This is a collage titled, "All you need is love..."
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Stages
Oil painting on board.
"The voice is cut,
the noises prevail.
The noises cut,
I listen voices again!
Behind walls of silence,
switching gear to gear,
my journey begins into the wilderness,
across pathless paths I take
as I transcend deeper and deeper into the self...
humbly I surrender to the unseen, the unknown.
No pleasure nor pain,
still in motion, so lies all emotions, thus I stay...
Waiting for the breath to subside.
What am I?
Nothing!
From nothing I came
and to nothing I go
and to realize that nothing I am
feels like there is nothing to worry no more.
"Thathuvumasi"-they say,
To experience a feeling as this.
Hard to explain and hardly explained.
Can't say this is bliss
and can't say that there is anything I missed.
A thought becomes everything
and everything becomes a thought.
Nothing wasted reigns,
nothing wasted remains.
Life is thus and thus remain...
a potpourri of thoughtless thoughts during meditation."
"The voice is cut,
the noises prevail.
The noises cut,
I listen voices again!
Behind walls of silence,
switching gear to gear,
my journey begins into the wilderness,
across pathless paths I take
as I transcend deeper and deeper into the self...
humbly I surrender to the unseen, the unknown.
No pleasure nor pain,
still in motion, so lies all emotions, thus I stay...
Waiting for the breath to subside.
What am I?
Nothing!
From nothing I came
and to nothing I go
and to realize that nothing I am
feels like there is nothing to worry no more.
"Thathuvumasi"-they say,
To experience a feeling as this.
Hard to explain and hardly explained.
Can't say this is bliss
and can't say that there is anything I missed.
A thought becomes everything
and everything becomes a thought.
Nothing wasted reigns,
nothing wasted remains.
Life is thus and thus remain...
a potpourri of thoughtless thoughts during meditation."
The Marionettes
Oil painting on board.
"A drop of tear like dew drop did fall,
with pain in the heart like a sinking star.
Like eyeless moths on the dark horizon,
the looming image of sorrow drifts.
The bridges move as I in stillness stand;
time flies by and so doth the distance.
Scramming like a ruthless vagabond,
bonds of restraint seem to have no bounds.
The world rests well and so must I
knowing that tides roll past as destiny moves by.
Birth, life or death, we are just puppets on loose strings;
held by a power above.
Till fate moves on, let us dance our dance,
like the last standing dew drops on the blade of grass."
"A drop of tear like dew drop did fall,
with pain in the heart like a sinking star.
Like eyeless moths on the dark horizon,
the looming image of sorrow drifts.
The bridges move as I in stillness stand;
time flies by and so doth the distance.
Scramming like a ruthless vagabond,
bonds of restraint seem to have no bounds.
The world rests well and so must I
knowing that tides roll past as destiny moves by.
Birth, life or death, we are just puppets on loose strings;
held by a power above.
Till fate moves on, let us dance our dance,
like the last standing dew drops on the blade of grass."
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Photographer's Statement
These are some photos that I click with my humble SLR camera. Just for the feel of rolling the camera with the film, winding to load it and taking time to get the picture just the way I expect with no surprizes whatsoever, gives me a sense of control. Any artificial source of light (mainly the flash) is strictly avoided and instead I prefer to shoot under natural lighting or candle lights. Hence managed to stay away from the lure of the digital cam (so far).
Literally The Ship Of The Desert
The Complexity Of Simplicity
Bloomed And Awaiting
Touch Me Not
The blooming of the elusive flowers; like a girl.
The piercing thorns; like a girl.
The beautiful sway with the breeze; like a girl.
The misty morning dew resting like a kiss on a girl.
"Touch me not" said she and revealed her tender self.
The piercing thorns; like a girl.
The beautiful sway with the breeze; like a girl.
The misty morning dew resting like a kiss on a girl.
"Touch me not" said she and revealed her tender self.
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