Monday, May 10, 2010

Up hill...


Huff and puff,
I don't know if I'm that though.
I can't hold on much longer,
I thought I was much stronger.

I'm just holding on,
it's tearing me,
I'm feeling the usual,
god damn lethargy.

Up hill,
it's my choice,
but against my will.
I'm going up hill.

Energy lost,
I'm still waiting,
right now the idea of going down hill is so infatuating.

The heat is getting to me,
I'm going against gravity,
success is more difficult that failure,
that's the unfortunate truth,
that's what people told me.

I fought,
quite a lot,
I went up hill,
still, against my will,
but, that was what was to be done,
in a way it was fun,
I reached my destination,
now I'm going down hill,
the thing on which I had infatuation.

Picture from the net- ( http://www.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://lissa10279.files.wordpress.com/2008/12/uphill-road.jpg&imgrefurl=http://talesofadisorderedeater.org/2008/12/&usg=__5kaeDq25MtkUlRlpfqg1TE4tSH8=&h=500&w=367&sz=117&hl=en&start=1&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=Xm6f_FOiDXqeSM:&tbnh=130&tbnw=95&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dup%2Bhill%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26sa%3DN%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-GB:official%26tbs%3Disch:1 )

Taliban, books and bloody fanatics...

Taliban, translation student. If you mention this word anywhere the things that will come to peoples minds are the , terrorists, terror, destruction, etc. Well, all of them are true. But as everything has history so does the Taliban. The basic and simplified history is, though this should not be simplified, it's a very complicated thing, still in short it was a group funded by the Americans in order to get back to Russia and after a while America abandoned them and the Taliban's got very dominating, dangerous and out of control. The Taliban dominated society is in a very bad shape. They have rules like a women must wear a hi jab, a women cannot wear high heels, lipstick or anything that contributes to their vanity, music is strictly forbidden, a man has to have a beard and cover his head and lots of other things. They have three enemies freedom, happiness and peace. They are hardcore fanatics. Destruction and manipulation the name of Allah? In the name of Islam? What? I'm sorry Allah, I'm sure you want peace and harmony amongst all people and you must be feeling horrible that these people are so terrible. Not only Allah but all of us. Taliban is the mother of all the terrorist groups.

I finished reading the book ' The kite runner', I loved the book. I love Khalid Hosseni's writing. .If I ever meet Hosseni I'll say one thing, "Keep writing like you do". I loved the way I get entangled in the book and the characters. Personally I liked 'The kite runner' more than 'The thousand splendid suns' although 'The thousand splendid suns' is great too. According to me both the books have one thing in common the importance of a profound bond of love.

I'm curious about Afghanistan, I want to go, I don't know why. But, I'm curious about a lot of places and a lot of things. Curiosity is inseparable from me.
Afghanistan was the land of poets, music, kabob's, etc. After the Russian invasion when the Taliban's entered and people thought their entrance was freedom, what would they know how badly the Taliban's would actually ruin Afghanistan. They raped Afghanistan, not only Afghanistan but many other countries that they dominated. These countries need a new era.
The Taliban's themselves have done horrendous things like use small children as sex slaves, polygamy and a lot of atrocious things.

I like religion. I'm an agnostic myself. My ears burn when people say anti a particular religion stuff. But,religion has many problems, each religion. The problem is the dogma, caste and divisions and those bloody fanatics...

Ban Taliban's and ban the fanatics...

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Increased friction...


Dried roses,
a dry and dull maroon,
between the silent morning and the night alive lies the golden noon,
between all this silently it watches,
the silence of the moon.

The scent was long gone,
the light only cracked at dawn,
my eyes were burning looking at the light,
I felt empty,
I had nothing to fight.

Dried ink,
the redness was gone,
the beauty was gone,
they are rotting now,
they are an ugly pink.

Life was all about memories,
if only things were dealt with differently,
I would meet it,
a sweet thing called glory,

Dried roses,
monotonous music notes,
fresh, that's just an illusion,
there's nothing new with which we can build that fort.

The same writing,
the same reasons for all the commotion and fighting.
The same words,
the same birds,
the same essence,
the same twilight,
but, it's magical,
it's an obstacle,
increased friction between is and fresh,
it leaves us with memories,
and for the present it creates a mess,
increased memories,
increased friction.



PICTURE FROM THE NET- ( http://www.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://www.impactlab.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/memories.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.impactlab.com/2008/08/24/false-memories-may-affect-behavior/&usg=__nGjgs-78sezdZZO6O5yjdYIGcWk=&h=720&w=480&sz=56&hl=en&start=6&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=o693uxCIlVFQzM:&tbnh=140&tbnw=93&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dmemories%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-GB:official%26tbs%3Disch:1 )

Questioning lucidity...

Eyes wide open,
I have woken,
woken when I didn't want to wake,
I'm not ready,
I still need to bake,
I'm still partially baked batter,
I'm not yet a cake.

I was sleeping,
now I'm awake,
all I see is real,
I like surreal.

I never wanted lucidity,
now I've reached it,
the craziness has fallen in a pit,
a pit too small,
this lucidity is driving me crazy,
I might just fall,
being lucid is hazy.

My eyes are wide open,
more then I'd like,
I hate that condescending sight,
should I disgracefully fight?
Fight until I reach the magical light?

My dreams are a beautiful arc,
lucidity straightens it all out,
lucidity breaks my heart.

People say aiming for the sky is too high,
what do you know,
you can't fly.
I ask why?
Why can't I fly?
I question lucidity,
I question them,
why can't lucidity be questioned?
I thought it wasn't written,
I question lucidity,
I question,
I question and listen.

Picture from the net- ( http://www.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho5mTy3NuWQ9w5vGVqA9bLpuikBnEs7FFLpvhdTNr-1H6UTi8kB04ttVwcPm_oyKQlN2VwO71naO6QcJRWxRWIp6hYUuNGHexHEznnJzAvcO0Va0hbpoH6NourCeCOLXX1hwdUnE8O5Gw/s576/day+three+o+seven.+add+color+to+my+sunset+sky.+by+reflecting+truth+via+Flickr.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.thatunreliablegirl.com/2009_02_01_archive.html&usg=__bA15zd_VMBXqMquzdYZl068wayk=&h=498&w=422&sz=44&hl=en&start=5&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=daN0OTrJZ1pdCM:&tbnh=130&tbnw=110&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dgirl%2Blooking%2Bat%2Bsky%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-GB:official%26tbs%3Disch:1 )

Thoughts, just thoughts...


He was silent,
silently liked violence,
he wanted to speak,
he was too quiet to reach the peak.

Violence and silence,
he liked both,
violence was his raw flesh,
silence was his coat.

Violence was what he fantasied about,
violence made him aroused.
He was so ashamed at his sadistic thoughts,
he always thought it was better not to talk.

Thoughts were what hew had,
many thoughts made him sad,
being silent about them made him feel glad.

He left,
left his little nest,
his nest of silence.
He finally saw some sunshine,
they came back sometimes,
he was like sweet lemonade and sadistic thoughts was his lime,

He's no more silent,
but some times,
very rare though,
he has his sadistic thoughts,
thoughts of violence,
just thoughts,
he is clean cloth and the thoughts are just a small dirty spot,
just thoughts.



Picture from the net - ( http://www.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://i.pbase.com/o4/27/613727/1/58056621.SADLITTLEBOY.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.pbase.com/ces0357/image/58056621&usg=__wB9xuMvBvAoWXFWIK_6j1geEIaY=&h=598&w=658&sz=84&hl=en&start=1&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=UY6LItnOTAVOdM:&tbnh=125&tbnw=138&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dsmall%2Bboy%2Blooking%2Bsad%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-GB:official%26tbs%3Disch:1 )

The raining lights, her and the paparazzi...

As the lights rained on her face,
she's a superstar,
the head of this place.

Paparazzi here and there,
she's the centre of attention,
everyone gives her their full glare.

They know everything about her life,
that smirk on her face,
she's the head of this place.

The fans are out,
she asks them to go but secretly loves their attention,
for that no one has a doubt,
it's been raining lights ever since she left her house.

Picture from the net- ( http://www.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://www.smh.com.au/ffximage/2008/06/25/paparazzi_lead_wideweb__470x321,0.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.smh.com.au/news/relationships/selfmade-superstars/2008/06/25/1214073324481.html&usg=__RdDUeN71GLHHjY_0g5fOqam-QwQ=&h=321&w=470&sz=57&hl=en&start=19&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=-1RjjAW83OlAjM:&tbnh=88&tbnw=129&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dpaparazzi%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26sa%3DX%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-GB:official%26tbs%3Disch:1 )

My freedom, my creativity...


I'm free,
my freedom, my creativity,
it's how I use it,
weak usage or strong.

My life,
my rules,
I hope I don't end up like one of those fools.

I could be a winner,
I could be a quitter,
I could taste sweet,
I could taste bitter.

My freedom,
my life,
my choice,
one life with one special thing,
my freedom.

PICTURE FROM THE NET- (http://www.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://eternaltrooper.files.wordpress.com/2009/06/freedom.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.escapingthe9to5.com/entrepreneurial-tips/entrepreneurs-are-freedom-fighters/&h=399&w=600&sz=51&tbnid=QgAgjAPpr33PGM:&tbnh=90&tbnw=135&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dfreedom&usg=__IWutqRfSuuVmmfoKNSOu5s3_XmM=&ei=NqjmS5y_KcyOkQWXuIHEBg&sa=X&oi=image_result&resnum=4&ct=image&ved=0CDsQ9QEwAw )

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Maddening illusion...


What do I see?
Things in front of me?;
Or not?
Do we know the hard work a person puts in to get that number one spot?
Something dismissed so easily,
this world is an image topsy turvy,
an image overpowering,
it's an illusion,
it's a dream,
a dream painted by the queen,
the queen, the controller,
we are just her followers.

This world is something we don't know or haven't discovered,
a threesome between us, the illusion and controller.

What do we know about that fake smile?
Do we know the real story behind those eyes?
The truth hidden deep between those lies.

As the world survives,
survives for many lives for some,
the queen, the controller has done what is to be done,
for the better or for the worse,
do we know how hard that mother works for her child to be nursed?
Do we know the reason for that fear,
why is that person so queer?
Do we know the real reason for the loss of hope?
Why does that person do dope?
Am I really writing from the soul?;
Or not?

The world, the queen, the painting and the illusion,
this maddening illusion.


Picture from the net- ( http://www.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://www.dreamstime.com/abstract-art-female-faces-thumb2892447.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.dreamstime.com/royalty-free-stock-photography-abstract-art-female-faces-image2892447&usg=__u0C3UidpWLf0uZy4VIwSZP5zWnI=&h=300&w=300&sz=44&hl=en&start=8&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=l6CTiOehanWI_M:&tbnh=116&tbnw=116&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dabstract%2Bart%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26sa%3DG%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-GB:official%26tbs%3Disch:1 )

The battle of the wind.

Wind, fierce wind,
the wind found it's place,
the place it wants to settle in.

Fierce, fierce with rage,
the wind wants to fight a battle,
here it approaches us,
approaches us with it's golden carriage.

It wants to fight a battle,
a battle with no cause,
it will fight well and not surrender,
it will go against the laws.

The winds become a demon,
the winds become a monster,
the winds make the strongest man feeble,
the wind with the sea,
the wind impresses her.

Destruction at it's best,
the wind just can't rest,
it's these years of repression,
the wind was oppressed.

Hit the corners of the earth,
there were people who doubted it's worth.

After it fought it's battle,
it realised it was too much,
all it did was destroy,
this gave it strange joy.

But now it's done,
it had it's fun,
that was destruction at it's best,
it could now res
t

Picture from the net - ( http://www.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://www.dreamstime.com/wind-storm-thumb93622.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.dreamstime.com/stock-photography-wind-storm-image93622&usg=__m9q3Bwqk55BhEJK3AlOB_Qub0ME=&h=350&w=240&sz=40&hl=en&start=10&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=UdKuUI1VwTCy5M:&tbnh=120&tbnw=82&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dwind%2Bstorm%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-GB:official%26tbs%3Disch:1 )

Saluting change...


Things change,
change too fast,
afterall how long can something last?

People come, people go,
change is always active,
don't you know>

I miss things but,
I'm the angel with wings,
wings that take me from one moment to another,
wings that made me choose my mother.

Change is constant,
change is passive,
change is wanted,
it can take you from one emotion to the other emotion massive.

Change is like one train,
a train which stops for a while at one station,
change deserves my salutation.


Picture from the net- ( http://www.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://stevecreek.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/cocoon.jpg&imgrefurl=http://stevecreek.com/birth-of-a-monarch-butterfly/&usg=__DYoS2oR_gPjhp7fA08WndKDqf_s=&h=1013&w=800&sz=592&hl=en&start=5&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=arD83wQQ6Ph7hM:&tbnh=150&tbnw=118&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dbutterfly%2Bout%2Bof%2Bcocoon%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26sa%3DN%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-GB:official%26tbs%3Disch:1 )

Places of melancholy...

This place is struck with war,
the barrel is too small for the amount of sadness to pour.
Fratricide, suicide, matricide, mass genocide,
this we cannot hide.

War ruined this place,
no more pretty is it's face.

It's an internal war were all fighting,
we knew the enemy was biting,

We need peace,
we need peace please!
We should be done with fighting with ourselves,
it's each other we need to help.

Converted into mud...


Gone, broken,
dead,
won't be woken.
Stones, rubble, dust,
The house had gone down with the rust.

Commercialisation increased,
it just had to go,
increased industrialisation as you know.

As the memories go down with the mud,
now it's a rotting flower,
long ago, it was a bud.

Now the doors will never open,
the house is broken,
the resting spirits have woken.

The beauty is gone,
that incredible lawn,
the pond,
the beauty of dawn.

Now it's just a memory,
a memory with me,
it's amazing how we get attached to physical things
but now it was time,
this house had to take the wings.

Picture from the net- (http://lauraknowles.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/old_house.jpg )

Monday, May 3, 2010

The coloured obsession...


I was dark, very, very, very dark. My life was so sad, so empty and immensely lonely. I didn't get a good job, I wanted to be a model, a super model. But that bloody chocolate colored skin of mine, just didn't let that happen. No one wanted be my friend, I never got a decent date, I was pretty, very pretty under that dark skin of mine and yes I must admit I was ashamed of myself...
But then, but then, but then yahoo!!!!!
One beautiful fairness cream called 'Stereotyped beauty' helped me. I became fair, fair as cotton. Everyone wanted to be my friend, I hooked up with a sexy hunk and I was irresistible, simply irresistible,
see how one god damn fairness cream changed my life...

This is to you, my beautiful Indian people, perfect stereotypers, you people can stereotype everything from bad people to good people, religion, even skin colour.
This is usually how an advertisement for a fairness cream is. As if one cream can change our life, wow!

I've heard the sentence 'I want to be fairer' so many times. So many times that I don't know what to say anymore. 'Typical Indian obsession, maybe Asian obsession'.


Matrimonial section-
My name is Malingam Singh Banerjee, my second middle name is closed minded.
I am handsome, fair, my height is 183 cms, I work in the USA ( why should I reveal what I do, I could be a pimp but I work in the USA. Isn't that enough to get myself a bride?), I am 38 years old and I'm looking for a beautiful girl who's fair and from a good family ( by that I mean rich).

This is what a typical matrimonial section is like, the word 'fair' is always mentioned,
This big obsession of ours is everywhere.

Now I'm not going to say that's wrong, we shouldn't be so obsessed, etc.Cause it sure is and I don't need to mention that.

I'm on the darker side and i love it. That's one thing I don't want to change. Fair, dark, that doesn't matter to me.

Fairness creams do very well in India. I have seen so many typical mindsets talk about fair skin. Fair skin like it's some boon. It's actually sick and in a way telling you that they are small minded.

It's important that ones comfortable with oneself, a very big ability.
It's high time we shift focus. Stop stereotyping things.
To the people who are colour obsessed I'd like to say two things-
'Beauty', it's just very complicated and fair skin or for that matter even that sexy tan won't necessarily make you more beautiful or visually stimulating, feel good from inside' like yourself, know yourself cause in life you are this person with yourself forever and the next thing,
Halt obsessing, halt stereotyping...

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Under the shield of modesty....


She's under that veil,
her skin forgot the sun,
her skin's so pale.

Watching the world through a net,
she wants freedom,
with sadness her eyes are wet.

She lives in the Taliban dominated society,
she hates the Burqa or Hijab,
under it she's so pretty,
she goes through phases of self pity.

The dusty place,
her hidden face.
A place so beautiful,
slowly getting ruined by the Taliban's,
with male dominance, her patience is over and done.

She wants her life to change,
she wants to stop the pain,
she wants to get out of the Burqa and veil,
she wants to show the world her vain.

She's sick of being one of his wives,
in the big ocean of freedom she wants to dive.

She reads the Koran,
she recites the Namaz five times a day,
she wants Allah to help her,
she's tired of the domination and manipulation,
she wants freedom to come her way.

She's a beauty,
poor thing's looked at with pity.
What did she do wrong?
Was she cursed the minute she was born?

Her deprived daughters,
her sons with their father.
She wants to stop the pain,
she wants the true culture of her country to come out,
baby, she wants her life to change.

Alive, physically...

Bodies, just plain bodies,
only flesh and bones,
Just a body, lone,
bodies, broken and worn.

No feelings,
no required emotional healing.
no persona,
been more than bodies,
never,

Corpses alive,
rotting,
can't rot gracefully like wine.

Bodies,
shot with an invisible gun.
Never were anybody,
unable to be distinguished,
with numbness they've been kissed.
Dead, dead since birth,
they don't know how to look at the beauty of the earth.

Abuses hurled,
cursed, sad,
lonely in this world,
those boys and girls,
They're just bodies,
no one cares for them,
nobody...

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Why be a happiness phobic?

Get yourself out of that shell,
be happy,
you'll end up well,
if your a happiness phobic you might like hell.

I happiness supposed to be a sin?
Isn't happiness something we win?

Get yourself out of that closet,
make happiness a habit,
get wet, wet in the rain,
rain with the happiness droplets.

Why is that shell do you want to be?
Don't you want to be happy and set yourself free?

Why do want to be trapped in sadness?
It will cause madness.

All you have to be is happy,
yes, there are certain things not approved in church but approved by thee.

Get out, get out of that shell,
get out of hell,
in happiness you will dwell.
Don't be a happiness phobic,
I don't want you to be one of the paintings of melancholy they depict.

The city of statues which were once alive.




Lying, lying in the dust,
their souls have caught rust,
they look at the world alive with disgust,
their lives were destroyed but Mount Vesuvius.

Life was the same day by day,
until, until, until a fierce volcano came their way.

The city of Pompeii,
once full of life,
today dead, dead they lie.

That fierce volcano,
they didn't know.
Today an archaeological piece,
they're lifeless statues,
they're life goes by with ease,

They wish the could save themselves,
they wish the gods would help.
Mount Vesuvius you had no right,
this city's got no life,
silently, so silently they survive heat, cold,
their hearts are cold as ice.
Pompeii, the city of the dead.


Picture from the net-( http://sisu.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/pompeii.jpg)

The dream of hitchhiking acorss the world.


A few days ago I wrote a poem called 'Making love to freedom', then there were new posts, fresh ideas. A lot of my poetry describes me. But, now the poem 'making love to freedom' is on my mind.It's about this guy who's sailing around the world. He's free, something I'd love to be. I would just love go hitchhiking the world.

There's this place I visited a long time ago, when I was a kid. It's called Nichkoj, somewhere near Pune. That place is magical, one of the most exotic I've seen. It's got white stone with green water.
It's eccentric.

I'd love to loose myself the the beauty of the world. I want to go everywhere. I want to be a wondering soul. Paragliding, travelling by truck, a sports car,by train (second class) ,the sexy Royal Enfield and just about anything. Forgetting about vanity and comfort. No visiting youtube, facebook, no phone, etc. The basic rule, No socializing and getting disconnect with the world and actually connecting to the real world.
Maybe I'll shave my head or I'll let my hair grow wild. Rough and tough jeans or Gypsy clothes. Maybe I'll travel with the Gypsy's.

From the small streets of a small town, to the skyscraper of a first world. Singing and celebrating with different people. Different cultures, different food, different life styles, different clothes, different languages, I'd love to blend in.

This is what I call spirituality. This is when I'm close to god, my god. My god isn't some big strong guy who got so many legends written for him or her. My god's a feeling of happiness.
I can see myself in some many places. Places I've not visited, places I would love to go.

I must admit I've got lost writing this post. This is what has been written by soul. This is the post of the soul. Someday, someday I'll go backpacking, I'll celebrate this beautiful world I live in. Someday....



Picture from the net - http://images.travelpod.com/users/sony/hawaii-2007.1198083600.walking-in-the-sun.jpg

Saturday, March 20, 2010

BOOm!!!!! We're all in doom...

Pune, the small and sweet city, the laid back life, safe, safe at all times. What? What exactly am I saying? Isn't all this just history. Yes, I'm glad Pune is growing. Now Pune's a big city, we've got malls, big buildings,decreasing trees,practically everything to be qualified as a big city and yes we've also experience our very first bomb blast. It came as a shock in a place unexpected, German Bakery. German bakery was a popular hang out for the youth, it was a hippie place, it wasn't very expensive. It was situated in the elite area of Koregoan Park, owned by the Kharoses and had completed about twenty-two years of it's existence. It had it's own charm. In fact, Koregoan Park was and still is a very charming area. But, it's lost one of it's main 'organs of charm', German Bakery. So many people were injured a few people died. It was such a catastrophe, one of the biggest Pune has ever faced. German bakery is said to be opening again, I do hope it does and would to dine in German Bakery that day. I want to fight against terrorism. But the sadness remains, Pune has lost it's virginity,it's a non virgin, virginity of no terror attack is broken. It was fabulously planned. We need to fight, fight with no fear.

Drifting away from Pune there have been many terror attacks in this country, actually the world. I've come to a conclusion that all of us have to fight for peace.
One thing I'd like to shout aloud, shout and say this loud and clear, 'Terrorism has no religion', it's a religion on it's own, the religion of terror. Muslims, Hindus, Parsis,Christians and everyone and every religion has it's good and bad. All these people are my fellow country men and I am a citizen of the world.

I hope the police forces, fire fighters,bomb squad, armed forces,etc start getting more credit. They're very brave. They're the reason we feel safe, they risk they're lives for us, how many people would do that?

Here's a poem I wrote, sort of a to the moment poem, the title of this post is taken from a line of this poem.Read on, boom...

I was walking in the bazaar,
from home I was quite far.
All I had in my mind at that time,
the heat, the dust, the seductive smell of various spices,
and the vegetables put in a line.

It was a hot but a beautiful day,
the stress was at the back of my mind,
today was my day,
running my way.

What should I buy?
The prices were high.
I started think of my family,
my home,
we're together,
we're a beauty.

I was walking,
my mind was lost,
I confirmed it,
I was happy,
but there was there was the ghost.
Boom,
I'm in doom

In the middle of this beauty,
here was the blast,
the bomb blast.

My last breath,
I met the god of death.
I could see my dead body,
I saw the destruction.
Everything was gone,
Gone,
gone with one bomb,
it's all over,
on bomb,
so many lives gone,
gone with the bomb.
Boom, we're all in doom...



Picture taken from the net.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

The jigsaw of me.


One day,
I had a thought,
I was wondering where I had gone,
it was me I missed a lot.

I tried to find myself,
I looked around,
people laughed, they didn't help,
they called me mad for being there but finding myself.

Where am I?, I cried,
Am I just lost,
or have I just died?
I looked around,
there was an ever increasing frown.

It's been years since I've been lost,
years since I've been tossed.

But today I decide to find myself,
I'll find m on my own if no one would help.
I'm ready to find me,
for that I don't need to pray to thee,
I need to set the trapped me free,
I don't care,
I'm not scared,
I'm ready to be me.

I ran, ran so fast,
I had lost me,
without me did I have a real past?
Of me I found the first piece,
found the first piece with ease.
Following were so many pieces.

These pieces of me I thought were never there,
I never thought they'd be somewhere.

Behind one piece there were so many of them
it was a jigsaw of me,
Those pieces will have to be hemmed.

The jigsaw of me was ready,
to be me I was ready,
I found myself,
I was emotional,
my eyes felt heavy.

These pieces of this jigsaw was lost,
they were lying in a corner,
their presence was something I forgot.
But today I found me,
today I bound me,
this jigsaw was my personality,
why the hell was I afraid to be me?


PICTURE FROM THE NET- ( http://images.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8GZkH3Sj9JvYJZDiXwiveL8oFTCQPtBbl46UpTjw275dibGVBy94ijok3x2v_exjMHskyfs3ltN2uOHgruvOcOx-4z7eX4RGjENIIYFwnP_omEvoeQ91hW9RKvzaGpsigfk32muqu-0pX/s400/shattered+mirror_inspire.dream.create.jpg&imgrefurl=http://nleethesis.blogspot.com/2009/10/inside-her-head.html&usg=__s1_NW6Uc9yvCJSzaqJydPDszHyA=&h=400&w=400&sz=12&hl=en&start=3&sig2=xA0GND1r0rL0I5AlFdsL1w&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=ffol11QeoRSsJM:&tbnh=124&tbnw=124&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dshattered%2Bimage%2Bof%2Ba%2Bperson%2B%2B%2Bin%2Ba%2Bmirror%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26safe%3Doff%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26rls%3Dcom.ubuntu:en-US:official%26tbs%3Disch:1&ei=npmfS4KkK825rAf_heTLDA )

Desiring freedom...


I'm trapped,
trapped in a box,
a box with bars,
locked with a big lock.

I see those weird aliens staring at me,
they're fascinated,
they don't understand,
I just want to be set free.

I was born to be wild,
out here I'm treated like a child.

Those aliens throw food and make stupid faces,
looking at them with anger mt heart races.

I want to be with my people, my family,
out here I'm alone,
It's just me.

I'm here for their entertainment,
I entertain them because I look different.

Let me go,
I don't want to be in a cage,
I don't want to look at the world with rage.
I want to be in the place I'm supposed to be,
I want to be free.

Picture from the net- ( http://images.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://kyoder1112.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/animal-testing-cage.jpg&imgrefurl=http://kyoder1112.wordpress.com/2009/05/07/cited-visual-elements/&usg=__ZGIOCwyLxrHb3aQdjMl6ppIYx40=&h=271&w=350&sz=15&hl=en&start=7&sig2=4RP2OUjU_ac09KGvml9ZnA&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=uSSorjuTnHa3bM:&tbnh=93&tbnw=120&prev=/images%3Fq%3Danimal%2Bin%2Ba%2Bcage%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26safe%3Doff%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26sa%3DN%26rls%3Dcom.ubuntu:en-US:official%26tbs%3Disch:1&ei=4pWfS4frM8myrAfckJjaDQ )

We're all a part of the same river...

We're all a part of the same river,
we're all drop givers.
Together we join,
we form an ocean divided by no line.

We flow,
we go places we want to go.

We form a river deep,
you can't cross us,
not even with a giant leap.

Drops from different places,
drops with different faces,
quick this river paces.

The river of togetherness,
forbidden is the mess.
This river of people,
river strong enough to fight the devil,
This river of heaven.

The cream de la creme...


The cream de la creme,
the live style,
something which the poor man has just dreamt.

Their cars,
too superior to ride on ordinary tar.

Their life,
they socialize with people of their own hive.

Money, sweet money,
it's all theirs honey!

They've got all the materialistic joy,
lots of greedy heirs to inherit their property after they die,
but, is this real joy?,
Isn't all this just a toy,
the cream de la creme,
they do lead complicated lives and have reasons to cry,
but, externally they're they cream de la creme within the society high,
it's the cream de la creme boy.


Picture from the net- ( http://images.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://blogs.uptownlife.net/tiawalker/wp-content/uploads/2009/08/Rihanna_Just-Jared-Photo1-152x300.jpg&imgrefurl=http://blogs.uptownlife.net/tiawalker/%3Fp%3D1708&usg=__-81K5YvsGE-eF5gE6rUGqApEraA=&h=300&w=152&sz=19&hl=en&start=16&sig2=1OYoUJp8pvlUtD9v-3l8rg&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=fcoNzhRI3Ii5xM:&tbnh=116&tbnw=59&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dsocailite%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26safe%3Doff%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26sa%3DX%26rls%3Dcom.ubuntu:en-US:official%26nfpr%3D1%26tbs%3Disch:1&ei=xo-fS-71KoWyrAfW4OTLDA )

In your eyes...

I can see your eyes,
I know when you fell wise.

I can see your eyes jaded,
I can see the glint of happiness in them faded.

I can see your eyes disgusted,
I know when you feel wasted.

Your eyes express what your soul feels,
I can see your lustfully starting at that meal.

At the end of the day,
the beauty of your eyes I want to see,
your eyes have the power to heal,
I want to see the happiness you feel.
Your eyes,
your magnificent eyes,
your oceans of poise.


Picture from the net- (http://images.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://jasser20204.googlepages.com/eyes24.jpg&imgrefurl=http://stuffheaven.com/46-eye-wallpapers/&usg=__fpPxdveArwKDGU-sjnsV5YGmOHQ=&h=450&w=600&sz=29&hl=en&start=9&sig2=0e2s5vADMQwpTyOn1v51pQ&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=yhToXMTi15UwPM:&tbnh=101&tbnw=135&prev=/images%3Fq%3Deyes%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26safe%3Doff%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26sa%3DN%26rls%3Dcom.ubuntu:en-US:official%26tbs%3Disch:1&ei=sIyfS92sJMK8rAfSs7jSDA )

Me, feeling bloody lethargic...


I'm tired,
my body has retired.
My attention span has gone,
It may not come till dawn.
My brain refuses to listen to me,
it just insists on being set free.
I don't feel like solving this sum,
I feel like shooting it with a gun.
I need strong coffee,
maybe nothing but sleep can help me.
But, it's all on me,
now it's lethargy I feel,
bloody lethargy.



Picture from the net- (http://images.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://www.additionalneeds.net/Anger_Management/images/lethargy.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.additionalneeds.net/Anger_Management/reactions.htm&usg=__09WcVw24BHh4fk4JMfz3c8aTq-w=&h=153&w=172&sz=9&hl=en&start=3&sig2=lniGCuB75fGEIFrteN5voA&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=Pv08mpxWFe-K3M:&tbnh=89&tbnw=100&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dlethargic%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26safe%3Doff%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26sa%3DN%26rls%3Dcom.ubuntu:en-US:official%26tbs%3Disch:1&ei=44ifS8mfEYWzrAeDjI3ODA )

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Locked lunacy.

moreBlocked, blocked from the world,
in some hospital for the criminally insane,
lies this crazy girl.

Sitting in her dingy and dusty room,
her life is like doom.
Her attire,
so dirty,
deserves to be put in the fire.
She's tearing her hair.
she's forgot ton who she is and where.

This crazy lunatic,
always very hysteric,
dangerous to be with,
her constant fits,
with craziness she's been hit.

She may never be the same again,
now most of the time all she does is weep and wail,
so crazy, so dangerous,
she's in a hospital for the criminally insane.

She wasn't always like this,
desolation, agitation, complication, frustration,
she thought she wasn't good enough for the nation.
She was driven to the point of being crazy,
the exact reason people are still quite hazy.
She killed,
she became happier by the increasing amount of blood she spilled.

Today locked up,
locked up in the muck.
at leading a normal life, she has no luck,
bruised with cuts,
she's depressed, she's lost her guts.
she ain't going to live much longer,
she's the sense of danger.
Locked up,
locked from the world,
this crazy psychotic girl.


Picture from the net- (http://divyanovel.files.wordpress.com/2008/12/silence.jpg)