Yellow House-Unplugged (Part 2)


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Thoughts that stretch out like old winding roads
across these corners of the mind
in bewilderment , the expression numb ,
as the fingers stretch out for its opium,
the flight of soul, from one place to another
follow you all, these ideologies of change,
from one point to another, in madness
across these tinted windows, the cider trees,
the old pavement and its noise to the old place
the view hidden by the sheets of its past
the green fields of bliss and dusty roads..

As image unfolds in its composition
through these windows of distance,
in haze, these old grey skies and my being
in these cider trees, hidden
the lonely sun and its warmth
one by one, remnants of innocence
in disappearance, only in the distance,
the imagination and the old memory
the lonely residents in quest eternal
only the perfumes of those conversations
missing matrix of the old genes
from one season to another,
engulfed in years of travel and its function

Frozen, never these old clocks will rotate
in its image and upon its walls,
the empty air and its imprints
in confinements of its earth
the hands and its reflection in murmurs
only the story and its characters
to reach out to these whispers
Stillness in roars of the ocean

Never will you return to say ” hello”
by that yellow house, there remains
these monuments of your childhood
of magic, laughter and butterflies
there you remain, hidden
behind these cider trees and its curtains
the lonely sun and its warmth,
too cold, as million years in between
no time for you, to return
as I lay underneath in my peace
upon me this whole universe and its burden

Never will you return to your characters,
the forbidden names, and expressions
by that yellow house, there remains
these monuments of your childhood
of freedom, purity and its expression
there you remain, hidden
behind these corners of your mind
the lonely sun and its warmth,
too cold, as million years in between
no time for you to return
to your yellow house and its inhabitants
where we first gazed upon you
the beautiful boy, the golden fury….

Never will you return to your past,
to the old wailings of dervishes and its echo
by that yellow house, there remain,
these monuments of your childhood
tickled stories and 1000 miles run
there you remain, hidden
behind these echoes of its distance
the lonely sun and its warmth,
too cold, the million years in between
no time for you to return
to your yellow house and its inhabitants
where we first discovered you
in fever, the ocean of madness….

Never will you return to say ” hello”
by that yellow house, there remains
these monuments of your childhood
of magic, laughter and butterflies
there you remain, hidden
behind these cider trees and its curtains
the lonely sun and its warmth,
too cold, as million years in between
no time for you, to return
as I lay underneath in my peace
upon me this whole universe and its burden

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