Lost in transition, if I must say...

Is it dull sitting at home on a Sunday evening and studying? Yes, perhaps but as the wise men say " you reap as you sow," and I have experienced the repercussions of this. Individuals are born to do more than they are doing, that's what the human race was born to do. We have discovered something as vague as Marijuana to something as significant as antibiotics. A genius on some corner on the world uses his god given brains to invent something revolutionary the minute he or she is not satisfied with the way things are.

I am now in a phase of transit hoping to be lifted to my higher ground. Things are a lot different from what they were last year and I thank the universe for that. I have gone from tragedienne to a mediocre, basically happy person. I am now in an indifferent institution and I say indifference is better than an institution which under-rates you and treats you like a spazz. I have now realised that thriving in the past ain't my thing. I'd like to see what is in store for me.

Have I lived up to my full potential? No, not one bit. Am I doing anything about it? At this moment not more than introspection but my sincerest hopes is that I go ahead of this phase, because I have my 12th next year. Oh lord, we are in dire need of artificial intelligence but I guess it's either in the pipeline or left to us numb birds to invent it. May love and peace continue to thrive. Peace.

Cell division and karma...

It was fives years ago when I met her.I was 16. I had faded memories of my own, it was tough for me to love some one. It was strange, for it seemed like my whole life was some life designers work, like it had been designed to meet her. As I true Romantic Era loyalist I'll say we met on a beach, but I can't remember all my memories are foggy. But I remember a beach, with golden sand, seagulls and turquoise water which is rather rare considering the fact that every place is slowly becoming a dumping ground, for Earth has to make way to suit a consumerist societies needs. But I was on such a beach and I met her, we got along, we started chatting and before I knew it she was my best friend. Sometimes a platonic relationship can change lives of them involved. Her name was Tauschen. I often have have to strive to remember mine...

Today five years later, I stand under ashen cloud staring at her ashen pallor, watching her being dug into this very passive dungeon to a very melancholic world, which I perceive to be unhappy and anyone would. I was just one of the people in this mournful audience watching her during her transit to nowhere, death has always shook me, as it normally does to everyone and then most of us go back to living our lives as money's douches, striving for an identity. How can some one just die? What had she succumbed to? They say it was a virus in the air which just happened to kill her. Damn it, sometimes shit shrikes the arch of the nicest of people. Alas, what a void, damn it, what a void! Death at the age of 21 ain't pleasant.

Going back home, is like going back to a tavern of drunken memories and the weird thing is that even though you know some one, there can be that much distance that separates people, it's like you can never really know some one including yourself, apparently. I entered her room, there were these pictures , papers, words, clothes, olfactory associations and a diary as it seemed. I probably should have never opened it any ways, but she's dead as a landfill and soon I shall be there too. I wanted to know more about her world, probably because my own solitary world just ain't as interesting as her enigmatic one. Yet I felt the guilt of invading some ones privacy still remains.

I opened the book of memoirs, I was engrossed in it. Life is strange, why are we so engrossed in someone else's life when we have our own? Many pages spoke of her childhood, her flings, her vows, unrequited love, requited love,requited, a bunch of innuendos and as I proceeded through the pages, the latter entries were a lot more cynical, I guess that's what happens we do get more cynical as we get older. It spoke a lot about the turmoil some people that was killing her from within. Killing her from within? Pun intended or not? Because she really is dead and me being the martyr that I am wanted to avenge her death.

Opening that diary is killing me. I am becoming an obsessive compulsive fading human. That is, I am fading. I eat like her, sleep like her, OD just like her, but am alive unlike her, ha! But really, I have begun living my life like she lived hers. I soon found out that she was having some trouble at work, she by the way was working in a chemical factory and she found out that her boss was smuggling chemicals that can destroy lives and worlds. I found out more and was getting closer, to avenging her death, she was killed and I knew it and that was causing her turmoil in her last days.

One night, when I am really walking in beauty like the night, a SUV stops in front of me and a mob abducts me, quintessential scenario. Another quintessential scenario, I'm unconscious and I wake up in a rather secluded factory, a dim room, my hands tied, don't have a clue in the world about where I am. Then I hear the door open.

I expected to see her killer but instead I see a rather unexpected sight, her. What? How? I guess reincarnation, but so soon? " What's happening?" I asked her, bewildered to the core. " You're too advanced a species," she said. " What?" I asked and why is she insulting my evolutionary gift? " You were just an illusion of what you perceived of yourself," she said. Aren't we all, I thought to myself. " You were a species created by me as an experiment. You're created in a lab. I wanted to see if a human-like species could survive in unfavourable conditions, so I created you, used you as a guinea pig, conducted experiments on you and induced thoughts and memories in your system to make you feel like a real species," she said. What is she saying? But surprisingly I'm not surprised, as strange as it sounds, I never had distinct memories of myself.
"You now have started independent thinking, which is dangerous for the experiment and therefore you have to be terminated and I've already injected poison into your bloodstream," she said. Before I could say anything she disappeared. Who knew, independent thinking could ever take away the right to life. It's really strange.

I have now become a part of the landfill and things really aren't as bad as you perceive them to be.

Moral of the story- really mind your own business, it's for the better.

Bullets and Auguries...

A maverick transit,
Had swept away the illusions of my transgressions,
Condescending new found glory,
Shall wait in the monastery created for anticipation...

There comes the illusions of my innocence,
Made to survive amidst all these lecherous men,
Whilst my mind is devoid of life,
Arouses the return of promiscuous luck...

So short lived are these chuckles of forbidden humour,
The gust of glee,
The crescendo of that shenanigan that rests in the hands of fate,
Gift of god and the food of demons...

Behold, for the hunters and gatherers are here,
The nurturers have no reason to rejoice,
As we write music inspired by the clarion of our ancestors,
Because somewhere within you know you're intoxicated due to the void of passion...

Drop by drop,
The repercussions seemed to have arrived,
You have now succumbed to fatal generosity,
Shamed by the battles you refused to lose...

Painting by Vladimir Kush.

Faux Pas...

As midnight had opened its doors,
We entered the fortnight of denial,
Greeted by midgets of placidity,
That writhed in vain,
The entourage of illusions of prosperity...

Little percussions of euphoria,
Walks hopelessly in the clouds of treachery,
Witnessed by the solemn territory of our gait,
On this very nonchalant Earth,
Shelters the inhabitants that delude themselves for the spite of elevation...

In this very kingdom of appeal,
A flaw is the bastard child of the will of perfection,
Born with vain,
Borne within lies,
Glamorises the dark deeds of the living...

Peace is the truce of strain,
Complacent solace with the fire of mankind,
A sin left behind thrives to follow,
Until it rests in the cavern of the relative afterlife...

Painting by Vladimir Kush.

Shilpa Shetty and the bee

On one fine day, Shilpa Shetty had gone to the cosmetic surgeon to get a check up because ever since her nose job, every few days she was facing a problem. Any ways, the problem wasn't too major. But getting out of the house on a day when she was looking so supremely ugly wasn't easy since the new found fame after some weeping and anti- racism gyan she had put up and the IPL team she was starting and an ugly man she was marrying and yeah to summarize it all she was the new sexy thing on the block and the loving and obnoxious paparazzi that the celebrities claimed to hate but on a day like this when her nose wasn't looking so fine, a bad hair day and to make things worse she had a brand new pimple coming up. Dear god, what miseries she had in her life and with her very visible pimple who cares about the millions of people going hungry every day, or artificial intelligence, or corruption, her pimple and slightly crooked nose would make headlines. Some how the paparazzi were always round the corner with cameras in their hands, on other days it was an assurance that her new found fame wasn't lost but today it was a menace as this P.B.T ( pretty bland thing) didn't want the world to see her occasional ugly days.
She walked out of the hospital wearing a veil, trying to be careful so that the paparazzi wouldn't notice it was her. She walked into her car and driver saabh put madamji safely in the car.


She was on the road to home, where she was going to be hiding until her ugliness would get diluted for the world does not understand it is only human to have ugly days. She resented looking in the mirror and amidst all the terrible things she was going through, her car broke down. Oh the frustration, her driver was trying to fix her care. As she was contemplating suicide, she saw a bee and she hated arthropods except of coarse crabs but she was devoid of beautiful crab meat since her fitness vows. The bee was a male and male bee's get rather unfortunate treatment, just after they have mated that bitch of a queen bee falls on him and he dies and then goes to bee heaven and is acknowledged for his contribution to the bee population and "such as viscous nature" is the consolation he is offered. But for this lucky bastard of a male bee her set his eyes on the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and yes she happened to be Shilpa Shetty and his tiny brains couldn't see her ugly phase. Her was in love with her, her loved being in love with a different species all together. He wanted her but he knew the minute she would look at him. Anyways, her car finally got fixed and off she went while this poor chap was left to that female bitch of a bee and Shilpa Shetty went back to an even uglier husband.
Moral of the story- love is blind and karma is a bitch.

P.S- Please forgive this crap for wasting how many ever seconds it has wasted. Forgiveness for my instinct tells me I'm suffering from intellectual decay and good luck for life folks!

Alchoholics anonymous...

It's been ages since I've last been to Church. It's not my kind of place to go. Today was a weird day except that there was nothing weird about it. I guess being sober and having no booze within my bloodstream makes me feel weird. I crave for a smoke, but never mind I can wait for an hour or try to do so. I'm here to regain my virtues and I hope it's as easy as I think for it has been nearly half a decade since I've been zonked each day and I'm poor as piss and 'well wishers' say I still have the potential to make something of myself, oh well, what do they know. But in this world where there's an acute shortage of people who even try to love you, you might as well value those who do. Who am I? I'm James Bond,no I'm not. We never really know in this vast universe. Wit, who am I? Umm, I'm just a boozed out person trying to sort my life out. So I am now going to a support group for alcoholics and they irony is that the group sessions are held in a church.

They grey pallor of the church was adding more glum to my alcohol free day. As I entered the doors of the church I saw that there was an array of support groups and rehabilitation centres and the sessions were different rooms, they had to be, too many strange people makes the place even weirder, you see.

Quaintly insane, just plain ( support group for mediocrity), Woman with tiny bosoms, Men who need a brassiere, virtual world addicts, simply depressed, She don't lie, she don't lie, she don't lie, Cocaine ( a support group for coke addicts), A butt for a nut ( a support group for bad rappers), Don't treasure the visual pleasure ( quit porn) and then amidst all this ruckus there it was, 'Alcoholics Anonymous'.

I entered a gloomy and dingy room, a bit like school. A black board, chalk, benches but only here everyone was discussing what we would have loved to discuss in school, booze. The room was almost full, booze is after all a perfect escaped. I came in at 17 hours and at exactly 17 hours and 1 minute man tallish guy with a salt and pepper beard walked in and he asked us why exactly we drank, many people had their sob stories to tell and they were almost all the same. He then started talking about life and how much of a life is. I was getting bored as hell. All of these people seemed so interested in what he was saying, to me all his philosophy very rehearsed. Everyone seemed so interested, everyone except one, I'm surprised I didn't notice her, she was so noticeable. Her dulled expression, fat body, her bright yellow floral dress, she had a very pronounced double chin, women don't have the great Morrison hottie technique of growing a beard once you get a double chin so when a woman gets a double chin, it is very prominent but even with a beard, you can dilute it but it can't be hidden. One hour passed and by the end of it my arse was numb and my tail bone or coccyx was hurting, I managed to sit for one hour and had almost a day without booze was killing me, yes, I pretty much know what I'm going to do when I get home, hey the process of regaining ones virtues is slow. Finally the session was over, huh, sigh of relief.

As I walked out of the high church doors dusk had already settle, the poetic night was peeping at us through the ashen clouds. It was going to rain and the landscape was waiting to embrace those fierce drops. Oh, how these days go, it's a shame that this day had to end so fast. The trees were praying to the spirits of the sky. Life was slowing down, I could do feel it. Any ways, I was getting a bus back home and as I was waiting for a bus the same woman who was sitting in my support session came, yes the fat woman with the double chin, I don't want to call her that but I don't know her name and we humans are a prejudiced breed. She smiled at me and I must say she has such a warm smile for a messed up person. We were waiting for the bus and then she asked me what I think about life. " I have nothing much to say about it, because if I did I wouldn't be here," I said. "So why are you here?'' she asked. " Well, I started drinking when I was four but it became a habit when I was twenty," I said. " Haa, you took sixteen years to make it a habit and you started drinking when you were four, damn, you're a juvenile scam," she said. Her words were scornful but even then I felt this bond with her, the kind of bond I haven't felt for a long time. " Why did you start drinking?" I asked her. "Well, I needed to go on a diet to get a fab midriff, so I went on an all booze diet," she said. "Seriously?" I asked. " Nope, you actually believed , me, I drank because I wanted to drink and that's the truth with most of us out here, I mean we drink because we drink and that's the blatant truth in life, we do things because we want to do thing," she said. I actually believed the booze diet part because people do go on insane diets these days, it's like they reveal their inner insanity in the form of their diets and about the we spin our own fate part, unfortunately it's true. So if you're in a shit position just remember you reap just what you sow, but indeed, karma is a bitch. " So, what do you think about life," she asked me, she's lame. " Well, I have nothing much to say about it and why do you ask," I asked her. " Well nothing, it's just that here we are wasting our lives and there are people who over achieve through, their life. It's like people talk about how chimerical life is and I have always found it a drag. I want to be here but I always feel I'm not quite here," she said. " Well life could be all about a coincidence gone right or wrong but yes the good question is where did it all start and that's when the question of god comes about," I said. It had been a long time since I had indulged in intellectualism or rather pseudo intellectualism with someone other than myself.
" You're addicted to substance and therefore I hope you have good imagination," she said. "Well it's quite the contrary, because as you gulp down the booze, you're neurons become loose,'' I said. " I have a feeling a woman was the one who started the universe,'' she said. " And why do you think so," I said. " Well, researchers say that the evolution of a male was just a co-incidence,'' she said. Sweet co-incidence I thought to myself, a co-incidence gone right. " Yes, but you always need a sperm to fertilize an egg," I said. " True but you're in a uterus for the first nine months of your life and the first nine months of your life may not seem like anything but those nine months decide your basic facial structure and the first nine months is what makes the phenomenon called you," she said. " Go on", I said. " Now picture this she said, a woman, the mother of all, I shall let her go unnamed, a beautiful and strong woman, god saw and he decided he wanted her and after a lot of wooing he finally got her and on one fine time they made love and god planted his seed in her, her egg and his sperm united to form a zygote and then there was a hyper- nova in her uterus, what we call the big bang theory, so I guess we call it the big bang theory for a reason or it's a co-incidence. Anyways that zygote was the beginning of the universe and now she's still pregnant with a fetus called the universe," she said. " Wow, she's been knocked up for a long time, when will she give birth?" I asked. " The universe is still growing and she might be giving birth anytime soon, after all there have been talks of apocalypse," she said. " So in other words, you could say every birth of a child comes with the faithful promise of death," I said. " Yes, it's a fact," she said. I was enthralled by her lame cliche philosophy and just then my bus arrived, we parted ways from there.

When I reached my bus stop the night had already settled and now I was walking home. Yes, the day was over but I realized it was my day. So as I walked by the array of street lights that were there to have mercy on us human mortals who have this inability to see in the dark I thought about what I wanted to do tomorrow but then tomorrow is another day and a day well spent is quite the day.

Purgatory...

Our wishful thinking was gone,
Just a jiffy before dawn,
Then merry acquaintances bid us condolence for those wasted dreams,
It just shreds a gullible bud and morphs her into a siren,
Oh, an arousing image I see,
But the other side is darker,
You've juts witnessed a wee bit of a prick of penury,
Cheers to apparent strength when you're impaled...

It's not your union I despise,
It's just that I'm rolling in the revelry of a desolated street,
The people of the street,
Fight for survival,
Crave for love,
Sex,
Victory,
Luxury.

The parasites of chaos differ a whole lot,
They sway within another life's dream,
The dignity of a shadow that was never theirs to claim,
These rodents are too weak to cry,
So they bond with silence,
Preparation for an afterlife embodies a life,
A macabre cloak is what we swear by...

With a pure birth,
Life just leaves us to expect that we shall be impure on a day to come,
You were born to serve civilisation,
Today you mock the purpose for you've now discovered yourself,
But now I feel death fondle me,
Bitter luck and holy acceptances,
Within the labyrinth of my uterine vengeance...

Children of love,
Oh holy mother so divine,
A generation of hunger,
You fill the pores of redemption,
The alter shall be laid,
For my conscience and I have wed against our will,
Quaint love is left ashamed by my notoriety,
A philistine bud shall bloom in my absence...

I purse my lips,
Wicked words are about to emerge,
My lifespan is saturated with nasty luck,
I clasp my hands,
Listen to a wise man's words,
I empty the coins of mediocrity,
Lucidity fails to bear me solace...

( Painting by MF. Hussain)

Groupie of Passion...

As I saw raw passion that emerged from the fog,
A hypnotic voice so fine,
The finesse of the atmosphere seems to have embraced me,
While women groove to fertility,
Men awoke to morning wood,
Stars had gone to spread their glimmer some place else,
Because we had enough glimmer here,
Light heals,
Heals the hormones of stress,
Heals the turmoil of failure,
Heals the scars of pain,
Heals the warts of herpes,
We're here to love each other until the pain fades,
Because noble men have told me,
Loud and clear!
"Some day these consecutive days shall end!"
Where has the free love gone?
We're all Casanova's for a good day,
But today the nugatory philosophy and rough introspection shall halt,
We moan in bliss and sing until the worlds end,
As the wits of love are weak now,
It's just you left to charm yourself into a delusional slumber...

Pubescent mojo..

I've often wondered, what makes a person hot? In the world of glitz we see so many human blow up dolls trying to be hot or another doll-like stud trying to be hot. They just don't do it right, it's like that perfect ingredient is missing. That immense mojo comes from within but very few get it right. It really is all about poise and if you try too hard then you shall fail yourself like a zeppelin make of lead (By the way that's where the origin of the name of Led Zeppelin, or so I've been told) . One does not have to be good looking to be hot, take Quentin Tarantino or Ted Hughes, very misshapen men but so sexy. Bruce Willis is bald and yet so hot and there are so many more and yet there are so many exceptionally good looking people who don't have an ounce of swagger. But then again it's all relative. It does contribute if one is well read, nice looking ( again that's not an omnipresent factor when it concerns sex appeal), that immense machismo, clever, good play with words, that lurking olfactory tease, voice, eyes, passion, good hygiene, dignity, chauvinism proof, jerk proof, confidence( helps big time) dresses well, a bit notorious ( yes, the stereotyped bad boy/ is what I'm talking about), good taste in books, music, cinema, ambition a sense of mystery and all these together but yes poise is the most important thing because as I said earlier try too hard and you might just end up being a malicious narcissist. But I believe everyone has potential mojo that matures with age, the art is in embracing that immense potential mojo you have and don't say you don't because you were born to be sexy and all us homo sapiens were born to be sexy and if you think you aren't then I say you spent too much time thinking, don't think too much about yourself sweetheart.

Web of lies...

One- third of a kiss,
For a weekend of bliss,
One-fourth of your dream,
To seal the deal,
A little bit of life,
Just to soothe a juvenile mind,

To morn woke us with the responsibility we never chose to partake,
An opulent reason to slouch,
Scarred inspiration that impaled our vain,
As we run from the perfectionist dictatorship,
You're never too old to run...

So what does it take,
To go from Satan's derriere to Cupid companion,
But then again we're unique designs of nasty tapestry,
Sloshed by the lies we've spun,
We preserve actual kisses in a nebulous womb...

Right from a withered mire,
Born beneath the prophecy of untamed fire,
Lies that have conceived tears,
The elitist fancies that have masked our mysterious shenanigans,
Mascara to mask the clarion of fury within us....

Isolation has created a triumph new world,
A little star of inception,
Wicked icicles that fall upon us just before we have usurped our right to passage,
My stormy mind fails to glean the dream,
Sanity brings laughter right along to soothe my repentance...

The darkest of nights,
Within the deepest of shells,
The reminisce of yet another illusion,
The temporal of dreams,
Backfired when you never predicted you'd need to brace yourself....

I snort the winds of sleep,
I stay lost in a momentary lachrymal song,
Alert not to fall prey to labial seduction,
Melancholy entered my kraal and disturbed my placidity,
So as they say, kudos to fate...

( Edward Munch- Ashes)

Hello darkness, my old friend

Them smart alecks who said adolescence was a difficult were absolutely right, its just that me being within my jolly bubble just didn't want to listen to them. Recent events have being tiring and difficult and they make me wonder if things will ever get better and I am referring to more than just teenage angst. Why does the storm need top present itself to me when it is least wanted? I wonder why I feel so lonely all of a sudden, no wait I know why I feel so lonely. I am strange and that's what I''ll be forever and I soon shall get comfortably numb about that and meet other people ( hopefully) who are comfortably numb themselves about their eccentricity. But being a quirky person it a very straight forward and hostile environment can be strange and I really do not want to change the way I am. Is it this generation who's so obsessed with their I-pads and BBM's or is just that this is the way things roll or the spirit of this city or is it that I'm not much of a zeitgeist?

I need and need as much as a coke addict needs periodical snorts, to do something new, something worthwhile, go places, not be so bored, not be dead tired at 22 hours and 50 minutesbecause ever since the 15th of March, the last day of school I've pretty much haven't been a part of civilisation or more so the civilisation I'd like to be with. It's a blatant hormone over-secretion ( not scientifically) engulfed phase of life. I really want my kind of company. I need to something significant, but significance is a state of mind, ain't it? Oh well and till then hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk to you again.

Bounds of art?

The painting above is the so called controversial painting by M.F. Hussain. This is the painting that got those hypocrites flaring. It shows the class they lack. I mean what about honouring the beauty of Khajuraho which honours nudity. This is the representation of Earth which is supposed to be free, youthful and nude. I love this painting, look at the dynamism of it. He's produce so many prodigious paintings. It's like you give god a brush and he paints and the god here is M.F Hussain. Rest in peace.

Waves...

There was this little corner of our minds,
Where we laugh about the anecdotes of dawn,
Where we could cry faded tears,
Make plans for the morn,
Transmit our fears,
So far with a song...

Those waves of eternity,
Calls for riddles,
I saw the mirage of a dream,
While walking a stark path,
As strong as fire,
As ferocious as pain...

Ugly as decay,
As we walked through the horizon of wicked plans,
Within the pockets of evil,
As I suggest,
"Lets be reborn," "Lets be reborn!"
But it won't be as merry as you think...

A coniferous plan,
He matched our hearts,
The dice of destiny in both hands,
For reasons I can't quite enunciate,
I find comfort in turmoil...

The beauty of spring,
Fail to ward away the evil of our minds,
For we were the ones blessed with unconventional fate,
That dances within the ashen clouds of anticipation,
While we sway within our blissful cacoon,
Contemplating how to wash away our sins...

( Painting by Frida Kahlo)

The midnight oil...

We walked amazed by haze,
Ready to win the battle we formerly lost,
Now as I unravel the real warrior,
The lie begins to show...

A pure mockery,
Harmony embraces acceptance,
Now lets cajole rigidity with intoxicating words,
I hereby unite with another gruesome story...

Is the flare hidden,
Or do we fail to glow?
But I assure you shall be illuminated,
After you clean the surface...

Now as the secrets are revealed,
We speak the unspoken ,
We burst the bubbles of our virtues,
Now the spirits have woken...

Now let your mind project,
The illusions of the burnt midnight oil,
The mirror shall always be a reflection of your horse-shoe smile,
Stirring of vacant laughter rings scornful bells...

For in a decade we thaw this frozen seduction,
You shall then hear the bustle of this sirens stilettos,
You shall feel the passion of her Aphrodian dreams,
So oblivious of that little slip...

For its just one right of passage,
That shields you from brutal crossroads,
So we can mock the shadows of loss,
Welcome the ghosts of a dead dream into the chambers of denial...

A numb veil,
Shall accompany me to the furnace of my identity,
Waiting to tantalise me to a different time,
There goes the otherwise tempestuous focus....

( Painting by Edward Munch)

Nebula...

Starlets live in the midst of stardom,
Those hollow lights of wisdom,
Dreams born out of wedlock,
Now, we've got just the reflection to mock...

Those love affairs I've had with the phases,
Those momentary blazes,
It's in the air,
Waiting to emerge from fates own stairs...

The brutal highways,
So frayed is love which is my way,
The passion of the Equator,
The statue that pricked the creator...

Handwritten inscriptions of love,
Engravement is the ultimate lust,
Dust that spells the name of the forgotten,
Grief that drifted away for good into the horizon...

Picture from the net _ ( hesperia.gsfc.nasa.gov)

The fur buddies

We are the most intelligent species but we should learn more from our fur friends. That unconditional love you feel with them, they'll give you a whole new experience of love and happiness. I love dogs too but I have literally grown up with cats and I'm still coping with the grief of losing my handsome big pawed warrior. It's like the loss of a very special friend. Cats tend to have a lot of style, damn I so feel the need of an outdoor kitty, but it's too soon and you can't just replace a void you've been feeling with another cute cat. But if I had one animal avatar it would be or at least I'd want it to be our very own Felis Domestica. The way they just make their way into your heart. Now I've done a little personality analyzation ( yes, it's juvenile)-

• Persian - Snoot and cute!
  
• Black cat- Super sexy and svelte, my first cats long term boyfriend.
• British longhair- just seen one on TV but they look like snoots too but I'd just like to cuddle one.
• Birman- curious.
• Van Cat (The most commonly seen cat)- I'm going to be partial here- simply amazing.
• Tabby Cat- Ditto.
• White cats- overrated, much like the fair skin obsession.
• Donskoy cat- Not much of a looker but then has its own elegance.

5 stages until overall glee...

There are five stages of grief- Denial and isolation, Anger, Bargaining,Depression and at last the very necessary, holy acceptance. Acceptance is the only stage that makes us move on with life without the precious thing we've lost but whether you like it or not and whether you want it or not, you will go through these five stages of painful grief if you lose some one you love. But how fast you get to the fifth stage depends on you, I'd recommend distracting yourself and looking at the positive side. For if that person/pet has left you grieving that means they've lived a good life. The fact it that love is selfish and now you're grieving for your own loss but the dead now are in another state of peace. Grief can be about anything, the death of a person, the death of a pet, the death of a dream, etcetera . The tact remains in how you handle it.

Death is a part of life, if you're born you will die. The end is a new beginning. The fact of the matter is that mass is preoccupied and the mass that you have now won't be yours forever, because there will be a time that you will go back to the Earth, be a part of the humus, you'll be one with the mud. You aren't yours forever but you're yours during your very versatile lifespan. As I once heard this very nice quote in a movie whose name I can't quite recollect " We are born naked, we die empty handed, what lies in between is creativity." It's really what you're doing now. If there was no death then there will be no life, no creation, immortality will wipe of the growth of a species. On the other hand life can be hard but has its own comfortable barriers and even if a little part of that barrier is disturbed then it shall lead to the 5 very painful but necessary stages of grief. I can now say, life has its own ways of making you comfortable in times of utter discomfort. But as much as you want to stay within those blissful barriers some one within that barrier shall meet that fateful day and one day that some one will be you. The reason I'm speaking like this is because I just lost my very handsome outdoor cat Cynthia ( I thought he was a female cat at first) and yes I still have my pretty indoor cat but I still miss my outdoor cat. I think I am now between the fourth and fifth stage of grief. If heaven is real that's where he's going but his soul any ways is going to rest in peace because he was such a good natured cat and true good things happen to good people. It's times like these when you let go of your very rational principles of life and believe in things like heaven and a very happy afterlife but he deserves it, he was a fighter and yes he will be missed. He was a super hero.

Now, you're very comfortable barrier has been broken and entered and there's a clear gap that has been left and there's nothing except a memory left to fill that empty space but grief is building you're array of memories that is filling this gap. Now what do you do? You want to fill that gap, your want that thing back but you know it's disgraceful for things to come back from the dead. You feel alone, but you know its only you because the very soul rests in peace and has found its place, it's gone back to its creator and is ultimately free. I say don't let life slip away, be kind, be passionate, love with all your heart, laugh, have faith, watch this world around you because nature is viscous as much as it is beautiful, give back, create, grieve when you have to because it means you have the ability to love something beyond yourself. But for now accept those five stages of grief, go with it, try to do good have faith, try to be happy, send out a prayer to the universe because it's only those 5 stages until overall glee, that's is if you're a generally happy person but if you're not than you're disgracing the gift of life, so be happy when you can.

P.S- Rest in peace, love you for now and forever...

Walk of life...

He watched his sanctum mind,
While he was trapped in an abrasive song,
He walked to correct time,
The solemn mystery of the fog...

He wanted to correct the tangibility of a dream,
Dust of obstacles differs from the dust of love,
His actions jinxed his breed,
His path consists of spontaneous rust...

Now why would some one wait,
When they know about the bitter shards they've sown?
Will you mock fate,
Or will you wait for the unravel of the road...

I shall sojourn in this bitter sea,
In the quest to bids farewell,
To part ways with that lost dream,
In the land of love I believe I dwell...

Rules by fools...

I can't quite take the bounds of life,
It feels like a puppet marching to the creation of rules by egoistic fools,
I want to create a rebellion,
Unfortunately the rebellion requires deceiving assimilation.

Baby don't be a snoot,
For the challenge requires a versatile actor,
Or else you'll be fed the ashes of the last resort,
Enter the remise of your words,
For only your regrets shall reign over you.

I was never as dazed as I am today,
These dangerous waters with viscous reptiles,
Hounding me for the lack of satisfaction,
Cursing me for the sands of an eccentric shade...

Fools that happen to have the paper of my fate,
But the fact of the matter is that paper's always mine,
As apparent as the curse of being insane,
So yet again, do I vain for vain or instinct?

Deny, deny, deny...

Deny your existence,
For this deception has been your doing,
For we're all too rigid to accept,
So you disappear in the hypnotic mist...

Where is your veil of grace today?
Have you been acid dropping your way to glory?
You induce intimidation,
By thunderous seduction...

Where is that unctuous vain?
These tainted expectations,
So, will you put up a fight,
Or part ways with your dreams.

So is your whimsical smirk put away?
You're wearing the beads of whinge?
You stand on the temporal of shit,
Falling into worse...

So when you're despised upon,
Will you be embraced by the song of fog,
Or twirl by tainted dreams ,
Or sculpt new ones?

The Great fire of London...

The skies blushed in crimson with passion,
There dreams were shattered but still moist,
Their homes escaped into the cauldron of destruction,
Does this fire flare to unite?

Destruction had crossed the parameters of peace,
The fire laughed at their misery,
Created immortality with ease,
The mockery of itself is a mystery...

Seize this land,
With great heat I could,
I'm not sure you'd understand,
I'm just not that good...

How would you imbibe fear,
Love so Aphrodisiac,
It would create tears..

But as you fear,
I devour you homes,
The ghost is neat,
Unless it's there in your soul...

Lost of soul and the integrity of chaos

The post board period is a lot different than I had imagined it to be. I still remember how much I was craving for some free time when my boards were on. It is indeed a stressful period and at that point it feels like the you have a very complete structure that's going to crash soon and the entire world depends on what you write. I remember feeling the sense of relief once my last paper or rather my second last paper which is the toughest. During the pre- board days I thought the post board days will be just perfect. I thought I could be in a reverie through out the day and write these amazing stories, I thought I could watch a lot of TV, I thought I could read a book all day and basically be so happy in that state of sloth. All of these have happened except I'm not in a reverie and I find that I can't write. So yes, the post board days are simply beautiful and this sense of sloth is a much needed break but having all the time in the world is not the best thing. The post board sense of sloth is not as great as I'd imagine it to be. So I've come to a conclusion ( it's high time I did) - you never understand the complete situation until you're there and chaos is inspiration. A simple example, I thought my post board time was going to be lovely and now that I'm pretty much at home in a complete state of sloth not amidst the chaos of the world I just can't write and now sometimes, it's even though to think, why- there's not chaos in this momentary idle life of mine. Take a position people envy, a socialite who is a heir to an empire and great amounts of wealth, who can own a condo in every continent or for that matter every country, who can afford the most expensive Chevy, Merc, BMW, Rolls Royce, Fords or Limo in the world, who is invited to every royal wedding, who can live a very extravagant and lavish life on the money. But then again their respect is like a domino, when one wrong thing is exposed the other can of worms is opened and it's tough to find true love in this position. It's easy to get tempted when in a position of power or forget the position of power, it is always difficult to curb lust and maybe power is not what you truly want but if it is than that's what you fight for. As for chaos, personally I think chaos is what you need because if you're not amidst chaos then it means you're jaded. Chaos is what the universe is about, chaos integrates. That's why we're many and the formation of the world was due to chaos. A chaotic mind is great to have until you reach a point of saturation. Maybe if you're not there then that's not what you really wanted, but I say lets put up a fight. So lets be satisfied but always want more and as for the future lets do what we can and leave the rest up to chaos.

The battle of the ships...

Tick tock, oh you juvenile clock,

Time bids me farewell for we shall part ways from here,

All alone amidst these beasts,

Who fight a cruel battle for prosperity in peace...


The chariot men slew the chariot men,

The spear men slew the spear men,

Men of peace wanted to be the shield to destruction,

While the now where men just watched from the bushes...


The sun wanted them to part ways,

He left a Nymph for the fair hands,

They will win the battle,

Just to leave for a shattered home...

Limbo of a dream...

This is the casket where I have pieces of elevation,
They'll arrest your movements,
They'll countermand the plans of resurrection,
Where have you left your conceited grin?

Climb these walls of mystery,
Soon you shall witness the striptease of life,
Now suddenly your pampered within the folds of glory,
Now you've begun foreplay with the sweet afterlife...

A little glimmer could illuminate your path,
Now you've got just four days for the battle,
You're battlefield is going to be a little more cerebral than your love struck heart,
Or else you're just one of those mortals...

-Pre board poetry.

Picture from the net- ( thinkfeelplay.com )

Little pieces of the cosmos and other blahs

If you've lived even sixteen years of your life you'd know how it feels to take responsibility and then get intimidated by the output of your work. This is what I feel now. I'm going to be getting my tenth results soon and that's freaking me out. It's just that a stupid mark sheet can make or break you. Not that you can't be repaired and refused back into shape once you're broken, it's just that repairing the broken pieces of yourself is a painful procedure but it's a very necessary step. Everyone needs to strive for more and as I've written before, complete satisfaction is a curse. Satisfaction can be defying and we all need to watch out because we can crash before we know it. This year is going to be different. My last year in school was spent well as compared to the previous years. But now I'm not going back to the same place and I'm not unhappy about that but the transit of getting to that place is like this viscous hurricane. First it's the result, followed by the admission procedure. The thought of getting my results is making me feel utterly uneasy.

I've been in pretty much a state of sloth since the 6th of May and today it's the 7th of June. It's funny how fast time has passed and you're left wondering how those years, months, weeks, hours, minutes and seconds go by and you then think what you've done with them. I say I've not really done anything but I've done things which are meaningful in the long run. Time flies, it really does. You're born into dreamy world and then slowly you've grown up now. It's time you took responsibility and it's time you understand that you're a grown up. But then again, why grow up and as Seal said " take me to that funky place where you and I were born." My world is crazy, it's beautiful and it's fascinating. The universe inspires me, it really does. The way you're just a dot in the world but you're also very much a part of this crazy cosmos even after you're gone, as scientist say, mass is preoccupied.

These days are like fragments. There's a world waiting ahead of all of us and the only thing stopping us from being unfurled in the very essence of the world is those bounds we've set for ourselves which actually don't exist. If we've try to break those barriers then we're truly free because there's really nothing stopping us, if only we try our best. 'Try you're best' is often misused. If you ask yourself and only yourself without any external influence if you've tried your best you might have doubts. Most of us try far from our best and then cry about it later. For you don't only have or know what you should know, you can look beyond. Trying your best isn't easy and to be honest I haven't done it myself but it can be done. So I say, lets all, all from this crazy cosmos come together and try our bests, for then we shall see how truly fascinating the world is. Good luck folks!

Hey Damsel...

It was the dead of night,
The world had cajoled a few of them faithful mortals into a slumber,
While our mind is faced with the tempest of innuendos,
While our bodies are trying to win this battle of love...

So as this world is embraced with stars,
The sky protects apparent evil,
Contempt of the mortals tries to contradict death,
Shall my sphere deal with the duress of being pristine?

Is this revolution the rhythm of life,
An escape from death,
Elevation that has cosseted this breed,
Or is time surging into this wilderness of frolic?

Do you wait for the transit,
Or does the transit dread the load?
But you don't want to die dirty, do you?
Unfurl the transit before it fades....

Enjoy blissful innocence,
For you've been led to believe this deception,
Fancy the wealth,
Bleed for being a part of the elevated breed...

For these walls were built for survival,
The mass is as apparent as cherished memories,
Sturdy enough to have borne the wrath,
When amidst a magnitude they believe you're just civilisation...

You're just a popper,
Amidst the clouds of their jewels,
So breathe education,
For tears will not soothe ignorance..

Hey damsel, you've been masked by anticipation,
Embraced by the silence of chaos,
In need for introspection,
Girl, I say lay your path...

Picture from the net- ( fineartamerica.com )

Indian summer...

No armour of dignity could soothe the pain of the summer months,
When we lost the connection to touch,
There were blind colours in the wind,
Bringing us closer to our subtle sins...

They danced on copper,
They deceived holy followers,
But they were resistant to glass,
Inclined to the mask...

They swore by their dreams,
Swayed by the mean,
Raved about despising the evil,
Until they saw unfurled thrill...

They stood strong during the French Revolution,
Don't scream, you'll change the constitution,
Why was monotony your shield to light,
When you had to dream to survive?

( Skull by Van Gogh)

Hollow wallow

This dungeon is strange,
With a passage of grey,
Artless shadows that hover in its very essence,
The creek of life and death is so narrow,
To live this eccentric analogy...

Crops of disintegration were sown in the soil of the beast,
While my flower got rotten in utter disgust,
His stem wasn't enough to comfort me,
There's only an angle of depression from here...

I shall osculate this nutrition,
Introspection for the agriculturist and philosophers,
I shall assimilate all its power,
I want to cease the fire of resurrection...

Deep beneath our mother,
There is this magnet,
This core of civilisation,
Waiting to be elevated to the celestial ocean...

The salt of the waters of immersed fate,
That explores this crystal,
It can cast hate,
The germs that can battle for the crucifiction of dawn...

Wind that has gone deeper into the hollow,
While the lights want to battle sorrow,
While a different casket opened the casket to another world,
But then a shadow was left to wallow...

Picture from the net- ( amazingonly.com )

The drift...

For all the hermits in the world,
Do you whirl in peace or penury ?
While I seek to know if you exist,
Of each strand of your hair that unites to create your soulful existence,
Of your illicit pain...
You're all a part of my ilk when we're on the same path,
When your heart is idle in the monastery of your mind,
In an idyll painting,
For you can't be too obdurate while avoiding the drift...

Swim Fish...

It was a dull and lazy day, a quaint summer holiday. The summer holidays of the past two years were quite different but this one was very quaint like the old times but yet so different from the other ones. I always knew that I was going to go back to the same school, with my new books but this year is so unpredictable. I just hope I can just leave the old baggage behind and brace myself to handle the new baggage because the truth is there will be baggage, always and whatever your position of power will be but do you choose to keep the baggage?I choose to leave the baggage behind. My tenth results comes out soon and it is really stressing me out.

I feel flabby, my body craves for a swim. I like how it feels to burn those extra calories or at least be under the deception that I have burnt those extra calories. I feels great to penetrate those soft layers of water, be embraced by that womb of water, get acquainted with the temperature of the water because the temperature , swim a few laps and breathe. I'm a quintessential Piscean who loves the water. Water is such a marvel of hydrogen bonding, oh the holy hydrogen bonding. Water is why we mortals are here. I have a very good swimming pool two minutes away from my house, Tilak Tank it's called. It's started by Lokmanya Tilak, a great man. I have been swimming since the age of four and when I was a child the water was green, with tadpole, guppies and moss. Today of coarse it is much more sophisticated with one Olympic size pool, two blue pools and one green pool. Being a Tilak Tank loyalist I would say it's the best pool in the world but then there would be a lot of people who would disagree and as the Who song goes " the world begins behind your neighbours wall." The world is really much bigger than you and your neighbourhood.

Coming back to today. Today was a dull and lazy day. I spent most of the day reading and doing some maths. I was a hot and humid day too. The heat was irritating me and I needed exercise so I decided to go for a swim. Dusk had emerged from the skies and touch the land with twilight, paradise had decided to shown itself in the form of the multicoloured sky and raindrops were waiting to leave those full feather like clouds and the water of the pool was a mirror for paradise, the thunder was so aroused that it was moaning loudly and thunder is an indication of lightning because thunder is the sound of expansion of air for lightning. As I swam the drops decided to leave their mother, the clouds and begin their journey on land and they did. The convex shaped drops left their mother and came from the skies like arrows from the bows of passion, those arrows penetrated the soft layers of the water, the area was embraced with dusk and slowly the dusk was parting ways with this holy land until tomorrow if the world continues to be the ways it considering so much talk of apocalypse, the drops had incorporated itself with the water, one on one, the same kind of matter blending with its species, two atoms of hydrogen and one atom of oxygen creates water. Swimming in the rain is pure unadulterated bliss I got out fast because I'm a little scared about going behind the curtain and we all know water is a good conductor of electricity and one bolt that hits the water can kill us all! Haah, I'm a quintessential piscean.

A little life...

A chill went down her spine, she clenched her jaw muscles so tight, it was an involuntary action to soothe the pain in her wrist, her left wrist. That was the very wrist she slit about ten seconds ago. Her eyes could not move their gaze from that deep red blood spurting out. She was waiting to part ways with a mediocre life and meet a very interesting and peaceful afterlife. Blood, that's the very substance that keeps a mortal alive and that's what she was losing. Slowly the pain began to subdue and she found herself getting into a reverie. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and she looked up and saw a figure, the little that she could see through her hazy eyes and that figure carried her away to a land of strange phenomenon's...

Twist, twirl and whirl and you're hazed! How does it does it feel? Well, the world is a tornado, chaos is a storm and karma well, that's a hurricane. So there she was, a little life that she felt in her body, her head felt like it would explode. She managed to open an eye, oh those beams of light were painful to those dazed eyes. After some time she managed to get up, her legs felt like they had borne a weight of about one hundred tonnes. She was in a meadow, dusk had already bathed the meadow in blissful beauty. The warm and moist soil was suckling on her bare feet, the soft grass of the meadow seemed to caress her limbs and before she knew it the sword of darkness slew the dusk, this sword was taken out of a rather eerie sheath.

One hour, no scent of civilisation, two hours, no sign, we're all so nonchalant about insignificant five minutes, 300 seconds. Two hours and five minutes, she saw some illuminations, finally she saw some illumination, oh holy light. She rushed towards the light and she seemed to enter a hamlet, Swingfling was its name.

Swingfling, as she read on the wooden board beside the lamp post. "This name dwells in eccentricity.", she thought to herself. Her feet had just started getting used to the transit from the moist soil to the brink laden path of the narrow streets of Swingfling. The trees were decorated with fairy lights, the weather was pleasant, it was snowing but the snow was actually sugar, so soft it felt when hit came in contact with her shoulder. Swingfling looked like it was in a permanent state of celebration.

" Hey fine lass with a fine ass," she looked behind and there was a beefy and a short man staring at her quite approvingly. " Who are you?" she asked him. " Well I'll leave the formal introduction for later because right now it seems as if your petite feet need some shoes and as of now I feel it is my duty as a rather chivalrous man to give them to you." To this she didn't know what to say. Suddenly he held his throat as if he was trying to strangle himself and after a few minutes a pair of fine heels popped out of his mouth, they were spool heels which were black in colour and they were so fine that they could give any whimsical Gucci or Chanel a run for their money but the idea of wearing a fine pair of heels which came from his inside was very nausea inducing. " Did you just puke out this fine pair of heels," she asked him with a very baffled expression. " I am Mr Fancy Shoes, many a fancy pair I have puked." " Impulses of pioneering designs of shoes arise through my mind within split seconds," " If they satisfy my mind then they emerge from my insides but if not then my mind gives the idea a miss and the impulse goes straight down the drain with a piss." " I think I create the best shoes on the discovered and inhabited part of the universe," he gloated with his broad shoulders enjoying the sugar snow. " That's so abnormal," she said. " Lovely lass with a fine ass, the word normal is a highly controversial and prohibited in the hamlet of Swingfling in fact Mr Lawrence, the dictionary man, the finest lexicographer known was sued for adding the word ' normal' in his updated dictionary. What do you, young lass define 'normal' as? A diverge from the path of monotony, what you see everyday, in the mundane world you live in and chose to escape for stepping away from this monotony and sheer uselessness you were feeling in that 'normal' world. The truth is that normal is not the case anywhere, in any world, any life, any town, any village, any hamlet or any cell and therefore we, the people of Swingfling choose to use the word exceptional." " That's true, but why am I here," she said. " I am truly perplexed, lost and tired, it feels like I'm lost in a reverie." "Where exactly am I and why am I here," she as Mr Fancy Shoes. " Ask me not young lass with a fine ass because time will tell, I will not talk when I'm under the duress of your anticipation and now I suggest you walk ahead," he said with a rather annoying grin and he then disappeared. Fuck now I'm all alone and left in this cryptic and hostile reverie of mine and I don't even know if I'm a dead bird, dying or alive.

She walked the eccentric streets of Swingfling and then saw rather handsome guy within a little distance. What a hunk she thought to herself and he indeed was a hot hunk. He had chiseled features, the nicest eyes ever, he was about six feet tall, broad shoulders, strong arms, blonde hair and to summarise it, a huge treat to a straight females eyes or for that matter anyone who bears preference for good looking people. He seemed to be cooking broth. I hope the broth is as fine as him she thought to herself. "Hello," she said, she said , she was a bit nervous and the broth was giving her intense olfactory pleasure and then she realised she was very hungry. " Hi, pretty woman, it has been quite sometime since I've seen someone as pretty as you." Well thank you," she said, she was flattered and she felt her cheeks become warm and she hoped she wasn't blushing. " "You look hungry, would you like some broth?" " I would love that very much," she said, right now something or eat was what see needed. He poured out a generous amount of broth and handed it to her. Her mouth was watering, the surging lust for food was getting into her, she expected a lot from the broth, the wait for the journey of the spoon from the broth to her mouth was intense and finally it was in. The flavours began to unravel themselves in her mouth, it was bloody delicious, she like the moment she was in because she was eating a gastronomical delight and had a visual delight in front of her, what a good looking lad he was. "This is just bloody delicious," she said. " Thank you very much appreciate the appreciation. I am Curtis Unknown, the master of the master chefs and even come home. I am told I cook the best broth and I'm also told I'm quite hot,"he said. She was a bit surprised at his narcissism but then she thought it was justified because he was hot and cooked the best broth, at least the best she had eaten. "I need some answers," she said to him. " Why am I here?" she asked. " I know not these answer," he said and now for the first time his honey-like tenor had roused despair. " But I know where you can find the answers, Mr Hades is his name and he will tell you the answers. All you will have to do is walk a few miles and then you'll find his huge mason. But till then farewell and good luck pretty lady," he said and she now felt the shadow of hope lingering near her. She bid Mr Curtis Unknown, the master of the master-chefs goodbye.

She walked, she walked, she thought, she thought and now came under the conclusion that she wanted to live and be happy. She inhaled the air of Swingfling and slowly the air started to be a sweet and yet a rather arousing scent, it was a truly another olfactory treat and then she saw a man. " Hello," she said, now even the word hello began to bear a mysterious monotony. "Hello, I'm Jean-Baptiste Grenouille Pseudo, I'm one of the best perfumers and also have one of the best olfactory receptors ever and now I've even learnt the art of preserving scent," he said. "Okay, I need to find Mr Hades," she said. " You smell good and rather interesting as a matter of fact I'm quite turned on, I want this scent of yours to be preserved," he said. " What?" she said, this had to be the weirdest things she's ever heard. " Oh you heard me," he said and then started strangling her. She was running out of breath when suddenly she caught a grip on a slender perfume bottle and she sprayed it in his eyes. It was as if a voluntary action turned into an involuntary one. His grip loosened, his hand moved straight to soothe his eyes and he screamed in pain. " Ouch, you bitch, you bitch, you bitch," he said. "Now preserve scent when the pain subdues till then, adios looser," she said and ran, she ran fast.

She was still running until she banged into a rather funny looking man, well species. He hand a clock for a head and a transparent body. " You look very scared young lady," he said. She was panting so hard that it took her sometime to gather the energy to speak. " Actually, I am, someone tried to strangle me and said he wanted to preserve my scent," she said. " Let me guess, Jean-Baptiste Grenouille Pseudo?" he said." Yes," she said. " He is one the biggest douche bags on this universe, he kills woman and preserves their scent and prides himself on his sense of smell," he said. " He was creepy," she said. "Walk with me, these streets aren't every safe," he said. So they walked and after sometime she asked him who he was. " I am Mr Waqt, the keeper of time. You see time is rather notorious thing. When it slips it is like accumulated fat on nice hips only that it can send the universe crashing into the sea," he said. " I need to know where Mr Hades is," she said. "I'll help you go there," he said. They walked a few miles until they met Henry.

Henry, was a three headed horse who was said to have great strength and he was swift on foot and he was also good at waltz the only problem was that what so one saw once he saw thrice. " Hello, Mr Waqt, how do you do today and who is this pretty bird you have along with you ?" Henry asked. "Hello Henry, I'm fine, I want you to help this young girl to Mr Hades's house. "Okay, I shall be delighted to," Henry said. A talking horse delighted her to no end. "I must take your leave now, young lady, be careful," Mr Waqt said. Soon she mounted Henry and the swift footed horse galloped across the night.

The galloping of Henry was almost rhythmic. He told her quite a few things about himself about how he wanted to become a beautician, how he turned from gay to straight, how he was a master of putting lipstick and how he loved the waltz. Time passed fast with swift Henry and soon Henry had to go too and then she had to walk alone but not until long.

She saw a man in the mist who was smoking a cigar. " Hello, I'm looking for Mr Hades," she said. "His house is not too far from here, I'll take you there," he said. "Thank you, that is very kind of you," she said. " You're welcome and by the way I am Mr Kind, the kindest of them all," he said. Not much words were spoken and the distance was very short so naturally time passed quickly and before she knew it she was outside the gates of the mansion of Mr Hades and it was rather eerie. She thanked Mr Kind and bid him farewell and now she was all alone and she had entered the mansion of Mr Hades.

Wild, badly maintained was the mansion of Mr Hades, it was like a quintessential haunted house. She ranged the bell, no answer, twice ,thrice, no answer, but the fifth time the door opened. She was expecting some creepy butler who would open the door but it was quite different. The guy who opened the door looked like a middle aged Clint Eastwood which was very comforting to her eyes. " Hello, I'm looking for Mr Hades," she said. " I am he," he said. "Okay, why am I here am what is happening?" she asked. He started laughing, laughing in a loud and disoriented kind of way. She was perplexed and didn't know what was happening and then he took out a dagger from his pocket and stabbed her. She felt the pain of a million needles penetrating her.

Twist, twirl and whirl, you're hazed! She opened her eyes to a familiar gaze of her house and she saw Mr Hades in front of her. It was strange but the cut on her wrist seemed to have healed. " What have you done," she asked. "I've struck you with life, I figure you'll be a pain in the neck in the house of Hades," he said. "Well, I feel like I want to live," she said " and you will because now the doors of my house shall only open for you when I think they should, it's my will now,"he said. " Well, that's not fair, it's always my choice," she said. "Well now it's not," he said. " That's not fair !" she said. "Yes, it's not,it's not, " he said and disappeared...

The end...

How I look under my clothes is a mystery to you,
Grey shards of me have been left behind,
I have been zonked and soon shall fade into the blues,
I can't be penetrated by your eyes....

How I look under my skin is a mystery to me,
Mortality has incorporated fear into every cell,
To walk back to the relinquished dreams,
To morose epitaph on the grave stone of my regrets...

Cryptic shadows are leading me to unseen roads,
I have been seduced,
I see that the rhythm has gleefully usurped my soul,
While I ecstatically fade into the blues...

Death had opened its doors,
A comrade I couldn't escape,
That casket had my soul,
I had lost hidden faith...

I have gone behind the curtain,
My soul will be sacrificed at the alter,
This is the lament for the relentless end has its sins,
But the end just made me has made me escape my diminished thoughts and made the world look so much better...

Picture from the net- ( polyvore.com)

Ovulation, evolution...

The chisel had struck time,
In the rhythm of its rules,
Divinity dwells for one day the result is combustion,
Their seeds sown on the moon...

The strength of the moon,
Lucidity of the sand,
So if we're made by magic,
How much lucidity can we withstand?

After we've marched into dawn,
For today after years,
To fathom and mystify,
Why does this divinity seem to appear?

This very grin,
Has sleepwalked into an exposed illusion,
These very cells,
Have tried to create a revolution...

Amid the flames,
Civilization sculpted into brutality,
When we seek to find the road to elevation,
In the realm of luxury...

My salutation to the landsmen,
They've been driven insane,
Unlike the sailors by the dazed sea,
But then again there's the cyclone of vain...

Picture from the net- ( rogie7.affordableinternethostingforyou.com )

Whore called fate...

This lonely bastard,
Waiting for the fade of the thorns,
Born out of wedlock,
He looks at the pain he has borne...

A wait for the morrow,
Eager to follow the shadows of luck,
Swims in the depth of sorrow,
Numb against the dearth of love...

For we're all born mammon of wine,
For a sweet sonnet,
A scent so fine,
For the jingle in our pockets...

Yet there are some,
Borne by chronic pain,
They're closer that relentless glum,
Even drives endurance insane...

Sugar baby love...

He was bleeding rage,
Crying isolation across the lake,
Such a good looking guy,
Never thought about until he saw seduction rise,
For even the weaker have gone ahead...

Who would have thought about his protuberant vain?
Today he's alone facing the wrath of the rain,
His laughter leads him to sly love,
His baritone voice voice leads them damsels to alive and kicking lust,
Now he dwells in a distorted city,
He masked this royal parade...

He wants water,
Maybe a little slaughter,
He wants to seize time,
This ignominious sadist wants a sonnet that rhymes,
He wants some elevation,
But did he know he grew fond of monotony?

Picture from the net- ( flickr.com)

Glasnost...

A stroboscopic shadow of fear,
In the cistern of the battle,
Popped the cherry of this lonely heart,
In a nonchalant slumber...

In the rain of fury,
On the chair of passion,
In the armour of repentance,
The motility of religion...

A Casanova when basked with smiles,
In this secret crusade called love,
Oh obtrusive Padawan,
Don't fade when exposed to the rain...

To recognize the elevated mystery,
In this array to find passion,
When one day you shall see,
So many strings trying to get a hold to bliss...

So when the martyrs put up a fight,
So astringent with glee,
There's a certain steed that leads us to the stubborn fire and then cries,
You shall not be soothed with the steam of sycophancy.

Love bound in this wed of dreams,
Cheers to this dazed breed!
That black bolt that struck us at an accelerated pace,
So today, should I say peace or hallelujah?

Oh lord I see to know this creed,
Draped in the translucent colours of the mask,
They have the gleam of the sun,
Yet they're so lost in sinister lust...

The shell...

The skies looked down,
For the glee had started,
For now and forever,
The skies look down at the shell of pleasure...

Within the weed of music,
Embraced by the atmosphere of fertility,
Of the hollow for the beams of light,
Of the sturdy walls of seduction...

Welcome to the home of pleasure,
Only step in if you're obliged to enter,
But then again that depends on the emotive night,
Can you send the chills down my spine?

Pleasure set out like a pathway,
Aroused by the beams of an illusion,
Waiting for the rain of unison,
The lubrication for population...

Step out if you're not there,
Or else you shall be greeted by dry ice,
Frozen by cold eyes,
Can't be thawed by the ransom for love...

So the doors shall open,
For the sprinkle of love,
In contempt of infatuation,
In the mystery of hate...

Pearl in oyster,
Beam of glee,
Humidity flares within the crescendo,
Only if you're obliged to join the obbligato...

The village fair ( Part 2)

The choir of the angels,
Was splendid for their ears,
Them noble men smiled at integrity,
Then they saw a certain light that basked them in prosperity...

They danced with gusto,
To the rhythm of glee,
They washed their off vain,
They were high on euphoria...

The damsels had lined their eyes with seduction,
That led to infatuation of even them noble men,
Frolic was waited to unravel the night,
But the night was also engraved with style...

With the decrepit of time,
For the celebration that never seemed to end,
The gust of psychedelic wind,
Caught the eye of aesthetically luscious lips...

A bustle of emotions,
Amidst decieving mediocrity,
While I inhaled the air,
When I swayed to the halt of time...

The grimy gleam,
Lusts for the chocolate fountain,
Voluptuous women want a Popsicle,
Hunky men want to snort euphoria...

So as euphoria blended with the air,
A tide of emotions also blended with the skies,
There was some ruckus about the mediocrity of caramel,
Assilmilation created turmoil...

Then they saw a certain light,
Extra-terrestrial in nature,
Illuminated the sky,
Swayed to placid time...

Picture from the net- ( atlantaintownpaper.com )

Sunday morning...

Today what I see is the aftermath of yesterdays haze,
With savory virtues the storm had walked into my colossal hearth,
Waiting to fill me in the cauldron of delusional ways,
While I'm in the reverie of cannabis and grass.

To fry sausage,
What about the lost nutrition of the night?
I'm not that bold for the solidity of an omelet,
For tomorrow I shall be unfurled in the chaos of the maze of fright...

I ran to my the chamber,
So save myself from a psychedelic tempest,
Too sweet to suit a mundane mans savour,
Too bitter for the zest.

I'd like to tantalize myself into this hazed objection,
For this fantasy has usurped me into its arms,
You see, I'm in the median of lucidity and an hallucination,
But, I'm too dazed for the qualms...

Days, weeks and months have gone,
The daily paper's a shower of pseudo intellectuals,
Time has now become a product of the rot,
Morphs the rust into fuel...

Picture from the net- ( http://dark.pozadia.org/wallpaper/Abstract-face/ )

Railway in the storm...

An array of ironic behavior,
Arranged erratically within my memories,
Isolation and self negotiation,
Hovers over introspection,
While I say, hey,
The mane is gone,
Yet the vain is strong!
We're living in dire straights by the river,
Got enough of this ululation,
When my skill still rambles,
While my mind is branching branching into a state of sloth,
While my tree stands steady in the soil of wrath...
So, what you sow is what you reap,
Baby society burns while the fire sets it free....
So long ago and till today you've dwelt in obscurity,
So I ask,
Will you rise or fall while striving for your identity?
Or will you crawl through imperial sovereignty?
Can't withstand synthesized love,
Where shall you be elevated for the proof of strong blood?
A wicked spirit laughs in shambles,
So only the glitz lays feeble...
The travesties have gone,
For masked wits,
Even the mist has faded,
So from today you shall walk this desultory path you've created...

Picture from the net- ( http://wallpaper-s.org/12__Annihilation_II,_Abstract.htm )

The Bitch of the Mist.

There's this woman we all have been acquainted with, seductress if I may call her. She can seduce anyone whether you're a male, a female, them in between, animal and any mortal. She'll seduce you and lead you to her deceiving chambers and take you to the great valley where life unites. But, when you're in this great valley she'll leave you all alone to fight the best warriors in the game. She'll look into your eyes, twitch you into the midst of the valley , sways her hips,bursts into laughter and twirls herself into the mist. The mist is her nook and cranny and the mist is your undesired nook and cranny too. Ain't she a bitch?

I wouldn't say what she's done is very fair. After all she was the one who induced big dreams in your mortal body. She did promise to pave your path to your desires and now she's left you alone to fight for yourself. That's just not fair. It wasn't your fault. All you did was come home to a very mundane life slightly tipsy and there she was sitting on your sofa which was falling apart, within your house that needed repairs and she teemed you with optimism. She convinced you that you need a dream and you need to follow that dream. She told you that you needed a better life and you were so lured by her that you actually listened to her. So you left your life that was falling apart and entered a very hazardous valley where life unites and right now, at this very moment you have to fight the best warriors. She's gone, you're lucid, the sun is harsh, the wounds borne by you are going to be harsh, the wrath that's going to be exerted on you is going to be much more than you deserve, your dreams in your knapsack which anyone could usurp any moment from now and she's already swaying to the rhythm of the mist. The choice is yours- will you run back to a life that was falling apart or do you choose to fight and keep that dream safe in your knapsack ? For once you win this battle that dream shall itself emerge from your knapsack and you shall be embraced by that life that your wanted. Although that life will never be exactly what you wanted.

If you choose to fight than I assure you that you're going to fall, you're going to bleed, you're going to be bruised. But if you have the strength to fight then you'll survive. For most of the time even that battle is a tiny hurdle in this phenomenon called life. But you realize how diminished it really is only once you've fought. But beware because the bitch of the mist is omnipresent and before you know it you're all alone in another battle and she's walked away to her nook and cranny, within your nook and cranny, the cryptic mist...