A Stampede

A stampede, a rush,

A blanket of dust wreathes around;

A vortex of movements in chase—

Advance ahead or lag behind in its vibrant current.

A jostle, a hustle,

A trudging figure jolted loose;

A lost soul galvanized into mad dances—

Keep distance or you’r adrift in its wild movement.

Confession

A consciousness palled,

A pair of withered feet plod on…

Driven by the heavy but bloated heart adrift—

Am I meant for so…?

The grandiose approach,

The mishandled pain ensued.

Destined but still through a scrimmage—

A dawn of hope stretched afar the horizon blurring.

A dogged silly heart it’s,

Still moving amid double more pains—

Numbed or crazed…a clear vision lost.

Then how there can be such as…

Oh, I see, mine is a lagging sort,

I yet carry on—a caring sense lost,

But only with this blind emotion,

So vague—I cry for a mercy!

Yes, yes, I confess the core point:

Fated and qualified it isn’t;

The strong sense unblended, redundant—

So pathetic I find it myself but cuffed unmovable.

A shower of mercy I seek not now;

Let it take what it deserves by!

A veil of haze falls to lock it further into captivity;

I should learn to like claustrophobia.

Satanic Consciousness

Wake up, you fool!
Oh, think not I’m a log;
I am awake now, only now.
See the tag: Brazen

But am I as branded?
Over, I’m late now.
A stain, stigma attached
But the cunningness escaped.

A clear mind sullied,
A right motivation perverted,
A sense of love spoilt,
The precision passed.

A wagging wolf approached,
An amenable prey subdued—
What’s left, an inflated heart,
Gliding over the maze passed.

Oh, you fool!
Spare not your heart that blindly,
The countenance can be moulded;
A satanic mind has been at works within.
Now, I see the inner curves, so pathetic, so ordinary.

This piece shouldn't be mistaken as what I hold deep down for Y, who I take as the beacon, hope and warmth of my poor bleached heart. It's for the other one who came to me like a satan in disguise, but, unfortunately, at the same time to reveal the evil magic of her fawning cunningness. But I am, by the grace of Triple Gems, resilient and haven't fallen in the abyss of self-torment. Thanks!

Ubiquitous Paleness

However dense the flurries I trudge through—
Muddled headed no place for fixation—
I grip on to it—the firmness I should prove—,
Facing pale, paler to desolate greyness everywhere.

Why even thou, the full moon last night,
Spotted that pale, morosely tarnished, upon me.
Standing and staring at from the narrow front yard,
I saw you cared for me, my friend!

And the stark naked neem tree beside,
The wilted torso and branches, sparse limp leaves,
Joined me too having nothing to hide its emotions;
An artistic view it created with the gleaming moon after all.

Yes, the depth of it I should reach,
The proof being spontaneously true I should find,
But not to show off: To simulate it is to fool myself.
This firmness, even if invalid, should stand trial along the time.

A STIR

Yet to hone and see,
How much more to go
The fullest realization ahead
I starve for…
A hue to be added—
This bleached heart so pale.

A scintillating thought,
A learning to draw closer
What a wise one prepossesses….foresees,
But it remains that unsullied,
Now a thin line surfaces
See how crude it is there!

Oh, yes, for it,
What it should be...
A new chapter unfurling.
How stupid I’ve been,
Unprepared, albeit honest and firm.
It isn’t ample—should see deeper.

And there, as I learn along,
The pain lies as said,
But mere indulgence I care not.
My ground is still firm,
A shield I have already built
To wage a war—what I find there.

More such painful stories pierce my numbed ears;
I still hold on being confident yet not unwittingly.
Spontaneous it is; strained how it can be—
Why I look deeper but still remain intact…

Hold the ground! I whimper ignorant of those peeps, gapes—
I don’t find it going down, but should hold the ground firm ever.
A ledge I can carve out from it, the precipice manageable,
A foothold I can and should find there—not from here, I lag far behind.

Yet Another Collection Gifted by Lodoe: Good For Desktop Wallpapers

The crawling winding road from Manali to Leh; he took it after arriving at a certain point of the summit where the taxi stops for a break en route.

 

A scenic capture of Manali, must be taken from where he stayed for dipping in hot springs.

 

An apple-garden in Manali; the greatest time of the year with blooming fruit-trees around. For me, a true reminiscence of my home and childhood in Bhutan.

 

This is the present scene of the hot-springs housing camp where many go for dipping that is believed to cure a certain ranging diseases of chronic carriers--dyspepsia, arthritis, rheumatism, backpain, jointpain, etc.

 

A night scene Lodoe could capture in time. The lonely silhouette of the giant-looking tree is manipulated to look that sedate and forlorn.

 

In Manali, a waterfall he and his mates came upon by accident during their hiking excursion in the hills. 

 

In Manali, the towering snow-clad ridges, the part of the Himalaya ranges.

 

Another scenic capture Lodoe had on his ascending way to Leh from Manali; it's in Manali.

 

A nice capture from the taxi en route to Leh; a view of Rathang La.

From My Friend Lodoe's Recent Journey To The Himalaya Regions: A Picture Essay

A Tibetan baby-boy beside his mom: A nice picture.

The one part of Leh, the main town or capital of Ladhak.

The other part of Leh surrounded by barren landscape.

A barren landscape in Ladhak bears its beauty against the verdant one below exuding its verdure.

A blooming potato field in Garsha, HP, that seems to exchange its exuberant lushness splendor with the clear ocean blue sky and the half-clad shivering snowy ridges grandeur: A matching reception.

Its Countenance

I

Self-Proofing

Delving into and poring over the internal passion that has compelled me to wade through the quagmire of winding emotional warfare, I now happen to find a nuance--the comparison that should be studied and noted: really my part lacks the gist of being free of any hindrances and setbacks; it suffers from a sort of filth like personality based dignity maintenance that hauls me back to my only craving position, so crude and unqualified. I suffer and so I have to. Even if I can now identify my poor side, I find myself tethered there, to be there where I am. I withdraw that I should do being considerate towards the other side, if there is one, or no matter how ridiculous it is--an unilateral crudeness. "This part is over!" I hear an inner voice, but I can't grasp what it tries to say. Isn't withdrawing justifiable? Who is there to answer this question of mine? I think you can't just simplify what is complicated and complicate what is simple--I learned it from a quote by Arundhati Roy, one of my favourite ones.

II

A Looming Shadow

A predicament there can be,
A malaise, a dilemma and so on...
To learn, to hone, to put to test--
How eligible you are.

But, wait, even there can be,
Wonder an epitome to compare with,
A standard to judge it:
How deep your pain is.

I confess I failed.
"Your ground is shaky!"
I take it as I feel it--
This limp heart is almost defunct.

Still from the overcast night sky
I see the reflection of rays,
No, can't be a beacon but a light
I can stare at, the only illumination.

With my shaky ground,
I crane, swivel my head
Is there any I can spot around--not at all.
I find I am blind from within.