...Of Modern times and a vagabond

How much can you trace back
in one moment?
May be a mile.
Memories are not measured by units.

Today there are no more sad lines.
We will talk about the wine that is
buried in your backyard.
We will talk about the graffiti
that I am yet to construct.
These days art has a new name - photoshop.
You can buy yours with a quick few clicks.

I am half drunk.
The other half is life.
With that I lie in a dark room
and listen to a music that is soft
but deafening.
Most relations are, the same.

Pretension has its perimeters.
They are weak when you are.
On one such moment,
you do things that you never regret.
People change, so do leaves.
You wait.

Give me a hundred good dreams.
I will sleep deep, then.

SoUmY@

Comments

BirdBrain said…
Majestic....! I m too small to address this splendour!!! surpassed Thyself!
Anonymous said…
Hola, Interesante, no va a continuar con este artнculo?
Anonymous said…
أشكركم على نشر هذا ، كان من المفيد جدا ، وقال الكثير
Usha Pisharody said…
There is a bit of Neruda that I now begin to perceive :)

Reminds me a bit , just a little minuscule bit of "Tonight I write the saddest lines..."
The tone of nostalgia, coupled with melancholy and an anticipated rush of something akin to hope... all merge beautifully while retaining, each, its own singular presence!
Anonymous said…
Hey very nice blog!! Man .. Beautiful .. Amazing .. I will bookmark your blog and take the feeds also….

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