Seek the truth for yourself and I'll meet you there

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  • konstantin 121w

    Mad World

    Slipping toes, fingers jammed
    sweat evaporates & condenses
    on the flesh
    Ice on the cold, dead skin
    flirting with friction
    on the edge of the hill
    I see a sun set, drown
    In night, that swallows it Inside
    stars, an alibi to the orange fireball
    nail his coffin, darker by the hour
    In moonshine, hounds scream
    grabbing a stalk, anchor to this sinking life
    clouds float, over the dripping moonlight
    candles blown, no watchtowers speak of light
    hear a song, a sonnet of the sunken
    what is dead, may never rise inside

  • konstantin 127w

    naaseha tujh ko khabar kya ki mohabbat kya hai
    roz aa jaata hai, samjhata hai yuun hai yuun hai

  • konstantin 128w

    In the shaded roofs
    made of straw, wood & rope
    set, in the sunshine of the Ganges riverbank
    near the boats, In the shade of an old fig tree
    Siddhartha, grew up
    sun tanned, his shoulders
    light & with a swing of a whip
    his eyes, lit with spark & deep black
    with depths of Indus
    floating in them
    son of Brahmana, slender & tall
    spring spilled in girls hearts
    listening his speech
    coated in ripe berries
    swelling, with nectar
    filled with a Samana's art
    still searching himself
    among scholars, sages & slaves
    thirst grew stronger with mediums of calm
    In sleep, he brew storms
    seeking Gautama from Siddhartha 
    he left his roof at the break of the dawn
    as he left his past, his chains
    a breeze of cool wind, iced his skin
    walking slowly in woods
    basking in the winter sunlight
    an infant, born again
    like a snake, leaving his skin
    washed by the monsoon shower
    rising, from the cycle
    of life, birth & death

  • konstantin 128w

    I sit, stand, lean
    over the edge of the plateaued mountain top
    rugged & steep, In climb
    an old woman's palm
    wrinkled but smooth at the top
    spine concaves & convexes
    eyes widen, pupils dilate
    hair rise in rebel
    feet turn cold, rooted in the ground
    nerves chill & ignite, at once
    drops of sweat, float
    In the winds, like pollens & clouds
    muscles stiffen, thrusting me
    one step to the edge
    two to the life
    like dust on a monsoon morning
    settled by rain
    charged by the storm

    I jump, to touch the clouds
    moist & wet, foamy white
    silver at the edge
    grey on the belly
    mile high & Inch deep
    they part like the red sea
    sunshine spills on my skin
    spread arms, like Jesus
    asking for more

    a slice of rain
    dice of clouds
    girl to sing & dance with
    smile, to spread around

  • konstantin 128w

    A picture hangs on the wall
    & me on a rope
    with a stool, wooden
    reaching my toes
    breath balanced on stilts
    a concoction of chemicals
    stream in my veins
    my life, like a sky
    blue or grey?
    air seeps through windowsills
    vacuum sets
    It chokes me, gasping for breath
    lungs inflate, muscles expand
    alveoli's condense
    the skin turns blue, deep blue
    too numb, too thin
    this life, was

  • konstantin 130w

    How can we tell whether the rules which we "guess" at are really right if we cannot analyze the game very well? There are, roughly speaking, three ways.

    First, there may be situations where nature has arranged, or we arrange nature, to be simple and to have so few parts that we can predict exactly what will happen, and thus we can check how our rules work. (In one corner of the board there may be only a few chess pieces at work, and that we can figure out exactly.)

    A second good way to check rules is in terms of less specific rules derived from them. For example, the rule on the move of a bishop on a chessboard is that it moves only on the diagonal. One can deduce, no matter how many moves may be made, that a certain bishop will always be on a red square. So, without being able to follow the details, we can always check our idea about the bishop's motion by finding out whether it is always on a red square. Of course it will be, for a long time, until all of a sudden we find that it is on a black square (what happened of course, is that in the meantime it was captured, another pawn crossed for queening, and it turned into a bishop on a black square). That is the way it is in physics. For a long time we will have a rule that works excellently in an over-all way, even when we cannot follow the details, and then some time we may discover a new rule. From the point of view of basic physics, the most interesting phenomena are of course in the new places, the places where the rules do not work—not the places where they do work! That is the way in which we discover new rules.

    The third way to tell whether our ideas are right is relatively crude but prob-ably the most powerful of them all. That is, by rough approximation. While we may not be able to tell why Alekhine moves this particular piece, perhaps we can roughly understand that he is gathering his pieces around the king to protect it, more or less, since that is the sensible thing to do in the circumstances. In the same way, we can often understand nature, more or less, without being able to see what every little piece is doing, in terms of our understanding of the game.

    Richard P. Feynman. ( The Feynman lectures on Physics)

  • konstantin 130w

    Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you,

    You must travel it for yourself.

    It is not far, it is within reach,

    Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know,

    Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land.

  • konstantin 133w

    Moon showers cold
    drop, roll, evaporate
    damping the skin
    parched by dry winds
    radiated heat & orange skies
    smooth silk sheets sinks 
    me inside
    I sleep, rising
    in the canvas
    white as milk
    blank as my mind
    write or rhyme?
    sketch or draw?
    life's but a slow march to death
    an act, archaic 
    bending knees, to the night
    stringed dolls, we are
    sly craft is the freedom
    to think & believe
    that we have a choice
    to think & act
    In a game, with fixed variables
    we're mere toys

  • konstantin 133w

    Slipping knots, twisted & unwinded
    speak of a folklore
    a girl & a boy
    meeting under an old oak tree
    wet by the silver, cold droplets
    tinged by the dripping moon
    strokes of white light
    In the canvas of a dark night sky
    illuminated by stars
    constellations matching dots
    she seeks a wild dance
    he, a lap to breath & sigh
    two edges of a silk robe
    smooth they lace
    lacking friction, to be intertwined
    brook flows in silence
    silence echoes their breaths
    heaves & sighs
    as she slides in her arms
    he in her breasts
    to sleep in the gentle moonlight
    fingers crossed, palms pressing
    on the grass, wet & dewed
    with water
    sky or eyes?
    moaning through the dark night
    breeze, cold condense 
    on their bodies
    white & static
    as a chalk
    with the morning sunrise

    - Siddharth

  • konstantin 134w

    There's a little difference between a good code & poetry