Farewell...

Times have penetrated the uncertain night,
While I'm touched upon by the shadows of crimson fear,
To rip this mask and enter this womb of lust,
To ponder the lost fire of the heat...

Farewell my friend,
I see the afraid pallor on your face,
When you and I part ways for the jaunt to the sun,
While we're basked in unpredictability...

This alley for battle of the soul,
That lamp post illuminated for hope,
To fade in the mist of life,
To assimilate into our renaissance....

This wardrobe that contains our fragments of life,
To cloak of our union,
Irksome truth of disintegration,
To battle the storm of judgements...

Picture from the net- ( artgallery.com.ua)

Those golden and not so golden days...

Well we got no choice all the girls and boys
Makin' all that noise 'cause they found new toys
Well we can't salute ya can't find a flag if that don't suit ya that's a drag
School's out for summer school's out forever school's been blown to pieces!

This famous song by Alice Cooper was always my anthem when it came to school but now when I'm leaving it's going to be different.

That warmth I had there, the long bus ride into wilderness, bunking on the roof, friends, fights, arguments, teachers, exams, results, lectures, boring long assemblies, the fact that my uniforms were never neat enough, preparation for events and so many things. Damn, I'm leaving school! It's like the end of an era.
Yesterday was my informal farewell and I wore this amazing black and white dress. It was an amazing day full of frolic.

I've had quite a lit of fun in school and my tenth standard was the best. I have less than a month for school but I don't want to turn back. Even if times ahead may be scary and unpredictable I want to face it with a mind of frolic ( frolic's the reason I live baby!). So as one part of my life's over and my whole life is put in front of me I put memories of school in this casket of life...

Hunk of the night...

With the rustle of wind,
She seeks a feminine glance,
With locks that define his face,
With the arrival of the night the clocks seem to be too dazed to advance....

He sings his soulful melody,
Did he wait for the night?
Or did the night wait for him?
The hunk of delight...

The sprinkle of sugar on the snow,
A prospect of life to ponder,
A sweet savour for the bitter,
In all its dreams of wonder...

Pristine to its hearts content,
A reverie that doubts this holy land,
The dale of dreams of lost existence,
His melodies embraced him in the warmth for the cold he had to withstand...

To be rebound when lost,
Illusions of intoxication,
Beyond physical harmony,
These bells of creation...

I love Jim Morrison and I choose to dedicate this poem to him...

C'est la vie...

This chaos on the road,
Painted in grey,
Washed by her seductive eyes,
Only the strongest shall survive...

This shaped harlot,
To succumb to lust,
The lust in the wind,
For we're not as malicious for the nomenclature for him...

Lament for the momentry fade...

"Exam time!" was what my conscience said,
"Why are you still in a state of sloth in bed?"

The Ides of March have invited the fools of April,
They've invited me to show my irksome skill...

For the Red sea shall not part for me,
Only my pain shall set me free...

Sexy Mark Antony no more appealing to me ,
Who'll be shielded from madness with a head basked in caffeine?

So as Athena cursed Medusa,
Spattered ink leads me into a cursed era...

This is when Cleopatra's vain is masked,
This is when Helen's shoes are made of glass...

So as Cronus's castrated genitals could make Aphrodite,
Why can't my brains make a revolutionary delight?
( Which ain't the pioneering revolution.)

Why does Einstein's theory appear to be jaded?
( How could it be, my lord?)
Why do Morrison's sexy words appear to have faded?
(How could it be, oh how could it be?)

This circle of Willis,
Has become putrid...

Edison's madness seems too entered me,
But not with the same creativity.
( How can we make a grotesque imitation of a true genius?)

Why has Mr Gorky been kept in a corner?
Why is seductive Gregory Peck been referred to as a goner?

This is the first time Mr Newton is a nuisance,
Mr Cobain's angst is an anthem.

Mussolini's sadism has been given no thought,
To kill the soul with inner wrath...

These travesties of knowledge,
For fragments of frolic...

Dickens's great expectations,
Ain't like Van Gogh's insanity,
But sure ain't Picasso's dimensions...

Chanakya's brains,
They've been sieved...

For Ray Charles eyes couldn't be like B.B King's voice,
But wait, they're both prodigies...

To sympathize with the devil,
To be strange when you're a stranger,
For the sweet emotion,
In this hard days night,
Wishing you were here,
To be better than the real thing,
To face the face,
I don't want to be homeward bound,
Just like a woman,
Seduced by Elvis the Pelvis,
On the silent wings of freedom,
Because I was born to be wild,
Viva la Vida!

With the arrival of June,
I see the rush of my fortune...

For this madness never seems to end...

- My apologies on being juvenile.

Raptures...

The morn of every night,
Mourns for the intercept of time.
These raptures of an unpredictable path,
They compose the archives of a joyous heart...

We are ultimately lead to the circle of love,
From the greetings above.
A splash of stars,
Lays somewhere between the horizon and hearth...

Where will you accept?
The graceful acceptance of a fragment of defeat for which they wept.
Auxiliary melancholy of time,
The ambidexterity of emotions leading us from a hollow to light...

Picture from the net- ( aviartnutkins.com )

Beautiful stranger...

Beautiful stranger,
That touched my follies with a laugh,
This head got drunk with love,
The rise of a secret world,
Now broken into fragments...

For frolic is this minds lust,
The prodigies that differ,
Nugatory smiles that rouse suspicion,
Sways to a glance,
Builds a castle with dust...

आखे.

उसके आखो के प्यालो में,
थी एक कहानी,
थी मोहोबत,
जो गंदगी हो चुकी है।

एक दिल,
जिसमे था खून,
जिसमे था प्यार,
वह एक भूरे कब्रिस्थान में सड़ चुका है।

Vanity, No apologies...

The ladies in corsets,
Wearing a mask,
The Gentlemen with roses in their pockets,
With vain as fragile as glass...

Basked in accolades of their evening gowns,
Designed to known prejudices,
This emerging frown,
To suit masked repentance...

A silver chalice,
For glee to trickle down from a mysterious path,
For the glum that has become load until the final grave,
To ease the misdemeanors of inheritance from the hearth...

Bound by juvenile dreams,
Elevated to a scrumptious life,
This Royal creed,
To bliss the jive...

Symbiosis...

That dance of a star,
Was gibberish to some,
Mesmerizing to the others,
Garish to vain...


The mockery of the moon,
Touches the modest veil of the Earth,
Ushers in contempt,
Mockery that depends on misdemeanors...


Embraced by a silver nebula,
Little pockets of accolades,
For some to assimilate,
For the others who have lost the right to live...

Permafrost...

The fury of shadows,
Touched her rime encrusted stilettos,
Frozen tears on the base,
Circles of glum on her face.

Combustion of graphite,
Darkness was too hostile for the night,
Lucid and afraid,
Affection that was too hard to penetrate.

Comrades that stand to face the test,
Jaded zeal put to rest,
Lust which we had to thaw,
Frozen nickel that was never warm.

Drops of blood,
On white cold love,
Bear the momentary ice,
If you want the morrow to survive...

The wall...

Rise and fall,
To arise and wait,
I respect this walk,
For this contempt that left my virtues to break...

To expect and respect,
This awaited position,
Caresses rusted regrets,
I gave birth my salutation...

These bricks that bear my deep respects,
These fissures of consolation,
For even those bound by strength,
Haven't been bound by perfection...

Certainty is too placid for this journey,
Assumption for frolic,
To tackle the walk of dreams,
Or give lust a miss?

This barrier to light,
While we've begun to caress the dark,
For monotony has borne a certain splendorous to my eyes,
While I'm left to nurture myself behind the wall...

That's a still from the wall

The unrevealed...

Behold the future,
With an assimilated past,
Oh future, reveal yourself to me!

What I've got is the present,
With an unfathomed,
Oh future, reveal yourself to me!

Can't wait much longer for glee and the frolic,
Tried to prepare myself with a sharp dagger and strong armour,
Oh future, reveal yourself to me!

What if this cryptic deception isn't that bright,
With a crude mind and mangled body,
Oh future, reveal yourself to me!

A kiss planted on my fate,
A kiss I want to fathom,
Oh future, reveal yourself to me!

The perspective quotient

We're born dreaming. Whether big or small, our dreams belong to us and somewhere even though each one of us is such a dot our tiny dreams make a difference somewhere. We as humans have a very symbiotic relationship.
"You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot:
You can love and think, and the Earth cannot!
This simple but beautiful poem by William Brightly Rands is so true. Love is one of the best things yet it's so mundane.

There are so many things happening in the world, so may great, revolutionary, scary, grotesque, horrendous things happening. Why be stuck to the hearth?

Someday, I'd like to look beyond myself, beyond my possessions, beyond my lust and want to look at the world with a larger perspective because this sphere that I'm lucky to be existing on is so interesting. I want to see the larger picture because now from where I'm stand the picture is just too small. Haha, how lame can I be? I'm talking about wanting a larger perspective and I'm still writing about myself. These contradictions of life are so amusing.

Illusions of life...

The Devil had created a travesty of life,
Against a wrathful monochrome,
While she walked an unforgiving path,
Encircles in grey smoke,
Masked with strength,
Hoping to paint a vivid picture...

These delusional days,
Had borne solemn hope,
Then she faded into the song of life,
As hypnotic as could be,
Was later our creed...

Kudos to Mr Vincent Van Gogh

किस्मत.

अगर यह जवानी थी,
तोह कल क्या हुआ ?
यह है जो हमारे आगे बैठा है,
आने वाले कल की दुआ?

कहा गए वह क्व्हैशे?
इस आग से मत लड़,
कब पास थे यह दूर के रिश्ते?
पर सबसे ताकतवर होता है प्यार,
कभी ज़िन्दगी के गाढ़ी से मत लड़।

Inception and unity...

An inception from a dazed tempest,
For every birth that awaits the journey of life,
Astringent joy dressed in unfathomed fortune,
Wait for the morrow to curb the truth of lies...

A search for the north star,
Preparation for the battle,
The moment for which my die was said to be cast.
For to bask in the golden sun you'll have to bear wrath of ice...

Friends during the journey,
Foes in the afterlife,
Strangers before the unity of inception,
Comrades that stood together for the celebration of life...

A drop of love,
Surges into the world,
Fathoms this place,
Cries when we part ways...

This bowl of life,
Goodies for the supper of fate,
The bitterness of light,
The spice includes hate...

From now we shall graciously accept death,
The aftermath of the bustle of life,
An augury spun by mysterious illusions,
To penetrate this surprise...

Picture from the net- ( collegenews.org )

Ale of joy...

This ale of joy,
Has been kept in a grimy room for too long,
The doors haven't opened because you didn't try,
This ale has become much more than a deserted song...

A wisp of laughs,
A quaint conversation for tea,
This essence of the hearth,
This flexibility to zeal...

Twilight was the time for a petite slumber,
Draped in angel light,
A sub-conscious mind that sends you messages from the former,
Yet the present was never very right...

Within the chalice of obstacles,
In a delusional room,
To move away from sloth to light certain candles,
We can all avoid the dungeon of gloom...

The morrow offers me a painting of hope,
Yesterday has been reduced to mesmerizing ash,
Frolic wants to be the scent of the present,
But it is all about to collapse...

A spectacular world...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Fairytale...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Picture from the net