On love and other assorted beliefs we hang on to !

Chapter 1 - On Love



I've a feeling and it borders on what is love.I safely say it borders on love to prevent myself from entering a realm where a sense of euphoria coupled with dyslexia when it concerns movement forward in the satisfaction of a desire which on most counts is true to one's heart.

Love is a beast,many headed,with a sting ray tail and smells like a rose.It chirps the sweet melody of a nightingale,even if a beast it is,it endears us all from time to time,with the romanticism that centuries of fools of high intelligence and lesser have added to it.A beast that feeds on young hearts broken as they will be in time,and the more the broken hearts the more stronger will the beast grow.Oh! it has killed so many over time and still flowers at it's feet we throw for the beast will grow in our hearts till it takes our hearts.

Love is a labyrinth and it will sicken us to madness,for we wander in search of the centre of it all,for an exit we never looked for from the inside,after all in love we never look to be outta love.
So,the labyrinth from which none wants to find a way out engulfs us in it's dark mysterious secrets just to tell us how many before us have given their all.It is a place that seduces you with it's vastness,you enter a general and die a leper pawn.

So,am i safe from the beast,am i safe from the labyrinth ?

On the border is not far from the other side is it? I see it prowl wagging menacingly at me that sting ray tail of it's,i know the line of control is here on the safe side of life where i wouldn't be blown away by the euphoria of it all.I've been to the other side many times before and had to drag myself back with the wounds and the cuts,and what was left of a broken heart.Am i young to throw caution to the winds every time i see her dancing in my dreams,and jump on across the border like a gunslinging cowboy from the west.I ain't crazy on a normal day though i've seen and done my share of loony things.I've run after a short haired female who never knew any other word than Plan A and it will be done,it was a marathon that i never wish i ran.it made my feet so tired stiched my heart upside down and the centre of the labyrinth was so not found for it kept changing dimensions like she kept changing her terms.

Sometimes i wonder,whether i'm half the man i used to be,whether i still have it in me to fight the Beast again,but in this jungle where everyone fancies his chances against that sting ray tail,where everyone is intoxicated by that rose perfumed breathe of the beast,i hold back this time.Not long back i met a gal,who had been to the labyrinth in her time,where the beast fooled her good,and she clinged on to the labyrinth pillars thinking it would take her somewhere,hoping the beast would let her dance the way she used to.It was one of those days where you knew that in this part of the world,you've seen what she has.And couldn't open my mouth and say 'baby,it's just not a bull fight anymore,it's a toss up for the bull now'.I guess she is clinging on to that dream that keeps coming back,can't blame her,there are no withdrawal symptoms in this sick disease.You are toxicated for life.Once the beast breathes on you,that perfume lasts a life time.

Once,more on the border and no patrol cars to send you back,the breeze will bring that intoxication this way soon,and soon i'll be jumping into that wild labyrinth again,can't help it i guess that is the way it is Love is just the excuse in my case,pain is the reason.I say to myself,this time i'll ride the beast and i know like many things in my life,it's just another of those things i'm saying and not doing.

dester 'lovelost' brown

Let the heavens fall down,

let god play the clown,

i stand here,i frown.

for in love did i drown!

And now i wear a crown

as the king of Fools town,

Dester 'love lost' Brown !!


:-(

 

Memory is Life

Memory is life. It is always carried by groups of living people,and therefore it is in permanent evolution. It is subject to the dialectics of remembering and forgetting,unaware of it's successive deformations,open to all kinds of use and manipulation. Sometimes it remains latent for long periods,then suddenly revives. History is the always incomplete and problematic reconstruction of what is no longer there. Memory always belongs to our time and forms a lived bond with the eternal present;history is a representation of the past.

-Pierre Nora,Les lieux de la memoire. 1984

? random jottings in season

there is rain and there is the cold,

it all strikes as a warm deal to me,

that i wake today with cold feet,

and fully clad for a change!

i've to feel good today feel right,

half-way through this journey,

tired like a sloth after a marathon,

with feet aching and a heart not willing.

there is an urgency to be a name,

a fight might ensue to do someone's billing,

the odds are not good,but they never were,

everybody loves a dark horse,wish i was one.

Vera Lynn

Vera Lynn,do you remember me?

Remember how i wept,by the aisle?

Left with a note of love,n a heart so lost,

And the tears of waiting all this while,

and ever,have all but bled this life away.

Vera Lynn,do you remember love?

Remember how the spring flowered us?

Realised did you before i, all is lost?

If a heart so vagabond was yours,why?

Did it suit your fancy to break a man?

Vera all i have is a song of love,

Vera all i made is money and how?

Vera your song has me fame,

Vera but tell me what will i do,

Now that you are in tune with another?



-might be,just might be incomplete! and Vera Lynn the name is and just the name is from the floyd song Vera Lynn!

bird 'o

my rose of eternal arab perfume magic,

one dreams of ecstasy filled purple rage,

as long the night so is the flame o' wick,

fight me,tender as suede i feel the rave,

this love in my time is as midnight ticks.

let the blindness come,let there be a fall..

there is no winter,there is eternal spring,

listen to the stream,are we on the edge?

endless is the flight,to the stars tell ye,

i ask what potion did i drink from ye?

as i walk in fields of crimson heaven!

on a tree,by a forest

she smells of pure english lavender,

she's a woman above all to a man

the birds you see,'em all flock to her,

the flowers they carpet her land

her virgin dance her love song,

her golden hair her lapiz lazulli eyes

brought the mighty to their knees,

brought the princes to the woods

none who saw her,saw the plains again,

none who fell in love,spoke a word again

it's a secret garden,it's a forest open,

it's been a century,we last heard of the men!