“Get Out”

Judgments made in hay, are not only swift but furious as well for me and as well the in and out me. It is not always a hug or push nor acquaintances or be keen on. Sometimes there are aspects which i tend to overlook while I utter something and think something. But mostly all of them are ignored and the space is crunched deep within though sublime.

May be all of us tend to be sturdy for others and yet the Achilles' heel stand tall to the figure. But when I myself I have been like this in most of the times and I don’t regret. May be I spurt too much and it crosses all and flies over the valley of abstract as tall and strong puting each other to a match.

All throughout that I have known it was the best yet the worst was coming all along. And yet I believe I shall not change a bit for the lost of the loss which isn’t “Martian” but well within me. Here also I forget to forgive and would yet like to forget, seems an ongoing moment for a long time till now. Seems would not fly with the ashes or flow with the streams. It’s waiting for the outburst like the eruption of the volcano and magus floating in to me screaming “Get Out”.

Late of soon I can conclude I shall fasten it as it shakes me from deep within and also forms bar engulfing me in to. When it walks steadily but slowly I feel it’s haunting. Yet I know I shall keep walking from here but to where!!

It’s taking a lot from me and I yet I keep it posted as I know the lamp above this is still burning and I still breathing.

new and old

Feelings were never so obscure and ambiguous
Aren’t pragmatic but yet nice to feel
When and why do we tend to look for a preposition?
Some are the old ones whereas some naives new attractions

Tending to shuffle from the best to the rest the just of the frame that feeling frame
Shuffling in and out of the crust scattered all across
Deep within the fury of the desire keeps pushing it up

Riding over the Low and high tides
When fog shows something only what I choose to see
flow and flown were mere the exemplification how far w go
gull had its own way but the desire flows some where else

the preposition that makes me go insane was I to lame
to stick with the old stick where ever I moved
Unlike the rest where the feeling just resides calmly as if in deep sleep
Revolving around the stick badly stuck

End is all I feel and it’s just along with me
It’s all I have its all I own it’s all I respect its all I clinch to
Silently buried deep in the inner self I walk in and out
Walking as fresh as the old feeling walks with the new

Frill

The longest drill in the frill all over
The air amongst the hairs
Though cool but yet as warm as the sparks
Goes off as soon as it comes

Seems unlikely freshness touching the fragrance
Though a small feint of the grit owns the grip
Looking the trip over the fumes and perfume
The full lines strength of the welcome

Played to the tunes lost in the moments
The moments which were for the lost
Found and lost or lost and found was just game
Engulfing were just the touch of the gust

Lines touching the shores, but the waves ingesting it all up
The waver couldn’t wash off the fumes of the grins
But fumes was flamed and blamed for the grace
Saw it was just a glare above the rule and prowl

Profusion lost in the own intrusion of the crippling inertia
Nor even did it jumped over the assigned peak
The fumbling feet were always far as if ordered
The hastening seems to have lost affection on name of acquaintance