Sunday, May 11, 2008

Speak

The conflict within-Part 2

There are so many times when you want to say something and you can’t. Either you don’t know how to put it or you don’t know what to put in it. Circumstances usually decide the way we look at things. Just when you’re on the verge of saying something really really important- so important that you need to get it out of your system as soon as possible, the situation becomes such that you’re either confused or forced to retreat.

Its like this lump gets stuck to your throat and then you’re wondering whether you want to let it out or just gulp it down. Most of the time it ends up being the latter one. The divorce between thinking of doing something and doing what you think makes life a little less than ordinary- and exceptionally complicated.

Actually, you really cant tell how complicated it is. Because the human mind can really stretch to farthest points when it comes to imaginations and wonders. So it would be kind of incorrect to say that its like a major complication because you really don’t know whether this is the craziest thing you’ve ever thought of or whether you’re capable of more.

People in and around us have a major impact on what we want, should, can and could say. Sometimes the slightest words or comments can change an entire perspective or feelings of a person so much so that the thought of what was going to be said is lost somewhere in complexes, ego’s, attitudes and every other internal feeling that you can muster.

Sometimes expressions can prevent a persons reaction to a particular situation or comment. Its like people will glare at you or roll their eyes or make funny faces to shut you up.

Assumptions and presumptions are reasons why most people don’t say what they want to. They worry more about what’s going to happen if they speak rather than realize that maybe if they did speak it wouldn’t be all that bad. Oh well, that’s a different story altogether.

So having said so much, I realize that I like silence more.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Not for Glory.


Placed, positioned, posed.
Motions swirl to dance, a wildness in every move.
Passion in one's preparation
given the story of one's aspiration.
A moment of liberation, a windswept borderline.
Having crossed the desert, bleak and bare
time more limited in scope, in the ecstasy of fibs.
However quite likely for rejection, one contemplates a range of fates,
even when one knows the final score.
Guilt is said to be the trademark of humiliation,
frozen in a scream that is never heard.
The stage is set, adorned with some strange beauty.
It is known, after all isn't it burnt into the flesh of memory?
As time steals the time away.
Part witness and part conqueror, the past does not depart.
Part victim and part comforter, exotic, erotic, excessively impressed.
Each minute is more vital than it seems
vested in a vague peculiar momentous mission.