As a part of felicitation for the Dean and our two HODs who where the core pillars of the Animation Dept. of Manipal University, Bangalore Campus, from first Day of 2007 on wards with 5 +12 students as the first batch till today- with more than 200 students.Our dear HOD's extended all their whole hearted support to KRIYA and its colaborative efforts with Creative Treasury & Views, Students honoured them with a pleasent surprise in dedication for them the whole day, with our cherishing memories, imitations and thankings. We came up with a short poem, a simple poem that probably only those who know them well, will understand and burst laughing in the depth of understanding of their character and behavioural attitude.
Here it goes- Enjoy--Cheers-
A for ANIL sir, B for BALAJI sir…
"Okkaayy …that is fine… I am not saying it is bad, it is good… but you can do better butt…work hard
I think its ok yaar… do more… Bull shit yaar…"
In to the campus comes our dear anil sir, like don…
With the vermillion red bullet as a thundering bird!
Uplifting the specks and saying with a twist on hip, "good morning yaar…"
Covering and limiting the laughs and smiles saying "bullshit yaar…"
“Movies movies where the hell is the movies
2d or 3d I don’t care, we have no entries anywhere”
Paying for the stolen book from library, the Nude anatomy…
"For I shall gift you better book, plz return the library book…"
Sketching and painting the concept art in the early 2D style work…
On his beloved waccom cintique….
Always on the latest trends of shirts and goggles
With a smile on it saying “Bull shit”
Chasing students and taming the noted absconders…
And turning the head from the desktop in a left pan and says
"This is the last chance okay you can leave the college and go, take it and go…"
With some mallu girls saying he is “cute and hott” and
Anil Sir saying “Keep walking” “Change your world” What69… Good yaar…"
B for Balaji sir...
Balaji..."Yaa yaaa you can do that…"
"Tweak it yaar...my kid is waiting for me…and being a family man.."
With an over grown mustache and bugs bunny laughs with initial start ignition…
Being the early man in the campus in a Ritz burglar alarm..
And students exactly kicking football on to it though they have never scored a goal…
Unwrapping the model applying texture with material lighting…
And sms ing from way2sms saying” lighting guys wake up and submit”
With turtles and toys all around on his table and saying “man what did I say”
Though his days are nights for us and our nights are days for him…
He listens to all with patients and concerns, though he tolerates all nonsense…
Diplomatic and strict yet manages all the circus of campus…
With folded full sleeves and a T shirt inside with a school bag on back
And if late “go to library” with exact time in and exact time out
And if we ask for any other queries he says "we are working on it”
When frustrated or upset or when jovial and humorous
He starts with “bloody” and ends with “bloody”
For whatever he may be we respect him for his responsibility…
For these are the tales of our two HODS’
For they started with nothing here and here it is with we
Managing the game and taming the students, for both are the captains of this team..
We have seen them working all day and night with fire through glimpse of life,
May god bless them and keep them happy, for we know they are forever worthy.
With love students | CREATIVE TREASURY | KRIYA - Dec 2010.
Thanks to UK sir as usual for being a pART of us thanks to the whole of the Dept. 2D and 3D Team.
We will miss u all. with love & Regards.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
The world through his eyes : Priyavansh Jeet Simon
Senior citizen-a generation ignored
Wasn't I happy, when you were first in my hands,
Wasn’t I happy, when you used to hold my hand
I have always loved you, I’ve always praised you.
You are my life and you are my hope.
Because for a mother, she is the kite and the children are its rope.
You loved me when you were a child,
You cared for me when you were small.
Now why do I see you standing, at the other side of the wall.
Now I live with the person you used to call Dad.
Often I look into his eyes, searching for a bit of happiness,
But without you they are both empty and sad.
We love you like God loved his creation
We will love you all our age.
But take us to your home, because it feels terrible living alone without you, a life which is similar to the life of a child in an orphanage.
We love you my son, we love you my child
Come home ,to us before the storm of our life goes wild.
I have always loved you, I’ve always praised you.
You are my life and you are my hope.
Because for a mother, she is the kite and the children are its rope.
You loved me when you were a child,
You cared for me when you were small.
Now why do I see you standing, at the other side of the wall.
Now I live with the person you used to call Dad.
Often I look into his eyes, searching for a bit of happiness,
But without you they are both empty and sad.
We love you like God loved his creation
We will love you all our age.
But take us to your home, because it feels terrible living alone without you, a life which is similar to the life of a child in an orphanage.
We love you my son, we love you my child
Come home ,to us before the storm of our life goes wild.
Jeevan Ki Peheli Sadak
Jeevan ke is mod par aaj jo mai pahucha hu ,soochta hu , ki kya din the wo jab mai chota tha ,
Baadlo mei apne sapno ka jaha dhunda karta tha,karta tha jab najre falak par,
Baadlo mei sher ka aks dhoonda karta tha,
Bhooto ki kahaniya sachi lagti thi mujhko,pattiyo ka shor dara deta tha mujhko,
Sikko mei dunia samati thi meri,mithi chijo se pyar tha mujhko,
Padai bhari thi mujh par,home work niptaya karta tha,
Jaldi se bada hona chahata tha,apni marji ka malik ban’na chahta tha,
Yaad karta hu jab mai aj un dino ko chehere par muskurahat ati hai mere,
Janta hu aa nahi sakte wo din dubara,par gar koi tarika hota ,to jeeta dobara un dino ko,
Jinhe keheta hu mai mere jivan ki peheli sadak.
Baadlo mei sher ka aks dhoonda karta tha,
Bhooto ki kahaniya sachi lagti thi mujhko,pattiyo ka shor dara deta tha mujhko,
Sikko mei dunia samati thi meri,mithi chijo se pyar tha mujhko,
Padai bhari thi mujh par,home work niptaya karta tha,
Jaldi se bada hona chahata tha,apni marji ka malik ban’na chahta tha,
Yaad karta hu jab mai aj un dino ko chehere par muskurahat ati hai mere,
Janta hu aa nahi sakte wo din dubara,par gar koi tarika hota ,to jeeta dobara un dino ko,
Jinhe keheta hu mai mere jivan ki peheli sadak.
Immortal Feelings
Its about us not about me.
Walking towards the darkness,moving towards the endless cave,
What is my life without madness and the love i kept for u so safe,
Ive been living in this illusion about you,giving my love to worthyless people thinkin its you,
When you willl appear before me like an old friend,a person known to me since ages,
I have been restless in the darkness and the dawn,
Are u an illusion or a ghost,will u be the person i will love the most,
Dont be such a coward just stand before me and say i am ment for you and "i love u the most",
The rain,the morning glory and the mist,it is only me who stands before the gods and insist,
Why you need the heaven the hell and the golden gate,
If there is no happiness no love and no one to acknowledge as my soulmate,
My life is drifting towards the sin and the temptation's,
The love left in me is just a speculation,
Why you did this why you give us the power of our brain,
look what have we done,now life is a gamble and love is a game,
We are humans ,the most inteligent and the dominant population on earth,
But still we kill female child before its birth,
Im sick of the thing we do and we say and the love the relation and the promises we make,
What are we without this land and the sea,
Now there is no one to say its about us not about me.
What is my life without madness and the love i kept for u so safe,
Ive been living in this illusion about you,giving my love to worthyless people thinkin its you,
When you willl appear before me like an old friend,a person known to me since ages,
I have been restless in the darkness and the dawn,
Are u an illusion or a ghost,will u be the person i will love the most,
Dont be such a coward just stand before me and say i am ment for you and "i love u the most",
The rain,the morning glory and the mist,it is only me who stands before the gods and insist,
Why you need the heaven the hell and the golden gate,
If there is no happiness no love and no one to acknowledge as my soulmate,
My life is drifting towards the sin and the temptation's,
The love left in me is just a speculation,
Why you did this why you give us the power of our brain,
look what have we done,now life is a gamble and love is a game,
We are humans ,the most inteligent and the dominant population on earth,
But still we kill female child before its birth,
Im sick of the thing we do and we say and the love the relation and the promises we make,
What are we without this land and the sea,
Now there is no one to say its about us not about me.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
words of imagination by Saptarishi
Untitled
There is no knowledge
that is not power
there is no blade
I've watched the metamorphosis
the birth and the death
a simple cycle that never fades
so young and yet
so dead for hope and dreams
you've torn down silver linings
with revenge dripping from my teeth
we're all living the same lie
and truth be told
dying from birth
we're just living to die
Problem? I see none.
Indulge to your heart's content!
It tastes good ?
It just might end you.
After all, you're useless...
We sure don't need you.
From your corpse, grows something better.
Like flowers, weeds even.
Cholesterol? So?
How about a bullet?
Or, cancer maybe?
With cheese and ketchup;
Have it any way.
A hatred and distrust of the human race,
Give me cyanide.
Wine.
And exotic toxic tastes,
A world living in apathy fails so badly.
Me, personally,
I'll just starve.
Who wants to live forever anyway ?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
*STATIC*
Dawn tinges the black sky,
A glow beyond the dark of night.
Impossible shades of gray,
Then silver turning to gold.
Beauty only GOD can provide,
Trying to light the sadness of my empty soul.
Awake.
Night followed by day followed by night.
Alone.
TV blaring trying to fill the soundless space within.
Thoughts of failure, self-worth,
Can I fix what is broken?
Do I even know what is broken?
Am I meant to stay abandoned and alone until
The night comes without a dawn?
The blackened ropes of confusion and emptiness hold me captive.
There is no shade of gray to lift my heart,
No silver salvation for my soul,
There is no glorious gold of dawn for one so empty and alone.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Hello
Hello?
Who are you?
Another manifestation?
Another lifeform?
Another figment of my imagination?
Another object commiting actions?
Another pathetic swarm of matter?
Another moth flying around the same flame?
Another caged being scavenging for happiness?
Another voracious consumer of emotions?
Another leaf avoiding being stepped on?
Another pair of legs sprinting away from death?
Another creature dogging for lust?
Another cranium mezmerized by the illusion of 'love'?
Another bunch of arteries trying to stop time?
Who are you after all?
One of the sheep?
Or just wearing the skin to fit in?
Yes?
Hello.
Friend.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Speechless
a dream come true,
on the verge of achieving the pinnacle of the only summit
that i have not conquered till date,
my joy knew no bounds;
i am not a speaker,
nor i express my happiness
as freely as everyone else,
but then that is me;
unmoved by emotions,
that flood so many others,
i have till date resisted
the pull and the push of it
from overwhelming me;
till date, till now,
but as i now stand on what seems like a turning point,
i am shocked,
i am stunned;
as the tv blares on in the background,
my mind is just blank, nothing,
it’s as if everything has been erased with one little swipe,
standing on the last step of the pinnacle,
so sure of success was i, everything else became secondary;
work, family, friends,
and the things that were dear to me,
i brushed them all away,
as i waited in line to accept the one thing that would fulfill me;
so sure of attaining the next level,
that when i reached the stage,
i let go of my guard only to be stunned by the reality of things,
something is not right and some things i cannot control,
and for once, i am truly speechless
at the way life still plays a game of hide and seek with me;
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Little Hands
Have you ever clung to a desire for so long
that your eyes saw nothing else?
The most beautiful part of existence is the ability to dream,
to aspire toward a goal, no matter how lofty!
Like the little girl with her hand outstretched to the stars,
hoping for just one touch of the cosmos.
Try as she may, with all of her might
soon she will realize she cannot reach very far.
That little girl does not cry!
In fact she simply sits there,
smiling.
And soon tonight, like many before
her mother will call with affection,
peeking out the front door.
‘Sweetheart, my darling where are you?
It’s getting late and you need your sleep! ‘
That little girl does not whine!
In fact she just walks in,
smiling.
The little girl with her hands to the sky,
is content with the knowledge that tomorrow is another day.
Her arms will be one day longer,
and the stars will still be there.
Her dream may wither until it can’t even be seen
but her dream will never tear.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sanctimonious
Free Falling,
fast into a frivolous fire of desire.
Seeing sanctimonious souls
seeking simple solutions to aspire, that take them higher.
Unfortunately unable
to understand unless they're a mess.
Living lies,
to look like they fear less with success.
Constantly crying,
while creating chaos to camouflage confusion within their delusion.
Inconspicuously inundated
by an insecure insignificant illusion spawned by their seclusion.
Obviously overlooking,
their ostentatious oceans fueled by their emotions.
Virtuously vanquishing,
their values and devotions, surendering their notions.
Brilliantly broadcasting
their beliefs by blissfully breaking and taking.
Always allowing
their atrocious animosity to leave them aching but forsaking.
Diligently destroying
their destiny by deliberately dealing and stealing.
Plastic people
their pale pretentious disguise is peeling and unsealing.
---------------------------------------------------------
Moon
watching the full moon
shining brightly up in the dark sky
i can’t resist drawing a parallel to my life;
one complete circle it has come,
what started as a small thing
has now been completed and finished
with the next stage already in motion;
just like a full moon,
my life achieved its highest peak and
like all good things, it has come to an end,
and slowly fades away into oblivion;
bit by bit, it starts fading away
bit by bit, slowly and steadily
leaving a long lasting impression behind
it is slowly moved out of context;
life goes on,
up and down,
waning and waxing
like a moon;
just like the craters on the moon,
all events etched deep into our memories
never fading away and reminding us of the
good and the bad days of life;
-----------------------------------------------------
Glue
just a hollow feeling
my mask on the seat next to mine
worn out, beaten and battered
it had come to an end;
just as smoothly as it started
the end was a quick one,
no nonsense, no stupid climax
the curtain came down in one swift motion;
standing tall amidst broken lives
no one cares if you stay back
to pick up the pieces
or make a run to the nearest exit;
full of anger and full of fear,
wanting to wreck the peace
my mind is seeking,
i gradually lost it all;
running away from death
and escaping from the mind games,
seeking refuge from the storm
i rushed headlong into life;
searching for a place to hide,
watching people trade money for love,
i began to fill the emptiness that surrounds me
with the pieces of my broken heart;
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Paint
I am a painter, and I like to paint pictures,
But my pictures are made from words rather than paint!
I brush and stroke the keys to lay the words down in front of me,
I keep on painting until I get a good end result!
My words capture a past time, or a moment,
My words draw a picture of my hopes and my fears!
Some words are from my wild imagination,
Others are snapshots of my life through the years!
I paint to get the thoughts out of my head,
When they are visible they are easier to understand!
My words paint for me a little picture,
Pictures of Love, passing strangers and friends!
I paint pictures of the world that surrounds me,
I paint pictures of the thoughts in my head,
I paint pictures of my hesitations, and the things that I dream of,
I paint pictures of things people have done and said!
My words, I lay them bare in front of you,
My pictures, might sometimes seem quite obscure,
But every artist is entitled to use self expression,
And my poems are an expression of ‘Myself’ for sure!
I like to express my lust, love, and longing,
I like to release the tensions that I sometimes feel,
I like to share my thoughts on all matters,
By sharing, it somehow helps make things seem more real!
I am a painter, and I like to pint pictures,
But my pictures are made from words, rather than paint!
I brush and stroke the keys to lay the words down in front of me,
I keep on painting until I get a good end result!
This picture is a self portrait of the artist,
The artist sits thinking as the world spins around!
His eyes are closed and he is sitting there comfortably,
His face is expressionless; there is no smile or no frown!
----------------------------------------------------------
Lost
as the sunlight slowly faded away
the city lights flickered on, one by one,
illuminating everything on the outside
and casting a shadow on the inside;
as time slowly ticked past,
the darkness inched closer and closer
spreading its shadows across the land,
my inner self comes alive;
as much as i struggle and curl underneath the blanket,
my fears come alive, and slowly engulfs me from the inside
and tears up the mask that i so successfully put on during the day;
fears that torment me from the inside during the day
comes alive as soon the light fades away and i am back into my den,
with a mind of its own, tormenting me every single night,
sometimes i wished i was dead;
surrounded by many,
yet isolated and alone,
i try to reach out to people
but succeed in grasping just empty air;
struggling to keep my sanity,
i plunge myself into darkness
for its the only place to hide
to cope with all this,
i give up and cry myself to sleep;
it’s tiresome to want something you don’t have, and each morning
i wake with loneliness by my side, each day I walk with it’s presence
in my footsteps, each night it lies hand in hand with my insomnia;
perhaps i have become invisible?
or have i become just an figment of imagination?
they cried on my shoulders and i soaked up their tears,
asking for nothing in return, but when i need someone,
where did they all go?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Awe
Is it awe that makes me feel like a moth ?
How it finds a flame only to be burned.
Is it awe that leaves me living in a wasteland ?
How i search for a trampled green leaf.
Is it awe that i stand neck deep in memories ?
How they choke while i beg them to depart.
Is it awe that resists me to shed tears ?
How my sorrow comes out only as drying salt water.
Is it awe that i hate to close my eyes and think ?
How dreams die in an impulse of actions.
Is it awe that i dog for happiness ?
How it vanishes in a fraction of a second.
Is it awe that i don't believe in love ?
How it exists as a non-existent word.
Is it awe that i think life is an illusion ?
How it fools me and makes me blind.
Is it awe that i find eternal calm in death ?
How it makes me wish no one deserves to live.
Poems by Saptarishi
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There is no knowledge
that is not power
there is no blade
I've watched the metamorphosis
the birth and the death
a simple cycle that never fades
so young and yet
so dead for hope and dreams
you've torn down silver linings
with revenge dripping from my teeth
we're all living the same lie
and truth be told
dying from birth
we're just living to die
Problem? I see none.
Indulge to your heart's content!
It tastes good ?
It just might end you.
After all, you're useless...
We sure don't need you.
From your corpse, grows something better.
Like flowers, weeds even.
Cholesterol? So?
How about a bullet?
Or, cancer maybe?
With cheese and ketchup;
Have it any way.
A hatred and distrust of the human race,
Give me cyanide.
Wine.
And exotic toxic tastes,
A world living in apathy fails so badly.
Me, personally,
I'll just starve.
Who wants to live forever anyway ?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
*STATIC*
Dawn tinges the black sky,
A glow beyond the dark of night.
Impossible shades of gray,
Then silver turning to gold.
Beauty only GOD can provide,
Trying to light the sadness of my empty soul.
Awake.
Night followed by day followed by night.
Alone.
TV blaring trying to fill the soundless space within.
Thoughts of failure, self-worth,
Can I fix what is broken?
Do I even know what is broken?
Am I meant to stay abandoned and alone until
The night comes without a dawn?
The blackened ropes of confusion and emptiness hold me captive.
There is no shade of gray to lift my heart,
No silver salvation for my soul,
There is no glorious gold of dawn for one so empty and alone.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Hello
Hello?
Who are you?
Another manifestation?
Another lifeform?
Another figment of my imagination?
Another object commiting actions?
Another pathetic swarm of matter?
Another moth flying around the same flame?
Another caged being scavenging for happiness?
Another voracious consumer of emotions?
Another leaf avoiding being stepped on?
Another pair of legs sprinting away from death?
Another creature dogging for lust?
Another cranium mezmerized by the illusion of 'love'?
Another bunch of arteries trying to stop time?
Who are you after all?
One of the sheep?
Or just wearing the skin to fit in?
Yes?
Hello.
Friend.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Speechless
a dream come true,
on the verge of achieving the pinnacle of the only summit
that i have not conquered till date,
my joy knew no bounds;
i am not a speaker,
nor i express my happiness
as freely as everyone else,
but then that is me;
unmoved by emotions,
that flood so many others,
i have till date resisted
the pull and the push of it
from overwhelming me;
till date, till now,
but as i now stand on what seems like a turning point,
i am shocked,
i am stunned;
as the tv blares on in the background,
my mind is just blank, nothing,
it’s as if everything has been erased with one little swipe,
standing on the last step of the pinnacle,
so sure of success was i, everything else became secondary;
work, family, friends,
and the things that were dear to me,
i brushed them all away,
as i waited in line to accept the one thing that would fulfill me;
so sure of attaining the next level,
that when i reached the stage,
i let go of my guard only to be stunned by the reality of things,
something is not right and some things i cannot control,
and for once, i am truly speechless
at the way life still plays a game of hide and seek with me;
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Little Hands
Have you ever clung to a desire for so long
that your eyes saw nothing else?
The most beautiful part of existence is the ability to dream,
to aspire toward a goal, no matter how lofty!
Like the little girl with her hand outstretched to the stars,
hoping for just one touch of the cosmos.
Try as she may, with all of her might
soon she will realize she cannot reach very far.
That little girl does not cry!
In fact she simply sits there,
smiling.
And soon tonight, like many before
her mother will call with affection,
peeking out the front door.
‘Sweetheart, my darling where are you?
It’s getting late and you need your sleep! ‘
That little girl does not whine!
In fact she just walks in,
smiling.
The little girl with her hands to the sky,
is content with the knowledge that tomorrow is another day.
Her arms will be one day longer,
and the stars will still be there.
Her dream may wither until it can’t even be seen
but her dream will never tear.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sanctimonious
Free Falling,
fast into a frivolous fire of desire.
Seeing sanctimonious souls
seeking simple solutions to aspire, that take them higher.
Unfortunately unable
to understand unless they're a mess.
Living lies,
to look like they fear less with success.
Constantly crying,
while creating chaos to camouflage confusion within their delusion.
Inconspicuously inundated
by an insecure insignificant illusion spawned by their seclusion.
Obviously overlooking,
their ostentatious oceans fueled by their emotions.
Virtuously vanquishing,
their values and devotions, surendering their notions.
Brilliantly broadcasting
their beliefs by blissfully breaking and taking.
Always allowing
their atrocious animosity to leave them aching but forsaking.
Diligently destroying
their destiny by deliberately dealing and stealing.
Plastic people
their pale pretentious disguise is peeling and unsealing.
---------------------------------------------------------
Moon
watching the full moon
shining brightly up in the dark sky
i can’t resist drawing a parallel to my life;
one complete circle it has come,
what started as a small thing
has now been completed and finished
with the next stage already in motion;
just like a full moon,
my life achieved its highest peak and
like all good things, it has come to an end,
and slowly fades away into oblivion;
bit by bit, it starts fading away
bit by bit, slowly and steadily
leaving a long lasting impression behind
it is slowly moved out of context;
life goes on,
up and down,
waning and waxing
like a moon;
just like the craters on the moon,
all events etched deep into our memories
never fading away and reminding us of the
good and the bad days of life;
-----------------------------------------------------
Glue
just a hollow feeling
my mask on the seat next to mine
worn out, beaten and battered
it had come to an end;
just as smoothly as it started
the end was a quick one,
no nonsense, no stupid climax
the curtain came down in one swift motion;
standing tall amidst broken lives
no one cares if you stay back
to pick up the pieces
or make a run to the nearest exit;
full of anger and full of fear,
wanting to wreck the peace
my mind is seeking,
i gradually lost it all;
running away from death
and escaping from the mind games,
seeking refuge from the storm
i rushed headlong into life;
searching for a place to hide,
watching people trade money for love,
i began to fill the emptiness that surrounds me
with the pieces of my broken heart;
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Paint
I am a painter, and I like to paint pictures,
But my pictures are made from words rather than paint!
I brush and stroke the keys to lay the words down in front of me,
I keep on painting until I get a good end result!
My words capture a past time, or a moment,
My words draw a picture of my hopes and my fears!
Some words are from my wild imagination,
Others are snapshots of my life through the years!
I paint to get the thoughts out of my head,
When they are visible they are easier to understand!
My words paint for me a little picture,
Pictures of Love, passing strangers and friends!
I paint pictures of the world that surrounds me,
I paint pictures of the thoughts in my head,
I paint pictures of my hesitations, and the things that I dream of,
I paint pictures of things people have done and said!
My words, I lay them bare in front of you,
My pictures, might sometimes seem quite obscure,
But every artist is entitled to use self expression,
And my poems are an expression of ‘Myself’ for sure!
I like to express my lust, love, and longing,
I like to release the tensions that I sometimes feel,
I like to share my thoughts on all matters,
By sharing, it somehow helps make things seem more real!
I am a painter, and I like to pint pictures,
But my pictures are made from words, rather than paint!
I brush and stroke the keys to lay the words down in front of me,
I keep on painting until I get a good end result!
This picture is a self portrait of the artist,
The artist sits thinking as the world spins around!
His eyes are closed and he is sitting there comfortably,
His face is expressionless; there is no smile or no frown!
----------------------------------------------------------
Lost
as the sunlight slowly faded away
the city lights flickered on, one by one,
illuminating everything on the outside
and casting a shadow on the inside;
as time slowly ticked past,
the darkness inched closer and closer
spreading its shadows across the land,
my inner self comes alive;
as much as i struggle and curl underneath the blanket,
my fears come alive, and slowly engulfs me from the inside
and tears up the mask that i so successfully put on during the day;
fears that torment me from the inside during the day
comes alive as soon the light fades away and i am back into my den,
with a mind of its own, tormenting me every single night,
sometimes i wished i was dead;
surrounded by many,
yet isolated and alone,
i try to reach out to people
but succeed in grasping just empty air;
struggling to keep my sanity,
i plunge myself into darkness
for its the only place to hide
to cope with all this,
i give up and cry myself to sleep;
it’s tiresome to want something you don’t have, and each morning
i wake with loneliness by my side, each day I walk with it’s presence
in my footsteps, each night it lies hand in hand with my insomnia;
perhaps i have become invisible?
or have i become just an figment of imagination?
they cried on my shoulders and i soaked up their tears,
asking for nothing in return, but when i need someone,
where did they all go?
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Awe
Is it awe that makes me feel like a moth ?
How it finds a flame only to be burned.
Is it awe that leaves me living in a wasteland ?
How i search for a trampled green leaf.
Is it awe that i stand neck deep in memories ?
How they choke while i beg them to depart.
Is it awe that resists me to shed tears ?
How my sorrow comes out only as drying salt water.
Is it awe that i hate to close my eyes and think ?
How dreams die in an impulse of actions.
Is it awe that i dog for happiness ?
How it vanishes in a fraction of a second.
Is it awe that i don't believe in love ?
How it exists as a non-existent word.
Is it awe that i think life is an illusion ?
How it fools me and makes me blind.
Is it awe that i find eternal calm in death ?
How it makes me wish no one deserves to live.
Poems by Saptarishi
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Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Creativity and its Basic Foundations.
For a long time, we had the concept of the "unconscious mind" as the source of our creativity (and our madness and insanity!).
The so called unconscious mind is an ENERGY BASED computation system that is natural to human beings.
You could think of it as a super-advanced organic computer that produces data in the form of "Energy Streams" - but the trouble is that these energy streams need to be interpreted and translated into images and visions, sounds and feelings for us to be CONSCIOUSLY AWARE of some parts of their contents.
Our conscious mind, which is what we are trained to use from the word go by schools and talk based learning, thinking about things in terms of words and pictures, has become functionally detached from these energy data streams and doesn't receive them any longer - unless your drunk or dreaming, or you are in hypnosis or you have taken drugs so that these STREAMS OF INFORMATION once more can flow through the whole mind/brain system AND can be consciously observed.
It is my conclusion that we "tap into our creativity" when we let these energy data streams flow into our conscious mind to give us the information that CAN'T BE FOUND IN BOOKS ON THE SHELF, but come from our mind's computations ABOUT ACTUAL REALITY instead.
The so called unconscious mind is an ENERGY BASED computation system that is natural to human beings.
You could think of it as a super-advanced organic computer that produces data in the form of "Energy Streams" - but the trouble is that these energy streams need to be interpreted and translated into images and visions, sounds and feelings for us to be CONSCIOUSLY AWARE of some parts of their contents.
Our conscious mind, which is what we are trained to use from the word go by schools and talk based learning, thinking about things in terms of words and pictures, has become functionally detached from these energy data streams and doesn't receive them any longer - unless your drunk or dreaming, or you are in hypnosis or you have taken drugs so that these STREAMS OF INFORMATION once more can flow through the whole mind/brain system AND can be consciously observed.
It is my conclusion that we "tap into our creativity" when we let these energy data streams flow into our conscious mind to give us the information that CAN'T BE FOUND IN BOOKS ON THE SHELF, but come from our mind's computations ABOUT ACTUAL REALITY instead.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Articulated Waters...
Little by little we get to know art isn't always just a picture drawn on a paper...to be able to put words on paper isn't as well unless those words mean something which shows the writer's intellectual insight.
This blog is medium we the Kriya Team are creating for those of us with an intellectual insight that could prove that words aren't just words when they write them. At their hands words become a medium stronger than even visual arts and can express their thought with an ease that even colours can never match.
So, welcome to the world where words on water is a reality...
This blog is medium we the Kriya Team are creating for those of us with an intellectual insight that could prove that words aren't just words when they write them. At their hands words become a medium stronger than even visual arts and can express their thought with an ease that even colours can never match.
So, welcome to the world where words on water is a reality...
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