Time Capsule

Dogs of the night

Should One Go On?

The day has taken a blinding hue

With scorching heat it burns

The roads are empty and hallucinating with exhaustion

For a spot of shade the lonely traveler yearns

Memories of a cool breeze and raindrops keep him going

Tomorrow the pregnant clouds and a pleasant day shall return

Till then, with a birdless sky and a beingless earth he moves

Walking a step, fearing miles

Wondering which way this godforsaken path will turn

Will it lead to calming pastures of the past

Or break his spirit with a mirage

WEak

We stood on the brink
All we offered was 'let's think'

Any other way out of this desolation
Was lost when we lost ourselves in contemplation

We looked around and sought a solution
Somehow it was always the person next to us in need of an absolution

We moved forward, pointing fingers and raising weak fists in the air
Slowly slipping away to the end, encouraging others to fight the fight and live the nightmare

We stood there and waited for the dust from the stones and the bricks to settle
But we did not bend down, dressed in our white shirts, to move the burning metal

Things must change, with animated gestures we stood in groups and said
After half an hour back in our homes, our masks of concerns we shed

mind blowin

It Matters What You Think

Last night again, I sat down to pen my thoughts...
Would it be through prose or verse...
Well that far, I hadn't thought...

All I knew was that I needed to write...
Because that is what I do...
I write to get away, I write to stay...
I write to say things, I normally wouldn't be able to say...


After having written a two-bit haiku
I instinctively turned to you...
I wanted you to have a look at it...
And tell me if my words felt alive or were they just a misfit...

What you think of my words, matters...
Because...


Well, he wrote the above words and left them mid way. Crumpled the paper on which he had written them and tossed it aside. He had grown tired of his words that had come to mean less and less everyday and made more noise than a deafening gong gone mad. What did he really have, if he had words that could be read but did not mean anything.

Frequency