the prisoner's guitar

Tomorrow.

myprisonerandherguitar — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 16:57:06 +0000

lets live tonight, while we still see the light

lets break the mirrors here, lets bring the sunset near

tomorrow we’ll be older…colder.

don’t keep quiet, drown the song behind

not far, lets walk further.

tomorrow we’ll be older…colder.

breaking strawberries here

while fall brings down that leaf,

let the finish line go, this isn’t for real

tomorrow we’ll be older…colder

The Rat Song.

myprisonerandherguitar — Tue, 10 Feb 2009 17:31:07 +0000

im bored out of my wits
im feeding on the bits.
that my rat left me in the cellar
after we talked over a beer.
my rat, it promised to bring
more laughter than you think
my rat it brought me life,
a tear and some kink.
it became my best friend over the years,
ate my nose one day in fear,
that i could smell its tail from below
the oats i often sow.
so now i let it be, sometimes for weeks in a row
while it runs around back yards
almost always laden with snow.
but iv kept a little cheesecake
and im telling you this so you know
and you can tell him if you saw ;
that cheese takes awhile
to go bad no matter after a while.
my nose it will grow
and this, my friends know
when there is no food in the storms
this nose will follow the trail
of cheese and jam trapped in snow
while the rest can forever blow.

my rat friend you are welcome.

Pebbles from my fish tank.

myprisonerandherguitar — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 06:26:15 +0000

Any colour you like,

Just paint the folds of your eye,

There’s no world bigger than yours,

No roof without the floors.

Bring your smile home, it was last seen lone, wandering down the beaches

Of dreams beyond your reaches

Go take the next train out of this neon lit town

Go fight the blur, pick any colour,

Any colour you like.

more pebbles.

myprisonerandherguitar — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 06:25:16 +0000

Dead swans, red swans, gleams of a butchered star,

Soldiers, kill soldiers,

Eat diamonds made of tar

Bring me, no take me, hang my heart on the wall,

Break it, come make it

A leaf that fell last fall.

c’mon, its just water.

myprisonerandherguitar — Thu, 04 Sep 2008 13:23:43 +0000

How would it be if you felt like the last drop of water was wringed out of your body and you felt like the last weapon of death had been used on you and that the last one to save you had just left. Left not to come back.

How would it be, if now, from amongst all the things uv learned to want, you wanted just some water? you were in such vulgar want of water?

Are you thinking?

How would it be, if all you needed were a lick of that tasteless, indescribably insignificant, un-thought provokingly ridiculous light liquid that leaves such little memory down your throat? Would you be ashamed to want something so abundant so badly? Would you have rather wanted chilled beer? Or maybe a carefully iced bottle of champagne? Well, want what u want to, but im saying, all you could have was a little drop of water. So how would it be if all you wanted was water?

So how would it be if you died dreaming of what you took most for granted?

How would it be? How would it be if you really died? How would it be if you really died like that?

Porcupine writes with petals.

myprisonerandherguitar — Fri, 01 Aug 2008 21:44:39 +0000

“Like a sailor seeing the shore disappear, I watch my past recede. Reduced to the ashes of memory. I have only two organs with me, working just fine. Rather, working overtime. My head and my heart. Can’t really tell you which one is gonna talk now. They are constantly engaged in battle, knowing not when to put up the white flag. Sometimes, they take rest from the gunfire. When its dark and the sirens have blow, they talk. Sometimes. And share a joint. Don’t our mothers write us the same letters ? Don’t they tell us to do what is right and how much they miss us. We are but fighting for the same cause.

Peace on earth. Broad daylight. Infant mumblings. Its all white.
Love assembles the broken doll. She has a silvery scream. A silvery dream.
And one thin black line. Protecting her from the world.

Oh she is still in her cradle. Laughs like a frog in the rain.
I dare not pick her up. She is too fragile. Her pores get blocked and she screams for more water. A pond you say? She needs the ocean, my friend.

It’s a conspiracy. Never a miracle. They tell me to go away.
They tell me happiness is only real when it is shared. I need to find my people. My place. Plant to plant. Bush to bush. Seagull to another seagull. And a mermaid to a mermaid.
For a moment, I re-discovered the purpose of my life. I was here in earth to grasp the meaning of its wild enchantment and call each thing by its right name.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath of the white smell. The lotus is afloat in a distant pond. The flower scented air, laced with black hair flows to me with the careless breeze. It’s dearer to me than my skin. Better than any lover. Wiser than any book. Smaller than any doll. Frailer then my unborn girl.

Troubles will come and they will pass. I found a woman and I found love. And not to forget there is someone up above. Time turns and so does the tides. Love me now and kiss me twice.”

i didn’t write this. A Porcupine wrote this with a petal.

we all have eyes, duh!

myprisonerandherguitar — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 19:29:03 +0000

have you ever wondered why some people never stand straight? why they’r incessantly pacing back and forth? have u wondered why some people fuss too much about their hair, or pretend to fuss too less? Or, why they frequently reach out to wipe imaginary sweat off their foreheads? or how they manage to eat so fast? have you ever seen a woman smile too much and a man frown more? have you ever wondered why some people, lone at bars refuse to stop moving their ice cubes with stirrers-what do they chase so much in their drink glasses? have you ever seen these men at the tube wells by the road sides frantically washing their hands and legs? have you ever asked why your last boyfriend never wrote you a letter and sent it in an envelope? have you ever wondered why your maid servant chews so less and gulps so fast while eating? have you ever wondered why you almost always assume that the next cab driver will cheat you with the meter? have you ever wondered why its so much easier to waste food than to give it away?

Im sure you have.

I brought someone home.

myprisonerandherguitar — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 09:00:49 +0000

So I stayed.

Stayed with this strange, chocking pain in my throat, like an innocent, unrelenting hand of a child. I wore the pink shoes, put on the black dress and hummed a tune. Thought my eyes looked darker with a twinkle and lips redder with a smile…it was perfect, or well, almost.

Everything was set, the lines of cars shining like a woman after she’s been loved, the victories of the night within sight, almost real, almost reached. The weight of a week lightened like a snapped kite…it almost felt like justice.

It was all falling into place, like a tragedy after euphoria, like a slap after a kiss, falling perfectly into place. Perfect is perfect when the imperfect is in your vault, safe and well earned. u’d agree?

So, it was all falling into place, like I said before, but for this new toy that I had seen in a shop the other day. This old, yellowed with time, grayed –with- dirt toy. You could see it was worn, well worn, you could see the shred of a tag fluttering from its side, down below on its body, you could see the fuzzed face smothered in cobwebs, the mouth almost hanging down like a dead man on the beach…like a dead man lying on the beach, yeah. The eyes looked happy, thanks to the arched eyebrows, but it would hardly make a child spill laughter on the shop counter… u know?

So there I was, staring at this farce of a commodity. Staring long enough to decide what I wanted to do with it, but before that, mind you, before that, I had to ask one little, irrelevant question. I had to ask why this drudge of a thing, this toy meant to amuse and elate, was kept amidst an embarrassingly better, better? Lets settle with brighter. Yeah, so I was going to ask why it was kept amidst an embarrassingly brighter display of childhood fancies.

I wondered, and stood longer and stared harder, and eventually, (ull know if you know me), I eventually walked to the counter, spend 3 mins. convincing the guy that I indeed wanted the one toy that he repeatedly overlooked.

So he was convinced, and so it was brought home. Everything was falling into place, like a tragedy after euphoria, like a slap after a kiss, falling perfectly into place. Perfectly, well, almost.

I don’t like brighter better than ‘better’. My eyes hurt.

firsts are never as good as the lasts.

myprisonerandherguitar — Sat, 19 Jul 2008 07:10:59 +0000

my very first post on th every first page of the very new screen for a very new reason.

Thank you to a certain someone.

i think i know how this blog will feel now, for a few, unsuspecting days to come, but not sure what it will metamorphose into, dunno how it will fall on different levels of comprehension. Knowing myself, i think it’ll feel stiff, straight jacketed at times, flimsy, nauseatingly ordinary at times, painfully trying at times(like now?) , uncomfortable, unsure, hungry, over fed, spoilt, peasantish, erratic, flattened-on-a track like,fragmented, wholesome like a womb..all at once.

laced with banana peels, cleansed with a smile, all at once.

i cannot codify a human being. dont think you can either.

Closing word: history repeats itself, and no one learns shit.

read on…or don’t.