noumena shades

The Universe Within You

2011-08-21T00:29:00.000-07:00

Sunday Mornings.

< And then,the wind helped you push the vertical limit of light's speed,with the constellations becoming clear now,you've reached Alpha Centauri...Ether buoyed your wings as they flapped and He floated there, right beside you.....point blank..? >

"Hello World"
"Hi Zephyr",and with your morning sigh,the gentle breeze took off.

Wraps and folds hide away your feet from the attack of the low temperatures.
Shrugs brush aside the tresses and cushion develops new lines.

Like a twinkle,your visage tries to play a smile. There it is, there it is not.
Oh.
There it is,Aww there it is not.

Propinquity with the beige flowers on the window-vase isn't an impossibility.
Your iris dances with the quaint sun-rays imbibing on the glass panes,
as the sun-rays stop at the panes,paint it silver,call you and as you give a gentle nod,
they pass through just to crash like a bunch of warm emotions,
right on your feet sneaking out of the blanket.

A little warm when it gets colder.
The gazillion universes shift in space and time,
you can feel the atmosphere reverberate to the world inside you.

A moment pauses,timelines of the yesteryears race away,soledad walls break down.
And you needn't be stronger than you already are,
a new page is created to write the story down.

Your slow blinking creates ripples in the room,making it iridescent.
And the messenger swoops down to ready you,for the universes want to fall in line.
In line with your universe.

Infinite Worlds.
In line with your Universe now.
Become Infinite Earths.

And its just been five minutes past,you wanderlust away into your sleep,into your dream for He must not have left.

<....bright flashes and He hands you over the Moon every Earth needs..
........and He evanesces and you Evolve.>

We Will Forgive Ourselves:Holocausts

2011-05-20T09:50:00.000-07:00

( A zephyr glides down the throat of the atmosphere around,

people pass by their own inflicting stares

and the record still plays on the same old song.. )

0705 Hours. AD.
Gentle smiles. Morning coffee tingles with her all through.
Chasing pavements have been her brilliant life, unaware and happy. Like she never knew what tomorrow would bring, like this world was never her prerogative, she wished away luck on its side and lived her life on the other.

The boulevard gets disturbed by the skater boy's moody rhymes. The BMW Vision ad banner paints the sun in its glazing plastic crusted skin, thanks to its west post hang.

And yet another reminder beeps on her cell, that says,'Get flowers for him.And yes,white ones'.
She smiles back to herself and pats her on her forehead, a nod followed that envisaged her serene demeanour more than it told anything about the context.

The lady vendor had just the choicest of White Roses for the lady. Laughs and a little exchange of calm glances were all that happened before she walked briskly to reach there on time.

'The wedding, oh the wedding,i'm gonna be late and they are gonna be so pissed off with me,and the dress doesn't even fit me well' was the only thought that her mind and heart were tangled upon with.

The gates creaked low as they made the wind feel good about its strength. The green pastures bleed another color though.

As she approached the point where he was waiting, her pace slowed and her cheeks weren't dry anymore. Wishes and regrets flew out of her heart like a thousand birds flying out into the open sky.
Her tears stayed on her face and gazed at the numbness around, at the ounces of love falling faster than they did, and yet her hands held on tightly to the roses.

A moment later.
The white petals drifted and stuck to his epitaph, and the words ' ....Loving husband and The Only Love' engraved upon his memorial were not the only ones who were left alone.

Church Bells.Near Noon.On time.Trying to fit into the bridesmaids's dress.Hugs with the lovely bride exchanged.
She watches her taking her vow and getting lost in the kiss after the pronunciation. And her friend leaves for a new world. She too does. Into another world.

2305 Hours. AD.
Loose gown barely covering her silhouette. Like a ghost, she blends into the corridors of her empty house.
A little later, a tired hand tries lifting the kitchen knife well upto her wrist.
Promises were made. Everybody said to live every day like its the last. She wasn't sure if she did.
But then, it doesn't matter now.

The switched off lights were enough to stop the razor sharp steel blade's glaze.
A whisper to God, thanking Him for him, is all that her heart could think of.
Nobody would stop living,nothing would change and she would walk away free into the abyss of lost love.

Of all the promises made, she wished you kept one for her. To save her.
The knife helps the hand cut a fine slit on the finer veins protruding out on the right arm's wrist.
A cascade of blood soaks into her thighs through her thin gown, coloring the floor, in process.

There are no tears, there is a little pain and there are very few heartbeats left.
Maybe two.Maybe one.

Or maybe not.
<....................breathing stops......................................................heartbeats vanish.................................and she awaits for your wish .........................iris closes....>

A Night Train To Lisbon - Departures

2011-02-22T08:36:00.000-08:00

I tried.
They couldn't deny that. Not even if they wanted to.

Crescent moon, and no dogs to draw their silhouettes against its radiance. Filthy alleys look cleaner after the rain lashed walls wear off their graffiti.

..and so it ends, quick and painless. Her wounds were yet to be healed.

She did not let down a single tear. Endless wishes i whispered.

Nothing worked, no, nothing worked.

Open manholes and stinks dry up my faith. Ripples,that my boot creates,blur the reflection of the nimbus on the stalled rain waters. My skin perforates to the barathrum of cynicism.

My strides grow faster to resonate with the clock's metal ticks. My soul performs decubitis in front of my mangled distrust self. I try not to cry.

In her bisque colored gown, she lied there emanating eternity.

Her palm reaches up to my cheeks, she feels me. I feel life.A selcouth one.

The white sheets and her light-azore colored crystal danglers form a farrago.

While i wait to cross the zebra lines, a kid piles up near me. Eight year old i guess.

The vehicles gear across the roads swiftly, and the neon lights across, on the shops, blink.

Can't wait anymore. I crash walk onto the busy road. The kid jump starts with me but No!

Stuck among the speeding vehicles, the kid is wasting my time.

I return back to grab his hand. And draw out my NeoStead 2000.

The machines grunge their brakes and screech whilst their windshields stare at the 22.5" barrel.

We cross the road and separate. No 'thank you' from the kid but i don't mind.

The rings spoke to each other while we spared our lips the talking.

The Navy Silk Rose Corsage bouquet was our only witness.

And the zephyr redoing the curtains, well it was just waiting to evanescence away my tears..yet to be drawn.

The metaphysical realms scared me. Yearned to be lost in time and space.

She knew it was time. The tubes have been pulled off. The screens have been switched off.

I hurl across the downtown station and wait for the 8 o'clock.

My sweaty palms hold on tightly to the briefcase. The last job.

And this last job would clear my dues at the cancer care center.

I have done this for as long as i can remember. And now, i wait to end it.

And so it ends. Slow and painful.

Here comes her last kiss and here our entrenched ennui dances.

Fate snaps the strings that tie me to her; our eyes float in our wizelsucht tears.

Ten years and a second. Thats all that it took destiny to separate us.

The doctor stands solemnly at the foot of the bed and my cell rings.

The call of the last job. I oblige.

And oh, the zephyr. yes, i oblige. I cry.

I look back once before i leave the room. She lied there.

Dressed in serenity, camouflaged by frailness.

She wanted a wedding all over again before her prescribed seven weeks ran out.

So, we married today. All over again.On the hospital bed, in her last moments.

The nurses helped dress my sweetheart like the angel of brides.

My sinful hands helped me put on my tuxedo.

The other patients clapped ceremoniously while we exchanged kisses.

And then, i loved her for the seconds left. As much as i could. As much as my veins could pray for her.

I screamed inside as my visage crawled out to God. Please, i cried.

I fought, tore my sins, begged for mercy, dripped blood and asked to save her.

I asked YOU. I asked them. I quivered and bore my burnt prayers.

I cried. And i screamed. I screamed.

I screamed. I screamed. I screamed.

I screamed. I screamed. I screamed.....................

The Barret 82A1 slept calmly in the briefcase.
Me and it have shot people in cold blood. Murdered.

As the metro arrives, people push me aside.

Broken,beat and scarred, I board the night train to Lisbon.

p.s. Night Train to Lisbon (2004) is a philosophical novel by Pascal Mercier. Mercier uses deep self reflective subjects including "night journeys, insomnia and dream-filled sleep, of being stuck in place yet somehow adrift" and so i took the title for my present post.
The above post is my own take on a self-created situation that tries to embody all the themes that Mercier portrays brilliantly in the novel. There is no resemblance in any way to the novel's plot or its characters.
The post carries only the title of the novel and the genre of themes it follows.
Thanks, Mute.

They call her Anahita

2010-10-07T03:17:00.000-07:00

Act 1 Scene 1
0500 Hrs. Radiata Pine outcover, Valdivian Rainforest.

Dew drops, pleural flora.

Dungeon trunks clapping forth their absorbant nature to soak in the moisture.

Wide veins cut through the Bryophyllum leaves giving it a frowning look.

Silence floats through the buried clay of the basin. Animals and squirrels lose their liberty to come out.

And the woods wouldn’t know what will happen a second after.

A second passes by.

Trees clamoured by as fleeting steps swooshed through them, kicking up dirty weeds and shed organic matter.

The crunch sound came from stamping broken twigs and jumping over old logs.

Her breath pitched up the decibel level of the otherwise numb forest. Streaks of her tresses stuck to her cheeks soaking in the sweat. Fear of a lot many verses reflected in her iris.

She comes to a stop in an open space with shrubs hiding the fireflies. A canopy of blitzkrieg silver rays of the diurnal sun shone at 38˚N longitude. The stench of earthly life erodes her interest.

Tired, alert and the only one she was, there in the midst of a Godforsaken place.

A stream of pain starts to build up waist above behind oh her back, a bearable pain. She started to feel warm.

So this 12 year old was trying to figure out as to what is making her feel warm, feel weak.. and slowly her strength began to build. Like she could lift herself up.

Tether by tether her skin on her back began to fold in. A lining of blood made their presence felt, two drops on the crust and the skies caved in. Nimbus clouds dissolved in the brightness of her shine.

Feathers curled out of the little girl, her little fingers felt them on her back and they grew in moments span. She gapes at her carved out wings which now were fluttering up the dust.

12 year old and wing span enough to propel her at a thousand miles. Her mind has no remembrance of what she was running from, no past, no delude. Nothing will stop her from liberty now, the woods witnessed the birth of an angel.

Clapping her wings at an unquestionable force, her little feet stood firm on the ground. The fluttering increased with a deafening sound, bushes swayed and bent and her pupil constricted to brink her gaze onto the cyan colored daylight. She looked up with a faith that was meant to be her last stand.

A second later.

Silence. And the very next moment a shrill sound that would wake the sepulchral Neanderthals.

Seemed like a thin line of light tore apart the earth and jumped to touch the heavenly sky, at a speed that may connect two universes.

I call her a strong little soul, they call her Anahita.

They call her Anahita

2010-10-06T10:33:00.000-07:00

Dew drops, pleural flora.

Dungeon trunks clapping forth their absorbant nature to soak in the moisture.

Wide veins cut through the Bryophyllum leaves giving it a frowning look.

Silence floats through the buried clay of the basin. Animals and squirrels lose their liberty to come out.

And the woods wouldn’t know what will happen a second after.

A second passes by.