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The Grounds of the WildCannot be chained down or caged.. For the wild, cannot be adapted January 09 Moths and FirefliesThe title might be revised later, and this piece will undergo some editing, but for now- allow me to release the reins of my poetic thrist and post my first writing after a very very long sleep.. rusty, but alas! i am free from writer's block! Dedicated to: Italian, TG and plastic Poet. Enjoy. __________________________________________________ _______________ We ran in fields of copper and dust, Under a faint diluted blue sky. Dry cries rise from beneath our bare treading feet, Ravenous moths feeding on parched sheaves of corn, Hunger in a land so barren, Greed, in a place so poor, I reach to hold your hand, And we become one. We challenge our shadows in a race against time, And we win. We bind them in ropes and knots against the pillars of the old temple, And we kneel at the ancient altar praying for their mercy. "Stay here, for the dead cannot dwell with the living.." And we run towards the setting sun. I reach to hold your hand, And we become one. Cerulean nights dance in arrays of silver-blue, The stars choose to adorn the skies, And leave the moon naked and shamed. She mourns to the earth that sleeps below, But only wolves answer her melancholic cries. The fireflies guide our way through the fields, I reach to hold your hand, And we become one. We run through the nights, Into the sunsets, And sunrises. We run through the rain, The winds, The moths, and the fireflies. Nothing can stop us. We run and run.. Until running becomes a part of our being. I reach to hold your hand, But you let go. You want to go back.. Past the grieving moon and the cerulean nights. You want to go back.. Back to the old temple and free your shadow from its shackles. You want to go back, And save the feeding moths from their phantom. You want to go back, Run away from the nights, the sunsets, and the sunrises. Run away from all the things we ran to. You want to Run back, Run away.. You want to wake up. And leave me here alone, here alone.. Running.. Running, in your dreams. December 02 " rain, rain come again.."" come again another day..."
Its been raining since late morning all day long. it took us by surprise while we were hitting the highway driving to AD. it was like this scene from jurrassic park ( wet streets, crazy speeding cars, blurry windows..? rings a bell?) especially when we drove back at the evening.
I love rain.
As i type, it still falls heavily.. the windows of my study room clatter and the roof is even leaking ( once upon a time my study room was a balcony, it was givin a slack of a roof and they now call it my study room.. pretty decent work if you ask me. but when its raining like this..? well.. im kinda reminded coldly that it was once a balcony.....)
It looks like this refugee camp now, i have cups, pencil holders, my fav coffe mug all placed in various parts of my ex-balcony study room to hold the dripping water.
Cluck-cluck-cluck.
Did i report this and filed charges against daddy-o?
hell no!
i love it!
Rain is one my my most favourite things in the world. driving back, ive watched in awe as lightning striked more intensely and rain pounded harder.
" God is in the Rain.." - Evey from V for Vendetta
it's true..
God is in the rain.
I wrote once in my poetry journal:
" and tell her, that lightning isn't the sound of the wrath of god.. but it is the sound of the heavens.. urging the skies to quench the thirst of the earth.."
God is in the Rain, and rain is everywhere around me.
therefour God is everywhere.
id3oo.. tara da3wat nzool el ma6ar mustajabh.
may all your prayers be answered- Ameein.
Ill conclude this Entry with one of my writings that holds imagery of the rain:
I run barefoot on the cold grass. Rain kisses my naked shoulders. I tremble. I call your name. Rain answers me. You are everywhere.. And yet—nowhere at all..
How can it be? That you exist in everything? How can you be the rain that kisses my shoulders and the grass that tickles my feet? How can you be the tremble, the voice.. the rain.. How can you exist around me, and yet—not be there for me?
I call you again.
Rain answered me.
I call you again.
Rain answered me.
I call you, yet another time..
Rain answered me.
I stopped calling.
Seems like the only voice ill hear tonight, is the rain that pounds on my shoulders.
Rain seized.
You called.
I stopped listening.
November 12 D is for DevdasLet me go there, in the dark forest of your hair. Let the scent of Jasmine and musk give me a thousand deaths, then bath my body.. Bath my body with Rose water.. Purify it for my journey to heaven. The heaven that dwells in the depth of a thousand night.. the nights in your hair.
Entangle me, Entangle me in your long braids. Chain my yearning heart in the colorful threads that bind your hair. Do not liberate your hair from its cage of knots and threads. For i envy the wind that will crawl inside my heaven, I envy the wind that will make you dance. Dance away from me.. For i am but a dead man. A dead man killed by jasmine and musk and bathed in rose water.. And dead men don't dance. -extract from my poem: shahrazad, my indian princess.
I have written this piece after watching " kabhi alvida na kehna"- or to tell you the truth, the soundtrack of this movie was this poem's greatest muse. i truly enjoyed that movie ( it was the first indian movie i ever saw- i know thats soo un-local of me!- and my best!)
and yesterday i saw the lord of the rings meets kindgom of heaven bollywood's vision of a epic-ness, wuthering heights meets pride and prejudice bollywood's vision of love.. and the tragedy/dramah factor? came straight from the bollywood factories!
D is for Devdas.
I have one word to describe it.. Poetry. and oh! gold.
Poetry and glittering gold..
everything in that movie is poetry. the customs, the dances.. the songs.. the place. E v e r y t h i n g
From the eloquent love dialogues between the two lovers, to the hypnotic dance moves and the passionate crooning of beautiful women adorned in ruby and gold.
to minute detail of everything, the henna on the women's hands.. the anklets on their feet- the tears on their eyes.
Devdas was beautiful for its beautiful women i say!
Somthing both devdas ( shahrukh) and aishwaraya said striked a chord on me-
Devdas said arguing the arrogance of his father about marrying his love- who is not in the same rank, wealth and family clan as devdas:
Father: they are of diffrent rank.. diffrent class.. you will shame our family if you took their daughter. they are diffrent from us..
devdas: even when we tread on the same soil? eat from the same food?
father: the birds who fly in the sky do not look at the fish that swim in the waters.
devdas: and yet the humans on earth could relate to the gods in heaven?
Paru ( aishwaray) said in defence of the people ( courtesses/dancers/entertainers) in the presence of landlords and aristocrats when she wanted to visit them in thier chambers/city looking for devdas-
paru: their dwelling is avoided like a plague and yet the rain touch their grounds and the monsoon smother the windows of their chambers..Nature does not discriminate.. why should we?
Both qoutes stand up for the "diffrent" the rejected, the outcasts of society. Racism runs in our veins and blinds our eyes.. we don't see people we see color, we see ranks, we see wealth..
We no longer unite in the color of blood we shed. for some of us bleed white, some of us bleed brown.. some of us bleed wealth.. and some of us bleed none.
we have forgotten that we have been carried in one womb and been fed from the same milk.
Our mother is one- and yet we deny the brothers and sisters from our mother.
When will come the time where we we all unite in the color of blood we shed?
. . . . .
Ill leave you with that thought right there-
I would want to conclude my entry by sending a warm gracsias to-
Hafsa- for lending me a bag full of sharukh khan movies ( including devdas) thankyou for shoving me right in the middle of the bollywood scene and making me see what the whole fuss was about! now im considered a normal localiya who watches indian movies and wails at every love scene lol :P
Caly- for making my dxb trip the most amazing trip i have ever been on! Sorry if "we" hurted your kidneys min el th7k lol- another tummy saw hell too! :D oooh o' that irish dude? w7aaytik 2abreto :P
October 29 To blog or not to blog?Ive been trying to publish a post since yesterday. My initial motive was gushing about my re-found love for books and the literary world ( its been a long time since ive picked/finished a novel) so yah- it was about that. That was last night in the earliest hours of noon, then ive had this beautiful conversation with my friend oversees afternoon-ish ( 3a9er-ish) and we went full-on plato on God, Love and Life and that got me inspired to put on my best shakespear act of pumpin up my chest , stroking on my goatee and rolling a miniture skull between my fingers and sampling it in contemplation. Before that ive been reading alot of Descartes ( especially his works on doubting whatever there is to doubt and about finding truth and proving the existence of god) so yes- i was your little plato for days and i wanted to take it on full throttle in my comeback to the blogging world grand opening post!
Then this morning came another blunder, i woke up late ( i dnt have classes today so i decided to ditch my tutoring job in uni and those extra clases i used to attend for challenging out purposes from some courses and stay home to blog my fingers out) i din have the best french breakfast ( i was craving mapple syrup crepe * wails* ) and ive had this phone call which its whole sole purpose is to 7areging my nerves!
ANY-ways!
Then there came the grand MESS UP finale of my much anticipated quiet morning alone with no sisters huddling over my shoulders or fightin me for territorial reasons ( pc)- ive had this chat with a dear friend who couldn't understand the happiness that i was living in my life at the momment- that... that really plummeted down my pomp-pomp cheerleader mood.
ummm, so yah. Now im totally confused on what to blog about! do i wear my thick-framed specs ( caution: this is only intended for imagery purposes no to be taken literally!) and become your lil goody-goody book worm and ramble on about my fervish love for books? or do i take the stage and stride along with my miniture skull and disscuss some falsafa with you? or perhaps i can put up my angelo halo and dreamingly talk about those issues i disscussed about with my friend oversees ( God, Love and life?)
*sighs heavily*
- her mp3 is tuned to a group of tracks titled B-misc ( beautiful miscellaneous) and now craig david is crooning in the backround talking about a smooth necessary break up-
one last dance- craig david ( believe me, this one is not too cliched! its actually a nice number)
Any-ways!
*cracks her knuckles and shifts in her seat trying to find the perfect comfy spot on her office chair*
SO! this entry WILL not be concluded without inserting somthing meaningful and worthy! * eyes sno and gives her a reasured nod* don't worry boss im right on it!
i want to type down the opening of the "discourse on method" by descartes. The opening sentence of the discourse to philosophy have been described as the likes of the opening sentence of the pride and prejudice to a novel- * gushes* i know! just perfect!
" Good sense is, of all things among men, the most equally distributed; For everyone thinks himself so abundantly provided with it, that those even who are the most difficult to satisfy in everything else, do not usually desire a larger measure of this quality than they already possess"
If only we were greedy to posses good sense like we're greedy for wealth, fortunue and happiness.. wouldnt the world be a better place? atleast it would be bearable to live in with sensible people leading their lives SENSIBLY and with the decent-est ( lofecake, i know such word doesn't exist- im just experimenting :P ) morals and ethics?
Good sense is the only thing we ALL possess but some people don't wish to use it ( or explore it or perhaps even gain more of it) for their benefits. our fridges are stocked, our mansion walls are high, our rooms are airconditioned and we have goose-feathered pillows ( din know they used goose feathers for pillows!) under our heads-
but our minds..
Our minds are still empty.
When will we realize that the power of the "mind" beats all other powers? the nuclear, the chemical ( sadam, where art thou?) and the weaponary in all shape and forum?
Why did we stop producing philosophers? what the renaissance died with da vinci, micheal Angelo and descartes? did we suddenly become too "smart" and too "whole" for any new discoveries in the releam of thought and prespective?
If Descartes would walk this earth again and ask a fellow 21-centurer ( another non-existing word lofecake, my bad :P) about the greatest discovery in the releam of words and thoughts, he would say: well 5o cent created the word "wanster" and yes it IS a combination of gansgter and a pimp but its doesn't mean any of the two! CAN YOU BLOODY BELIEVE IT? * british snare*
*stares blankly ahead*
Shakespear created over 2000 words in english, ( words likes of embrace, sunset, staircase, borrow..) i know! words that you thought were originally english! errr, although english is NOT original bc its this big cocktail of french and latin and some other ancient rooted lingo ( but hey! thats another issue!) but you got my point!
A simple man who loved the theaters and poetry inserted over 2000 new words in the english lingo..
What did we add to our language? our philosophy? our intellecutual thought?
Wanster. no not a gangster or a pimp, but a smooth rider wanster.. oh how lovely!
ill leave you with that thought, * pauses to get that dramatic silence before exit*
Have a good day now!
Before i leave the building, i wanna tag a link of a wicked blogger who made it to my fav bloggers list:
check him out! he is so wild adapter-ish :D
Yallah fi amaan allah!
shout-out: OS- intee batkooneein salad mga6i3 taga6eei3! i hate you! missed you SOO MUCH! email ya 3amy! sms! comment on yours truly wildy- O's blog! anything! * grumbles* October 08 I'm Calling you..I'm calling you.. From behind a cloud of mist that obscured my eyes, Through Clasped hands, Through a clasped heart, That bowed at your altar- And whispered your name to the earth that trembled, Under the weight of her encumber, I'm calling you.. -wildy
I called him.. and he answered me.
I am Finally free from my encumber.. el7amdellah
I'll be back to blog soon, watch out for this space! im coming back.. and im coming back strong!
I want to thank everyone who showed support, who called/sms-ed/emailed/msn-ed.. i want to thank everyone who included me in their prayers..
Thankyou..
At your Altar, my heart knelt to pray.. Thankyou O' Lord
A dedication: I'm calling you- Outlandish
muchas love, Wild adapter September 13 Shahrazad, my Indian PrincessTo All UAEfourm's Word Conjurers! A bow and a kiss on thou brows!
Italian, Tottally Girlish, Doc Love, Funky Casanoa, Shahd.. The last remaining "old school" poets from the good ol' days.. I miss you all and to those who havent been active ( italian and shahd) please.. don't let the magic wither and die.. To all my blog readers, a thousand apology for my desertion of this space, quite alot have been going in my life and ive been overwhelmed with many issues, but inshallah im waiting for this ONE BIG THING to end the tempest and calm the hurricanes thats been rocking my little world. please keep me in your prayers.
I know ive been away from the writing scene but im back with a little somthing! This piece was conjured while tuning to the soundtrack of the movie " Kabhi Alvida Na kehna"  This is but my humble endeavor to capture some of the magic of India and India's beautiful women * mashallah* . . .
Let me go there, in the dark forest of your hair. Let the scent of Jasmine and musk give me a thousand deaths, then bath my body.. Bath my body with Rose water.. Purify it for my journey to heaven. The heaven that dwells in the depth of a thousand night.. the nights in your hair. Entangle me, Entangle me in your long braids. Chain my yearning heart in the colorful threads that bind your hair. Do not liberate your hair from its cage of knots and threads. For i envy the wind that will crawl inside my heaven, I envy the wind that will make you dance. Dance away from me.. For i am but a dead man. A dead man killed by jasmine and musk and bathed in rose water.. And dead men don't dance. . . .
Draw me with you Kohl pencil, Complete a broken man. Then Draw your eyes with the blackness of the kohl.. Awaken the eyes of heaven. Gleaming stones of emerald that glistened the colors of earth and fire.. Draw me with your kohl pencil again, for you have broken me for the thousandth time.. again. . . . Sha caught a playful butterfly between her hands. It fluttered against her interlaced fingers and tried to flee from her grasp. Foolish butterfly.. Who wants to escape a cage adorned with the embriodery of henna and crowned with rings of ruby and gold? Who wants to escape a cage with the scent of musk and roses.. A cage more delicate than the kiss of dew.. More Delicate than the touch of a fragile breeze after a monsoon? Who wants to escape heaven? . . . |
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