Monday, July 23, 2007


The carousel is spinning,
A cup of coffee,
A picture that stands still.
Just a deja vu of a name..
engraved on a piece of wood.

Lots of things I see in the shade
A flickering candle,
A moving curtain,
A little boy with a smile..
marked on his dead face.

An old note I wrote before
Pencil marks have such a style
A cigarette burn,
blood on my sleeve,
With shaking hands I picked a knife.

I can see you standing there..
still like last time we met,
same smile upon your face.
A memory, a dream, a nightmare
I just failed to win your hatred.

You are sick
Though he knows it well,
A fact that seemed so logic and sane,
Just hearing it..
feels like cutting through your flesh.


Wednesday, July 18, 2007

The Countdown!

"It is not these well-fed long-haired men that I fear, but the pale and the hungry-looking."

- Julius Caesar -

Sunday, July 01, 2007

Unsigned Painting!

November 15
It's cloudy and I guess it's going to rain. As usual I sat next to the open window enjoying the chill of the cold winter and the murky sky!
Aimlessly I pulled a chair next to my dashboard, took my brush and began to paint.

With soft and lazy strokes I drew him next to the table in a dark room with a faint light of a small lamp,...
a glass of beer half full on the table and a pistol in his hand.

November 21
I rarely finish a painting in one day. I may start it and finish it a month later. I like Mozart, the music just suits your mood whatever it is.

It was all in black and white,… the man, the table,…
I added a window, and a bird outside shivering from cold,…
And with quick strokes I drew rain and wind…

November 24
Yesterday, I felt a little sick, and I stayed in bed all day long,…did nothing but watch the ceiling and I didn't utter a single word…
There must be some connection between insanity and peace of mind. I guess only the insane can have these rare pure moments of utmost peace or may be it's some kind of temporary amnesia when you can remember or see nothing but the color white,…or black!

Watching the birds shaking its wings, and with empty looks, he loaded the pistol with hesitant hands. He took the final decision, but the idea made him shudder…
One bullet is quite enough…one shot will do the job.

December 2
I figured out something today…Deafness isn't always physical, sometimes you can choose not to hear,…to the extent that you see the lips moving and you hear nothing but yourself or you can't hear at all,…or even feel...
That's really strange!

It seemed to be a good idea; he'll take everything out of his head. Imagining the blood splash, sketching his poems, pain and memories back on the wall…
A memorial painting, signed by his own hands!
With his finger on the trigger,…
he swallowed the barrel,…
took a look at the bird outside…
One last breath…
And he closed his eyes.


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