song with no tune

The Lost Music was his way of talking about the way he believed that old wives' tales and dance tunes and folktales were just the tangled echoes of something that's not quite of this world ... something we all knew once, but have forgotten since.

• Part One: The Hidden People, "The Quarrlsome Piper"

-Charles de Lint

Aroused from the dreariness of life,

By the four knocks of fate,

A light in that dark hour of your strife,

A partner in your hour of hate...

Pull your soul out above this damn monotony,

And dance to that thunderous beat,

To name it a song or divine symphony,

The creator himself will stop in awe for this...his creation's feat.

When the entire world screams at you ...

You turn this song up... a few notches up ...just a few

Shut their trap it sure does, like the fall of cold rain

On dry minds... gone insane ,them hearts gone inhumane.

And it settles down again and the darkness shall creep once more

For this is no bards tale, no happy ending in store,

And you cower down under the laughter of fools.

Masters of nothing, slaves to their own tools.

No hope, no ray of light whence backed up alone in that corner of yours,

And beyond hope ,beyond all cures...

You see the baton in your hand ,

And you turn up the volume once more ...

And you make your final stand...

Music is like a dream. One that I cannot hear.

(Conversations,1804)

Ich werde im Himmel hören! (I will hear in heaven!)

Said on his deathbed,1827(Last words)

-LVB

-mithrandir

Anger: rewind...

All the world is mad, except thee and me, and even thee's a little mad at times.

Like an agitated stream my thoughts froth,

As a shackled beast his freedom denied,

Too much you love that your fury would loath,

Tortured mind, his love still defied.

Can I hate? Can I break? Can I smash and unleash the darkness within?

Old man! hunched low, shroud of peace and humble smile ,all but holy,

Are you annoyed hmmm? Are you irritated hmm? stored away in a corner from my kith and kin,

Shift of stance... poised to strike... glance that says...are you watching closely ...

Shroud is torn... sky is cast... hell break loose,

Theres something crawling in the night,

Halo or horn I'm no ones to choose,

My anger is my pain and my love my might .

Can I lay blame? Can I share my pain?

Oh really I can?

Please ...Away! my hatred is nobody's to scan

Leave me be... leave me be

I have nothing! no more... my life... my love... my soul

It is all for you to see

Withered wand and and shattered whole...

Passerby pass me by,

My anger lost, for love I find

The hour is dark, the end is nigh

Old ways will die, when teeth will grind,

Through dark ways he comes with light anew,

Fathom over the riddle ,over this confused cue

If there is an answer, it is for no one to find...

An uncoiled spring... always left to wind ...

what was i thinking ...

I got bored...

For every action there is an equal and opposite government program.

Government philosophy: If it ain't broke, fix it 'til it is.

You live and learn. At any rate, you live

He’s got bubbles in his think tank.

It is a mistake to think you can solve any major problems just with potatoes

How long is a piece of string?

Ninety-nine percent of all statistics are made up on the spot

I'm not as think as you drunk I am.

Logic is the art of going wrong with confidence.

The death of three civilians and a dog causes uproar and sadness. The death of 20,000 soldiers causes dissatisfaction.

I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by

Humans are not proud of their ancestors, and rarely invite them round to dinner

It is easier to create naked art than it is to create clothed porn.

book of forgotten memories

Memory... is the diary that we all carry about with us.

-Oscar Wilde

Train tickets and movies gone by,

Stuff which made all of us smile and may be in dark corners cry.

Of photos and lost words many which will not reach the page,

Unwritten stories from a long forgotten sage.

Dates and times and days and rhymes,

Fixed frames and animated blurs,

Of sketched faces and erased lines,

Them ragged lines for them forgotten funny times.

Namless faces on blank pages all in an unwritten scrawl,

Of days marched by and love come shy.

For poking chides and tears to fall,

For words which mean nothing.

And nothing that means so much more...

For a lonely soul when love is amiss,

Tears do fall on those blank pages like a long forgotten kiss.

Through blurred lines and dark thought,

The cover is closed to find that which is most sought.

A man's real possesion is his memory. In nothing else is he rich, in nothing else is he poor.

• -Alexander Smith

To kiddo!

It doesn't matter if the pillars stand or if they fall,

No matter what the trouble is or the hour when you call,

At days break and night's shade ,

Your friends will be there ,even though all else will fade.

No matter how far you go nor how long you're gone,

You can count on us kiddo when you're forsaken and forlorn,

Whether you require a sword's sharp wit or brute force by your side,

We'll be there at the turn of the tide.

Let the bombs burst and the people fall... nothings the matter,

My friend,we'll make merry ,eat and grow old and get fatter!

We'll share all your joys and all your sorrow,

Whether it be gone or if it waits for the morrow.

happy bday ip'ben!!

GAFF...

i give you a new character .....GAFF......dont wanna explain his personality.....just tag along and u'll know.....hope u like it..

struggle on.....

Nothing makes sense any more. 

Two and two has ceased to make four,

Broken mind and saddened smiles does cover a closed door..

Days go on and you smile and wave as it passes by,

And then look down and hopelessly sigh ,

And tear yourself wondering about the who and why...

You stare in vain ,

As life's theme changes to the theme of pain,

The baton swings and sings aloud the choir of the insane, 

Nothing no more nothing left to gain ....

Fallen pieces they float with the flow,

Soon the pain away shall burn ,

And the pieces shall fit...time agian shall turn ,

Pain shall die for hope is come,

Nitor in adversum.........

In the Cellar.

It stands facing me,

In the cellar trapped are we..

For innumerable years (or so it seems),

That Door has haunted my dreams..

 

The Cellar, a reservoir of bliss,

For you know what alcohol is..

With every bottle I did empty,

I drank it and it emptied me..

 

But,

That Door has not had a drop,

But, that Door has not let me stop..

As I drowned my spirit, in spirit,

The Door harshly laughed, or did it?

 

The world took a distorted shape,

And yet this notion of an escape..

The mocking Door spawned it,

And I yearned to move beyond it..

 

My sight focused suddenly,

Groaning, as I battled gravity..

Having decided - "That Door must open!"

I had yelled, not spoken..

 

I reached it, my courage in my hand,

Grandiose thoughts, of uncharted land..

I passed! Into a room just as before,

There, I turned and cursed the damned Door!

The prisoner and the swan

Trapped in the aisles of the mind

Shackeled deep in the gloom where darkness is all you'll find

He moped around from the dreary dawn to the still of the night

Trapped and alone with his own demons to fight.

And into this gloom one day fell

A falling white star into the labrynth of hell

A white swan, shot down by man's arrow,

The prisoner ran to the fallen, to still the bird of its sorrow

White as snow the bird bled 

The fire in her eyes as bright as burning coal

Hurt though she was ,resilient she remained 

For the stars were here friends ,child of the wind

He cared and nursed her 

The bird in turn a companion in his darkness

Thus they were a  comfort ,each ...for each other

He stole her pain away and she in turn gave him the joy of flying in the wind 

Thus one day the swan was well once again

To fly in the realm of the gods ,amidst the forest of clouds

But the captive remained unto his own shackled to his own fears.

Yet one thing did she promise him ...

To fly into the depths of this world and still even beyond 

From the towers of heaven and unto the chasm of hades

To find him the wings and then the wind under it 

So that he too may fly free with her unto the deepest of time

And so there he stands waiting

Gazing ever on into the stars ....

Walking Through the Sands of Time...

As I walk along the seashore,

The water lapping at my bare feet,

Memories from distant places wash ashore…

Mysterious, unknown, discreet…

I drown into my own thoughts

& stumble upon a bottle which,

Though old, is bereft of any notes,

That keep its history out of reach…

But maybe it came from somewhere

Far-far away & undiscovered,

& maybe the wine's good there,

Used for feasts or to seduce a lover.

I will probably never find out

Nor even bother trying,

‘Coz my attention drifts to a dead trout

That the waves abandoned and left for dying…

I see a wet unfinished cigarette,

That was perhaps thrown by accident or carelessly

While being shared or put off by a thoughtful mate,

Who might’ve snatched it from the smoker, albeit tactfully.

Right alongside, lies a tiny chappal,

That could’ve belonged to a midget or child,

About which were strewn many a shells, that bore not even a pearl,

But covered with designs intricate and wild,

For Nature was probably artistically charged,

As it was when It thought of the algae covered stones,

That into the scenery so beautifully merged,

Feeding the sheltered shrimps & buzzing drones.

Stories may weave around these varieties of things

But stories, which will never be told,

For one can just imagine each tale, that brings

each object, which in its own way, is as precious & unique as gold.

The lay of the liar

The lay of the liar

From the courthouses of Bengal... on the south eastern shore,
A land full of mystique&and many a lore.
I bring you the bane of all things in the judicial way,
I give you the liar's lay.


The audience, the jury and even those with a grudge,
In respect all stood up for the benevolence, that is the judge.
All except one,the accused... that con of a man,
He didn't bother,he didn't give a damn.

He came and lied in that court an unholy lie that everyone loathe,
He said it when came he first to give out his oath.
"I promise to speak the truth,the whole truth and nothing but the truth"said he.
Said it withe such joy, such uncouth glee.
Here my dear sahib's and mem's was not a man with a case to plea.



The judge was a man not known to mince his words,
He silenced the guilty with such malevolence and joy,the same way mind you Euler did his Surds.
"Did you or did you not kill Mr Chatterjee?!!"
'No' came a cool reply from a man who cared a rats ass if he was hung or sent scot free.
"Where then were you on the night of the murder!!?"
"With the wife,sir playing snake and ladder"
"But you lie... you son of a gun!!you're not even married!!"
"Aah..!but 'twas not my wife"He parried.
"You adulterous lecher you!!..you'll hang you will!!!"
"I'll play golf sir ...as free as a man who has paid his bill"

And so the cries and the litanies were sung,
But with a lie and a spell he eased through ...the snake that crooked fork tongue.
No evidence,no witness, not even a case to plea.
The judge said "Let this rogue this liar be!"
[Rumor was the judge was getting late for his afternoon tea.]


The liar strutted thus,away he went for all eyes to see,
But lo! stopped he was,by the dutiful sepahi.
"Sir...what your name is??pray tell me??"
"Umm ... Uhhh..."he stuttered he did .in utter desperation said he,
"Why my good man I'm Mr Chatterjee!".

Nitwit!Oddment!Blubber!Tweak!

Nitwit! Oddment! Blubber and Tweak!
where are you all gone?
Will somebody help me put the lights back on?

Open up, look around
the blog has gone dark.
Stop crying, Stop mourning
Let's bring back the spark!

Enough with the candles,
now give me a torch!
whatever has befouled this land, we shall scorch!

So pour out your heart,
the world is a stage;
Come light the fire and set it ablaze!