the 'Fist' & the 'Pacifist'

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

For the lack of a better title and/or a better post

Sketching on a dusty floor,
Paper, pencils and passion,
The Buddha, a relic and radiant,
The object, the quest, the creator.

Diamond kohl eyes, a definitive line,
Trundling hair, a flat faced stroke,
Red pursed lips on dark skin, shades of black gray.
Thoughtful creativity, eternal serenity,
The joy of youth, placid stone,
The language of meaning, a foreign tongue,
Lilting music, a yogic silence.

Labels: Fiction

4 Comments:

Anonymous said... On Wednesday, September 22, 2004 6:23:00 pm

Been away...your posts have all but dried up!
The poem, Detect sexual overtones...undertones (whatever)? Maybe its just me.
- A, (whatever?)

Anonymous said... On Thursday, September 23, 2004 5:53:00 pm

That shot of yours on the ice, is the cutest thing I've seen in a long time. You look like a little marine animal, small penguin or something.

*hugz*

-[rS] -

Anonymous said... On Friday, September 24, 2004 3:46:00 pm

Hey...Thanks. Yeah the Skiing bit was fun, fell a dozen times atleast! Made an utter fool of myself, but had a ball.

Look more like a overfed...walrus :)
;) Cheers!

Anonymous said... On Friday, September 24, 2004 3:47:00 pm

A/Avril (whatever?)
Pray who are you?

lament for icarus

words of wisdom

If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise don't even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, jobs. And maybe your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery, isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance.