SKY ABOVE AND HELL BELOW

Personifying procrastination is now being used by Unholy Sermon as lyrics for their song with the self same title...

Why does it seem as if I wait for your light to ascend
And cast its rosy hue hither, banishing the lengthening shadows
Wreathing my doorway?
It seems as if I wait for the moon
Even though she is long past her cycle of cadence,
Knowing in my heart hope is a fallacy,
An illusion conjured by the sick, and yet hoping
That the sun would stay and cast away the ghostly pallor from my face,
Bring new life to this shipwrecked soul,
An escape from a reality contorted beyond control:
But therein lies the trap for the light lies within
Waiting to be cradled and to bloom,
For the answer lies within but the question rhetorically bounding off these walls
Gives way for distortion, static amounting, screaming,
Pounding, howling, ripping the skin off that face, that mannequin
Still standing, still waiting, waiting
Still standing, waiting, waiting,
But for what?

I digress and let this languor grow, creep upon the stone statue
Like damp moss gathering where moisture lingers and echoes, echoes,
What do they mean, as I stand here oh so still?
Where is that feel of life surging through my finger tips?
Where is the will to move, or the will to command the will?
I regress, what was the question so I may choose my answer?
Like a beggar, desperate for a coin even though it won’t save
Him from an inevitable death? Like that pauper collecting money
For something worthwhile and then starting again
Again, again, yet again?
Why bother if I can end it all? Another question rhetorically bounding off these walls,
And I know the answer; I know, I know
But I simply can’t move at all…

Brightness dimmed, you stood before my eyes unveiled
Resplendent orb, splashing hues transient they wane
Melting against the infinite backdrop.
And my eyes found you, confounded by all the sound
The disharmony and resting at the golden red beauty
Where life made sense in the sheer enormity of your gaze
Softened so that I may chance at you unhindered,
Take in the steadily bloodied hue, growing deeper
As if my conviction you drew with you and with that thought
Painted yourself divine!
Aaah what would you know of circles and convictions
When you stand there god-like, your golden red head
Bowed down to none? What would you know of the chaos
That muted itself as I watch your profile sink lower
Casting the dreary sprawled life of concrete with a new rigor,
A will to live, a subjugation and a juxtaposition equal to that
Of calling you god- what could you say if you knew I
Drink in those eyes listlessly, soundlessly because my only
Universe centers around you?

The sky is set it seems, set against a bejeweled splendor
Of clouds encrusted with the deepest rubies hiding in their
Midst emeralds sparkling, sapphires most excellent
And the color of peaches, like the petals of a flower blushing,
Where every blush would sparkle deeper into a ruby and you
Stood there sinking, my desperate eyes calling, wanting to extend
My hand and silently lift you up, oh golden one!
But helpless against the greater forces of life I let you slip past,
Like a bright robed priest holding the light of my life in his hands,
And quietly extinguishing the fire of those heathen lamps,
Oh you slipped away, hidden behind the gathering swirling thick mists,
Drowned, just simply gone!
And I…I stared, documenting with silent sighs and resignation
Of the moment where you were dimmed but shone brighter,
More dark and beautiful clad in your blood red hue…

Of liquid grace and silken skin

Soft, like skirts of silk,
Your silken voice like honey pressed against bare skin,
The rustle; that whisper told with every move,
Of grace unfolds…
Slipping down, with liquid grace that deep earthly kiss,
That sigh unlaced,
That phantom touch, that glistening voice, the deep seated echo
In my mind lay still…
A drop of manna, a roof of cloud woven and sealed, of liquid grace
I must confess I sing of every night, when the cold wraps around,
Clammy arms my carriage, but within lay that warmth,
That bubble, brazen until bronze, filling every empty space
With seas bereft, forlorn, until the voices call:
‘Hey, ho! Sing along the prayer for the rain!”

She dances, my sprightly elf, my skin a slave to her every breath,
Scented like the musky dew, drifting with a song anew,
Thunderous voices, the herald rings my heart with gladdened speech
Hey, ho! Sing along, the prayer for the rain,
Hey ho, voices echo, gathering strength with the mingling songs of old,
Blazing altars, dews gathered to form that shape which flits in my mind,
Faery like, with skirts of silk
That rustle deep, the emptiness sucked within, brimming with the
Peace that sings of liquid grace and silken skin…

yes, i havent posted any good music in a long time, come to think of it, until a few minutes ago i hadnt posted anything in a long time!
well im making up for it by introducing you to a band that sent me to heaven: thriloka, a local fusion band which incorporates a rather interesting combination of instruments to give you one hell of a musical orgasm. watching them perform last sunday, i must say that has to be one of my most profound moments ever, where i lost myself in pure musical rapture. enough talk. heres thriloka with RANA MAYURA/CHIMERA for ye...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7azhNJSHaM

enjoy!

raaaaaaaaaaaight so i havent updated my blog in like AGES and for want of something to do...errrr...i overcame my couch/computer potato-ness and decided to do the honours...
dont ask me where ive been all these days, and the answer to that is nowhere but here. dont ask. shitty state of mind i am in...you know...those times when you dont even have the strength to make up your mind about something? argh yes. 'orrible i tell you, but nevertheless, i have managed to cough up a few pieces of writing while my brain is in hiatus and here goes:

Beyond the pale

Everybody needs some darkness in their lives; I wouldn’t call you my light even though you have delivered me from a different kind of darkness, an all consuming one: to me you are the solace I find in the darkness, you are the peace I find in the blindness. To me, you are the dark for there are, after all varying degrees of darkness in every night. You are the lofty chill that spreads over me, you are what hides my presence from the all seeing Eye. With you I am part of the wind, sailing with you like light to exorcise the dreary grey. You are the silencing of the chaotic world, a blanket over the austere jagged pinions of steel scraping against the sky. You are the gently suffocation welcomed after too many nights spent in the oppressive, naked, biting, nipping cold.
You are not my warmth, for I can make myself believe it doesn’t exist.
You are not my perception, you are not my anchor: I can will them away as I lie down to sleep. You are not my everything, nor are you my nothing, for I can twist it, bend it, sear it, paint the butterflies black and blue.
You are not my reality either, for reality can be broken and mended into another reality.
You are not my light, for I have shuttered myself away from the rays of light.
You are neither a spectrum of self-delusion, nor a fickle flicker of my eyes.

You are neither the bird song that I drink in so eagerly, nor are you the bard shaping the barren landscape with the melody of lustrous words.
You are neither my gift, nor my curse; you are not my deliverance for even within your addictive darkness I am still lost. You are neither my destiny nor the tumble down the cliff. You are my dark in the light, the dry enclosure I fled into during the storm that I will leave when the skies are dried of the grey: but is the storm here to stay? How is that you will not let me go nor lead me astray?

Where the Sky and Earth unite

The night time sky, the bejeweled celestials blinking back at me was mirrored in my eyes. I stared starry-eyed at the spectacle, at the grandeur of the sight and felt a deep echo of contentment run through me. I shared a strange affinity with this scene; it ran so deep that at times if I was denied the Beauty, I felt my world crumple miserably.
This night, the sky shared her domain with clouds closer to home, clustered around like an ethereal archipelago: it was like having an aerial view of grouped islands, except they were moving languidly across the sky.

I felt the familiar presence again, that familiar touch as the wind wrapped herself around me with a flight of a thousand brown bereft leaves. I closed my eyes and indulged myself in the serenity of the moment and felt the familiar but powerful sedative they called love, narcotize me.
But it was a strange love that we shared, transcending all physical contact: for he was closer to me than my heart was, he was always with me, within me, a part of my soul…
I opened my eyes once more to behold the haven above me, and spotted those eyes that gazed back at me serenely, trapped in a distance.
My lips moved, silently wording my thoughts which with the sweep of the wind were carried along with the winding leaves and my trapped scent.

I looked away as a silent throbbing pain welled inside me. I let the sensation of life flow through my being, the soft grass pillowed under my head, the light but moist air clinging onto my skin, the gentle rustle that accompanied the dance of a thousand leaves, the soft music of the night charming my skin into a deep blush, my pale hands placed beside my head at an angle feeling the gentle caress of the Earth below.

This is my domain, I thought as I took in all the sights and the smells and the sensations that accompanied the darkening Earth gently lit up the half moon that hung like a great, silver eye. The world I knew was painted in rich shadows, the details erased with only the blurry outlines standing out.

An eerie silence accompanied the return of the wind and as I watched the sky, I felt my eyelids grow heavy. Succumbing to the peculiar sensation I closed my eyes, the wind twirling about me like a long forgotten melody, carrying the essence of a soft flute piping in and out of the words of the fiddle.
I felt a gentle smile touch my lips as I was drowned in a thousand emotions, a thousand sweet words spoken in my ear.

“This is your world,” I heard him say, his musical voice tilted by a light rhythmic accent. “And the sky above is mine.”

Reality washed by me like an unseen tide, pulling me along with the watery voices of the Sea.

“But where you and I meet, is where the Sky and Earth unite, and where you and I lie, the portals of heaven are open and the world is as one.”

His musical voice gushed through me, a gentle pressure pressing against my hand. I twined my fingers with his and whispered:

“We are where the Sky and Earth dwell…”

NOT
I. You. We. Could. Be. Not.
We could perchance exist as separate entities,
Separate consciousnesses, riddled by illusion,
Drilled by sorrow, decapitated by tomorrow,
We could dwell here, shapeless, endlessly regenerating
Transgressing, defiling, plaguing the pestilence with a parasitic mob
Of thoughts unruly: or You. I. We. Could. Be. Connected.
Somewhere. Deep. Down. Dark. Inside
Below our subconscious. Beneath. Above.
Immaterial: you and I could co-exist:
Flush those bombs and poke flowers into those guns.
Lies. Hate. Deceit. Rape. Shame. Cowardice. Malice.
And live together as one. Unified.
We. Could. EXIST. (TOGETHER)
Or. NOT.
(EXIST).
AT.
ALL.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4Dthz3a6aE

something to set the mood...

What is love?
One can only phantom, and as these bloodshot eyes scan this land, watching the rare bloom of a flower, now torn apart by a guillotine of rising thorns, slicing off the petals- I stop. It is humanly impossible to break down such a complex idea, but I see the natural world as clinging together with the power of love: there is wonder and love even in the green of a leaf. Imagine this in a million fold. That is simply how much love nourishes a tree; we have an entire planet shrouded with Beauty, with the beauty of love…
But I look around at the human species, the lust, the infatuation, the blinding bond “love” as we know it creates, and I wonder, why is it that we think it is important to “love,” to be “loved,” to feel that special sort of fullness, that overwhelming joy that radiates through us?
And then I realize, love is quintessential, love is our way of connecting with Nature, to piece together ourselves and join Nature as ‘one,’ and becoming part of Beauty. But love is only as real as the form itself, what shape it assumes, cannot and will not stand the testament of time, whereas the “idea” of it lives on essentially; so here I am, opening my heart oh bountiful Mother, joining you with all my love to become part of you…

She whispers to the dark, the citadel of blackness building up before her like an altar to her loneliness. No one hears her, her voice echoes in the Ether. But “they” listen; she feels it, the stirring pitch black night growing darker with every whisper. But they listen, the moon and the stars, distant and cold, but they listen even now, even now the darkness knocks at her door, her constant companion, and listens in comforting silence…
She is his fair companion, his pale priestess, the only one who turns to him and feels his presence, his existence. Her tears sparkle like pearls when he shrouds her, painting the fantasy with the attraction of polarities. He is the cold and he surrounds her, feeling her warmth and gently touching that glimmering pale skin, caressing those scars he cannot feel and the colors he cannot give or have.

And I? I am the caged captor, the silence that accompanies the dark in his morbid reign. I am the hush, the ominous stillness, the quiet, the eerie aura, the trickster, the inducer of nighttime maladies. I am everything that keeps the dawn away, while he listens and she sings and the fire at the altar of loneliness is extinguished as the darkness and his pale companion unite…

There is a world up there, changed, transitory.
On Earth, down below, I watch Her, but not as I watch the people that roam this expanse, not with the insight I often gain when I watch a person talk, the way their emotions move them, their eyes, their reactions which sometimes betray their true self; the sky…I watch her everyday, I lie on my back and note the changes: but I cannot read her, for even when a mountain of clouds gather, I cannot tell when or if we will indeed be blessed by the rainfall that the firmament bestows.
I wonder how the birds feel today! The clouds have reassumed a different shape and the sky today is changed- what was yesterday is past. How then do the birds feel, up there, in their haven where the transitory clouds can determine their life’s course?
What makes that firmament? My archway, my eyes, restrict my vision but I should be thankful! For with my eyes I see Her, but not as she truly is for she dares not betray her emotions…and as yet, I do not understand why and how She is so elusive and capricious. I am exalted by her beauty, enthralled, I am in envy of the birds that sail over land and sea, the birds that get to rub their wings against such infinite beauty! But while these lamps glow, dim and flicker oft times but peer at her in absolute awe, it’s a world of wonder I see as my eyes gently drink in her beauty…

this btw is a very grammatically confused piece...:S i dont know what went wrong and whats gone wrong but i feel as if ive lost my usual flow...hmmmm...:S

Darkness tonight was borne on strange wings: the clouds were laden, heavy and oblique, and though this night the wolves are to sing to the Mother Moon, tonight there is silence. The moon did not grace us, even though it was said to be the brightest of all nights. Instead it was a dull evening, swiftly darkening as the celestials lay hidden under those heavy wings.
I have seen, many an evening before twilight sets in, how the ravens and their breed seem to flee in a certain direction, opposite to which the mighty hunters (blind but mighty) take wing. With the approaching darkness, these heralds seem to dominate the sky. Where once a little thrush flew, where a little red breast with a puffed up little song winded in its little chest, perched momentarily: now the indomitable figures of the night ruled.

But as was said before, darkness tonight was borne on strange wings: the bats fled, all content to flee in one direction. but with every passing navigator of the night, as my eyes followed their journey, the degree of darkness seemed to deepen as if in their claws they carried, not their prey but the ashes of darkness which they scatter across the skies. They perch on the wind, and then dye the clouds to suit their needs; as if all the black faery dust from the illusive puppeteer above is given to the heralds of the dark to scatter! Aye, strange night indeed…a lonely night spent watching the dark spread, and even though in my heart I knew I couldn’t sing to my mother moon, I did have hope that the sky would clear. But the masters above seem to have another plan, and as it unfolds my eyes are closed by the gathering darkness and the moon’s lament dies in my throat…