How many people I've looked

I wonder how many people I've looked at all my life and never seen.
― John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

 

Do I look up to you
Struggle for words
Frames and formations
Do I overlook everything else
None of me makes any sense
Nothing of you makes sense
Paucity of passions
Empty of emotions
I travel with so many
Many faces I've known
Nothing of them I know
Do you look up to me
and find words
Does a glance of me
Gives away any sense
or everything is lost upon
Remembrance

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.

Who Are We, If Not We Talk

Be not afraid; the world is full of noises

Of yours and mine, from time to time!!

Talking, exit means relief, shedding

Of burdens and worries, light felt heart

Voice that comes out, leaves a mark

Pathway for the problems to follow

Then they just ooze out.

Heart seeks what? A congruent heart

That catches skipped beat and skipper

Says too little, next time a little more

Sometimes pushes, sometimes pleads

Adjusts, as shifts the needs.

Verbiage, overflowed this tiny heart

Crazy paving, then there’s highway

Speak, talk-to-me, faces say

Patterns, patterns so many

Public and personal displays.

Why interrupt when one goes on and talks

It’s a sober job to enounce, to rant, to scream

Sometimes, in midst of all this voiced chaos

A mind is freed, for a while at least

Come and go, that are worries.

Who are we, if not we talk

With voice or with quite

We all take this walk.

It's Time to Have a Conversation

We all have so much to say ... all bubbling inside
just beneath the surface... fluttering its wings
making different sounds... inaudible to people around
all we need is, someone... who will listen without
judging, without thinking... and saying things.

A funny thing about conversations once you start, it requires a great self-control to hit a pause button. Introverts and extroverts are well established in their societal territories and they carry on with their lives in their respective comfort zones. Actual victims are the ones, like me, who fall somewhere in between the whole personality spectrum. At times I'm babbling my tongue out making all possible sounds and gestures and then there are times when I find myself looking for nooks and corners so that I can stand in silence, pretending to seek solace and enjoying the perks being a wallflower. But, after a while my mood swings. Damn, it always does.

I'm a good listener. That's what I think of myself. I act like an absorbent, I try, taking it all inside and not leaking it along the fringes. I think I can save it all, stash it and forget it. That's what friends do and that's what I think is right. Suddenly I find myself browsing people around, looking for a kind ear, a listener. Someone who will sit parallel to me like a tamed dog, saying nothing in response but sedating effect in return. Garbage has been piling up for long, dust has been settling for far too long, maybe this attic in my head need dusting and trouncing. Guess I need to shed my leaves, like that almond tree which I see everyday, stand denuded for a while and then stack it all again.

Many conversations I've had 

in my life's parade 

I was hanging like a portrait 

on some wall, hearing all 

saying nothing

in response.

Mussitations, they say a lot 

everyday, as a junkie smoking pot

heard stories inside stories

song stuffed in a song 

saying too little

in response.

I can handle it all 

filtered well through my firewall

systems are far from perfect 

they always are

sanity breached

in response. 

I hear a shrill cry

from echelons in my head flies

cache of thoughts, floating up above

in sky, only to simmer down

plunge out 

in response.

Clutter when heaps up 

it needs a dump

disclosure is all I seek 

for a closure

saying out loud 

in response. 

“My idea of good company...is the company of clever, well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation; that is what I call good company.'
'You are mistaken,' said he gently, 'that is not good company, that is the best.”
― Jane Austen
____________________________________________________ 
Help "Random Scribblings" win at the Indian Blogger Awards 2013 !!
http://www.indiblogger.in/iba/entry.php?edition=1&entry=41590 

Check it out. Drop a comment if you feel like, Recommend over Facebook or Tweet about it. Peek in, promise it won't take long :)