Josh-Baba's Blog

Beneath the brazen scowl and howl, Did faith discern the whimpering truth Neither the wit of old nor callous youth Could fork the sanity in this prowl The old woman waited still On banks of cracked clay and hill Half of a twisted mind she had For waiting for a lover she never had. Dreams and the dreamer chase the wind An old woman’s tale is a girls dream How do you chase a soulless wind? Water is never still at a rushing stream. The old woman died today Well, the madness died if I must say. But half of her twisted mind she gave To be buried with her lover who was in his grave. Love, Our eternal sanity Where half the mind is gone To love Is to be insane

“Why do all men go to war?” The gun asked the bullet as it came, “It may be for the value of a name, Or the reckless ambition of wit” Men die on the silent road, Of wars they do not understand, There was a funeral of reason, When man first went to war, “Why do all men fall in love? And wet me with that greasy slime”, This was the questions the lip asked the tongue “They are enthused by the recklessness, The constant fading of sanity, Witless encounters of mindless caution, Is it love, could it be, There is a funeral of reason when love leads. Why is uncertainty our biggest fear? Caution deprives us of our time? We spend a lifetime not trying, For the veil that splits between, In the fallow realm, We lie, Unfulfilled, Awry and dry, We buried reason, To be free, I hang on the bitter poles of my own mind, Asking myself, who is insanity? Steps surrounding our peak, We lay fallow, our mountains speak, Courage is a mirror of self deceit, Insanity is ...

Look! There is love. Standing on bended knees, It calls us children, For it is under the fire that we sing. When dusk is mint and scent, Shadows foray in the darkness Briefly we meet, Under mats filled with stories and hope. The moon above But there is no one but us, Under this conversation in space, The moon dimly sets, On eyes that glittered free. Your beautiful moonlight smile We walked in the timid darkness Hands searching for the hearts that came “Carry me” you whispered Away from the familiar daze In my arms, love felt its familiar gaze. Morning was beautiful For it brought the railings To think that in all that war You chose a warrior like me The irony of love Norah I was afraid Of the rising chaos Of my war torn self So I walked away I walked till I felt the wound Of loosing you under a thousand moonlights For you were the one In every way Even if you are the one that got away.

No worries No cares it seemed Often adays moments go away Into thick darkness, thicker than darkness Paving the way that seems right Observed in the shortest of times Without a speck of consideration Without mincing and no conjunction Stained I became with my very hands Buried in the dirt that fakes my guilt Giving every reason for people to doubt my existence Whether I do, is a question I've never answered. There's is no answer to a question so apt Maybe an urge, maybe a surge triggered my lingering snore When the rains wouldn't fall winter comes When the rain won't fall the leaves wither As I have When the baritones became more pronounced Than the sweetest voice of Parton My skin was shed a day after wishes died. I hung unto the clandestine speech "Forsake the old and chase the new" I was right, for the years of misery look passed away too, Into the nightness I screamed till I lost it; my voice, my sanity This tongue I employed If I ...

Just trying to figure out myself

These tales were written on these walls Peaceful nights Coal for the fire in the coldest hearts Eyes are shut but the ears hear the footsteps behind the walls. Light wrestles the overwhelming darkness That cast spell and brings fear Which day is less darker and strange?  Where is the watchman that survives a day to tell the story? The hearts of men pound Some for fear and others for evil The order is a sequel That so many read about but disbelieved Until they met the devil in the book. Men play hide and seek with the enemy And the lads learn the coward-way These were the tales written on these walls. The Danes and arrows; the unused toys Buried in the basement for the days of sport And hearts beat like drums Yet the drumming grows quieter before death. They die before knowing death They leave without footprints They robbed life the many years it wanted to stay It still is the same today.

I sat clicking my fingers Feeling grateful and dammed Remorseful and shamed. A stranger took me by the hand Walked me through the plain gardens of Tanzania He picked a healthy rose and a dying rose My commonest friend He offered  me both And he left me to decide. Am afraid I've never lost anything that is mine I was careless yet still The God of the Book stressed emphasis on me My commonest fears he secured And I rested my head ever since. My commonest friend left me to reflect this glory and concern This love I've unlearned The power I've downtrodden its prowess. Minutes ago I was brooding with the 'where' and the 'how' I woke half the city searching for my spoon I slept too deep and my head spooled In the dead of the night I felt naked My commonest friend took the fur and the sheets That made me sweat while asleep He knew what needed to be done and he did. The last minutes were tensed I was amazed it could happen to anyo...