Saturday, February 21, 2009

A night with the Irons.

The sweat. The heat. The power. 
The concert did hit my head like an iron rod, and may be thats why I could not move my head quite well for a couple of days. Or may be thats because I banged it a bit too much. 

Another day of 12 hours of standing. In the sun.
Another day of sweat, heat, pain, and ecstacy. 
Another day which I had an orgasm without the help of the penis.
Another day when I could fly in trance without having to smoke a weed. 
Another day to forget the pain and woulds in the mind without getting drunk.
Another day when i felt that life has a reason.

Yes, I was in the front row. I never usually miss a front row. Yes i did bang my head a bit too much. Yes, I didnt even notice that the people who were brushing and banging beside me were hot chicks, till the end of the show. 

"Live to fly"
"Fly to live"
Aces high!!

yes, we all did fly. we all did live. The smell of sweat, weed, alcohol and cigarettes were on air. ANyone could feel the raw energy that flew in through the air. I was drowned in the sea of black. In fact, everyone was lost and drowned. No one wanted to escape either. 

About two hours of heavy metal, and i am a spent piece of meat. I could hardly move my legs, could hardly move my neck. I could hardly feel my hands. All I could feel was the heart beat. And may be, yes, the heat inside. Felt just like earth, with a hot piece of molten lava on the core.

Felt like taking a hot bath and laying down on a bed with fresh bedsheets . Felt like brushing my legs on smooth cotton. 

Felt like I used the day to the maximum.

Felt Good.


The above vid is obviously poor in quality. Here is another of their vid, but not from the India concert. Old vid, but the energy is still the same....

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Full Circle.

Started a life on a blue piece of rock
Started to live with a gray piece of flesh

Moving on to live with a thin line of light
Lighting up the mind with a fresh piece of want

To wake up the sun and ask to shine
To tickle the clouds and ask to rain

To clean up the wound and ask to bleed
To wipe up the eyes and ask for tears

To draw a name on the clean sand to read
To wait for the waves to wipe it clean

To sketch up a circle and trace it down
To walk a passage to a circle full grown.

To repeat the lone, lost wave
Of mistakes, crashes and burns.