And the days fo by in this rampant heat of the summer sun as Calcutta bathes in the sweat of innocents. I lie awake with my lightbulb sun hovering around my head all night.. I've started working nights, become a nocturnal predator in my own terms, dissecting and feeding on raw need as and when it arises. I've conveniently segregated myself from those around me, only answering the call of my communication device whenever it displays the name of a person long lost..
I've been having conversations.. With the Dead..Not as per se, but with people who had been lost, or whom I'd distanced myself from for my own sweet needs. We converse about things gone past, and how they COULD have remained the same had life NOT been so cruel and botched up our fairy tale plans. I seek refuge in my loneliness and listen to the volley of words hurled at me. The emotive factor in my brain kick starts and tells me to go ahead and make ends meet.. let's speak, let's converse, share and cuddle if necessary.. Forget all that has happened..Forgive all that has occured. Go ahead and fuck up your life once again, and let's see if we end up in the dry deserts of Ethiopia once again...
Too many options and too many distractions to deter us from our daily diagnoses. How will man ever survive if the gjosts of the past do NOT let go? And then we're told to give up our chemicval afflictions and addictions..
Oh, to be rid of this dipthongonian world.. where everyone recites 2 conflicting versions of the same story at the same time.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
21st Century Schizophreniac
"When you're ripe you'll bleed out of control.
You'll bleed out of control.
You like attention
It's proof to you you're alive.
Stop parading your angles.
Confused?
You'll know when you're ripe.
Because when you're ripe you'll bleed out of control.
You'll bleed out of control.
You're pregnant with all this space
Thick with honey,
but I lost my taste.
You're into depression because
it matches your eyes.
Stop this faux to be famous.
Confused?
You'll know when you're ripe."
A little too much space for comfort, I'd believe. What do we do with it? Thaw it from it's period of dormancy to alleviate our present status of non conformity? To allow alien individual needs to race forward without judgement or perception, without direction or rationality. Instinct and desire play a vital role in allowing the human mind it's requisite amount of 'freedom'. It allows a man all the unnecessary axial propulsion he needs, so that finally, he'll do nothing but provide himself with a vital headrush.Little does he know that this headrush that feels so tantalizingly amazing, orgasmic and calming, is just another in a long chain of 'duds'. He gets hooked onto it. We all do. We all have our own personal meth tablets hidden under the crack on the carpet floor.
It's a common human need, the crutch. How you manage to use it varies. You can put it to literal use, or you can use it as a weapon to ward off detractors, and junkies who'll come begging you for more crack... That's when we realize he need for a symbiotic relationship. Give to recieve, if you want any. And now comes the tricky part. How do we determine where to stop, and where to resume? How can you still have this relationship that takes a little more than the actual bargain from you, and leave you with less? Is it a combination that works?
We all abso-fuckin-lutely need pain to see what pleasure is all about. You need to see the sun set to know that it'll rise the next day. You need to get hammered on dope to even remotely realize what it is to be sober. You need to get screwed out of all your living happiness to know that happiness exists.
Twisted way this cosmos works.. In all it's shenanigans, it's more of an
psychologically primitive system. It's not justified, hell no. But it IS the way it will remain nonetheless. The Creator was/is one psychosomatically enhanced S&M addict, as much as I hate to say this.
Asking for space in life is like Oliver asking for more broth. He knows he'll end up getting shit, but he'll take it nonetheless, because he needs it to know what broth is NOT like.
At the end of the day if you have a bunch of compatriots who share the same inane, fucked up zeal about life, regale with them and look around to check what the moment carries. It carries with itself a dose of functionality and self-healing. It serves as the watering ground for us hyenas running around in packs of 5 and laughing our hairy asses off. It alleviates. It soothes. It helps subside. Smile one more day without having to know that you have a duty to perform, without having to know that someone, somewhere is judging you, without having to know that you're answerable or for that matter, redundant. This is not the same thing as being ignorant. Not at all. And neither is it about
avoiding. The inevitability of our mortality hardly allows us that privilege. It is the parallel universe that we carve out for ourselves. Accept it or deny it, it exists in all of us.
The best liquor is the one that gives you the worst hangover headache. Trust
me.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Paid in Full
A lucid posture
Admist broken skies
Black with the Tar
From the earth.
Old man ponders with intensity about forthcoming drought
Of locusts in the corn fields
When tis season of the Ripe
Harvest seems red this time.
Turn the stone
To water, He said
How, He did not
Leaving the hands caught in
The Grapevine.
Meander in his waltzing glory
Giving up need
Bohemian times require rapid measures
Of self construction
Monday, September 18, 2006
Bron-Yor-Stomp
This DEFINITELY has been one of the best weekends ever.
Given the fact that a friend of ours had to cancel his birthday fiesta because of unforseen catastrophic divine interventions, we postponed it to Friday night as we had to get back on saturday for our compre preps. ( It's heart breaking!) Started off with beer and small talk. Then we decide it's time to bring in the booze. So onwards to the car, where we pile in with organised chaos and we're off a decent place where a good scotch is warranted. And we pick up a bottle of a concoction called Black Dog. Hadn't ever imagined we'd get this poison in Mysore, but the again, God shows mercy in the oddest of ways. Price notwithstanding, we buy it with desperate grins on our faces.
Back in the car, and this time we arrive at a common consensus that we need proper glasses to enjoy our drink. KD Road to the rescue, where we bought 6 glasses for as many people, got ice and got back home. And then there was no looking back.
Thinking of it now, I can exactly remember the look on my Dad's face when he used to cherish his glass of Chivas Regal, and I, flummoxed, never made sense of it then . Now I do. It's a connoisseur's dream to palate such a creamy liquor. All six of us, happy and contented, in our rampant moods, have never had such a peaceful time. And then hunger struck. US Pizza never sounded more blissful than on that day. We hogged on those delicious meaty pieces of heaven. One particular flavor called 'Punjab da Puttar' caught hold of our taste buds, so much so that even the only resident vegetarian among us could not resist but pop a slice into his mouth. And believe me when I tell you this, he's become a convert.After all had settled down, the night ended with a drive down the highway to Ooty at 140 kmph, stopping at a deserted place on the way to take in the breathtaking sight of the horizon with white clouds penetrating the black sky, and nothing impeding our vision through an immense open landscape.
This is a memory.Sad part is I'm back in my lab at 3 in the morning on a saturday night finishing up on a module for my stream compre.
This DEFINITELY has been one of the best weekends ever.
Given the fact that a friend of ours had to cancel his birthday fiesta because of unforseen catastrophic divine interventions, we postponed it to Friday night as we had to get back on saturday for our compre preps. ( It's heart breaking!) Started off with beer and small talk. Then we decide it's time to bring in the booze. So onwards to the car, where we pile in with organised chaos and we're off a decent place where a good scotch is warranted. And we pick up a bottle of a concoction called Black Dog. Hadn't ever imagined we'd get this poison in Mysore, but the again, God shows mercy in the oddest of ways. Price notwithstanding, we buy it with desperate grins on our faces.
Back in the car, and this time we arrive at a common consensus that we need proper glasses to enjoy our drink. KD Road to the rescue, where we bought 6 glasses for as many people, got ice and got back home. And then there was no looking back.
Thinking of it now, I can exactly remember the look on my Dad's face when he used to cherish his glass of Chivas Regal, and I, flummoxed, never made sense of it then . Now I do. It's a connoisseur's dream to palate such a creamy liquor. All six of us, happy and contented, in our rampant moods, have never had such a peaceful time. And then hunger struck. US Pizza never sounded more blissful than on that day. We hogged on those delicious meaty pieces of heaven. One particular flavor called 'Punjab da Puttar' caught hold of our taste buds, so much so that even the only resident vegetarian among us could not resist but pop a slice into his mouth. And believe me when I tell you this, he's become a convert.After all had settled down, the night ended with a drive down the highway to Ooty at 140 kmph, stopping at a deserted place on the way to take in the breathtaking sight of the horizon with white clouds penetrating the black sky, and nothing impeding our vision through an immense open landscape.
This is a memory.Sad part is I'm back in my lab at 3 in the morning on a saturday night finishing up on a module for my stream compre.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
De-Prozac
Futility.
Ripping at the seams of,
A breakdown of consequence,
Mass produced in the hyperventilated
Mind of the Sapien being.
Dare.
To Unscar the flesh that,
Binds you in Absolution.
Trigger the calm fury,
To unleash the war within.
Unscathed.
By the Laws of Lust,
Forever defiling the emotional sanctity.
Remove doubts that grip your Soul,
Crucify this cycle of Abuse.
Undulate.
Through the amber fields,
The Velvet Underground caresses your feet.
Feast on the golden orbs of the midday Sun.
Inhale the essence of existence.
Flow on the languid wings of eternity,
For your time is not now,
To depart into the lateral darkness.
Monday, August 21, 2006
ABSOLUTION
A white stained porcelain sink,
Supported by rusted turrets.
Against a crumbling wall,
Peeling off paint from eons before.
The cracked silver from the shattered mirror,
Illuminates a ghostly reflection ,
Far from human.
Far from driven.
Ashes of empires burnt long ago,
Mixed with the omnipresent polluting dust,
Reside on the tattered carpet,
Where the flowers have withered to a deranged spot of grey yellow.
Limp bodies from the week before's revelry,
Lie unattended on the cushy mattress.
The stink of methanol pervades the infertile atmosphere,
Preventing the ether from taking over the town.
The creased rays on the Sun muscles its way through,
Into the muddy waters of the dead morning.
An eye creaks open with a hideous glare,
To draw the last threadbare curtain on the emerging day.
A white stained porcelain sink,
Supported by rusted turrets.
Against a crumbling wall,
Peeling off paint from eons before.
The cracked silver from the shattered mirror,
Illuminates a ghostly reflection ,
Far from human.
Far from driven.
Ashes of empires burnt long ago,
Mixed with the omnipresent polluting dust,
Reside on the tattered carpet,
Where the flowers have withered to a deranged spot of grey yellow.
Limp bodies from the week before's revelry,
Lie unattended on the cushy mattress.
The stink of methanol pervades the infertile atmosphere,
Preventing the ether from taking over the town.
The creased rays on the Sun muscles its way through,
Into the muddy waters of the dead morning.
An eye creaks open with a hideous glare,
To draw the last threadbare curtain on the emerging day.
Monday, August 14, 2006
From 'Hysteria' by Muse
"It's bugging me, grating me
and twisting me around
I'm endlessly caving in
and turning inside out
'cause i want it now
i want it now
give me your heart and you soul
and i'm not breaking out
i'm breaking out
last chance to lose control
it's holding me, morphing me
and forcing me to strive
to be endlessly cold within
and dreaming i'm alive
'cause i want it now
i want it now
give me your heart and your soul
and i'm not breaking down
i'm breaking out
last chance to lose control
and want you now
i want you now
i'll feel my heart implode
and i'm breaking out
escaping now
feeling my faith erode"
It's an eroding state of everything out of the ordinary. Days pass in a stupid haze, rowing on endless glasses of vodka and expansive music, trips down memory lane and drives up Chamundi hills to smoke a few in constant company. Predictable crap that seems to have garnered a strong hold over my otherwise nonchalant life. I'm metamorphing into something I dread. This life less ordinary, tripping on adulterated choices of wisdom that most definitely all of us would like to avoid. Slogging in a corporate world where all everyone's bothered with is signing into work at 9 and signing out at 5:30 sharp. Fucking predictable creeps.
I feel everything of the song above. The head reels in concentric patterns at times when I've managed to completely lose control of everything I hold/held dear. Spiralling down a bottomless pit of self ignorance and loathing that freaks you out. Friends are an image of what they should be. No one, absolutely no one feels like my friends from college. Fucking posers in a materialistic world, drinking Blender's Pride through the night, discussing Black Sabbath and newer methods of smoking weed through the bucket..
Where the fuck am I stranded???
"It's bugging me, grating me
and twisting me around
I'm endlessly caving in
and turning inside out
'cause i want it now
i want it now
give me your heart and you soul
and i'm not breaking out
i'm breaking out
last chance to lose control
it's holding me, morphing me
and forcing me to strive
to be endlessly cold within
and dreaming i'm alive
'cause i want it now
i want it now
give me your heart and your soul
and i'm not breaking down
i'm breaking out
last chance to lose control
and want you now
i want you now
i'll feel my heart implode
and i'm breaking out
escaping now
feeling my faith erode"
It's an eroding state of everything out of the ordinary. Days pass in a stupid haze, rowing on endless glasses of vodka and expansive music, trips down memory lane and drives up Chamundi hills to smoke a few in constant company. Predictable crap that seems to have garnered a strong hold over my otherwise nonchalant life. I'm metamorphing into something I dread. This life less ordinary, tripping on adulterated choices of wisdom that most definitely all of us would like to avoid. Slogging in a corporate world where all everyone's bothered with is signing into work at 9 and signing out at 5:30 sharp. Fucking predictable creeps.
I feel everything of the song above. The head reels in concentric patterns at times when I've managed to completely lose control of everything I hold/held dear. Spiralling down a bottomless pit of self ignorance and loathing that freaks you out. Friends are an image of what they should be. No one, absolutely no one feels like my friends from college. Fucking posers in a materialistic world, drinking Blender's Pride through the night, discussing Black Sabbath and newer methods of smoking weed through the bucket..
Where the fuck am I stranded???
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
RED
Taunting.
The deceiver knocks.
On your doorstep he beckons,
You to step into his mistake.
Congregated sorrow, overwhelming misery.
All converging in a condescending glare.
Outstretched fingers.
Seeking. The unfaithful.
Apocalyptic. You ride on.
The wagon stumbles incessantly,
On pins and needles.
Move on. Far beyond driven.
Hungry heart lusts for more.
Conscience a deterrent to this masquerade.
Eyes flee in blatant ignorance,
To realms unforeseen before.
Praying for luck to give way to intentions,
The soul hardens. Locked.
Transition complete.
Load for a new destiny.
See afar. Limited vision.
Ashes left behind on the wet grass,
Sizzle as they fade away.
From memory.
Into a dimension to be gathered until the journey is deemed done.
The link has collapsed.
You are now another.
Tears brim at the edges as the Sword cuts at flesh again.
Never-ending saga of deception shall continue.
Insatiate.
And the pain shall pass
Taunting.
The deceiver knocks.
On your doorstep he beckons,
You to step into his mistake.
Congregated sorrow, overwhelming misery.
All converging in a condescending glare.
Outstretched fingers.
Seeking. The unfaithful.
Apocalyptic. You ride on.
The wagon stumbles incessantly,
On pins and needles.
Move on. Far beyond driven.
Hungry heart lusts for more.
Conscience a deterrent to this masquerade.
Eyes flee in blatant ignorance,
To realms unforeseen before.
Praying for luck to give way to intentions,
The soul hardens. Locked.
Transition complete.
Load for a new destiny.
See afar. Limited vision.
Ashes left behind on the wet grass,
Sizzle as they fade away.
From memory.
Into a dimension to be gathered until the journey is deemed done.
The link has collapsed.
You are now another.
Tears brim at the edges as the Sword cuts at flesh again.
Never-ending saga of deception shall continue.
Insatiate.
And the pain shall pass
Monday, May 22, 2006
SHTICK
Chameleon colors lurk in the shadows.
Obscured by the coming night,
As they impale the foreign senses within.
To project a claustrophobic sight.
Straw hats in the bullion market.
Waving forth to beckon the wind.
Change engulfs a searing nation.
Distraught with fright and homophobic dreams.
And the nonchalant enemy leers at the prey.
Wiping his wipsy yellow mouth dry.
Contemplating his kill as the moon rises tonight.
Amidst black clouds in the smoke filled skies.
Angry fists and hoarded shouts.
Barrels a land of scholars nigh.
Retribution in blood is asked for again.
Deliverance shall be a matter of time.
Evil hides in the shadows it breeds,
Pregnant with schemes of domination still.
Crush the vermin with the feet,
Of Humanity.
Man triumphs again,
At will.
Sick and tired of this reservation crap. It's swaying the nation by the day and an oppressive government, with a de facto prime minister, who literally sniffs the feet of his leader, is trying to clamp down on rights of the nation. We must be heard. This technical evil needs to be stopped in it's tracks , otherwise humanity will become the veritable political bait for our croked politicians who will do anything to further their idiosyncratic needs.
Chameleon colors lurk in the shadows.
Obscured by the coming night,
As they impale the foreign senses within.
To project a claustrophobic sight.
Straw hats in the bullion market.
Waving forth to beckon the wind.
Change engulfs a searing nation.
Distraught with fright and homophobic dreams.
And the nonchalant enemy leers at the prey.
Wiping his wipsy yellow mouth dry.
Contemplating his kill as the moon rises tonight.
Amidst black clouds in the smoke filled skies.
Angry fists and hoarded shouts.
Barrels a land of scholars nigh.
Retribution in blood is asked for again.
Deliverance shall be a matter of time.
Evil hides in the shadows it breeds,
Pregnant with schemes of domination still.
Crush the vermin with the feet,
Of Humanity.
Man triumphs again,
At will.
Sick and tired of this reservation crap. It's swaying the nation by the day and an oppressive government, with a de facto prime minister, who literally sniffs the feet of his leader, is trying to clamp down on rights of the nation. We must be heard. This technical evil needs to be stopped in it's tracks , otherwise humanity will become the veritable political bait for our croked politicians who will do anything to further their idiosyncratic needs.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
And herewith lies....
What is it that maketh the man? His pride? Demanour? Attitude? Disposition? Or the subtlety at handling daily ordinary chores in a not so ordinary way? I'm a human being with many a weaving down my back, and it hurts at times when I try to keep myself straight. I'm crooked. Intensely crooked. At times, I purposefully loathe myself for having deranged the life blood inside me. It makes me cringe, and then comes the pitfalls.... I realise that I'm not what I want to be. I just am not.
Very few of us are blessed to be granted a status in life where our prescence, and opinions, hold a certain value. We all crave for that point in life where the aforementioned might happen. But in reality, how many of us ARE really that blessed? Are we just pawns, at the vehement mercy of high society pricks who view us with nothing but scorn? Or are we individuals with a dire voice, just waiting to be listened? I'm one of the latter. I'm waiting to be listened. Grant me an ear and I shall regale you with the necessities of life. My Life. And we'll all find out that in someway or the other, we're not really set apart. Just a few pieces missing, that's all.
I need souls around me.Rehabilitation is not easy and it comes with a heavy price. I need to drain the listless life force inside me and forge it anew. Fast. I need help. Listen to me. Judge me. But I suggest, do not impale me.
What is it that maketh the man? His pride? Demanour? Attitude? Disposition? Or the subtlety at handling daily ordinary chores in a not so ordinary way? I'm a human being with many a weaving down my back, and it hurts at times when I try to keep myself straight. I'm crooked. Intensely crooked. At times, I purposefully loathe myself for having deranged the life blood inside me. It makes me cringe, and then comes the pitfalls.... I realise that I'm not what I want to be. I just am not.
Very few of us are blessed to be granted a status in life where our prescence, and opinions, hold a certain value. We all crave for that point in life where the aforementioned might happen. But in reality, how many of us ARE really that blessed? Are we just pawns, at the vehement mercy of high society pricks who view us with nothing but scorn? Or are we individuals with a dire voice, just waiting to be listened? I'm one of the latter. I'm waiting to be listened. Grant me an ear and I shall regale you with the necessities of life. My Life. And we'll all find out that in someway or the other, we're not really set apart. Just a few pieces missing, that's all.
I need souls around me.Rehabilitation is not easy and it comes with a heavy price. I need to drain the listless life force inside me and forge it anew. Fast. I need help. Listen to me. Judge me. But I suggest, do not impale me.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
GIVEN TO FLY
Waiting at the footsteps,
Of a rocky courtyard,
On a fiery April afternoon,
Anticipating the calm the wind will bring.
Looking forward,
Into your eyes that reflect the seas,
Capturing the elegance the moon bestows.
On the creation that is your face.
Longing,
For you to lead me away.
Into the desolation that,
Shall be my grave. Eternally.
Moving forward with time,
Your remembrance causes you to flutter.
As the clouds spell my name,
When the oceans shall be kissing your feet
Talked. Face to face after a gap of fourty days. She has passed on and I want her to. I'm too banal an individual to do any good to her. She will reside in peace and happiness, away from my lunacy. My longing and love may never diminish, though I have been asked to let time heal me. And she may remember me as anything she wants to remember me as. Because all that counts is her remembrance.
Waiting at the footsteps,
Of a rocky courtyard,
On a fiery April afternoon,
Anticipating the calm the wind will bring.
Looking forward,
Into your eyes that reflect the seas,
Capturing the elegance the moon bestows.
On the creation that is your face.
Longing,
For you to lead me away.
Into the desolation that,
Shall be my grave. Eternally.
Moving forward with time,
Your remembrance causes you to flutter.
As the clouds spell my name,
When the oceans shall be kissing your feet
Talked. Face to face after a gap of fourty days. She has passed on and I want her to. I'm too banal an individual to do any good to her. She will reside in peace and happiness, away from my lunacy. My longing and love may never diminish, though I have been asked to let time heal me. And she may remember me as anything she wants to remember me as. Because all that counts is her remembrance.
Monday, April 24, 2006
DERELICT
"Electives are posted.
No call back or complaints.
Once painted , cannot be delayed.
Walk on home."
Circling in circadian rhythms,
He sees the day in a downtrodden haze.
Brushing fingers against the walls,
Of hope, waiting for a change.
Opportunity knocks.
He smells the recycled air.
Creature of habit, he moves sideways.
With laboured breathing and sallow skin.
His imagination comes alive.
Suspicion's on the rise.
The devils in his ears,
Tells him what he never wants to hear.
Opportunity gone. Devils smile.
Perplexed man breathes a sigh.
Unknown to formality, he's unaware of his surroundings.
He sits down with his bowl tonight.
Caught in the sea of humanity,
He gropes at a passer by.
A sneer and a bark puts him in his place.
He sits down with his bowl again tonight.
Story of my life revisited. All this while waiting for that golden sparkle to break down from between the clouds and offer me the chance of redemption. None came. They all went through, in a single file. And I kept waiting. Expectantly. Drooling at the prospect of finding a new lease, whereas in my mind I knew there was none until I created my own hole out of my morbid trepidations.
Iron Maiden , in the song "The thin line between love and hate", say thus:
"When a person turns to wrong,
Is there a right to be, belong?
Part of things at every cost.
At what price a life is lost?
At what point do we begin?
Fighter's spirit, will to win.
And what makes a man decide?
To choose to wrong or righteous road?"
This is not one of their most famous songs, but I find a direct reference to this one in particular. What is the price at which we give ourselves up? Is it worth the payment due? And is the transaction, or whatever you call it, always legal as perceived my society? It is a highly complicated maze to traipse through I believe.
I have made a host of scary deals. I have made a flurry of insidious attempts at regaining my sanity in every mortal manner. And in the process, I have lost much to grieve for. The poem should be my epitaph if I am ever to be buried. For I am ever frightened of the oncoming winds. I want change, and I'm terrified of accepting it lest it be something that I am not expecting. I have listened to the demons in my mind far too long. It is time to let go and dream in light, and hold onto the single branch of faith that was offered to me yesterday.
Yes, I sit down with my bowl again tonight. Believing that the next night will usher in a gratifying change
"Electives are posted.
No call back or complaints.
Once painted , cannot be delayed.
Walk on home."
Circling in circadian rhythms,
He sees the day in a downtrodden haze.
Brushing fingers against the walls,
Of hope, waiting for a change.
Opportunity knocks.
He smells the recycled air.
Creature of habit, he moves sideways.
With laboured breathing and sallow skin.
His imagination comes alive.
Suspicion's on the rise.
The devils in his ears,
Tells him what he never wants to hear.
Opportunity gone. Devils smile.
Perplexed man breathes a sigh.
Unknown to formality, he's unaware of his surroundings.
He sits down with his bowl tonight.
Caught in the sea of humanity,
He gropes at a passer by.
A sneer and a bark puts him in his place.
He sits down with his bowl again tonight.
Story of my life revisited. All this while waiting for that golden sparkle to break down from between the clouds and offer me the chance of redemption. None came. They all went through, in a single file. And I kept waiting. Expectantly. Drooling at the prospect of finding a new lease, whereas in my mind I knew there was none until I created my own hole out of my morbid trepidations.
Iron Maiden , in the song "The thin line between love and hate", say thus:
"When a person turns to wrong,
Is there a right to be, belong?
Part of things at every cost.
At what price a life is lost?
At what point do we begin?
Fighter's spirit, will to win.
And what makes a man decide?
To choose to wrong or righteous road?"
This is not one of their most famous songs, but I find a direct reference to this one in particular. What is the price at which we give ourselves up? Is it worth the payment due? And is the transaction, or whatever you call it, always legal as perceived my society? It is a highly complicated maze to traipse through I believe.
I have made a host of scary deals. I have made a flurry of insidious attempts at regaining my sanity in every mortal manner. And in the process, I have lost much to grieve for. The poem should be my epitaph if I am ever to be buried. For I am ever frightened of the oncoming winds. I want change, and I'm terrified of accepting it lest it be something that I am not expecting. I have listened to the demons in my mind far too long. It is time to let go and dream in light, and hold onto the single branch of faith that was offered to me yesterday.
Yes, I sit down with my bowl again tonight. Believing that the next night will usher in a gratifying change
Saturday, April 22, 2006
L E T M E D R O W N
stretch the bones over my skin
stretch the skin over my hand
im going to the holy land
stretch the marks over my eyes
burn the candle deep inside
yeah you know where im coming from
give up the greed, you dont have to feed me
give up to fate, you dont have to need me
so let it go, let it go, let it go, wont you let it
drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you
slip down the darkness to the mouth
damn the water burn the wine
im going home for the very last time
so throw it away, you dont have to take me
make no mistakes im what you make me
so let it go, let it go, let it go, wont you let it
drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you
i see you turn around and burning down
the feeling starts to sink
i feel the hurt surround me
please dissolve me
she's resolved to be
so heal my wounds without a trace
and seal my tomb without my face
im going to the lonely place
give up to greed, you dont have to feed me
give up to fate, you dont have to need me
so let it go, let it go, let it go, wont you let it
drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you
drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you
drown me in you, drown me in
Burn the Candle.
Let me drown.
Chris Cornell is God. Kim Thayil his Apprentice
stretch the bones over my skin
stretch the skin over my hand
im going to the holy land
stretch the marks over my eyes
burn the candle deep inside
yeah you know where im coming from
give up the greed, you dont have to feed me
give up to fate, you dont have to need me
so let it go, let it go, let it go, wont you let it
drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you
slip down the darkness to the mouth
damn the water burn the wine
im going home for the very last time
so throw it away, you dont have to take me
make no mistakes im what you make me
so let it go, let it go, let it go, wont you let it
drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you
i see you turn around and burning down
the feeling starts to sink
i feel the hurt surround me
please dissolve me
she's resolved to be
so heal my wounds without a trace
and seal my tomb without my face
im going to the lonely place
give up to greed, you dont have to feed me
give up to fate, you dont have to need me
so let it go, let it go, let it go, wont you let it
drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you
drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you, drown me in you
drown me in you, drown me in
Burn the Candle.
Let me drown.
Chris Cornell is God. Kim Thayil his Apprentice
Say my hell is the closet
I'm stuck inside
Can't see the light
And my heaven is a nice house in the sky
Got central heating
And I'm alright
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Can't see the light
Keep it locked up inside
Don't talk about it
Talk about the weather
Can't see the light
Open up my head and let me out,
little baby
Here we have been standing for a long, long time
Treading trodden trails for a long, long time
I say my hell is the closet
I'm stuck inside
Can't see the light
And my heaven is a nice house in the sky
Got central heating and I'm alright
Here we have been standing for a long, long time
Treading trodden trails for a long, long time
I find sometimes it's easy to be myself
Sometimes I find it's better to be somebody else
I see you young and soft oh little baby
Little feet, little hands, little baby
One year of cryin' and the words creep up inside
Creep into your mind
So much to say
Here we have been standing for a long, long time
Treading trodden trails for a long, long time
I find sometimes it's easy to be myself
Sometimes I find it's better to be somebody else
So much to say
Open up my head and let me out
Little baby
Coup de grace of a song. Just rings in my head whenever I play it on the comp. Has a feel to it that very few bands can fathom. And has a subtle hint that very few people can gather. It's my perception though. How long do we stand alone? Is there really anyone behind us? Or in front of us, guiding us? Or pretending to, just to condescend with a small smile and let us know that they're there? It's all too juxtaposed and lonesome really. And then we realise the effect that we hold on those very same people. Maybe they were justa figment of our own imagination. Probably they were. We're all alone. All of us. We find solace in an empty hand that offers grace not for the sake of it, but because they have to. Period
I'm stuck inside
Can't see the light
And my heaven is a nice house in the sky
Got central heating
And I'm alright
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Can't see the light
Keep it locked up inside
Don't talk about it
Talk about the weather
Can't see the light
Open up my head and let me out,
little baby
Here we have been standing for a long, long time
Treading trodden trails for a long, long time
I say my hell is the closet
I'm stuck inside
Can't see the light
And my heaven is a nice house in the sky
Got central heating and I'm alright
Here we have been standing for a long, long time
Treading trodden trails for a long, long time
I find sometimes it's easy to be myself
Sometimes I find it's better to be somebody else
I see you young and soft oh little baby
Little feet, little hands, little baby
One year of cryin' and the words creep up inside
Creep into your mind
So much to say
Here we have been standing for a long, long time
Treading trodden trails for a long, long time
I find sometimes it's easy to be myself
Sometimes I find it's better to be somebody else
So much to say
Open up my head and let me out
Little baby
Coup de grace of a song. Just rings in my head whenever I play it on the comp. Has a feel to it that very few bands can fathom. And has a subtle hint that very few people can gather. It's my perception though. How long do we stand alone? Is there really anyone behind us? Or in front of us, guiding us? Or pretending to, just to condescend with a small smile and let us know that they're there? It's all too juxtaposed and lonesome really. And then we realise the effect that we hold on those very same people. Maybe they were justa figment of our own imagination. Probably they were. We're all alone. All of us. We find solace in an empty hand that offers grace not for the sake of it, but because they have to. Period
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
COMPASSION
Certainly I will not walk away.
The whiff of lavender on your collar,
Arrests me in my wake.
I cannot pull away,
From the eyes that pierce so deeply.
Exploring the inner fathoms of my being,
Salvaging the will to exist.
Dealings that occur as if I were a child,
Playful with rampant ignorance.
No control over your persistence,
You mould me with your silken strength.
The smile that lines your lips,
Like the subtle radiance the gloaming brings.
Subsides the rattling turbulence,
That feeds on my misery.
I see with half open eyes,
As I tumble into sleep.
You cradle my lifeless head,
As if it was a lotus in bloom.
I feel the pieces fit now,
Because I saw them topple together.
Forge my life anew now.
I do not need my second skin.
Walk with our limbs entwined.
You will be my sense of speed.
Certainly I will not walk away.
The whiff of lavender on your collar,
Arrests me in my wake.
I cannot pull away,
From the eyes that pierce so deeply.
Exploring the inner fathoms of my being,
Salvaging the will to exist.
Dealings that occur as if I were a child,
Playful with rampant ignorance.
No control over your persistence,
You mould me with your silken strength.
The smile that lines your lips,
Like the subtle radiance the gloaming brings.
Subsides the rattling turbulence,
That feeds on my misery.
I see with half open eyes,
As I tumble into sleep.
You cradle my lifeless head,
As if it was a lotus in bloom.
I feel the pieces fit now,
Because I saw them topple together.
Forge my life anew now.
I do not need my second skin.
Walk with our limbs entwined.
You will be my sense of speed.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
EULOGY
Soldiers move in
As they paint the foreign skies.
Red.
With the blood of enemies,
Through shattered eyes.
"Forward!" they march on
Puppets in a rag show.
"Kill!" drilled into them.
Boundaries unknown.
Rabid rulers lust for more,
Theaterics of holy wars.
Submitting to faith,
And paralytic justice,
Rendered mortal long before.
"Advance!" they shout!
To hapless victims
Of hope spurned eons ago.
Sneer with facist pride,
As they dog the spoils of dispute.
"Who's to blame?
Who's to claim?"
The lives of innocents
Laundered like dust to the wind.
Through gory sacrificial rites
They drank the blood
Of brethren still.
No remorse.
No memory left.
Of annhilation caused by savage means.
Mothers cry as they lose their lives,
To salivating human greed.
Soldiers move in
As they paint the foreign skies.
Red.
With the blood of enemies,
Through shattered eyes.
"Forward!" they march on
Puppets in a rag show.
"Kill!" drilled into them.
Boundaries unknown.
Rabid rulers lust for more,
Theaterics of holy wars.
Submitting to faith,
And paralytic justice,
Rendered mortal long before.
"Advance!" they shout!
To hapless victims
Of hope spurned eons ago.
Sneer with facist pride,
As they dog the spoils of dispute.
"Who's to blame?
Who's to claim?"
The lives of innocents
Laundered like dust to the wind.
Through gory sacrificial rites
They drank the blood
Of brethren still.
No remorse.
No memory left.
Of annhilation caused by savage means.
Mothers cry as they lose their lives,
To salivating human greed.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
SMOKE
I see,
Through the eyes of the stranger
I call a friend.
Dragging wishfully as
Charismatic smoke fills
The enchanted room.
I crave for the amorous,
Lustfully,
Not knowing the perils
That should overcome me,
With an indomitable force.
I wallow in my
New found glory.
Not imagining the iron grip
That is embracing me
With resounding force.
I choose to ignore,
As it gathers me away
From perdition. I think.
It obsesses itself with
My lifeless entity.
As I lie unflinching,
It strengthens over.
Lost soul.
I see
Through the eyes of a stranger
I call myself.
Watching on a screen,
Wishing I could play
It in rewind.
As the credits roll by
Signifying the end.
I missed the best part.
Can I please go back?
To the Start?
I am just a man.
I see,
Through the eyes of the stranger
I call a friend.
Dragging wishfully as
Charismatic smoke fills
The enchanted room.
I crave for the amorous,
Lustfully,
Not knowing the perils
That should overcome me,
With an indomitable force.
I wallow in my
New found glory.
Not imagining the iron grip
That is embracing me
With resounding force.
I choose to ignore,
As it gathers me away
From perdition. I think.
It obsesses itself with
My lifeless entity.
As I lie unflinching,
It strengthens over.
Lost soul.
I see
Through the eyes of a stranger
I call myself.
Watching on a screen,
Wishing I could play
It in rewind.
As the credits roll by
Signifying the end.
I missed the best part.
Can I please go back?
To the Start?
I am just a man.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
TIDE
I would wait if told.
I would stay if asked.
I would cry if pleaded.
I would repent if found guilty
.I just stayed there
.Standing straight ramrod as the cold winds
Washed me away in silly ignorance.
No one turned around to see. Once.
My eyes froze from the view.
My sticky fingers numbing the turmoil inside.
I tried to receive as much light as I could.
But of no avail.
Your gown in grey caressed the flimsy air,
As you walked with a halo far beyond you.
Assuming an ego only I could see,
You taunted me. To hate you.
Pushed against an edge, unfathomable.
A new fear overcoming me with glee.
I try to flee my detractors in a moment’s ambush.
Only to tie myself down tighter.
Your eyes brim with a fire I’ve never seen before.
Ready to consume in an engulfing inferno.
Rising against ashes of gluttony,
You shiver at my demise. With satisfaction.
Contorted beyond recognition.
You left me a derelict.
I pass streets filled with misery.
Chalking up a past of inconsequence.
I would have embraced if asked.
I would have smiled if spoken to.
I would have dug deep if told to.
But bow I would never before you.
I would wait if told.
I would stay if asked.
I would cry if pleaded.
I would repent if found guilty
.I just stayed there
.Standing straight ramrod as the cold winds
Washed me away in silly ignorance.
No one turned around to see. Once.
My eyes froze from the view.
My sticky fingers numbing the turmoil inside.
I tried to receive as much light as I could.
But of no avail.
Your gown in grey caressed the flimsy air,
As you walked with a halo far beyond you.
Assuming an ego only I could see,
You taunted me. To hate you.
Pushed against an edge, unfathomable.
A new fear overcoming me with glee.
I try to flee my detractors in a moment’s ambush.
Only to tie myself down tighter.
Your eyes brim with a fire I’ve never seen before.
Ready to consume in an engulfing inferno.
Rising against ashes of gluttony,
You shiver at my demise. With satisfaction.
Contorted beyond recognition.
You left me a derelict.
I pass streets filled with misery.
Chalking up a past of inconsequence.
I would have embraced if asked.
I would have smiled if spoken to.
I would have dug deep if told to.
But bow I would never before you.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Hallowed corpses
I cannot see where this is leading me too. The final answer betrays me. I'm in need of retribution from an unknown enemy. It is a botheration that seems to be getting the better of me as time flies by with heavy wings. I ride of the crosswinds of hope, blissfully unaware of the next surprise that anticipates my arrival with a cruel grin. I'm lost in a Rubic's cube where all the seperate small squares hold a differnent pattern. I have images and words playing in my head in a random pattern reminiscent of the pandemonium in a lunatic's mind. I have passed my existence in a mortified manner, and now I'm a veritable puppet searching for a shelter.
I'm a menace waiting to devour you of your daily needs. I'm misery waiting to supplement your emotions. I'm soliloquy understanding the mirror images in your words. I'm here with one intention.
Drown with me. I will not allow myself to disappear alone
I cannot see where this is leading me too. The final answer betrays me. I'm in need of retribution from an unknown enemy. It is a botheration that seems to be getting the better of me as time flies by with heavy wings. I ride of the crosswinds of hope, blissfully unaware of the next surprise that anticipates my arrival with a cruel grin. I'm lost in a Rubic's cube where all the seperate small squares hold a differnent pattern. I have images and words playing in my head in a random pattern reminiscent of the pandemonium in a lunatic's mind. I have passed my existence in a mortified manner, and now I'm a veritable puppet searching for a shelter.
I'm a menace waiting to devour you of your daily needs. I'm misery waiting to supplement your emotions. I'm soliloquy understanding the mirror images in your words. I'm here with one intention.
Drown with me. I will not allow myself to disappear alone
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