Silence

Silence

The song was written one night when me and Bikal after a night of smoke and booze went back to my house and decided to write something. Bikal and I always has a good Sync. I have never felt that with any of the guitar player I have sung with. He is a pure improviser and all I have to do is to float with it. Buoyant .

After several weeks of improvisation and several months of recording. Sounds good. I hope to play them live soon. Probably in a couple of months.

Click the link to listen to the song: http://soundcloud.com/ebb-and-flow-1

The lyrics is here : http://ravenofdawn.blogspot.com/#!/2009/09/sound-of-one-hand.html

Perpetual Patterns

Some new songs. On the making. Cooking in the studio for too long now. One song has been in the oven for 1 year. Distances. Communication. Internet that makes it easy but then words that makes it ineffable. Lost now. Amidst. GRE. TOEFL. Applications. Oblivion. Applications. Designs. Money. $$$$. Temptations.


Some new songs. Coming soon. Writing. Words. Ambiguous.

Ears. Here.

http://soundcloud.com/ebb-and-flow-1

The Dress

Oh how fortuitous
The fabric that the dress which make
So close to the skin it takes breaths,
Resonating with the cadenced heartbeats.

Oh, so blest
The colors from the dress that radiate
Emulating the glow from the heiress,
Only to beacon back to the stipendiary herself.

Sunflower

A flicker and a flame,
Just the magic of a moment,
Lighten up the bubble of life.

Words are riddles and music its consent,
Spoken or silent, a note or a pause,
The anticipation and the embrace- entwined.

What distance is near and which clock pace quicker,
My cosmos is woven around the tress of your hair.
Shun the Churn of my ocean,
Only you can appease the destitute storm.

You capture the exuberance,
The Brilliance in your Flutter
A whisper of your poise,
Thousand hearts I hear quiver

Just a shed of your shadow
Gestures ripples in my still water,
And the smell of your life
Intoxicates me, oh sunflower.

Right is Wrong

Everything feels all right,
Everything falls in place
All the puzzles are solved,
Nothing to be resolved.

Yet I long, something to go wrong
Perfection is not a place called home.
Yet I long, to reach beyond
Whats written and what I've been told.

Remember the tales of victories,
Of all the heroes who made histories
Forgive the televsion
Documented Stories

Yet I long, something to go wrong
Perfection is not a place called home.
Yet I long, to reach beyond
Whats written and what I've been told

You may go through the right,
And reach out at the wrong end.
You may be climbing up,
But you may be reaching down.
 
So reach beyond and try to go wrong
Perfection is not a place called home.
So go wrong and reach beyong,
Whats written and what you've been told.

Your Shadow

Still that shadow is cast on my shed,
Piercing through the interwoven hatchways of consciousness.
Dismantled debris of you statue still makes a mountain height,
While Petrified infant trees keeping falling apart from the soil.
Perhaps an arid land I shall plough from tomorrow.
And by acres I shall measures its circumscribe.