The last laugh...

The martyrs have weaken their stance, 

Subconsciously intimidated by the days of only wounds ahead,

Only moments to go until the march to glory,

The provinces of gold had intoxicated  them to the point of the sleep of reclusion...

The breeds of higher order have now not a reason to opine,

They begin their day with the solace of futility,

Commence to a voice of bigotry,

Until a different kind of transition...

For letters written in blood,

Have been defeated by the words inscribed in bonds,

Seldom acquainted with the world of gossip,

Placidly waiting in the numerous post offices of decay...

The time had begun for the fancy air of romance,

I will gift you a kiss if you please,

Embodied with the spirit of youth and glamour,

Made to suit carnal whims and mundane woes...

I shall wait for the end of your crude fantasy,

Which shall be made to sleep upon my arrival,

Awakened when I am away,

Which shall continue to torment you as you twitch and turn in your grave,

But not for too long...

Let me feed you copper candy,

So very fierce and inedible,

Let me occupy your senses with the scent of my love,

Superficial enough to slip away...

No impact has been as great,

As great as my non- existent significant other,

Who took me back to the rustic air of childhood,

As I grew many steps away from naivety...

Very few roots of passion have traced back,

The rest have faded away with the night,

Trampled on with time,

Burdened by mortality,

Just to suit the flow to the last laugh...

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...

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 )

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...

Grave Stones...

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

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

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

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

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


Picture from the net- ( flickriver.com )

Twilight...

You got all your gold medals,
you got your awards,
euphoria of the angels,
the divinity of the gods...

It look years for that wisdom,
the lit candles beneath your tomb,
the eventual for ultimate freedom,
she smiled in her mothers womb...

As long as your tomb is in the sunlight,
candles lit for years and beyond,
you're living a vivid afterlife,
the angel struck you with her tranquil wand...

The peace is mighty,
the candle light diminished the misery,
this shall remain a dormant society,
this is a prodigy...

From the epitome...

Listen to the angels in heaven sing,
look at them spread their wings,
you won't end with nothing.

Water over stone,
the water of the soul,
the water from the epitome.

Let her untie her laces,
she had ecstatic phases,
she's been places.

Let heaven fall in the wine,
the blood of the gods,
the chalice with its own design.

For my friend, the end isn't the worst,
the end is the pristine water to fulfill life's thirst,
immortality is the biggest curse.

Picture from the net- ( elated.com)

Unthanked souls...

Have you ever gone back,
for once in your life,
for all the souls you forgot to thank.

Those souls in their lonely afterlife,
laying in the grave,
they desire the light,
they just want to see your face.

Their spirits dancing in the corner,
dancing to the tune of loneliness,
to feel alive is a difficult endeavor,
but there's a smile emerging from the corner of their face.

Pangs of nostalgia,
that's only what happens to you,
but for them it's that desire that comes true.

While you live in the bright sunlight,
there's someone twitching and turning in the dark,
just a glimpse of them is enough,
just a glimpse of you is their light,
with that glimpse they will fill their goblets with the wine of pride.

Picture from the net- ( www.killmecomix.com/1_paintings.html)

Slips and schemes...

Those slips and schemes they get,
those schemes for myself,
schemes,
the ones that make you reach the epitome of paradise,
the place where you'll meet the gods themselves.

The gods will give smile,
the gods will give you a wink,
the gods are more beautiful than you'll ever think.

The shower of gold and silver,
drops of diamonds,
white paradise,
the perfect life was always what you endeavored,
now you finally got it in your fabulous afterlife,
your fabulous afterlife in white paradise.

Those slips,
on which you wrote your life,
did you ever think you'll reach divine paradise?

Those slips,
accumulated,
accumulated in the wardrobes of your mind,
your slips of wishes,
your wish came true in white paradise.

That epitome of glory you reached,
never ending glory,
of white paradise,
that epitome of glory you reached,
you sent your slips,
the gods sent you their schemes,
slips of wishes,
schemes of final glory,
schemes of paradise,
slips of life,
the schemes you'll forever rejoice.

Picture from the net - (are-you-going.com/Page-2.html)