tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666320407385758072024-03-13T09:05:07.114-07:00self discovery is exciting..and scary too..i need to organise the clutter in my mind...this is just the cupboard i am using...The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-35561705194476133682010-04-09T08:28:00.000-07:002010-04-09T08:56:20.636-07:00subtle falsities<a href="http://www.lostateminor.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/10/oil-paints.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 480px; height: 480px;" src="http://www.lostateminor.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/10/oil-paints.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><em>Subtle shades of jealousy, painted red hundred times over<br /><br />Masking it with the sparingly understood word of compassion, false compassion<br /><br />Subtle shades of sadness painted yellow hundred times over<br /><br />Not brave enough to trust that people might understand for once<br /><br />Subtle shades of pure joy, painted black hundred times over<br /><br />Always afraid of judgement, afraid to be truly happy<br /><br />Subtle shades of true love, painted blue hundred times over<br /><br />To not be branded blind, but to be known as loving for convenience<br /><br />Ah! Such is the condition of the world today that doth thrive on falsities <br />Thus sayeth a wise philosopher... </em>The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-69069496311003949512010-04-09T07:58:00.000-07:002010-04-09T08:12:09.561-07:00a snapshot<a href="http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/thumb_322/122398572388cVuF.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 247px; height: 350px;" src="http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/thumb_322/122398572388cVuF.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />leaves bright red and orange<br />frozen in air<br />just bereft of their branches<br /><br />shadows unmoving<br />never changing<br />ever frozen<br /><br />hair flying in the wind<br />frozen in weird dance poses<br /><br />smiles stuck to the faces<br />plastic<br />frozen<br /><br />eyes freezing midway<br />stunned water droplets<br />frozen midway<br />tears<br /><br /><br /><br />frozen expressions<br /><br />frozen timeThe Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-19453477206903487632009-03-31T22:42:00.000-07:002009-03-31T23:17:59.033-07:00melancholy....i blackened my eyes till they looked as black.. oh black as the night ocean..<br />i blushed my cheeks till they burned their way through and ate me up... <br />i bled my lips till they dripped my whole heart out...<br />i draped myself in pale red...<br />knowing full well it was what you liked...<br />i ran to meet you...<br />fighting them who stood against...<br /><br /><br />only you never came...<br />only you never meant to come....The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-59464150659063114122009-03-23T10:43:00.000-07:002009-03-25T12:31:48.512-07:00mai best frend...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjstn4eICb2T4RISFMy0zEXqQXv0nWm5xocUsLysSp2pw_yApMq_xjqk2nK4CrJEatqrcfvX5gfYcNSXTNVpHyDi0MwoDxhcgJLUCavZBr1SN6tLBuE2jEMVgSlUxuEbKtGb9H0SQsAXOjG/s1600-h/20070315093644_stranger_fog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjstn4eICb2T4RISFMy0zEXqQXv0nWm5xocUsLysSp2pw_yApMq_xjqk2nK4CrJEatqrcfvX5gfYcNSXTNVpHyDi0MwoDxhcgJLUCavZBr1SN6tLBuE2jEMVgSlUxuEbKtGb9H0SQsAXOjG/s200/20070315093644_stranger_fog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317205295799023298" /></a><br />Her naime is Koel. She s 19 yers old...tre yers yungr t me... but we ar best frends... she levs t saime boks as I do..ar favrit bok s 'totochan'... my moma yused t reed it fur mi.. ar musik taists difer tho... she levs rok! i haite it...<br /><br />oooh... but she s reel fun... she kin maike u laf.. kry... just as it soots her... n i cant eva furgit t taimes wen she has bin ther fur mi.. <br /><br />loog taime bak, no won yused t tok t mi..everywon yused t say i wes mad... den she caime... she wes .. no.. is d best... <br /><br />evun today sumbudy throo stons at mi.. they also tide things t my skirt .. n i maide loud souns wen i walkt.. they laf at mi.. i yused to kry.. a loot.. eerlier.. but nouw i m faine... i hav u .. so wot if they cant see yu.. so wat if they tink i am tokin t nobody.. so wat if they tink i m mad... <br /><br />i don caire.. i hav yu.. mai best frend...The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-32842782486771523502009-03-23T10:30:00.000-07:002009-03-23T10:43:27.075-07:00a girl...i heard a big bang to my left... i jerked my head to see what it was... and then i saw her... a tiny, brown girl with matted hair and large eyes... a shopkeeper was shouting at her... she just looked on... <br /><br />i went close to her, bent down and smiled... she had broken the vase kept outside while running behind a kitten... she looked at me with those large eyes... and then looked away...<br /><br />i tried to hold her hand... she jerked it from me... i paid for the damage... she didnt react... just looked on...<br /><br />i left... and then i felt a tug on my skirt... she was standing with her palm outstretched... asking me for money...The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-33054199055011350122009-02-06T09:11:00.001-08:002009-02-06T09:22:12.248-08:00broken shells<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4QHtvgkrgx2vpSjjDas34yzwMGIOy8_43f-7dzpD6Po3Ay5ttaVQN656WzO9muOcp1UU2zql2oE3WsT-I_E-_1hTw2HbDE6ALkdyfU-R7qdUyH1WdjupGCvP32E0YpzU3UJNx4JLV7O-U/s1600-h/images.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4QHtvgkrgx2vpSjjDas34yzwMGIOy8_43f-7dzpD6Po3Ay5ttaVQN656WzO9muOcp1UU2zql2oE3WsT-I_E-_1hTw2HbDE6ALkdyfU-R7qdUyH1WdjupGCvP32E0YpzU3UJNx4JLV7O-U/s200/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299735916029594802" /></a><br /><br /><br />I turned in my bed and tried counting sheep again. I have been doing this for the past three weeks. I need to see a doctor I guess... or this might very well turn into some complicated form of insomnia... that is, if it already hasn’t done that. I was always a light sleeper. Lights and noise were enough to keep me up for hours. But these days, the house is dark and quiet. It is the loudness of my thoughts that makes me an insomniac, or on the verge of becoming one. <br />Soon... I say to myself... soon...<br /><br />__________________________________________________________________________________<br /><br />I saw him for the first time in the railway station. And somehow, my eyes just lingered on him. It was not because of the ‘electricity in the air’. It was just because he was tall, very tall. And he hefted the big bag he had so easily... I am sure all the girls in the station were staring at him too. And my fervent prayers were answered the moment I sent it up. He sat in the coupe where I was. I glanced at him shyly... on and off... He was reading ‘Fountainhead’... my then favourite. And no, it was not fate. I certainly don’t believe that.<br />We started speaking somehow... I don’t remember how it started. All I know is that we ended up talking for hours, and I did feel a connection with him... we ‘vibed’ well together. <br /><br />____________________________________________________________________________________<br /><br />He had gotten down in the night to get me some water. The train started moving and he hadn’t noticed. I shouted... He ran behind the train, and was almost on the last step when he slipped. <br /><br />___________________________________________________________________________________<br /><br />I can’t live with myself anymore. Soon... I tell myself...soon. I’ll soon gain the courage to kill myself for killing him.The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-68276017816558632162009-02-06T09:08:00.000-08:002009-02-06T09:11:37.352-08:00Broken shells<span style="font-style:italic;">So thin the layer was, I shivered <br />So much that my teeth fell off<br />And I was turned into this old lady<br />I stared at myself in the mirror<br />Stared at this apparition<br />A shell of who I was once upon a time<br />I grew old<br />And saw the crack on the shell <br />All that I had left<br />Of this me... who was once more me than me...<br />The cracks frighten me...<br />But I am a realist<br />I have learnt to accept them <br />As mine own<br />As me... may be more me than I ever was...<br /></span>The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-7600024640106238952008-12-23T00:22:00.001-08:002008-12-23T00:24:28.978-08:00fly like the eagle bird...The swing was bright yellow in colour. She and her friends would take turns on it every day, trying to swing faster each time. It was she who came up with the idea. According to her, as the swing went high in the air, at the precise moment, in the precise position, if one jumped, one would fly... “just like that eagle bird Mama pointed out that day.” And of course everyone believed her. She was, after all, the one who made that ‘flying saucer thingie’. <br />She wanted to be the first to fly, so she mounted the swing. Feeling the familiar surge of energy (or adrenaline, as the grown-ups would say), which came every time she embarked on one of her adventures, she pushed off and kicked her legs to and fro with all her might. The swing rose high and for some reason, the image of her favourite chocolate truffle cake (“the one my Mama makes!”) came to her mind. She pumped her legs with as much energy as she could muster. The swing went faster and faster. She could hear her friends cheering, somewhere far below. At the precise moment, in the precise position, she let go. She flew for precisely 2.3 seconds before she crashed. She whispered to herself as her friends ran to her side, “Next time, I should jump after about five more seconds. Then I’ll fly like that eagle bi... Mama show...” And then, she lost consciousness...The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-61047411821031182262008-11-13T11:25:00.000-08:002008-11-14T02:07:50.161-08:00the voice...<p align="left"><a href="http://www.jasontopia.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/10/uk2007-077blog.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 262px; height: 228px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://www.jasontopia.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/10/uk2007-077blog.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The whistle sounded. The people on the platform started moving to my right. They were all moving in the same way. Only I sat still... in the train. I looked at them pass by and I smiled. </span></div><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I am 28 years old; I feel forty though. I have had a good life, neither too great, nor too bad... just like you. Yes, I am an ordinary woman, with curves and flats in the wrong places and lots of bad hair days too. I work in one of those nondescript schools: a nondescript teacher. I write occasionally, but my ‘art’ remains hidden in my diary. Soon, I’ll be the nondescript wife of a nondescript guy and be part of a nondescript family in a nondescript place. Life... </span></div><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I took a book; flipped its pages. And my mind drifted...<br />***<br />It was a cloudy evening. The wind was strong, and I could get an occasional whiff of the salty air from the sea. I love such days. I was standing on my balcony, watching the trees dance. And that was when I saw the dog. He looked like a stray dog, but he had a black collar around his neck. Why I noticed him was because of the happiness he seemed to exude. He was happiness... from the top of his head to the tip of his short tail. And he was smiling... no, I am not exaggerating. I could even say he was laughing, the way his tongue was lolling out, and the way he was prancing. I heard a man’s voice. “Patch!” The dog ran to meet him, whoever he was...<br />And somehow I remember thinking of that voice... again and again...<br />***<br />Two days passed. It was raining heavily that day. I love watching the rain. I love listening to it too. I was gazing out of my window, when I saw the dog...again. It jumped out of a car and ran across the street. A truck came, rounded the corner... A tall man stepped out of the car, wearing a long coat. His face was covered by a muffler. He ran to where the dog lay...dead. I heard his voice. “Patch...” I cried that day... for the happy dog... and for that voice.<br />***<br />I saw the car several more times, but I never saw him for the longest time. Four months after the dog died, I was watering my plants when my mother’s old college mate knocked. She had come to invite us for her son’s marriage.<br />***<br />I wore blue silk for the wedding. It was the first time I was meeting the groom. I took one look at him, and I somehow felt... no, I knew... it was whom the voice belonged to. And then, when he spoke to me, I was sure of it. His wife was not too pretty, but she had a lovely smile.<br />***<br />“Falling in love is not a flash decision. It is something you do after a lot of thought,” I had heard myself say to my friends over and over again. But I fell in love with a voice, a voice which had uttered a single word, that too not to me... the voice of a man who had called out to a stray dog so lovingly..had made it laugh... </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I move on... </span>I'll never forget the voice though...<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Life...<br /></span></div>The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-27398437939107611652008-11-07T08:53:00.000-08:002008-11-08T03:06:29.298-08:00mine...the burden in my heart feels so heavy:<br /><br />it's like i am carrying a seven month old foetus in my chest....<br /><br />i feel the bile rising,<br />quite like morning sickness<br />i feel the taste of puke in my mouth...<br /><br />i know i crave for something,<br />though i really dont know what i want...<br /><br />this 'pregnancy' makes me want to throw things<br />i have to restrain though,<br />for the sake of others...<br /><br />but in the end, it makes me produce ...<br />what you see right now is my baby...<br />my flesh and blood...<br /><br /><br />i love it...<br />it is beautiful in my eyes...<br /><br />you may hate it...<br />i really dont care..<br />its mine... only mine...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.scientificblogging.com/graphics/woman_writing_diary_on_bed.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 402px; height: 402px;" src="http://www.scientificblogging.com/graphics/woman_writing_diary_on_bed.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-43812175086369541032008-11-03T02:56:00.000-08:002008-11-03T10:57:09.801-08:00the shadow....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.robspain.com/image.php?path=20080422232721_bluepondscum.jpg&maxwidth=700&maxheight=600"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 369px; height: 245px;" src="http://www.robspain.com/image.php?path=20080422232721_bluepondscum.jpg&maxwidth=700&maxheight=600" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">dark blue<br />blue night<br />dark, dead...<br /><br />quiet noise,<br />whispering blood...<br />dark blood<br /><br />flows,<br />a wave<br />now a ripple<br /><br />swells<br /><br />music...<br />the guitar strums<br />a dirge-<br />mournful,<br />dull, clawing-<br />floats like a disembodied spirit...<br /><br />the cloying sweetness of cheap perfume<br />the air fills with it...<br /><br />blood drips...<br />the unmistakable sound<br />of death.<br /><br />death smells<br />of mouldy cheese.<br /><br />the dark shadow is on the move again,<br />invisible<br />in the dark blue<br />blue night...<br /><br /><br /></div>The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-15119852937998138942008-10-14T07:18:00.000-07:002008-10-15T06:25:51.894-07:00mood swings....<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">sometimes</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">i feel like</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">flinging up leaves</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">walkin beneath that shower</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">blowing spit bubbles</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">bursting them</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">throwing pebbles into pools</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">watching them skid</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">just sitting</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">smashing my head</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">on a big rock</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">throwing around</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">heavy furniture</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">tearing, shredding</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">paper,pillows</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">just looking at people</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">crying</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">for no reason</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">listening to</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">sad music</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">watching</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">romantic mushes</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">just gazing at the clouds</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">daydreaming</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">lazing</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">lounging around</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">just smiling</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">jumping into a puddle</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">splashing around</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">whirling round</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">hooting all the while</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">laughing out loud</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">at nothing</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">just living....</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">complicated'ly'!!!</span>The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-76737893791337381442008-10-12T00:30:00.000-07:002008-10-12T07:02:51.813-07:00the smell of nostalgia...<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://howardcan.files.wordpress.com/2007/08/nostalgia.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 345px; height: 236px;" src="http://howardcan.files.wordpress.com/2007/08/nostalgia.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">sweet<br />slightly sour<br /><br />heady<br />addictive<br />'...'<br /><br />depressing<br /><br />feel it<br /><br />like a small prick<br />constant<br /><br />like parting a curtain of fog<br />looking at scenes<br />a hazy play<br /><br />like a unforgettable dream<br />dreamt in awakenness<br />awake yet asleep<br /><br />like sunshine<br />warming the face<br />unseen<br />felt<br /><br />like a feather<br />slowly stroking your back<br /><br />like a rivulet of ice cold water<br />down your warm belly<br /><br /><br />lingering<br />pleasurable<br />tantalising<br /><br />nostalgia<br />i miss u...<br /></div>The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-75936453473645574262008-10-12T00:06:00.000-07:002008-10-12T00:28:01.116-07:00the dream maker<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://members.aye.net/%7Egharris/blog/Nightmare_Before_Christmas_001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://members.aye.net/%7Egharris/blog/Nightmare_Before_Christmas_001.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><img src="file:///C:/Users/SANDRA%7E1/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /><div style="text-align: center;">i saw the dream maker<br />short<br />stout<br />with wisps of white hair<br />escaping<br /><br />his hair interested me the most<br /><br />white<br />fluffy<br />cottony<br />escaping<br />his white night cap<br /><br />he smiled<br />a toothy grin<br /><br />i remember<br />bad teeth<br />rotting<br />reeking<br /><br />i retched<br /><br />he said<br />his hair made the dreams<br /><br />he was lonely<br />i felt sad and repelled the same time<br /><br />the dream maker<br />he visited me in my dream<br /><br />he wanted friendship<br /><br />i wanted his dreams<br />only<br /><br />i woke up sweating...<br />nightmares<br />constant<br /><br /></div>The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-77276870193412442432008-10-04T13:10:00.000-07:002008-10-04T13:20:02.052-07:00RED<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh72_BvQgecB8hbh8sEs1-UKEhX6qtkUxHp7KoKydwKX0LCHzOW5casXCwcy7VLm7lXe90DtncTA7w56oucmqMR3Xw8QH52rvze6u3el6_0nBafjlwvo-ov28tdqz5-7PbZdosjOH22mnt7/s1600-h/water+drop-+echinacea.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh72_BvQgecB8hbh8sEs1-UKEhX6qtkUxHp7KoKydwKX0LCHzOW5casXCwcy7VLm7lXe90DtncTA7w56oucmqMR3Xw8QH52rvze6u3el6_0nBafjlwvo-ov28tdqz5-7PbZdosjOH22mnt7/s320/water+drop-+echinacea.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253394899118258674" border="0" /></a><br />red<br /><br />the colour<br />flower<br />her frock<br />faded sandals<br />torn bag<br /><br />the feeling<br />love<br />lust<br />passion<br />anger<br /><br />the symbol<br />traffic light<br />crash<br />light dancing in the eyes<br />machines<br /><br />beep<br />the sound of death<br /><br />squigglesguiggle<br />straight<br />lines...<br /><br />flashing red<br /><br />red<br />the color<br />the feeling<br />the symbol<br /><br />she lies dead...<br /></div>The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-6214169479367211102008-10-04T12:13:00.000-07:002008-10-04T12:19:39.014-07:00wet<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHR7Oxx3QkFkOxe2tI2XngzAqjh6REWHCT-3sG71fMRfIoBYynXyHG6y2btPoLFef-cR19JLg1MkDltwTFafyyUfX8LV1bxfGowIWAEYVJF2Vx_n1xRkUKeXKEhShIh7acuYPdc3p3xcpf/s1600-h/RainDrops.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHR7Oxx3QkFkOxe2tI2XngzAqjh6REWHCT-3sG71fMRfIoBYynXyHG6y2btPoLFef-cR19JLg1MkDltwTFafyyUfX8LV1bxfGowIWAEYVJF2Vx_n1xRkUKeXKEhShIh7acuYPdc3p3xcpf/s320/RainDrops.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253380436889041954" border="0" /></a><br />green trees<br />freshly laundered<br />wet leaves<br /><br />waterdropletshanging<br />reflecting<br />a smile<br />a wet smile<br /><br />i held his hand<br />walked<br />in the rain<br />wet hands<br /><br />the grass beneath<br />caressed<br />a wet kiss<br /><br />drenched<br />sticky<br />wet bones<br /><br />loving it<br />wet love<br /><br />wet<br />completely wet....<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-89100804116474152152008-10-03T13:16:00.000-07:002008-10-03T13:17:01.536-07:00a bout of insanityI can imagine throwing thin glass beakers<br />Conical flasks, test tubes...<br />Thin glass<br />See them come crashing down<br />On the wall<br /><br />I can imagine the sound they would make<br />The tiny tinkling<br />The music as they drop onto the ground<br />As each sharp shard falls<br />The point touching the floor first<br /><br />I can imagine the pieces lying about<br />Each a mirror in itself<br />They reflect an image<br />A dishevelled woman<br />Huddled in the corner<br />Peering at the outside world<br />Through the curtain of her hair<br />Strands of hair<br />All over her face<br />In her mouth<br />On her clothes<br />Glass<br />All over her face<br />In her mouth<br />On her clothes<br /><br />She takes a sharp shard<br />Places it on her throat<br />A gush...<br /><br />I shake myself<br />I stop my thoughts<br />Slow my breath<br />A bout of insanity...The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-38653866584264765142008-09-19T23:52:00.000-07:002008-09-27T06:30:41.430-07:00unfairness!i looked back<br />a cloud<br />existing<br />inconsequential<br /><br />i<br />gave<br />when it was dry.<br /><br />and then...<br />was sucked back up<br />inconsequential...<br /><br />rain :<br />happiness.<br />sun:<br />need.<br />rain...<br />sucked up...<br /><br />did they care<br />how it hurts<br />each drop<br />squeezed<br />from my being<br />hit<br />the<br />HARDHARD<br />earth<br /><br />inconsequential...<br /><br />and then...<br />sucked dry<br />floats<br />waiting to rain<br />all over again<br />inconsequential...The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-42967914235694541512008-09-16T09:51:00.000-07:002008-09-16T12:34:46.675-07:00a word of advice....<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">i discovered i love blogging... i was in quite a bad mood today... and i suddenly felt like scribbling to vent my frustration..and so here i am!!... i was actually feelin quite discouraged earlier abt my blog... i mean... nobody even cared!!! but i hav grown up bloggily... i actually don care if u read it or not.. it feels good jus to write ... n write ... n write....and to know ur scribblings wont b lost!!</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">to those of u who don kno hw to vent out anger or hurt... my advice.. try writing... put each of ur feelings down... its quite fun... u should see my diary when i am down!! it is filled with scratches n cuts n big bold words!!! and then the fun gets better wen u turn back those pages aftr mebbe two months ... u suddenly realise how bloody stupid u were... n how much u hav grown in those two months!! yes... u actually do end up laughin at urself n also in some ways appreciatin yourself too... there were even times wen i thought i was mentally derailed while writing all those down!!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">so try this out n let me kno how it works out for u.. at least it is better than breakin stuff or worse.. hurtin ppl right??....</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">p.s</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">pls don assume only ppl with a flair for language can be successful in this.. oh please... if it works for me, it will work for everyone!! happy doodling!!!</span>The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-90313187854333553692008-09-14T00:23:00.000-07:002010-04-09T08:46:56.851-07:00mooned...<a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/107/316798172_c8fa9b9aa0.jpg?v=0"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 375px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/107/316798172_c8fa9b9aa0.jpg?v=0" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />i am mooned<br />i am obsessed...<br /><br />last night<br />saw<br />i<br /><br />clear night<br />stars<br />breeze<br />cold<br />so warm<br /><br />bright bright bright<br />moon<br /><br />wegazedtogether<br /><br />spoke<br />of<br />childhood<br />growing up<br />friendship<br />romance<br />life<br /><br />mooned<br /><br />beautiful<br /><br />silence<br />companionship<br />understanding<br />unspoken all of it<br /><br />mooned<br />i amThe Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-33178376592425579462008-09-13T13:24:00.000-07:002008-09-14T00:45:42.871-07:00to look beyond...<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >(1)</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >i</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >took </span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >upon myself</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >a thrill</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >a task</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >a risk</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >self discovery</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >to look beyond</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >i cried</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >i was </span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >the only</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >one </span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >who </span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >liked myself</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >illusions</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >destroyed</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >i lost</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >the </span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >only admirer</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >i </span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >ever had</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >i m lonely</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >i m tired</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" > scared</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >(2)</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >center</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >me</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >i </span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >myself</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >what futility</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >think</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >of </span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >u </span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >we </span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >us </span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >all</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >are faulty</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >compassion</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >comprehension</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >sadism</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >or perhaps masochism</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >call it what you may</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" > i</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" > really</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" > do not</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" > care</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >do not mistake me</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >i</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >enjoy </span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >this</span>The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-42490636194486156012008-09-03T14:49:00.000-07:002008-09-03T14:53:57.320-07:00<span style="font-family: courier new;">u kno wat i m afraid of? that nobody will notice this blog... </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">i mean.... i want to remain anonymous not cos i want to exploit some one but cos i m shy... i don kno hw ppl will react to my writing... i am a coward afraid of opinions... afraid of hearin frm ppl this is total crap... it feels worse wen it come frm ppl u do kno... strangers are kinder in that sense...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">so i seek refuge in my anonymity... </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">but how do i get strangers to notice me?!!</span>The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566632040738575807.post-35624568505320076562008-09-03T12:32:00.000-07:002008-09-03T14:42:40.731-07:00some day.....<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">some day....<br />it will all pass...<br />life...<br />sorrow n laughter...<br />some day...<br />ill find u...<br />some day...<br />ull leave too...<br />some day...<br />ill look back...<br />and cry...<br />i miss u...<br />or so i think...<br />some day...<br />ill regain some sense...<br />discover...<br />my self...<br />i realise...<br />some day...<br />life was a farce..<br />i smiled when i didnt want to...<br />i forgot to cry when i had to..<br />some day...<br />ill realise...<br />i was wrong all the while...<br />some day...<br />ill look back and think...<br />some day...<br />ill change this all...<br />but somwhere some day....<br />i realise...<br />this is me...<br />all this is me...<br />ill smile again...<br />some day....<br /></span>The Mind Bedouinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02764384921571188097noreply@blogger.com4