Music Is My Only Drug

I love music, I can't live without it. So many emotions come from a song that one is able to feel any form of emotion out there. It's a piece of art. Here are some of the tunes I've been listening to lately:

GAELLE - MOONSGLOW

JENS GAD - LES EAUX VERTS

BAHRAMJI & MANEESH DE MOOR - DREAMCATCHER

NIYAZ - LOVE SONG

AND MY FAVORITE : AL-PHA-X - AN INDIAN SUMMER (BUDDHA BAR)

Enduring Beauty

As our love grows deeper

And we fill each other

Still admire the darkness

Let it become larger

As life drifts further

Red Rose

I wrote this story a few years ago and  I would like to share it. It's about a man's intoxication with his beloved. Enjoy!


“Softness is the petals of a rose
Sweetness is the flavor of your lips
The beauty of your eyes, of passion
Turns my heart into those, the petals
Of a rose.”

On this table there is a red rose. I need a cigarette. Intoxicate me, please. I listen to some odd noise coming from far away. I lost myself in some spurious thoughts, shivering in fear just when I think about it. I see her again. In a dress made of smoke, she’s coming towards me. She’s bizarre and I never know what she thinks. Her eyes are mysterious, her lips are a secret. I don’t want to yearn for her. I don’t want to hate myself for wanting her. I just cry. Give me a cigarette, please. It’s hard for me to walk throughout the day. Bitter and dishonest. Love is not on my side. Love is distant and she doesn’t care. On this table there is a rose, withering. Somebody is approaching me through my nightmares. Some person. What is it this time? Who? Rose flickers in the sight of this wonderful woman. She’s crawling through the fresh grass and poisonous bush appearing in front of me. I cry, again. She’s sliding silently, toward my face with her mouth wide open. I’m terrified. I see her tongue coming out. It’s long and soft. She licks my tears away. That brings hope but it will be gone almost immediately, I know. I am a rose and I shake from sorrow. I notice her again in a dress of smoke. She’s smiling, holding me closely and I don’t know what this means. I’m on the edge of madness because of love. She gives me some unusual kiss. Again, I’m not sure what it meant or if it was a genuine kiss. What does the whole thing mean? I’m a rose, contemptuous and shivering and I need ease. Some feeling went through me like lightening strike me. She lets go of me and starts observing, altering her face expressions. Goddess, a dream, beautiful dream that you desire and delightful being you want to touch and smell that makes you curl from sadness, pleasure and excitement.


“I am a rose”, she repeated after me.

“I am a rose”, she repeated quietly, sobbing.

We are roses. We shiver, and we probably will never be one rose. All that’s left is fascination, some twisted enchantment. That’s probably the lack of nicotine. Everything is someplace where we are not, far away. A place we left, destroying all our possibilities, we will never come back to. At least not like this, in this form. Her picture slowly becomes visible, somewhere. Mine as well. Smoke. I need smoke. I need her, now, more than ever. Maybe everything is a lie but that doesn’t mean anything, I need that. That’s what’s essential. I am a rose. We are roses. Frightened. Shuddered. We are smoke and poison. We are gloomy and desperate. Lie down and don’t ever leave.

By Me

An Eternal Love Story

I’ve been thinking about a place where I’d like to go and explore its enchanting beauty and one popped in my head, Agra, India. I’ve read many books on its history and the Mughal Empire, which began in the 16th century and ended in the mid-19th century. One thing that stands out from this part of era is the most unique monument in the history of the world, Taj Mahal. The monument is a saga of love, dedicated to one woman, Arjumand Banu Begum or best known as Mumtaz Mahal. Her husband Shah Jahan built it for her and it stands for love, companionship and memories. Do men like this walk the Earth nowadays, I wonder?

Mumtaz Mahal & Shah Jahan

Taj Mahal- In its purest form.

The construction of the Taj commenced in 1631 and was completed in 1653

" As a tribute to a beautiful woman and as a monument for enduring love, the Taj reveals its subtleties when one visits it without being in a hurry. The rectangular base of Taj is in itself symbolic of the different sides from which to view a beautiful woman. The main gate is like a veil to a woman’s face which should be lifted delicately, gently and without haste on the wedding night. In indian tradition the veil is lifted gently to reveal the beauty of the bride. As one stands inside the main gate of Taj, his eyes are directed to an arch which frames the Taj.

Red Fort in Agra. This was their home

 

 

Beautiful architecture, leaves me speechless...

Arjumand was one lucky woman!

On a full-moon night,
Taj bathes bare with immortal grace

in the cool serene waters softly shining,

like a moonlit dreamcarved in white grandeur.

Marbled mausoleum gathers dust of endless love

of Mughal imperial lovers and sweet scent of sleeping jasmines

lingers on the calligraphed graves while pearly dew drops

caress the majestic marvel, in misty opaque twilight.

When night sings lullaby, and moon sleeps on

pillow of cushiony-clouds monument of unparalleled love

guarded by the emerald-green groves,

pruned so meticulously sheds pristine tear drops

on the weathered pages of history.

Copyright 2008 © By Bharat Trivedi

I found and read this beautiful poem written by Bharat Trivedi. Through his words I feel as if I am there eyewitnessing an enternal love and loosing myself in the beauty of Taj.

Beautiful Drug

Tonight, I can't hear the rain drops anymore. The rain must have stopped. I've put the flowers right next to the window to get light in the morning. I figured, it was gonna be cold for them to stay outside all night, and I'd hate for them to die. Gotta keep the life in them go on through this bitter winter. I'm enjoying a glass of wine and listening to Thievery Corporation. I love their music, it's so relaxing, makes my mind wander even more...to the stars and back!

Daydreaming of Spring

I have been living in Florence, Italy for the past 5 months. I adore this city and it's essential beauty. Everything about Florence captivates my mind. Its culture, art...it's all there on display in front of my eyes and I can't help but wonder how many "strangers" in this city feel the same way. If they even do...?
Today is Sunday, it was a sunny morning until the dark clouds sorrounded the city and kicked the sunshine out of the sky. But before the rain started, I got out on my big terrace and together with my charming boyfriend started the process of cleaning, which I enjoy very much. The terrace is empty now, due to the winter that brought heavy rain and winds that circulated throughout Florence. We cleaned the terrace almost completely and rearanged the flowers pots. I always saw my mom plant the flowers in the pots and change the soil, but I never tried to do it before. Today was my first time and yes, I did a good job! I bought three different flowers yesterday, now they are breathing fresh air outside. They made me think of  la primavera (spring) and its charm. I love spring...everything about it, I love. Awakening of the first flowers, warm breeze on my skin, the smell of honey in the air...I daydream alot about this magical season and I am so excited that it will knock on this city's door SOON!

I wish to have a garden like this one day

I love typical Tuscan gardens. Flowers, of many colors, beautiful statues and fountains !!! What more would one want? If I had one like this, it would make me feel like I'm living in Rinascimento (The Renaissance), which actually began here in Florence in the 14th century!

In my garden there is a large place for sentiment. My garden of flowers

is also my garden of thoughts and dreams. The thoughts grow as freely

as the flowers, and the dreams are as beautiful.

I really want to clean out my closet and put away the winter collection! I am "craving" a dress.

I love this picture. The front door of a Tuscan villa covered in colors.

It's time for spring, butterflies, sweet scents, honey and bees, happy colors, music, cold drinks and great love poetry!

" A flower's fragrance declares to the whole world that it is fertile, available and desirable. It smell remind us in vestigial ways of fertility, vigor, life-force, all the optimism, expectancy, and passionate bloom of youth. We inhale its ardent aroma and no matter what our ages, we feel young and nubile in a world aflame with desire." By Diane Ackerman, A Natural History of the Senses

When bright flowers bloom

Parchment crumbles, my words fade

The pen has dropped...