Feisty escapades...

A godforsaken possession has played with achievement,
The chalice is still half empty though we'd like to believe otherwise,
Grievances have a tendency to tease a merry ambition,
When sorrows are flattered by goodwill...

Time imposes its imprisonment upon us,
Residents of the past try to usurp us back to their rather unfortunate world,
Even though you know you're too rigid for nostalgia,
Mediocrity has never failed to keep us under its wing...

The foster siblings of escapism never failed to unveil itself,
Claiming to be the unconventional cosmos of appeal,
The futility of ridicule is a subtle legacy,
The unrequited vengeance of my identity...

The strut of an Earthling is still mortal after all,
 Borne with colloquial charm,
The spurt of a fantasy,
Embroils and acquaints itself far from being strange..

The morbidity of a taboo,
Is known to evoke an unspoken desire,
Self mutilates a metaphysical possession,
Surging withing and lampooned by virtuousness...

The freedom of the mind,
Has got used to the trans-morphism of the world,
Watching our every move,
Still nurtures ignominy that occasionally provokes revolutionary thought...    

The coquettish reverie,
Always acquaints with procrastination,
Unleashes bona fide eternal wrath,
With arbitrary ambiguity...      

The girl with the array of screw-ups.

She's come back again, this time with a more stark form. She hated me last for deceiving  her and leaving her dejected but she decided that she'll offer me a second chance, kudos to second chances who are consistently waited for you to seize it and make the best of it. So the bitch of the mist came to me today and we talked about life, wasted chances, the way I over procrastinate, how my die has been cast and so on. The bitch of the mist happens to be a figment of my imagination who I've mentioned before in one of my earlier posts and  slowly have accepted as a part of my life, she comes whenever she wants and disappears into the mist whenever she wants. There are things she wants me to do on this extremely important year of my life,

She hates how I while away my time, she finds procrastination despicable,
she hates every bit of the chaos in my head,    
she hates regrets and hates when I have them,
she hates when I fail to live up to the expectations of fools paradise.

Here's what I hate,
Arbitrary rules,
 apparent last chances,
intellectual decay,
Perceptive success.
Openness and closeness,
The 12th year which is the most vital test.

Life as they say is very short and we don't come alive but then my lifespan is the longest time duration I'll ever see, that's what I know. Slowly within the last breath of a mortal, the neurons which is the very soul of a person disintegrates which is when everything ceases to exist and every self proclaimed legacy is wiped out.

"After the earth dies, some 5 billion years from now, after it’s burned to a crisp, or even swallowed by the Sun, there will be other worlds and stars and galaxies coming into being — and they will know nothing of a place once called Earth"- Carl Sagan. 

Profinity and the anti-scumbag

I do, I do, I do! I have cheap thrills! Cheap thrills are necessary for all of humankind to have. I'm despicable because of those cheap thrills, my cheap thrills draws me closer to the Zen of supreme indifference, I'm languid because of my cheap thrills! My cheap thrills love the oblivion of my omnipresent siesta, my cheap thrills love being anti social, my cheap thrills love me being a delusional and jealous bird, my cheap thrills want me to be outlandish, my cheap thrills love content nuanced with shock value, my cheap thrills love profanity. You know why I love profanity? Because it's a consistent companion when my words lose their strength. One expression for all the desires, whether it's never ending carnal urges, lust, indifference, displeasure, the unrequited urge to slap some one and so on. An over-exploitation of profanity is indeed disgraced and annoying, but the a clichéd overuse of taboos always is.

Why are we still in touch with the people we should have lost touch with years ago? Technology! Yes, it's a blessing, a left behind legacy of the attained evolution of humankind. But yes, it's true. I'm speaking like an retrograde li'l birdie, but hey! Your grand-mommy don't know no computers! Hah! ( With due respect to all our ancestors! Salute the greats who've seen history in the making! Love ya all!). The point our here is that it feels like your life is like an open platter waiting to be mocked! No wait, there's no point I'm making, it's just angst for the sake of angst which I'll conveniently blame on my teenage hormones. Traveling light seems to be a lost concept, this acceleration seems to have be retarded, we take way too much time to leave behind all the emotional baggage, we take way too much time to block those channels of love ( reciprocated or non-reciprocated ) we should have blocked eons ago, that sleaze we should have raised an objection to, acknowledged that time and this time when life is all about you, you and my little darling, you! (which in a way or in many ways always is ), but then hell with it! Screw it all! Let us all visit hell for one night where the most happening party in this very universe is going to be conducted! Lets burn in the wrath of our own swag! Because swag is cool and so are you! This is the corniest thing I've probably said! The corniness is starting to emerge now, I have no idea why I wrote all this! I better stop! "I better stop", seems to be an appropriate ending for this nugatory post! But I like what I wrote.

Travelin' light, is the only way to fly
Travelin' light, just you and I
One-way ticket to ecstasy
Way on down, follow me
Travelin' light, we can go beyond
Travelin' light, we can catch the wind
Travelin' light, let your mind pretend
We can go to paradise
Maybe once, maybe twice
Travelin' light, is the only way to fly

Yes folks, I will keep posting song lyrics that make this post, it adds all the spice. Hell with all of this! Peace.

Invisible Children.

Here's why it matters- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4MnpzG5Sqc

Old Sparky...

You can't exert your will in no man's land,
When your only pursuit is survival,
Deranged poetic notes is a fight no one could withstand,
Death is no more an unholy rival.
When the fetish chamber contradicted the gruesome dungeon,
After all these generations you failed to pass an non stereotyped judgement...

Draped in a garish choice of words,
Lust fornicated the wrong town,
Your follies still mock your emptiness after all these years,
The walls of all bricks of good terms have been broken down.
Your threshold of pain has worn out by dusk,
A great deal of misfortune did not strike you only because you thought it must...

We're vexed with treachery,
Sick of damage,
Waiting for alchemy,
Formulated by the daily greats.
Bankruptcy has has fought the halo of no holy man,
Somewhere within the world of pain was an inkling of your own plan...

There has been no truce of that blatant kind of chaos,
A self thought angel to end their sufferings,
Wallowing has been know to mock the morrows ethos,
The exaggerated mystic pain that glamorises the starlings.
So though I feel demented it's actually because I'm dull,
For this is the very passage when the frolic does not swirl...

Let the impulses of love fill my heart,
Hormones of rational judgement be one with my bloodstream,
Let a normal state of mind vanquish any kind of shock,
A skit of black magic leave my dreams.
May the enzymes of good fortune rain upon us from paradise,
Punish them whose life was designed for a sacrilege union they wanted to jeopardise...

A Sinner in organised times...

A walk through this unfathomed dungeon,
Has unleashed this vixen.
For sadism can strike the pristine,
This speaks of purity stained...

A bloody sly prudish bugger,
Too dishonourable to be crucified.
For a good afterlife has tremendous grace,
Vengeance is too often sought by blood...

When your very creed is ashamed,
So very vain.
Natures wrath does backfire,
The honour is gone to the dogs,
They feast on it everyday.

So, who's to hex a sinner?
Life fails to understand relativity,
Brings about disorientation to the innocent,
In this very disgraced phase of transition...

The lies are damned,
The swing of life is not.
A very beautiful species,
Their harness is defied by lies...

The vixen dreams of the siren,
The knight knows his target,
The sinners brace themselves for their mid life crises and lonely death,
The King of fate mocks them all...

The exhibitionists are coerce,
The casket contains treasure that is never good to be flaunted.
Disharmony has its way of failing to see the great good,
A very strange kind of nugatory angst is at war with sunshine...

The dark ages were indeed oppressed,
Bred in agony.
Thus the impishness of a fool wounded a beautiful phase,
But the new era nourishes the madness...

A very undignified whorish soul,
Can dissociate the innocence of a vulnerable offspring,
Drifts from each tavern ,
By bad destiny brings about procreation,
This schmuck wanders by the proximity of your very shadow...

The air is bewildered,
Breathed by virtues and vices,
But you can never quite separate something so interdependent,
After all is said,
Life shall conclude that a curse is a cycle...

Words can never embody wrath,
Unless a certain evolution is attained,
That being said, my blood boils to a crimson like red,
Dishonour has left a real man shamed...

The closet of mystery was always a tale untold,
Stability is only loyal to the brave,
Helplessness is unfortunately a companion to every mortal,
Dignity is false until claimed...


( Painting- Saturn by Goya).

A spell without a glisten...

This solitary confinement of the soul,
Has conceived a very empty casket,
Has morphed into the epitome of beauty,
With a very individualistic definition...

The many oxymoron statements she's made,
Stirred up infinite amounts of laughter,
Bound by mockery,
Bears a certain amount of logic in the quiet...

A very indifferent state of mind,
A crashing state of Zen,
Leaving behind the baggage,
For light heart aids the transcend...

The etiquette seems to have revamped itself,
Because the origin of the species,
Creates a foundation,
Unaware about the present of the squad...

The offspring that we must protect,
Ponder on what lies in between life and death,
For every one's a mutant in their own terms,
Now the muddled assumptions shall be forgotten..

A very demented sort of placidity,
Has ceased the flow,
Our wishful thinking informs us that the colours shall be unleashed,
For all the world feels like a bound pariah...

Mystery man..

We are way past,
Living the future our minds unscripted,
The books by thieves,
Thrives in the sky,
Withered, for the frolic never prevailed.
To honor the disgust.

A very existential fire,
Now fails to wake,
The placid memoirs,
Of a delusional mind,
Dissolved in the transit,
Braced by incapable strength...

Oh lonely mortal,
As we fall we part,
Our unison is not certain,
So lets leave it to the thrill of universal alchemy,
Charmed by some amount of persona which is only a deception,
The obnoxious signals now begin to emerge.

Have, I lived a lie,
Or have I now learnt to accept the truth,
Expectations of monogamy,
In this very dungeon where the inmates aren't compatible,
Lampooned for this whimsical ways...

All of us populate,
The transit of Mother Earth's orifices,
Borne within are malicious bigots,
Creating an inhuman potion,
So nasty, so very nasty,
Yet not had enough of it...

This invincible will,
A possibility of momentary unraveled skill,
Impregnated with sloth,
Forsaken by impulses,
A very late arrival of the warrior called instinct....

We always foresee self discovery,
Then we welcome ourselves even further into the labyrinth,
The nonchalant ascend,
Has never settled...

( Painting by Rabindranath Tagore ).

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.