11/8/2010, Wednesday...
When the strident creatures were
feeding on the silence,
of a rainy winter night,
he walked past the shadow
of an old groggy lamp-post.
Soaked in an unknown pain,
his face sheltered, long streaks of grime.
Walking along the long road,
to the incognito tunes of those sloshing drops of rain,
swallowing heavily,
he tried to free himself
from the grasp of a sacrosanct chain.
Along that long road,
in the proximity of a crossroad,
and under the only sky star,
there was a baptismal public bar.
There, the cult of happy men,
celebrated the ethereal felicity
of a fluid substance.
His mug was filled to the brim,
they say, he drank all of it and
died in a following strife.
"He used to drink too much", they said,
too much of a fluid substance,
a fluid substance, they called life.
I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts. I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...
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5 comments:
he died of drinking too much of life..! awesome..
the images used, the picture created, the sounds, the silence.. rain.. pain.. the feeling of being chained.. the attempt to be free.. all keep rolling in the mind..
love the expression..
i m really happy to know that u understand whats not "life" . you have written remarkably as ever .
as i go thru ur posts i can visualize ur words and itz beautiful!! keep up such unique work. although there is a lot of grief n pain beautifully expressed in this post , i wish that u will write something glorious n happy one day :).
Very well written bro...keep it comming.
amazingly written. brought out the worst life can bring to you. but really beautiful.
@all - thanks a lot friends..
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