lose the track that loses me, so here I go.

And so I sent some men to fight, and one came back at dead of night.

Said he'd seen my enemy. Said he looked just like me,

So I set out to cut myself and here I go.

I'm not calling for a second chance,

I'm screaming at the top of my voice.

Give me reason but don't give me choice.

'Cause I'll just make the same mistake again.

And maybe someday we will meet, and maybe talk and not just speak.

Don't buy the promises 'cause, there are no promises I keep.

And my reflection troubles me, so here I go.

I'm not calling for a second chance,

I'm screaming at the top of my voice.

Give me reason but don't give me choice.

'Cause I'll just make the same mistake,

I'm not calling for a second chance,

I'm screaming at the top of my voice.

Give me reason but don't give me choice.

'Cause I'll just make the same mistake again.

Saw the world turning in my sheets and once again I cannot sleep.

Walk out the door and up the street; look at the stars.

Look at the stars fall down.
And wonder where did I go wrong.
~James Blunt

Come

Come Come, whoever you are!

Wanderer, worshipper,

lover of leaving

Come.

This is not a caravan of despair.

It doesn't matter if you have broken your vow

a thousand times,

still Come,

and yet again

Come!

~Rumi (tr. Coleman Barks)

I died a hundred times and I learnt this:
Your fragrance came, and I was made alive.
I gave my life a hundred times, and fell--
I heard your call, and I was born again.
I placed a net to catch the falcon Love
Deep in my heart--it siezed my heart,
and went.
~Rumi, The Hidden Treasure

Strangers

Averted eyes though hearts caress
Like strangers we cross abreast.
Irresistible is this drawing indeed
Still separate ways to walk we deem.

Aloofness masquerades searing pain
This inconstancy has no gain.
Sharing thoughts yet oblivion feign
Amusing melancholy this mind stains.

Suspicious games we both play
Hiding here and revealing there
Heated conversations in still air.

No great thing is created suddenly, any more than a bunch of grapes or a fig; if you tell me that you desire a fig, I answer you that there must be a time, let it first blossom, then bear fruit, then ripen.
~ Epictetus

Macrocosm in Microcosm

Image by radiant guy via Flickr

We humans are

The summation of nature:

We have

the warmth of the sun,

the determination of water,

the acceptance of a flower,

the passion of a lion,

the sensitivity of a horse,

the quest of a gazelle

the gruesomeness of a pig

the knavery of a fox...

in us.

Macrocosm in microcosm

We are God!

I Want to be Light

I Want to be Light

Like your beautiful wings, oh butterfly,

Gossamer and delicate I hope to be.

So when I pierce the limitless sky,

Radiant sun's kisses spangle joy in me.

Image via Wikipedia

Yet like the onion, I am;

Images upon images, a flam.

A non-identity of wrapped sheaths.

Some are mine and some not

Though nothing is left of me.

Heart's fire is the charge on the mind that resuscitates the soul.

FREEDOM

Hard edges of containment

Melt into the diffusion of freedom.

Surrender

Every moment I realize

    the inevitability of the Design,

Yet the mind incessantly reaffirms
    its beliefs in mirages.

Acceptance brings peace
    to the agitations of the heart,

Yet imaginations' wayward
    flights lurk mockingly by.

Ah Sunflower

Ah Sunflower

Ah Sunflower, weary of time,

Who countest the steps of the sun;

Seeking after that sweet golden clime

Where the traveller's journey is done;

Where the Youth pined away with desire,

And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,

Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my Sunflower wishes to go!

~ William Blake

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A great yoga posture that doesn't take time.

A beautiful love song that was on my mind when I got up this morning:::

Lost in Love
~Air Supply

My heart is like a lute
each chord crying with longing and pain.
My Beloved is watching me
wrapped in silence.
~Rumi, Hidden Music

Rise, O Moon

Rise, O moon,

and spread your light across the heavens;

the stars remember you in silent prayers,

their hearts glimmering with hope.

Now, like beggars,

we roam the alleyways of earthly life,

when once in our own Homeland,

we were merchants of rubies.

O, may no one ever have to leave his own home,

for one is not worth a piece of straw

in this alien land!

They need not clap their hands

to startle us out of this world, O Bahu;

we are already disposed to fly back

to our long-lost home.

~Sultan Bahu

NIRVANA?

Image by Miguel Ramirez via Flickr

The heavy air around me weighs me down as I spreadeagle across the floor. There is a pain inside that is sucking everything in like a vortex. I draw myself in and wander the space behind my closed eyes, thinking random thoughts so I can breathe again. This pressure, this pain, the darkness, these thoughtless thoughts stand by, watching me as I plummet down the spiral of myself.... Then, I experience suspension--a vacuum settles around me that makes my body numb, my mind quiet and my heart feelingless. Is this peace? Is peace a resting, a pause in the motion of all vibrations on the continuum of time and space. This placidity, this experienceless experience is like a clearing in the woods of murkiness. I think I have found Nirvana.
Have I?

Image by Gattou/Lucie at the stable via Flickr

Wayfarers like me in quest of you,
Pursued by these hounds of rue,
Are lost in a maze of circling cues.
Show me a path out of this refuse.

MEDITATIONS

What is it that you seek? The mere continuance of your life? To experience sensation, then, and impulse? To grow, and cease from growing? To make use of your tongue, and your mind? And what is there in that which strikes you as worth desiring? But if all these things are worthy of contempt, take the final step, and follow reason, follow god. But to value those other things militates against that, or to be distressed at the thought that you will be robbed of them by death.
~Marcus Aurelius

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An interesting saviour for the uninitiated coffee rags lyk me.
Besides the page has really good aesthetics.::::

Design*Sponge » Blog Archive » a perfect cup of joe

My idea of a great house. Amazing design, just love the creativity. The lines, the angles, the concept, the pool, the terrace garden.......WOW

The Tangga House by Guz Architects » CONTEMPORIST

50 Fantastically Clever Logos | Design Shack

50 Fantastically Clever Logos Design Shack

Incompatibility

Image by s.yume via Flickr

INCOMPATIBILITY

Different worlds we come from

Strange languages we speak

Something gets lost in translation

Something else in adaptation.

Familiarity I thought would ease

Awkwardness of a long separation

But more the words are hurtled

A greater confusion nettles.

The music of my heart just may

Resonate in your soul someday

And then probably we could

Dance to the rhythm and play.

BLUE HEART


My heart is blue
Thinking you not true.
Come sing another song,
Tell me I am wrong.


The mind is numb
With thoughts not dumb.
Trap me in your snare,
Tell me you care.


My body tingles
With your imagined touch.
Come beside me lie,
I'm more than a sigh.


But the heart wails,
Thoughts run amuck
And body goes cold
When reality is retold.


Fear and despair
Hint your leanings not here.
I wish they are false
Or else life stalls.

Like a bamboo plant I sucked all the pain,
yet the world just sinks deeper in despair.

REFLECTIONS OF A UNIQUE DOPE ENTHUSIAST
Numbness is an exceptionally comfortable experience. It is a state of mind in which there is no agitation, no perturbation, no jostling of discordant vibrations. In this blissful state, external or internal stimuli don't play ping-pong with one's emotions. It is self-absorbing and addictive, this feeling. As it sucks one in with its lyre and as the subject slowly spirals into himself he is drawn further within. After this there is no way out... one does not want to get out. Then pain, no matter of what genre, appears to be a wasteful endeavour; a sort of intrusion into the privacy of self. Turning oneself into this nothingness is the most exhilarating and challenging of human experiences. Once the conciousness experiences this state, the ceaseless innuendo of mundane life becomes a noise that is to be avoided at all cost. Only one compulsion remains and that is to exist in this state of non-existence. The illusion of time and space and all the baggage that gets latched on because of such mental aerobics easily falls away and with a quite firmness, a cleanliness replaces all the clutter. And this clarity which is devoid of all hypocricy is what lends the soul strength.

Live your whole life on a whim;
atleast it will be worth the effort.

. GRANDIOSE SIMPLICITY .

A shining comes sometimes from dust

That lights up the whole world.

A call comes from inside the heart

That rouses the universe.

Innocuous, innocent things sometimes

Are grand moving dances of time.

Of simplicity are born great things.

Yet envisaging consequences

Is not each one's call.

. gcgcgcgcgcgcgcgcg .

---------------------------------------------

EXPERIENCE'S RUMINATIONS

--------------------------------------------------------

When nice people
aren't so nice,

Naivety suffers reality,

And experience endures it.

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Graphic representation of life's modes

... wait

? clueless
! LG
-- making sense of the mess
, pause
- togetherness

. end of the line

The Y is the seeker

of perfect resonance.

If it finds it then

everything else

becomes irrelevant.

IMAGINATION is the colour of life.