backyardstains.blogspot.com
The Ragpicker's Poems: 2000
http://backyardstains.blogspot.com/2014/01/2000.html
Monday, January 13, 2014. A vessel to the craft of inept. Breed me a change, bake me a chain. Flock with the illusion monger. Carnival of the hideous splits longer. An untamed notion sits quietly in the corner. Without a sow and grim reaper. Am I this archetype chained pretender. Eradicate whats left of this abyss. Swim into the circle of fire again. Each step is a blackhole on its own. Beyond the hopeless spoils and the fame. A steep climb to the endless realms. Of addiction to this hollowed scripture.
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The Ragpicker's Poems: April 2011
http://backyardstains.blogspot.com/2011_04_01_archive.html
Tuesday, April 5, 2011. Ever since I was a kid , I used to read comics of all kinds. Ranging from the so called 'decent' ones to the extremely graphic ones. I was also too much into watching cartoon shows that were typically aggressive , violent or depicted war of some kind. There was always something that bothered me which I never really understood that baffled me for decades. I always developed a natural soft corner for the antagonist. Always. . Don't talk like one of them, you're not! Only a cynical m...
backyardstains.blogspot.com
The Ragpicker's Poems: Lestat
http://backyardstains.blogspot.com/2013/07/lestat.html
Tuesday, July 9, 2013. Sometimes my reflection appears vague,. Falling upon scabs of those endless remains. It picks up rags of those withered unattended. And gaze upon the past, that once made sense. Surrendered to the everyday that comes. Without a thought and without a reason. Like the nail that pierces inches deep. A soul, burned by the heat of a million suns. I touch the cold and ugly stalemate. An emptied mind with nothing much to lose. A body that decayed under a misplaced fate. My WoRLd iN WorDs.
backyardstains.blogspot.com
The Ragpicker's Poems: November 2011
http://backyardstains.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html
Thursday, November 17, 2011. A craving held between the lines of absolute wrath of the soul and a timeless serenity. It calls for the end of everything that is yet to come, but not before the inception of the time that is glaring towards infinity. Its somewhere between these lines a universe exits that holds the answer to all our collective unanswered questions. An extract from the Black Book. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). Travelers , always remember one thing - Nothing is what it seems! My WoRLd iN WorDs.
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The Ragpicker's Poems: December 2010
http://backyardstains.blogspot.com/2010_12_01_archive.html
Wednesday, December 29, 2010. Hour hand seems to be in a race. It keeps rushing for years. I have lost my words , in search. I crave my own despise, my eternal wrath. Casted purely through a furlong. A story of a sinful child winded by oblivion. Hinted by the sense , but always weak in math. Hour hand rushes through the ages. I observe the drifting silence. Across the glowing of the city's street lights. And a daily facade , everything changes. I sometimes wonder how can emptiness. She was everything once.
backyardstains.blogspot.com
The Ragpicker's Poems: August 2011
http://backyardstains.blogspot.com/2011_08_01_archive.html
Monday, August 8, 2011. I stare down into the end of the horizon , that has no promises held for anyone. A senseless life we all lead much oblivious to the inordinate abundance of whatever reality has to offer. A deeply sedated being concluded for every notion and the inculcation of false morality into a vice society has led to deprivation and scarcity of almost everything except with a touch of reality in essence. An extract from the Black Book - Ragpicker , Oct 15 , 1984. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom).
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The Ragpicker's Poems: March 2013
http://backyardstains.blogspot.com/2013_03_01_archive.html
Sunday, March 31, 2013. Some shades are hard to find. The ones that shields the broken. And the curtain falls slowly behind. Ending a life,that was never chosen. Silence for years renders the heart to stone. Waves of nothingness crushes. Upon the aisle of all that remains. I walk this lifeless city without a trace. Dreams echoes in the haunting wind. Coldness holds me tightly by the skin. Rusted and lost, I paint my world. Of scars and the heart I could never win. I walk these deserted streets. It has be...
backyardstains.blogspot.com
The Ragpicker's Poems: September 2011
http://backyardstains.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html
Thursday, September 15, 2011. Heart beats to the rhythm of stalemate. Pretense of a long lost dream chaser. A paper cut descend within a perfect wait. Cognition of inert memory eraser. Inside a fiction free mind. Serenity hits upon a shapeless stone. Mind seeks a path of sustenance. Blackout of a long lost wind chaser. Saturated towards the realms of infinity. Demarcation of thoughts eraser. Inside a fiction free heart. Oblivion transforms to art. That stone hits upon this serenity. Ever from the start!
backyardstains.blogspot.com
The Ragpicker's Poems: October 2010
http://backyardstains.blogspot.com/2010_10_01_archive.html
Friday, October 1, 2010. It picks up through the rags once left,. Cold , unattended ,withered by the rusting red. Scabs of nothingness left for nothing except decay. Lying on the corner of a misplaced way. That eats the thought , kills the pain. Numbs the will , scarves the sane. A place far from black of the words. And bright of the day. Miles passed , not a tear that covers the face. Where did those smiles go, left without a trace. Now theres nothing but a silent pain to embrace. My WoRLd iN WorDs.
