A spectacular world...

I was lost in holy imagination,
Imagination that creates worlds that come true,
Within the fathomed pleasure of desolation,
I always saw life within my own view...

Let the dreams blossom,
A crystal dressed in pure silk,
The scent of camphor in its pure form,
Each enjoyable form of thick and thin...

It was only with covered eyes,
That I felt the zeal,
When we laughed at white lies,
When we always stood free...

Freedom is the most mocked,
Yet it's so easy,
But yet it's the most difficult of them all,
So its vain contradicts it into being so hazy...

When her gaze moved beyond the window,
She realised she curdles a holy mans blood,
For every man can create sorrow,
But she believed she could morph lust into love...

For love is still a selfish game,
But yet its the only thing that survived,
Survival that walked hand in hand with hate,
That passion that kept us alive...

He will thank the egg,
She will thank the sperm,
But this world thanks unity,
A round of applause for wisdom...

The flexibility of water,
Weds the solidity of the Earth,
A secret mocks them with silent laughter,
When we see glum we realised life's true worth...

A Fairytale...

Led by that silk dress,
In these hypocritical times,
I've got hope for everyone but myself,
We hope to make life a rosy rhyme...

These velvet waters,
Waters that have borne mu juvenile journeys,
But not every quest has to matter,
Why can't we just follow the quest of ecstasy...

I opened the box of the unspoken,
Contained in translucent glass,
I saw the forbidden,
Life is queer without a mask...

Anticipation has left me dazed,
Lust caresses my arms,
But the future isn't the picture we anticipate,
Anticipation leaves us with blissful harm...

Midnight is clustered with stars,
As life is clustered with hidden trinkets,
Luck makes the invisible visible to our mortal hearts,
Good fortune is not obligated to show me its bitter faces...

You're always going to be the princess,
Ruled by insolent possessions,
Masked by the virtue of their duress,
In search with holy passion...

In a lost castle,
Within the fury of the night,
Accumulated mammon that turned into a bustle,
How did its wings flutter into pure light?

In a desolated tower,
In a quest for love,
To gorgeous to be left to flower,
Too lucky to follow virtuous blood...

I was knocking on wood,
Until I realised life's finesse is not being placid,
Unpredictability makes life good,
Life is just a fairytale where the perfection has been killed...

Picture from the net

Sawdust...

The brashness of the cold,
Stings the fury of the heat,
While the rain has no balance,
I didn't know life any better even after its purpose was revealed,
For purposes are spun to create a base...

Ice that grew colder,
After being vanquished and made to lay in the dust,
Love that grew strong, so strong that it grew mundane,
Just like sawdust,
Just what remained but its scent speaks of its definitive grace...

Silver locks,
An image frozen in a heart shaped pendent,
If only a shape could define an emotion,
Purposes defined could delay a reaction,
Dust that grew into rust because it forgot the language of passion...

Insolent, but not insolent enough,
We've seen ourselves suffer,
While we still are vanquished by lust,
Too loose for love,
Can't fathom the delay...

Bizarre

Delicate confectionery on one silver platter,
Diamonds on the other,
I'm just a dot therefore what I choose doesn't matter,
Why would anyone bother?

Lovers making love,
That just made the world sweeter ,
This is the time of the creation of fresh blood,
Hatred makes slaughter.

Finesse is very relative my friend,
We tend to judge visually,
What seems sophisticated to you may be kitsch to them,
Unfortunately you have to consult the other side of reality.

To part ways with love,
Isn't that like stabbing the world?
But while your head is on the pillow of lust,
Virtue isn't always your concern.

As you stare down the barrel of life,
You'll learn that there never was anything quite pristine,
But it's only when you stop crying,
This world will appear to be clean.


Is there a comparison of the edible ,
But ultimately we choose to live,
We'll eat instead of favoring the valuable,
But when we deceive love is when we choose the kill.

Adrenaline thrill

I am about one hour away from attending/participating in one of my favorite events in school. This is one of the very few good things about school, the sports day. I may not be much of a sports person myself but I really love this event. But, I do consider myself an adrenaline junkie. It's a thing about that rush, that excitement, that fear. I just love that feeling.

Sports day is when enemies become friends, when you cheer for your team until your voice is shrill, when you and your comrades strive to be a part of the winning team and oh that rush, the sweet adrenaline rush.

Bungee jumping, skiing, sky diving, wild water rafting, scuba diving, that's my thing and this may sound clichéd but life's all about the game so may the best man win.

The Divan of glee..

Cocoons of paradise were used to make this silk,
Embraced with glee and sold to cold merchants,
This is where melancholy was killed,
This is where glee rests...

Prosperous silk,
Prosperity killed by ecstasy,
Stabbed the evil,
Draped in prosperity....

This is where philosophers wrote of their divine insights,
This is where the thinkers thought of worlds far beyond,
This is where the greats possessed the right,
The right to cast a spell on the world with a revolutionary wand...

Silk that possessed the antiquity of a million years,
Divinity just needs time,
Heroic time that makes pain disappear,
Oh lord, I wish to be divine!

These days of this slumber was when my mind was idle,
This hazy slumber is where I choose to dwell,
A strong foundation that blends with a fresh idea to create a blissful riddle,
I want to be struck with a revolutionary spell...

The royals aren't the only ones when it concerns bliss,
I believe I am sprinkled with glee through my hazy slumber,
The cold and heartless can give an unknown kiss,
With passing days I have succumbed to blissful massacres...

You may call this kitsch today,
But the morrow can morph kitsch into art,
Lucidity gets me so afraid,
Unlike my hazy slumber on my holy Divan...


Picture from the net- (picsphotosimages.blogspot.com )

Roses...

Let the tender dew drops fade into me,
Let me be basked by noble sunshine in the snow,
Just if you let me live you'll be setting me free,
My beauty shall bless you as I grow...

I can bring warmth in ice,
A shadow through my translucent petals,
You know I am a treat to sullen eyes,
You forget to think I'm noble...

Sidewalks...

The gleam of a golden path,
Leading me to the illusionist mist,
Circles of light that arouse my heart,
As real as the blood flowing in my wrist,
Yet no thing's quite real...

All that's real,
All that attracted me to the possible game,
But it's responsibility I fear,
Disturbing my vain,
Vanity with no base ...

You believe you're not there yet,
But the morrow is always deceiving,
But once you've embraced the beauty and do not fret,
You'll be there once you start believing,
Yet a lifetime is never quite enough...

You'll never quite awaken from you siesta,
The reverie remains the same,
Life's quite an underrated fiesta,
The birth of love is the inception of vain,
Yet we linger through hatred...

The road is just dressed with prosperity,
Prosperous with a macabre undertone,
You'll never start believing,
Even when you're actually on the road,
Yet even unity has a mind of its own...

PICTURE FROM THE NET- ( fineartamerica.com )

Tired of the same shade

I hate when life becomes monotonous. This 10th thing sometimes gets to me. Yes, this is one of those posts when I complain ( it's a blog darling). Even though 10th is getting to me, I got to tell myself to get over it and get my ass to the table and study. But I think, December, January, February, March and wait for it, April and then boom! The start of the boards. If I actually think of it and am told so by wise people that it's actually just an exam and doing well makes your life that much easier but I want to work hard. I am doing this for knowledge.
I also dislike those people who put you down too. So many people have asked me if I think I'll pass and this is the general attitude towards most people in the 10th. I wish they could keep their fucked up attitudes to themselves. It's all up to me.

I am slightly tired of this monotonousness. I'm bored. But it's all good.
I need to travel,
I need to see things,
I need some spice in life,
I need a change of shade but for that I need to work my ass of so see ya, I'm off and sorry for the cribbing.

Random-
I got a new haircut, little below the shoulder. That's a change for someone who's mane used to be till her waist :D

Love...

A casket crafted by life,
Containing the stones of passion,
A passion so fine,
Its finesse can create sweet infatuation...

When you caress supple skin,
You many feel an impulse,
A sense of arousal so thick and thin,
That my friend, is a stimulus of love!

These may be mundane streets,
Gathering moss as they are a witness to rolling time,
But these streets allow you to be free,
These streets hold you down when you cry...

I dream of starlit winds,
Leading me to a road of an unbiased emotion,
To light a dormant torch with the flare of passion,
To open my eyes to a fresh notion...

These are the people of a united village,
Bonding to stand together to face notorious times,
They'll bond in times of rage,
But they'll forget to bond over a sip of fine wine...

The flare of this is so rapid,
Heals with touch,
Dilutes all sins,
This passionate love...

Love at first sight is a phenomenon not proven,
Lust is mocked by holy men,
In the battle of the holy and unholy the victory is uncertain,
That is why the world was molded as a blend...

Picture from the net- ( sanetruth.com )

The plagiarist...

Layers of ice,
That morph into thunder,
Haven't you seen the lust in her eyes,
Without you she can't go on much longer...

Those tresses on her face,
A curtain to hide the truth,
Why do you keep leading her into a maze?
She dreams of you.

Her visions are her lust,
Your flesh makes you shy,
For you're not always lucky in the game of luck,
Are you stronger than the enemy of time?

I plagiarism of your mind,
I usurp your soul,
So what if was not mine?
At least I had the strength to honor hope...

Hope is a friend,
Who deceives its prey,
The adhesive that mends,
The quest of the dream we crave...

How can't you see lust,
She's the only one to vanquish your mind,
Lust is easier to caress than love,
But this world forgets everyone with time...

With the fall of night,
I hear the rustle of dreams,
Dreams that dissolve in the wisp of the golden daylight,
The lost trace of glee...

Your roaring laughter,
You dodge the arrows of love,
A smile to the master,
The master of blissful luck...

A crack of the mighty whip,
A dazzle that attracted me to you,
You're killing the fire with your ignorance,
Why can't you see?

Your absence is inspiring,
But I still want your face,
But only your mask is the king,
But you tend to mock me in a queer maze...

A melody can morph into a reflection,
But ignorance makes the melody fade into the mist,
Unfortunately I remember only fragments,
But my rage doesn't own you any vengeance...

Picture from the net- ( arthostage.blogspot.com )

The Era of the Bitches...

The colour of wood,
Usurped dreams,
The drift of evil and good,
The ability to foresee...

You see, I'm not evil,
I'm just a blend,
Who lives by her will,
Who has a lost cause to mend...

Golden attire,
An deception of intelligence,
Draped in fire,
Living in the illusion of a dreams presence...

I'll dally if I may,
I am driven by a fantasy,
Trying to possess you by my seductive ways,
Like you've possessed me by ecstasy...

To dance to sound,
To embrace the vibration,
To usurp the crown,
To celebrate my creation...

Although this vessel is an enormous sphere,
There are only a few who cherish what they've got,
There are only a few who acknowledge fear,
There are only a few who believe they do not rot.

As you live in your little shell,
A microscopic shell on the shores of this mighty sea,
I believe glory is where you shall dwell,
But what about me?

As I live in my dazed island,
In a quest to see light,
This is time where the cacophonic surrender to the silent,
May the shell and island unite!

The era has begun,
The aftermath ain't a fair game,
The bitches have come,
They shall seduce your vain...

Strings...

Golden strings,
Pulled by the master,
The joy of spring,
The joy that was consumed much faster.
A golden life,
These tunes which were created for you,
A quantity to rejoice,
A limited quantity like a drop of silver dew...

Picture from the net- ( urbangardencasual.com )

The Noble March...

It's that time of the year now,
When the ignominious amateurs mock a noble mans march,
This is the sunlight in which we shall drown,
My holy arch...

I wasn't meant too be here,
Although it is a faithful squad,
You see, I'm not too honest when I have to face my fears,
I don't believe I have the right to mock...,

A blend of joy and sorrow,
Fear awaits me,
Fear disguises itself in the form of the morrow,
But I'd like to be a part of the squad who at least believe themselves to be free...

Puppets marching to the same beat,
A glorified walk,
These moments of victory,
What if victory was not what we sought?

A salute to them who have walked past eternity,
Defeated hell,
Basking in their divinity,
But it's still the solidity on which they dwell...

For folks, what you possess is not what you've got,
It's what you've done,
You can go above what they've taught,
But you can't run...

Puppets, who's strings are pulled by their creator,
A walk embraced by gravity,
Sorted by quality of character ,
Amateurs, they're just here because of their ignominy.

Lost dignity on the other side of the field,
Pure vain that is teemed within the spectators,
Vain for dicey divinity achieved,
They were once the puppets who were forced to dance to fight the predators...

Vain can be quite inspiring,
That is if it's in the right direction,
Vain can give you honorable wings,
But when directed erroneously vain leads to imagine just the minds reflection...

The water is my humanity,
The foam is my vain,
What lines my eyes is reality,
What has absorbed within be is the aspiration to defeat pain...

The buoyancy of fluids,
That supports an honorable flight,
Inspired by skeptics ,
The strive for light...

I polish my shoes,
As I have tried to polish myself,
I look well groomed,
But I'm just looking into the illusions reflection...

Traces of powder,
If only we could see our path by a line,
While to find we suffer,
We are alone in the quest to fathom our mind...

Inglorious veterans,
Watching ignominious amateurs,
There's no drift,
Apart from the present and the reflection of the future...

I am done with living an illusion,
I am done caressing the virtual,
But I'd like to know the image real,
But I'd never know as a species in this world surreal...


Picture from the net- ( fineartamerica.com )

Zhizn ( Life- Russian)

Glass perfume bottles,
Glowing below heavens door,
Fading light from golden candles,
Who said pain possesses only the poor?

In this kitchen of the kingdom of fire,
Preparing the devils broth,
It's not only a revolutionaries desire,
Mortals tend to underrate wrath...

Our souls were not enlightened only by a legends illumination,
Nor did our heart sink because of the abuses you hurled,
This world has its way of remembering the forgotten,
Life has its way of letting us live as we swirl...

We live in circles,
Our kith and kin,
Circles within sphere, spheres within universe,
It's just that life's got a rhythm...

We trust only a few people,
A little love to whom we reveal our tears,
Trust wasn't made for the feeble,
Secrets were never an image clear...

We believe we walk hand in hand,
Yet we know we despise them far from our circle,
But we still live on the same land,
Deep within the strongest have their moments fragile....

Life is a probability,
Pathos have fissures of gloom,
Life has only a few strokes of divinity,
The glee of paradise is equal to the wrath of doom...

For the feeble could never handle the truth,
Let alone the game of trust,
Candor would make them fear life's groove,
Their weak ties of love...

Our flesh and bones are feeble,
Until our mind chooses our armour,
We choose whom we want to repel,
With the swirl of time either we drift apart or grow closer...

From our inception our sovereign has been curiosity,
Until we grew old,
Life took us to every painting we could see,
We just saw those covers unfold...

Picture from the net- ( wallpaperbase.com )

A tribute to Baba

It's been a long time since I've been in touch with myself. There are more pangs of stress,nostalgia and basically neurotic behavior. It's funny how things buried deep in dust when found can bring upon so much emotion. Like for say pictures, a few drawings from childhood or even clutter. Life has come as this versatile package with subtle layers and before you know it times have changed and you find yourself morphed into this person you never were, suddenly those people have gone but thanks to life and it's ability to revive itself, times are good.

A few days ago, I brought down this packet of papers from the top of my grandfathers cupboard. It was on the top in a lonely corner. When I emptied I found all sorts of work created by me when I was a baby. Drawings, painting, scribbles, poetry, stories, letters and some many things. These bought a sea of memories on my mind. My grandfather kept it as if he knew that some day I would empty this and well, get a whiff of childhood. But, I wish it had been bought down a little earlier.

I shared a very strong bond of friendship with my grandfather. I remember how I used teach everything I learnt in school and he used to play student. He was a very educated man. But unfortunately over the years this bond of friendship between us started fading.But yet there was still a bond of love.

He was very strong and one of the prime examples for me to keep working. In fact most people in my family are very strong. Now, even though my granddad isn't there I still feel he is. He lived a very long and satisfactory life and if heaven exists then that's the place for my grandfathers. So, cheers to baba and cheers to the kith and kin.

खून.

जो इस दुनिया में दूसरो का खून पीने आया,
वह आभी अपना कवाब का खून पी रहा है।
जो धूम-धाम से आये थे,
वह ख़ामोशी से चले।
जो जीने आये थे,
वह ज़िंदगी से मरे।

Foam...

White is queer,
When scented and abandoned,
When basked in pleasure,
Masked in notoriousness,
To bathe a putrid soul,
To be in the position after divinity,
To leave a gleam,
In a preparation for a battle,
To converse with confidence,
To enhance vigilance,
To wash sins,
The battle of hope is enhance by tender foam,
It went down the drain,
But not before masking a mortals pain....
Two sided,
Two faced as mortals,
Molecules of scent,
Folks, those made to be abandoned just forget to fret.

Median...

Eccentricity dwells in the air,
Through which we shoot a bullet,
The cheering crowd is left with despair,
The mystery of inception to transit...

We dwell far from the median,
We despise the extremes,
We spectate mystifying illusions,
We mask what happens in between...

Noon is a time full of lies,
Dawn is glazed with the inception,
Dusk is the death of time,
The structure of the night is a dream of creation...

We survive for the march to glory,
With a hold on victory we hoist flags for appreciated individualism,
We flaunt just the fragments of virtue within our journey,
An immersing smile when the mundane dance to the tunes of our wisdom....

The red lipstick is perfect as it hides you grotesque face,
I raise my chalice in your name,
If you hide the base you'll save yourself the condescending gaze,
Embrace ignorance as this breed is already defined as insane...

I haven't cursed your insanity,
The toughest strive possesses them who dwell in between,
We adore antiquity,
We forget time is not pristine by a dream...

For it's them in between who paint the larger picture,
The species in between who can see all the dimensions,
Them in between who search for unattained pleasure,
Them in between who use the median as motivation...

The time in the median is masked,
The time from inception to transit,
The time draped with glorified cloth,
Eccentricity shot with a bullet...

Picture from the net- ( fuyumiaya.glogster.com )

All apologies....

The excuse of indulgence for uncontrolled lust,
While you are in the crescendo of your orgasm,
Did you think you were more charismatic with those disgraced pelvic thrusts?
The reverie of imagination...

Was snorting a disgraced substance a cloak for the momentary glory you never got?
But my darling, you were far from being nugatory,
You surely got a dry entourage,
So what if we've lost lucidity?

You are part of the dry brigade,
You are part of the forces,
Why did you let yourself fade?
These wide smiles for hollowed poses...

Are you the courtier for a jaded kingdom?
Dazed illusions that posses you through another medium,
Illusions that create a drift between you and your wisdom,
Halt hiding the truth for another reason.

Brassiere...

Somewhere as we go back in time,
To see masked divinity,
To unravel mysterious lines,
We dance to the tunes of natures sovereignty...

Who was the base who provided the support?
Was it just a mask who won all the accolades?
Who made the witty thirsty for more?
Who went beyond natures games?

For a piece of clothing ain't just a piece of clothing my friend,
Nor is seductive fate so seductive when it is stripped from being arcane,
The scent of a woman is just natures scent,
Her scent is a blend of her frolic and vain...

Under layers of cloth is what has brought dormant souls to life,
To be a perfect sculpture is an honest quest,
To get the perfect sculpture is an ancient strive,
When you looking at her chest you are actually looking at divinity provided by divine breasts...

A notorious lad,
Trying to play notorious games,
Lusting after what he never had,
He is a just a slave of the mighty sovereign...

Picture from the net- ( flickr.com )

Inertia....

There is a place higher than the peak of the highest mountain,
Where you have hidden beauty,
When amidst a boundary you can't run,
Beauty exists everywhere it's just something you've got to see....

Face your target,
Get a contended pose,
For being a dreamer you're always going to be hit,
Is that why you favour dreaming with you doors closed?

A wicked smirk,
A masked judgement,
Dressed with obnoxious words,
Dreams broken into fragments...

There will be a time you'll cast your wits,
A quest has to be hand in hand with strength,
Why is a path aspired to be followed spectated by sceptics,
These obstacles fate has sent...

Your mind has been gifted with expressive mass,
Your body has been gifted with blood,
Your blood has been gifted with a heart,
You walk to see if you've been gifted with blissful luck....

Luck's a bitch when you believe it to be,
The sceptics are meant to be gagged with your ears,
Those wicked judgements can make you search fissures to find your dreams,
A challenge leaves you to accept your fears....

As you are accelerated along a whirling path,
Driven to the mysterious by a kaleidoscope,
The arcane tends to await your heart,
Your path will acquaint with gyroscopic inertia...

Your destiny depends on the momentum of your dreams,
Can the sceptics displace your inertia?
You'll have to be stronger than steel,
The last card is sweet euphoria...

Picture from the net- ( 4urpets.blogspot.com )

Lipstick...

There are queer days,
When I am welcomed by ghosts,

To unfurl the surprises of fate,
Masked by vain when they boast...

Is luck a blend of colours?
Or is it a gift to gold,
Is luck just fates candor?

Or is it what you chose?

When you pick ripe apples in the garden of love.
They say your sins can't be washed,
If only in the garden of life there was visual luck,
There are no sins when the shame is lost.

Will you stand by me when I have been deceived by luck?
Or would you be like faded lipstick on my lips?

Will I survive as a loner in gray glum?
But I know you'll be there when I'll sway my seducing hips...

The lost glint with the lost lust,
Lust can revive the breed of the faded,
The lost glint with the lost luck,
Luck can revive the breed of the faded...

Picture from the net- ( changethethought.com )

Rain...

Life is coated with spice,
Enhanced when boiled,
Once you've played with the dice,
You'd forget poise...

As I am greeted by thunder,
Embraced by lightning,
You'd notice my blunders,
Is the gap widening?

Her frantic cries,
They're just ceased by her vain,
The bitterness of ice,
Melts with the rain...

Glee as it is symbolically show,
Isn't only a celebration of life,
There are drops of glee when you mourn,
This is when you make love to poise...

A single drop of blood,
Has bloomed into a dream,
Paved by love,
Morphed into the unseen...

What would you know about intimacy,
Until you have searched the chinks of your mind,
These illusions of purity,
They are sculpted by the blind...

Introspection would only help you if you caress your pain,
Your reflexes are your arrows,
Your actions are your fate,
This gap of fate and the morrow...

The widening gap of your accolades,
When at battle against your putridity,
These are you tainted mistakes,
Who's to judge purity?

The spice that morphed into blood,
Actions that morphed into dicey fate,
When the highest peak transcended from vain to love,
It all happen in the rain...

Picture from the net -( scotty-thefrogprince.blogspot.com )

Stoned....

What will satisfy my hormones on fire?
The sky's illusion,
Visual stimulation for an erotic desire,
Should I curse my own reflection?

You couldn't have a reason for this bloodbath,
Apart from your fears,
I am alone in this path,
A psychedelic spell in my glass of beer.

As I am drenched by the rain of love,
Struck by a complacent design,
It curdles my blood.
Intoxication has vanquished my mind...

You're always stoned when immersed in pioneering sights,
A vision to clear the clutter of your past,
You're stoned for the approach of life,
This vast holiday of the heart...

You were betrayed by lust,
As you were deceived by a hallucination,
Yet you cursed love,
Yet you judged your beauty by just a mere reflection.

The seductress led you to a dazed tempest,
You were seized until your mind was hazy,
This tragedienne led you to fear your wits,
You survived because of your repartee.

Picture from the net- ( theandrewwoods.com )

Grave Stones...

How does it feel to be former glory?
Glory on one grey stone,
You life written by lapidary,
Could not be consoled by smoke..

As I stand beyond the boundaries of time,
In a placid slumber,
Age was just a measurement of my life,
Age was just a number...

Embraced by open skies,
Coated with grimy moss,
Making the land fertile,
The identity of solidity was lost...

A well delivered performance,
Immersed in blinding mist,
It was just momentary remembrance,
Yourself you missed...

A memory solidified,
Dried flowers when you mourn,
That moment you cried,
Where have I gone?


Picture from the net- ( flickriver.com )

Mockella...

Don't let Mockella lure you into entering its perimeter, that is if you love your soul. One sight of Mockella and all the spectator wants to be there. It will lure you with its dazzling fairy lights, its trees with a golden fruits, a dale of daisy's, that maddening savour of cakes. The most difficult thing once you have laid your eyes on the gates of the town of Mockella is prevent yourself from entering.

You will meet the essence of Mockella when your fate has met the unknown. This can happen while you are driving down a very known highway and encounter a corner of the unknown or while taking a lazy stroll down the mesmerising country roads, but don't depend on what what I say because how you will encounter Mockella differs with fate. Beware, the world is an arcane place. Brace yourself for times of danger and make sure you don't get mocked by mesmerising Mockella. It will actually extract your soul and once you have entered you will not be you...

Mockella has a head who is a rather queer man, scummy to an extent, Mr Collarn. He is brilliant too. He is scummy because he doesn't have the balls to reveal his town and what it does to people who has done to innocent people who's only crime was getting lured by Mockella. He is brilliant because he can lure people into Mockella and extract their souls. A technique only known to him. He is also scummy because of his hidden intentions. He is queer because he doesn't know his intentions. He enjoys the power of extracting peoples souls and leaving those people like zombies with no soul. But, in reality he is a rather under confident jackass.

Once you enter Mockella it will seduce you into walking further. You will feel a a strange wisp of ecstasy and then be embraced by a psychedelic whiff, which is when you will loose yourself. Your soul will be extracted and you will be possessed. You'll stay in the sate of delirium forever and then become a slave to evil. Don't you ever be mocked by Mockella...
Mockella,
mocks your soul, extracts it as it will later come down on Mockella as rain,
Mockella mocks your lucidity,
Mockella mocks your instinct,
Mockella mocks your lucidity,
Mockella mocks your dignity,
Mockella mocks you,
Mockella mocks one and all...
- Aditi Bahadur- Probably insane.

Scissors...

Life has built me a weapon,
Memories shield my skin from being swallowed in the fumes,
A smile has taken us far from being sullen,
Our obligations lay in ruins...

Cut through despair,
Enhance the hope,
Cut through tangible air,
Sculpt my soul...

As we have thrown daggers that have been reflected back,
Like rays of light in a total internal reflection,
The bitterness just left the wall with a crack,
We befriended desolation...

You couldn't curse time,
Or covet images dressed in sepia,
Or wait for the uncrossed line,
Or bring back a tear.

Pearl drops on her glowing brown skin,
Despair stabbed with the sharpest dagger,
Wouldn't it be so liberating to amputate your sins?
That is the task of my scissor...

Picture from the net- ( linesandcolors.com )

Spirits...

I am draped with holy spirits,
They protect me from the cold,
Like a towel they absorb my sins,
The spirits of gold...

They comfort me when I'm in pain,
They prevent me from getting hurt,
They try to keep me sane,
The failed work.

Part of grimy pain,
A lugubrious neighbourhood,
Impart the same prayer,
Not part of the same group.

They day vain jeopardises fortune,
But for them it was their path,
While the other birds lay on ruins,
They are just a few beams of sunlight in the illusionistic dark...

Their awareness didn't make them safe from the predator,
They were the same vulnerable human beings,
They were just better,
They were the golden beams...

मोहब्बत.

मोहब्बत केलिए एक जिंदगी नहीं है काफी।
धुप के रौशनी में न देखेगा अन्धेरा न दिखेगी तन्हाई।
इस चांदनी रात में तुम क्यू हो अकेली ?

पोछ दो अपने आसू ,
टूटे हुए काच जैसे कर्दवा होता है यह नफरत,
दिल के दीवानों जैसे,
एक सुनेहरा ख्वाभ जैसे,
मीठा है मोहब्बत।

Nights...

Let my fate rest with the night,
Let my destiny be embraced by a time that dearths light,
A sky illuminated but embraced with darkness,
Glum eloped by the moonlight,
The hallucinations by a hidden side of the mind,
A song of a versatile time,
A time that leads me to harsh times to come,
A comforting hand that caresses me in times of anxiety,
A tender hazy slumber...

Picture from the net ( fineartamerica.com )

Eccentric times...

Turn a blind eye to changing times,
A blend of fate, times and luck will lead you to your path,
A choice between the blues and sunshine,
A telescope of the heart,
A dazed sculpture you'd like to believe is you,
A companion whirling around the road of destiny,
A thrusting smile you couldn't refuse,
In the end it's just your strength which will keep you from being lonely...

It's strange how the world seems to become from nebulous to crystal clear, how just one individual becomes a part of this vast world. Lucidity strikes you with it's sharp arrow and then you find yourself amusing. Humans are very strange each of us think we are perfect. We believe our lives are so though and try to console ourselves.We believe our former problems are so easy. We grow, we live, we see,we create ,we feel, we love each other, we hate, we couldn't give a damn and we basically try to go beyond and try to know the reason to each activity.

This transformation from a little girl in her own world of dreams to well, a angsty teen who is still very much in her own world of dreams but a different one is happening to me. I've got barely five months to finish school and five months to give my boards ( Shit!) and five months to commence upon a new journey. I really wonder where I'll be. I want to dive into world where the strangest mysteries are revealed, science. I would say I love a variety of things but unfortunately I'm ignorant but I want to learn and to be more positive I will as time proceeds.

These are strange times but I feel these are the times I will look back to. Where will these eccentric times lead me to? But wait, I hold my own hand and it all depends on me. I am my own car through this viscous road.

Games of time...

There was once a drum to beat,
There was once a flute to play,
There were times I didn't need to question my fertility,
Time plays surreal games...

Why would you cry for skin no more supple,
Or the vanished strength you cherished,
You could never be the same zealous rebel,
Those days have followed the mist...

Time seems to dry as leaves loose that ecstatic green,
The most cherished flower of youth has dissolved in stubborn time,
You are the bearer of the torch of this journey you've seen,
Times change before you flutter your eyes...

Time turns gray with each puff,
You were the free spirit now you're the rearer,
As time progresses you'll find yourself teemed with lust,
Fate and you are now closer...

Picture from the net-( fineartamerica.com )

Steam...

A wisp of smoke in the starry night sky,
The shimmer of golden locks,
The curved surface where the focus of beams of light could never die,
The glint of bronze....

The stirring of water in a silver pail,
Where earth is met with the reflection of paprdise,
The glow of the sky's vain,
An effect of lost poise...

Boiling water converted to white steam,
A dormant body incarnated,
The image of a hazy dream,
Traces of lost dreams are awaited...

As you follow the footsteps of glory,
As you try to find the mystery of lost treasure,
You have followed the footsteps and created a story,
You have found deceiving pleasure...

Drops of sapphires were kept in mundane steel,
Lust was found in a mundane place,
Lust had sunk under the oceans of melodies,
You never kissed the face of fate...

You fell in the feet of luck,
You rose from the ground,
You left the fertile mud,
You just did yourself proud...

Ascended like vapor,
Sat on a deceptive throne,
Your prayer was answered,
Where do you call home?

As you sharpen your charcoal,
To engrave words on glowing stars,
Words that protrude from your soul,
The pleasure of power...

The longevity of a nebulous dream,
The illusion of lost proportion,
Lost thoughts being set free,
The sweet magic potion...

Picture from the net ( modernartimages.com )

Waterfall...

Life is the force,
That has been directed along the same path,
A path which is a gift of fate,
The unity of the heart...

The morrow has been engraved in flesh,
The morrow is the leader of all action,
Fate is only caressed by the best,
The cause of that energy was friction...

The sack of life has been packed with sweet and sour,
The battle for an ultimate motive,
In this incessant journey for self satisfaction united we fall,
This cryptic path fate has lit...

Picture from the net- ( wallpaper-z.com )