Frequency

Come let’s bounce along,

The same frequency.

Let me know you

For a while longer,

So that I read,

Your thought patterns.

The familiarity of it all,

Let’s enjoy the comfort,

Of each other’s,

Frequency.

Come let’s explore,

New dimensions,

Through each other’s,

Thought patterns.

Let’s see the same light,

The same colours;

Let’s hear the same words,

The same sounds;

Let’s understand,

The same meaning,

In each other’s,

Frequency.

Suck on my finger tips...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4fyk5IThAs



Her Space Holiday. For the kinky side in us.

A Bird in the Hand is worth two in the Bush

For starters, you might be wondering what kind of a bush I'm talking about right? No, no. Not that one. This one is quite tame.

There was Emily Wayne who liked candies. She already had a box of dark chocolate. It was good. Very good, in fact. But after a while, she got bored of it. That is about the time when she came across another box of dark chocolate. This one is different from the previous one because it has rum filling and spices in it. Much later she was gifted milk chocolate. Oh god, the pleasure and agony of them all! Which one must she choose?

So she went chose the first thing that was accessible. The milk chocolate. So God got angry with her and punished her for being greedy and made her fat!!

End of story.

Quoting Amardeep Singh Hunjan: "Someone truly said, 'I don't want to leave a place where I'm having a good time for a place where I "expect" to have a better time' "

Truer words haven't been spoken.

Of Untrained Glances

"Glancing the other way, when you see something beautiful. Looking away when something inspires you. The pain of such beauty. Can you not bear it?"

Pause. As he looked at her with a quizzical expression.

"I entice you, don't I?" That is quite fascinating", she said, looking over the rim of her coffee cup as she drank her brew.

She was indeed quite fascinated. It amused her to see the way he behaved around her. The way he'd not notice her. Purposely refuse to acknowledge her. The way he'd glance at her from the corner of his eyes to see if she was laughing at his jokes.

"Hah! You're quite vain, are you not?", he said derisively. "My, my. The amount of beating that humungous ego must be taking everyday. How come you haven't committed suicide yet? I'm sure you have at least suicidal thoughts?"

She looked away, still unruffled. In fact, with what was disturbingly to him (and so it seemed to her) a self-satisfied smug expression.

"Fine, shall we go riding?" she said, quite abruptly.

"What?" He was quite nonplussed.

And before he could say anything else, she said, "Come! Lets go horse riding! Its been so long and I love horses!" Off, she skipped across the main road, crowded with traffic, pedestrians and coffee tables.

It was a pleasantly sunny afternoon. The heat would have been unbearable, if not for the shady road. The trees swaying to the rhythm of their own music, generating a soft breeze. He was left wondering. Again. Probably for the gazzillionth time. What is she?

Here, keep with thee all these

Dispensable tokens of Affection.

I give them to thou, my love

To remember me by, when need be.

Of fleeting, ethereal moments,

That might not stand the test of time.

Those whimsical fantasies,

We wove together.

Keep them with thee

To remember the pain

That absence creates.

Carry them wherever thou wants,

So that I can see.

But then. I must tell thou this,

I wouldn't really care

For all thy antics,

That amusing pass time for me

Something I commiserate over,

To shake my head in pity.

Move on my love, move on.

I don't really need thee.

What have

You and I shared?

Can you remember,

All of them

Memories.

Sometimes, at night

I awake to

Dreams of us and wonder

- Did that just happen?

To only realise

It did...

An Ode to My Day Dreams

I sit in a grey room. With tall walls. Walls so tall, that I can’t feel the ceiling. But I know it exists. I look outside the window, with intricate vine-like designs, when I see a vision of a long neck. It seems almost vulnerable. I don’t know why, considering it belongs to a guy who seems to have a bull-neck. Then I get images of him. Of what we might do, were we in the same place. I can feel this music playing in the background – Fadeaway, Porcupine Tree – when I’m haunted by flashes of his picture in my mind.

* * *

We walk along the sea shore. Hand-in-hand. Feeling the electro-magnetic current passing between us. When two people are attracted to each other, there is always a flow of such currents between the two individuals. It gets stronger with each passing moment. It is this electro-magnetic vibration that leads to telepathy between the two individuals. They read the meaning of life, deeply in each others’ eyes, for whatever a fleeting moment. To feel a sense of the soul’s satisfaction, if only for that pause of a moment in eternity’s now.

We sit on a rock, as the waves wash against our feet, watching the sun set. It is a lonely spot, with swooping sea gulls for company. I sit behind and above him, while he rests between my legs as I get these images of him and me. Of how vulnerable he is. I found that so attractive once upon a time, to only start thinking otherwise. I remember the music we’ve played together. Or at least the memory of the music that plays in my head every time I see him. That quiet, passive observation with which I’d like to gaze at him in a crowded room, with bustling activities, as I gaze at him, I’m like the eye of a storm or a calm oasis. Then we have a connection, when everything else stops for us, as time slows down to finally falter and stop moving. We have only us. A connection of our eyes. The pull of the gaze is strong and palpable as we feel a thread pulling us together in a hypnotic rush. But we resist the urge, increasing the headiness of the feeling, before we finally open our senses to the world outside, the bustling activities, as we leave the calm oasis – our space – to enter the busy world outside with its whirlwind activities.

* * *