Sunday, July 16, 2017

I dream my painting and I paint my dream.



I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.

© Iva Borisova
Am I chasing dreams in circles?
One ends another starts
Beginning after the end
I fancy many faces
Each peculiar than other
To live so many lives
Each different than another
Can I swim in all the oceans?
Not all at once, but
Maybe one at a time.

Yes I crave all of it
Lights sounds visuals and touches
No strings of times and spaces
Across the length and breadth
Height thickness contrast and bright
All of it runs in circles
Concentric and conjoined
Can I mill around them all?
Not all at once, but
Maybe one at a time.
 

Saturday, July 8, 2017

Who Designed It?

“What kind of idea are you? Are you the kind that compromises, does deals, accomodates itself to society, aims to find a niche, to survive; or are you the cussed, bloody-minded, ramrod-backed type of damnfool notion that would rather break than sway with the breeze? – The kind that will almost certainly, ninety-nine times out of hundred, be smashed to bits; but, the hundredth time, will change the world.”
Salman Rushdie,
The Satanic Verses


Does really,
really this world conspires
against all your gut
against all that you hold dear

may be
sometimes

who designed it ?
where it came from ?
was it designed that way ?

or it became over the time
to coerce all in to
patterns and standards
from where it came?
all the diktats
all the rules and rates

can we really forget
what is dear to us
follow another being's path?
or we make a niche.
 

 

Thursday, February 9, 2017

In Search Of Reasons

Where you come from is gone, where you thought you were going to was never there, and where you are is no good unless you can get away from it. Where is there a place for you to be? No place... Nothing outside you can give you any place... In yourself right now is all the place you've got.
Flannery O'Connor


One strange bearded priest
stared from far corner east
why get so lost in past ?
he seemed to ask, if only
to drink and forget at last
Stack all priorities up
one on another on top

Where's everyone off to ?

Priest turned to ask again
if everyone indeed in pain
where all these paths lead ?
he seemed to ask, think and see
each road if differently bleeds
can multiple faces be of help
layers on layers if are draped

Is this place a circus?
An enormous merry go round

After centuries of screening
Priest is still there staring
are those red sandstone eyes ?
As if it is trying,to say I've
seen it all, heard it all
still it stops and pries humanity
can it be saved
salvaged from depravity

Questions posed for answers
search is for reasons instead
For all the posed questions
Answers.

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

If Only One Could See

I fear it is my lot, to bide my days in hunchbacked thought, to find what I forgot.
~Roman Payne 


So many lives one can see
Standing lone in some balcony
Each hole teeming with
lights, many lives of
varying intensity
something's amiss
If only one could see

Sunday, July 10, 2016

We Stuck, Nor Breath Nor Motion





-------------------------------------------------------------------
Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge,
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Stuck in a comfortable place
No guess what happens next
With a clear view of jam ahead
So much, much to do instead
Still sucked at the same spot
To stay put or to honk horns
One after another, another
Another one day goes by
Moves with zero sound
Midst music all around
Direction signs all day long
To move dead straight ahead
It seems like moving, or 
Moving got stuck in a place.

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Eternal Sunset, Empty Eyeballs





The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd - The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.”
Fernando Pessoa




So empty these eyeballs I see
Dry of imaginations mysteries
Do they feel what I feel?
Plain truth lives deceits

Audience do they seek in me
To witness some silent speech
Far off can they heave?
Into vastness of eternities

Empty eyeballs
Eyeballs emptied


Sunday, October 11, 2015

Life Evolves, Memories Not





The past beats inside me like a second heart.
John Banville, The Sea



Good times, when they are gone
Leave a sweet taste behind
Alive still, still in my heart
Like a story in rewind

Collapsed bridge long back
Gone days never come back
Little of me still attached
Those voices and sounds
Little of me still cares
If things are still around

Fossilized memories
Unwashed imprints
They remain, always
A good kind of pain

World is in flux
Always changing
Life evolves
Memories not.



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