Hop Skotch

Let me write a song and let you all sing along....
Dance with me today rejoice all....
Run with me come make noise....
Lets circle the fire and sketch the skies....
Gasp at stories again and paint our heroes.....
Iam writing a song why dont you all sing along....
Erect your steeples and guard your homes....
Sunk by oblivion you tread unknown....
The labryinth streets scare you, distances haze....
Play again, run for the ice cream trucks...
The parks are yours the swings are waiting....
Birds have been chirping the flowers have always blossomed....
Dont interpret the end lets find the seeker....
Hold hands make chains shout aloud Hallelujah....!
I have written a song thanks a lot for singing along...

Wait

the most sought after topic which self supposed writers like me pursue:

crystals bejewlling the twilight, silhoutted poise gracing the occasion.... innocence draped in the glow found rare and far, an unharming welcome in the most inviting crescent of lips.... flow ever so beautifully captured in the curls slightly troubling the eyes, awareness of beauty in its most humble forms.... melody outpouring with every word ever said, satin woven in the most perfect fashion ever touched by lesser mortals.... perfume humbling all the scents of arabia, gestures known only in fairytales.... divineness hushing the oracles and angels, purity glistnening more than gold.... calmness of the halcyons,chirpiness of nightingales.... such a blossom weathered by the roughean only self responsible for the cacophony in his life.... disturbances, euthanasia all that now comes to mind.... the jar of riddles is spilt, new roads to weave.... pied pipers lead, circles of anticipation spiral.... crushing the grass kicking the stones movement in direction ahead never ceases.... breezes scream silences die edge is ever so near.... sinewy stance the eagles soar.... the ol man promises dawn....

Hitchikers Entre

Cackles, cacophonies, gibbers and whines in the hitchhikers head.......
Joys, exhiliration, dreams and jubilation in the hitchhikers head......
Anticipations, fears, conformations and questions in the hitchhikers head........
Presentability, phrases, penultimateness and silence in the hitchhikers head.......
Requests, efforts, logic and words in the hitchhikers head.......
Acceptance, inhibitions, images and agreement in the hitchhikers head........
Conversations, topics, connections and belief in the hitchhikers head......
Plans, missions, fears and anxiety in the hitchhikers head......
Deceit, daity, demands and disarray in the hitchhikers head.......
Chaos, anarchy, bloodshed and commotion in the hitchhikers head......
Timidness, repentance, pity and tears in the hitchhikers head........
Failure, apologies, arguments and defeat in the hitchhikers head......
Pain, sweat, adieu and sleep in the hitchhikers head.

Scene: A hitchhiker on a long curving highway,
takes lift from a person just to find himself in agony at last.

Can be translated to any event in our lives....

~ Born hitchhiker

Halcyon (Me)

A mime artist performing in a silent ballad
Living here in this world as a lower petty mortal hushed by the inexperience’s of life
Where every voice is raised to be jolted by truculence and savagery of inappropriate power…..
In a world where solicitude….and its synonyms remain forgotten by far……….
But after every act of their bravery trying to encyst me; a voice reaches……
Reaches deep within to erupt as resilience towards the higher n more wanted parts of civilization…………..
But as generic evolution has resulted to give me some thinking powers I act as the pacifier……to my hunger for revenge and boldly these words come into mind…..
It’s not how hard you hit but how hard can you get hit!!!
And it’s not that you have fallen but how do you take that fall………
To be frank at the end I thank you for being here and spending your moments realizing my side of the story……let me tell you
The honor will always be mine………….

Introduction

metaphors and adjectives, similies and filliterations, ventriloquests and mimers,
sinners and anarchareous,
docile and naive,
respectfull and adored,
play there parts in the dramatic monologues of souls.......might and the mighty........chained and helpless..........beckon to the autumn so that its own fallen leaves be a blanket where an apalled personage lays and sews his past dreams to the aspirations of the future..........filters light from the learnings of a trauma....a continous one........the thorns in the crown hardly felt but the beds of flowers bleed to death.....
mistaken and projected,
misguided and fooled,
childlike and childish,
sorry and paying,
perceptionist and opinionated.
~ Angad Pandey as they call me