Some thoughts


I lie down, and stretch my arms

my mind feels weary, my eyes feel heavy,

its pouring outside, I have drawn the curtain over the windows inside,

I can hear the fall of the rain, my mind wanders away,

No longer is the steel trap closed, I am free until sleep finds me,

the mind retreats to its cave, I drift deeper and deeper into the soul’s blissful waters, searching treasures that would make rich and deepen resources of a restless being,

I feel myself lifting, no sudden falling of axes on a troubled mind,

only an unfettered unconscious heart, rest dear heart, tomorrow brings with it another day,

New wars to be fought, new lessons to gain, an inch added to a kilometer of distant hearts,

More anger awaits, but these are all but defenses of the brain, the boat has long since been lost in the bustle and hustle of a teeming city,

My eyes sigh, it never ends, I am again distant from GOD and he surely wont be happy with the way I have been these few hours ,fussing and whining,

I feel too guilty to mutter a prayer, too unrepentant to light my inner fire, the candle within has long disappeared,

Worries, worries, please go away, you have troubled my life enough already,

I sleep to dream dreams, I sleep to rest a body that needs sleep,

My sleep I wish great dreams to ferry with in the unconscious waters of the soul,

The rain has picked  up, needles falling from the sky, tears of clouds filling big ugly puddles,

the night is dark, my mind is slowly drifting like a sleepy butterfly floating to the ceiling,

Why doth tomorrow come, cant I sleep and never awake…?

Why does there have to be a heaven and a hell….?

Cant I just sleep and eternally dream…?

GOD forgive me for I have sinned, over and over again, Lord grant me sleep,

Watch over me as I slumber, for my heart is weak, Lord why is this world the same when I awake….?

Do send my daughter to my sleep, I wish I could tuck her in with a fluffy teddy and a pillow, I know this is not my life’s end,

but dear Lord I keep running away from you as well, I am not complicated,

Weak and undecided is what i really am,

Enough of all this confusion and constant drama, its time to suspend the scripts and the characters as I retreat for some silence and quiet,

Vales and bright slanting meadows, heroes and startling starry pillows, blow the mystic tune and lull me deeper into sleep,

rest those chains and free my weary spirit within to dream…!


The Writer


He sighed, yet another incomplete story, another one that will bite the dust he thought, the thought strangely not touching him or making him feel anything. He was used to this pattern by now, this mood of complacency that made sure that he could reach any further within and light the stream that would open his heart and narrate another unlikely tale. He was short circuiting himself too much, backing off too often and giving up too easily. He was looking too much at words, repetitions, feels and mannerisms and he knew it, but there was nothing that he could do about it, he knew that he was getting stuck to a formula and letting that conceptuality trap him, he relied no longer on spontaneity and thought too much about how other people would receive and take his style. He worried not much about what they thought, but with all the self promotion that he did he felt the need to back it up, and that led him more and more to create blunt portraits, that had all the right twists and turns, but no character, or maybe he was judging himself too harshly. The external life mirrors the inner he thought or was it otherwise, he felt stuck too often. And the worst part of it all was that he had no one else to blame, he knew that the fault was all entirely his, he knew he should have made a practice of seeking that inner calm and spark and letting the words guide him instead of otherwise, too often he let the words that he desired to speak be cast in a form that would draw attention to his personal skill, but they hardly mattered to him, they never did, he had always worked in secret, he wrote because sometimes he could not stay silent and things longed to be spoken or narrated through him in ways that he could never understand, thoughts came to him, tales opened their unspoken voices to him beseeching him to be their narrator, but this rich inner world he ignored, rather seeking solace in how everyone else seemed to go about this same craft of writing. He worried too much about standards, quality, about what other people assumed a writer should be. He feared labeling himself a writer, since from an early age, things had always seemed that whatever he assumed with pride and self assertion turned out to be major fails and failures, all those years he had longed to call himself something, to merely draw away the unwarranted attention that often surrounded him because of his eccentric ideas and unlikely appeal. He tried to shy away, but the grip grew stronger, and as he yielded he lost his voice, voices that once praised and held him high became the masters of what was to be said and done, he started to lose his way, he began doubting his own abilities and his pride often was too severe on him and made sure to provoke him over and over, within time, these self attacks had learned to express themselves as his attempts at self depreciation and nurse his wounded pride, he never wanted to draw the spotlight to himself, he only wished that if the spotlight did shine on his corner that he should be man enough to not shy away from the challenge and rise up to meet it with honor and the confidence that he felt was always a component of his character despite all the major blunders of the past where he felt he was misrepresented or not yet a bloom that felt that inner calm and fire. But he scarcely understood how his voice worked, sure he could write, he compiled loads of average stuff merely from a particular feel that an emotion, a song, a sight, an experience or a scene gave out, he could flesh it out with considerable skill, but they often felt like stealing, he had always been proud enough of his own unique method and style. But as he started learning and drawing inspiration, which he felt was an essential component to his craft, too often their dominance showed in what he attempted to personify or bring about, since he had an acute fear of truly expressing his meek voice in fear of being judged as meager or weak, he hid it behind flamboyant styles, and a sparkling sense of energy. He had always possessed energy, vigor and a vitality, but being a sensitive soul, he was often subjected to energies that were beyond his understanding that if one seriously investigates could in time master, but it was only too late that he realized these abilities, he had always been a late bloomer, the last person to react, the first person to be misunderstood and the one who always surprised people since too often people thought not much of him. He was very silent, and he tended to shy away from attention, not that he did not like people or company, on the contrary he loved them all, but he knew not how to stand and be silent, since he felt too much in their midst’s, he felt their pain, he felt their characters, he felt their vain displays of attitude that too often confused and threw him off base, but he felt people, too many negative experiences had convinced him enough of his total lack of skill in socializing and hence he withdrew, deeper and deeper into a shell where he communed with a sense of rebelliousness that filled more his heart with anger and spite, things that helped him since he was too often the odd man out. Nourished by popular notions of being the odd man out, which he had been all his life, he learnt to concentrate more on his inner life, and he did so, he constantly tried to be absorbed in the ‘motion and process of being’. But he wanted more, he had always wanted to be able to say something, and he longed to say it in a way that would get people’s attention, not to glorify his apparent talent but to bring to focus aspects that are too often lost in the way people perceive and receive outward and inward processes. Even in his writings he often made the most unassuming aspect the chief of all detail, it was his style, no doubt it emanated from his own life experiences of being an outsider, but he knew that he was talking something real, people were lost in their commonly held notions, once in a while it did good to have someone come along and make them go ‘hmm’. But the magnitude of the task troubled him immensely, could he do it, he felt that he was showcasing these skills in order to bring glory to his maker for whom he had the utmost respect. But unconsciously he invited demons that were more than happy to ridicule his temperament and his leanings, these demons fed on his own apparent modesty and tended to make him look more at what people were much better at, were they not the real thing…? they mocked him , and he being the meek moon child that he was, gulped it all down, for all his skills of self analysis and his total lack of any pretenses, he fell time and time again because he judged himself the harshest, he always brought more attention to his own mistakes, and this in time had brought unwitting companions of the writer’s nest of discontent to the forefront as they savaged his mind and tried time and time again to take his mind away from the treasures that his soul had to offer. But in the process they had obliterated to an extreme the paths through which these silent messengers travelled in order to speak a particular message. But as much as he relied on his mind, he was to an extreme paranoid of his own mind, of his own thoughts, of his own sense of reality, constantly suspicious if he was sane enough to sound like he understood whatever came out of him or whatever happened when another person was touched or felt something due to him. He knew life, more than knowing he could say that he understood the aspects of life that never changed, and they bored in him a deep pit of desolateness and futility, things that bothered him the most were pushed into that hole and when he was happy about some sense of accomplishment or success over overcoming this world’s fixed nature, memories would be drawn out from this pit that had become a well and discontent would be cast and planted all over again. It was taking too long a time , this whole process of self doubt, of recovery and ultimately transcendence. But things happened at times, and one of them was Love, the first love, a torrid affair that left a mark on the memory, the second one, an eternal one where he met for the nth time his true friend and Father, Jesus. He was wary of his Father in a way, because he loved his Father as much as He loved him, but he knew his nature, he knew that he would mess things up so that he would not be given some sense of responsibility, he knew that he would mess things up because he felt that he was not worthy, and he knew that he would spoil things because never in his life had he felt complete, never in his life had he walked into a crowd and been man enough to look everyone squarely in the eye and smile, Never, never in his life had he felt naturally inclined to be liked, he was always the last to be acknowledged, too often even when people did like him, he figured that they were more drawn to the personality that he had created rather than to take the effort to understand and know him. And that was what he had wanted, understanding, knowing that someone would stand by him, but he had failed miserably in that as well, and that wound festered anger and rage in him, did he deserve it even, he thought, he knew that he was not flawless and that he was not perfect, but never in his right mind would he do something in order to break somebody. Because he knew the pain, not because of things that happened to him, because he knew how people never spoke of their pain, he understood, that was one reason why he loved people from his heart, because he knew how easy it was to break a person’s heart in the most improbable ways, but the past , the recent past was undoing all that he had no trouble doing so far, the wound had dissociated him enough to long even more for something that would take him higher, he thirsted and prayed with all his might, he prayed to not ask GOD to free him from his Hell, he prayed because he knew that there were other people like that suffering, he realized then how foolish he had been to not know about this kind of intense pain before, sure he had helped a lot of people in his life, helped them in any way he could, but this pain that he often succumbed to was different, it felt more severe and savage, and he had seen people with that kind of pain before, and he realized how tough life was for a lot of people out there who were running after money, love and affection. It was hard for him to look at times beyond his own pain, but he was too tired of being stuck in a position where he could not budge from, he had always thrived on an emotion that set him free in the most unlikely of methods. He referred to it as the intuitive personal method, but for a long time now, all his methods had failed, failed in such an epic miserable fashion that he felt if he had anything in him that was under his will. Not that he longed for power or control, but he wanted to feel the warmth of knowing that something in his life was of his own making and was willing to be there even after he had with confidence spoken about it or boasted about it. He knew GOD had blessed him, he had an amazing family, but he avoided them, he loved them, but he avoided them since he could not be the son they ideally would want him to be, and it was tough.


To say that he was complicated would be an understatement, but it drove him, but he still felt a complete lack of sincerity and passion towards anything at this stage in his life, or maybe he felt that way because the mood of complacency was blinding his eyes in order to confuse and stroke his inner weaknesses again. But he hardly knew truth from lies anymore, everything seemed to be a lie of some sort, there was no connection, there was no nothing… It was all meaningless and he was getting sick and tired of it all…..!



The wind howls and occasionally brings in bits of drops of rain that spray like a planned surprise, I sit lone and preoccupied, suddenly my mind feels hollow and through that hollow I see a mirror, I stare at myself in a space that suddenly seems apart from me but also seems to have been a part of me, Who am I….? Am I the only person in this world I wonder as the steady drizzle behind me blends with the brisk music that seems to occupy my room entirely, this question comes to me when I least expect it to. I realize how uneasy the question makes me feel, Am I really alone, for the world seems to exist only in me, and right now I was a mere flicker, it seems strange as I let these questions assail me, in a way I still have not found ways to express the vagueness that usually follows my attempts my attempts to verbalize the experience. Too long have I been an unwilling participant in travel, my sojourn through life thus far has been forgettable for the most part, why did I feel so much like an outsider…? Who am I….? Why do I feel like i’m alone in this world…? And why does everything feel so odd and uneasy, how long would this life lead…? 

Not by Sight but by Faith ( Nothing personal)


sAll these thoughts they lead nowhere,
all this anger meaningless and self destructive,
partly stroking my vanity and partly fueling my agony,
these endless questions and visions into the future,
What am i gonna do…? How will I be…?
I know that I have the Lord beside me,
and the mighty Lion of Judah doth prevail,
but too often I find myself on my own again,
and I wonder why that could be…?
Are my thoughts too impure to accomodate thee heavenly father…?
Or does my heart bleed with anger,an anger that survives past multiple attempts at forgiveness,
I dont want this to bother me Lord, I dont wanna concern myself anymore,
I cant carry this burden forever, I dont want to feel this feeling,
I have been treated and cheated
The wound is still raw even after multiple surgeries and healing,
What do I do heavenly father…? I am doing all that you asked me to,
I obey your will but this cross is too heavy to bear and the weight crushes me constantly Lord,
I run to you often, and you rescue and save me from my own insanity,
But how long will this despair clutch my heart and make me feel useless….?
Even when I dont want it there, Reality is a bed full of thorns , and I toss and turn on it day after day,
I dont quite like it, but I have let it be and don’t fight with Lies and self assuming fantasies,
Whatever the demons of fear and paranoia whisper I hear it echo with my sensitive ars and try not to be bothered,
but my nature sometimes doesn’t let it be, it pulls it back and wrestles with it,
but chunks from memory drift into my everyday walk, and strangle and opress and surround me,
I seek the Lord and beg him to make it stop, Why does this still bother me Lord Jesus, I ask
Of what use is all these burned memories….? Those months and days of misery…?
People come to me for counsel Lord, when I am smile and listen to their sad tales of loss and misery,
I wonder if I could take it all and throw it into the bottom of the ocean,
Deep where it does no harm and injustice,
Why are these feelings constantly lingering Heavenly father….?
At times I wonder if what I assume is a lie,
and if i’m deeply trapped in illusions and unwanted emotional frequencies,
I just wish that I could turn it off or switch to another station maybe,
I am just tired of the same old sad love song, is it my nature to further these melancholic energies…?
Why wont this pass so that i can move on and not sink with the same old ship…?
This ship is cursed and destined to sink time and time again, No mercy has the wind, No mercy….!
Why did the sea constantly rage with storms…? But all those are elements of the past that bring with it the same
disgusting sorrow that make me curl and tremble,
No one can I trust Lord, No one but you,
So long was I a prisoner in Lost Island,
talking to imaginary friends, rotting away in misery,
Lonely and morose, brooding the minutes that stretched into long elongated strings that tightened their grip on my weak and panicky heart,
I feel too much, I feel too less,
I feel what should not be felt, but thats the law of the world,
to disengage from the gentle arms of the savior and wander the boulevards of wishful sights,
I lost my way dear lord, I would’ve been lost forever had you not stopped me in my eternal spin repetition of meaningless
But now as I walk on my knees, and as I hold out my broken and vulnerable heart to you,
Hoping that you would take better care of it than I ever did and have tried to,
I dont want to forget how you made me focus on made things that previously bound me clear,
I am not one dear Lord, I am one amongst many, I am your servant and son,
Out there in the vast undefined world with souls struggling to overcome darkness and despair,
I realize how lost we all are, how we have merely assumed a meaningless position to not feel much,
and to avoid things that may cause us pain, we all are confused and hurt in our own ways,
Deep down past all the facades and personal appearances, we are all under bondage heavenly father,
trapped in unhealthy relationships, confusing our minds with drugs to escape the reality of life’s torments,
drunk, and scattered, lone and desolate, violent and abusive, pulling down the other in a battle of the vain,
Blinded by material greed and desire, rooted deeply in the human nature that pulls our soul to the deepest darkest pits all the while confusing us with a surface of false congeniality,
Who are we Lord, but mere dust in the tide of centuries that hhas drowned millions of souls under its feet,
but thats the way life is, here for the moment, the next minute trapped in a casket, lifeless and with a stone above that reads ‘so long’,
Lord I accept my cross, but would you please walk beside me….?
Too often I forget that you’re by my side,
I love you Lord, I know the road that lies before me is long,
but walk by me as I hold your hand and forget what I want and trust in you eternally…!

For Annie By Petra ( One of my favorite songs) – Dedicated to all the annie’s of the world, and also to someone from my life whom I can never speak to, I love and miss you…!


No one ever noticed Annie weeping

People all around, but she was all alone

Mama’s got her meetings, Daddy’s got his job

And no one’s got the time so Annie’s on her own
No one ever knew her desperation

People couldn’t hear her cry out silently

Locked inside the bathroom she grabs a jar of pills

The medicine that cures becomes the poison that kills
And it’s too late for Annie, she’s gone away for good

There’s so much we could tell her and now we wish we could

But it’s too late, it’s too late for Annie
Sadness fills the hearts of Annie’s family

Daddy tries to comfort Mama uselessly

They hoped she knew they loved her, but they really didn’t know

They just want to know why did their baby go
And it’s too late for Annie, she’s gone away for good

There’s so much we could tell her and now we wish we could

We would tell her Jesus loves her, tell her Jesus cares

Tell her He can free her and her burdens bear

But it’s too late, it’s too late for Annie
If only we had known her situation

We’d have tried to stop this useless tragedy

Annie’s lost forever, never to be found

But there are lots of others like her all around
And it’s not too late for Annie, she could be next to you

Don’t miss the chance to tell her before her life is through

We gotta tell her Jesus loves her, tell her Jesus cares

Tell her He can free her and her burdens bear
Tell her Jesus loves her, tell her Jesus cares

Tell her He can free her and her burdens bear

You’ve got to tell her Jesus loves her, tell her Jesus cares

Tell her He can free her and her burdens bear

It’s not too late

Restless and sleepless @ 3


I listen intently to the trees as they seem to whisper,
What are they trying to tell me I wonder,
Whatever they tell me my heart seems unable to listen,
I sit underneath an open window, worrying if I can ever sleep,
A new day awaits in a few more hours, I appear bothered and nervous,
Why cant I sleep…?
I whisper a prayer to the heavens,
What dear lord appears to be bothering me….?
Could you please surrender just a fragment of that knowledge with me…?
A tiny drop can ease my impatient and unstable mind,
What feeds this insanity dear lord…?
What formidable foe is being prepared to go up and destroy me….?
I feel irate and unsure, funny how it seems to not emanate from me,
I wish I could climb the trees and hug their soul and sleep,
But these demons dont seem to stop bothering me,
I run constantly to you Father, I feel peace instantly,
But somehow they seem to persist, why do these unhappy spirits of melancholy and angst seem to bother me…?
Oh great shepherd fill my soul with fire,
To break the constant whines and desires that defeat and compete,
Oh great Shepherd gather me in your loving arms and set my lonely heart to sleep,
Dear Father, calm my agitated soul, teach it patience and calm its frets and heal the ugly sores,
The wind blows and makes the leaves to tremble and utter sweet voices,
I feel you distant oh great soul, the demons seem to be winning, my knees have weakened,
Great are my sins, and greater still my pride, but in your loving presence , I feel alive and have awakened to your call,
You saved me when I was deserted, you embraced my broken heart and fixed all my shattered pieces,
Though I have hurt you over and over in the past,
You dear lord have always stood by me and made sure I’d last,
Why is there so much in my heart LORD…?
Did you not cure me and set me free….?
I flew and bounded with great joy, and forgave my foes and enemies,
But as I grew stronger and stronger in you, demons of self preservation and desire constantly stalk and torment me,
Doubts and confusions, lies and deceptions, illusions and delusions have all settled camp around me,
Are you saying that I am not ready dear Lord…? If so prepare me, any furnace of hell can consume me, I desperately want you only Lord,
Not to fulfill my dreams or give me a good night’s sleep,
I want you because you matter a lot to me,
You have touched me and made me feel unique,
Silver and Gold have I none but the mercies of my savior fill my heart to its brim,
What strange winds blow when the world seems asleep,
I am lost in its embrace as it slowly finds me,
Filling me with joy and love and abounding in great sincerity,
How great are your works oh Lord, the trees and the mountains and the oceans magnify your majesty,
Too often I am lost for words and too often the moment is lost in memory,
Frustrated grapples and failed attempts at soul recovery mark very many of my efforts,
The moment is lost I fear, my prayer has not been heard I fear, my enemies are winning, there is no justice, there is no honor and there is a multitude of lies meant to be false honesty,
Cover me oh Lord under your wings, my mind seems to be on a spin, I am growing dizzy,
Where are you Lord….? Where are my brothers the mighty Angels…? With their mighty swords and gentle presences…, I am a child trapped in a bad memory,
Too often the button called shuffle repeats disjointed tunes just to poke and taunt me,
So righteous hey…? Where was all that then…? They mock and growl,
I feel helpless and bound, am I not letting my Savior in me…? Into my heart..? Into my soul…?
What am I doing wrong dear Lord…?
Am I unclean and dishonest…?
If so purge me in fire until I sparkle with your love and your kindness, 
Guard the ones I love heavenly father against the hosts of hell for they are many and conceal themselves well,
They say things into the mind that rips and slices at the heart’s gentle emotions,
A riot from the most obscene and heartless channeled into the heart with all the voices of the tormented,
Rest not , kneel down and pray with all your heart, with all your mind and all your soul,
Lean not on thy own understanding warns the Bible,
And I sear them into my soul lest I forget it not and wander lost and fall into the same wretched well,
And drown deeper and deeper into the pits of hell,
Pull me away from the cliff that overlooks my own weakness,
Gentle shepherd, oh great judge of the world,
I draw my soul nearer to thee,
I know not much, I sometimes fear much,
But you have drawn me nearer and have fed my soul,
I am eternally indebted, my life I give to your hands,
Use me in whatever way you can


I always feel that its good to start from the very beginning when I feel like I have something to say. Starting from the beginning releases my mind from the vicious grip of expectations and gives it the freedom to wander at will and be free, conditions that are highly important for writing anything. Working with a cluttered mind often is quite a complicated mess, since too often we tend to rely on a memory that yields nothing out of the ordinary since the mind seems preoccupied with the mundane, and the message too often loses its value and gets lost in the chaos of the mind, or slinks away unheard and unseen cherished by none,