Penury...

The poverty of the market place is evident,
When he masks his goddess of prosperity, 
Deceiving her enough to believe, 
That she will see only merry times ahead... 

She is kept in a position of pride,
Above the carpet that pacifies her from the grime that lies beneath.
Carrying the sensuality of a woman within her, 
Natures finest work of art, embodied in flesh and blood... 

Their boundaries seemed to be the grievance of his existence, 
Shot his swimmers just as they were about to ascend, 
Yet his passion quivers after two decades of brutal mockery, 
Submissive to his whim of preserving his virtue and vanity...

He saw sex, bosoms and lies, 
Not even the trinity of vices could lure him, 
Not alluring enough to suit his taste,
Not convenient enough to hide his lies...

Then they unearthed secrets lost in time, 
Those that spoke of thousands of years ahead,
Deranged years that oscillate within the benefit of doubt,
Reduced to a scenario of illusions...

For we can't seem to trade our hard earned fortune for the value of flesh, 
What's written in the stars is reduced to ashes, 
Superficial remorse from rags to riches and riches to rags,
Moments of elevation have now been misjudged...

He never fell pray to his inner demons, 
Though he fell pray to society's rigidity, 
Crafted by a despicable code of conduct,
He should have listened to the ghosts of the past instead...  

Classic Transperancy...

The sinister nights of war, 
When our regiment was equipped with artillery far from capable,
When our sense of well- being wept in agony,
Waiting to surrender to impending doom...

My fellow men begin to make peace with their gruesome destiny,
They begin to curse their inability to foresee, 
Every inch of their body accepting their vanquished controlled,
The subtle martyr has walked even further into the checkered shell...

We now wash our dirty lingerie,
In the muddy waters of solitude,
The residue speaks of grimy white lies,
Embodied with the spirit to rejuvenate the truth...

The infinitesimal transition withing limbo,
When we're suspended mid-air amidst other falling bodies,
Yet numerous turbulent times have gone by,
They now seem like events of another lifetime..

The persona which gloats is now silent with defeat,
Bonding with other mortals who bond with the end of an era,
The burden of trauma hovers within the pores of luck,
Harnessing the strength hidden within every catastrophic occurring...  

Unravaled to be left in shambles

The antagonistic foster siblings of escapism has never quite unveiled itself,

Claiming to be a part of the unconventional cosmos of appeal,

The futility of ridicule is a subtle legacy,

The unrequited vengeance of my identity...

The mojo of an Earthling is still mortal after all,

Borne with colloquial charm.

The surge of a fantasy,

Embroils and acquaints itself with strangers far from being strange...

The morbidity of a taboo,

Is known to evoke an unspoken desire,

Self mutilates a metaphysical possession,

Surges within but still lampooning its virtuousness...

The freedom of the mind,

Is now familiar with the trans-morphism of the world,

Still nurturing idiocracy,

With silence that provokes uncredited revolutionary thought...

Our words have now surpassed even the best of the connoisseurs,

Still acquainted with the naivety of former possession,

Possession that has now diverged,

But has still chosen a similar kind of groove...

The coquettish reveries,

Expects to acquaint with procrastination,

Unleashes the bonafide wrath,

With the arbitrary ambiguity...

 

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...

The Village Fair ( Part 3)

Several years ago was once several years ahead,
They returned to the village fair, 
The glee fair as it was called,
Only this year it ceased to end,
Refused to end like a whimsical array of fireworks,
Fireworks coiled around the Globe for many generations to come...

The annual indulgence had now become one with their blood,
Defying hierarchy in every way,
The choir of the angels had incorporated itself with their good sense of rhythm, 
Some one from everyone was a part of every one's own kin.

The true glee festival it was, 
Illuminating the dark ages of every era,
The carousel bore the account of every one's life,
The sweet-toothed beggar for now had many a claim to fame today,
The lecherous lads insatiable appetite finally was to be satisfied.

Who could forget the voluptuous ladies,
The lanky lasses was not far behind either, 
The hunk all whims was in the midst of his polished act, 
The science of attraction prove to be a claustrophobic mechanism  to suit every one's needs.

Them noble men never failed to appear,
Everyone looked with envy at their sultry mistresses,
Suppressing their assets within the robes of vain,
Curves to die for, 
Modesty they wanted intrude...

The omnipresent dirty old men,
Never missed a moment to steal a glance,
They have variety to feast on today, 
Amidst the virtue goddesses and titty goddesses...

The buck- toothed mayor of the town,
Also struck with dwarfism,
Waits to inaugurate madness, 
Cuts the ribbon of euphoria,
With a few evolved words, 
Glancing at his wife struck with gigantism,
The mushiest couple in the fly.

Who could miss,
The vivacious lady oracle,
Staring in the vast open skies of the future within her crystal ball,
While she satisfies everyone visually with her elevated bosoms, 
Therefore the present gets all the love.

Then there were the old men and women, 
Only a few miles from their death beds,
Just to see the village fair for one last time,
For the reminisce of a lifetime, 
Left with the momentary despair, 
Then the glee festival raises their spirits to a point of a disappointed heir, 
Those scummy scavengers..


Them Noble men blended with the non-virtuous crowd, 
The erudite danced in circles with the illiterate crowd, 
The seductive women chatted with the modest mistresses, 
The glee festival drove everyone nuts, 
Never got stuck in a rut. 

The village fair,
The glee festival,
We'll probably take a bus there,
We'll get intoxicated by the voices of the angels...


Picture from the net- ( gardenista.com) .

Harems....

The gradual step,

Is over in a moment,

Takes a lifetime to engrave,

Fragments of summarization,

Born in the realm of an era,

With a perception of inception....

Within the lonesome suppression,

Adulthood now gyrates within the neighborhood,

Bringing promises and the brewery of dreams,

Blossoming amidst the wastefulness of the past,

The glamor of the future,

Hand in hand with the disillusioned  crevices of imagination....

Maturity was so amorous,

Took me by hand from the protective arm of  nurturing words to the brute of seduction,

The brute who tore apart any armour of sanctity,

Until the reconcilement of strength,

Which charmed its own way into the house of enigma.

Smothered by monotony,

We were intensely satisfied,

Isolated tactile pleasure,

Tactfully crawled under our not so virtuous skin,

Then we were unbound,

Unbound by the sheer force of will.

Authority just morphed into a docile boundary...

Ever drop of sensuality of a woman,

It happens to be her essence of being,

Cannot be suppressed by the dry fury of the flames,

The placidity of the lands far away within the fathomed lands,

The crude sound of monotony,

Encircled by the full fledged form of threat...

Then we  rose ahead,

Embraced by the comfort of our escapades,

Running through a field of opium,

Scented with a rotten hint,

Unceremoniously had hidden vibes of distortion,

Below the fodder of kinder words...

There were harems in our head,

An obstruction in the orchid of virtue,

Bore the shame of consolatory visits,

Caresses the purity of lust,

Gnaws at its core,

The mystery of  its existence,

Unsullied with  sordidity and slyness...

Grilled cheese apocalypse...

On one fine Monday, a rather unfortunate event had changed the course of history. Fried cheese on neon- fire, as called as a meteorite overcame the atmospheres resistance and struck the North Pole, which had a rather catastrophic effect on the Earth.


At the 23rd hour of the night, when the world was rejoicing in their own terms the North Pole awakens, quite literally. The impact of the meteorite wasn't seemingly big, but what did humans know, even if they're the most intelligent species to ever exist, or apparently so. So this was the new big thing on the news of the next day, "North Pole hit by meteorite," was the" creative" headline, it even surpassed the news of Kim Kardashian's divorce and the brand new booty implants she got as a recovery for the post divorce depression, not even the stock market was more important, the meteoroid was grabbing all the limelight, this notorious li'l thing. But the world has this ability to move on so this soon became old new until five years later...

There was news of the North Pole disintegrating, like literally, the land was breaking down into bits, sinking. Then the North Pole was the new big thing. A scandal is known to divert attention to itself. Scientist, geologists, journalists and many scoundrel in this world did everything to save the poles but they all died, and so did the Poles, but one cameraman was there and he happened to captured footage that would make the whole world panic, not a person would forget. The ice bergs or whatever was remaining of it, just disintegrated into the water, like a pack of cards.      

This of course led to a lot of panic through out the world. People were trying to figure out what this was. Scientist, the real gods of the world figured out one similar pattern, disintegration. The land disintegrated, the organisms disintegrated, broke down. Water didn't but the aquatic life did. The sequence of events was cryptic.

Soon this pattern was observed in the areas of the Tropic of Cancer. The Earth was in dire straights at this moment. Our only home now is the Earth, after all our terraforming and other plans we had no where to go. Could this be the end of civilisation in general? All the biodiversity was being disintegrated, every bit of it, this nasty mystique .  This was happening faster then anyone could comprehend. Soon this spread to the Tropic of Capricorn this wiped out more than 95% of   biodiversity, this was a complete disintegration of the result of million years of evolution. The Earth was a vacant place. Then this travelled to the South Pole that was the end of it. The result of evolution was washed out.

What happened was that meteorite got in a virus from an outer world, which needed a  host cell or atom to survive. Therefore I shall call this a celestial virus. Any atom on this Earth was enough to facilitate the survival of millions of viruses or viroids. This structure of the virus was conspired by genius aliens who had figured that it would be easier for the virus to survive if it didn't differentiate between its host cells. Therefore they programmed it that way. The figured that Earth would have the most favorable conditions to survive. This virus would then evolve to a higher species, it wasn't a bad idea at all given that  all the biodiversity evolved from a unicellular amoeba. So they sent this in the form of a meteorite. It multiplied faster then humans could comprehend what this way. The aliens wanted the next generation to survive as they knew their life and planet was ending and the travelling from our their planet to ours was impossible  given the distance of many light years. Their figured that their form of life could only be transported if it was in a micro form. Therefore the genetic code of this virus bears a great similarity to their genetic code.

So now it is a very slow evolution of the virus, which is now evolving to its righteous life on Earth. Millions of years later their shall be a new kind of species. Maybe everything has a time and period so did the humans. The aliens had a more concrete plan of survival, they've even planned adaptation to other planets in another solar system, given that even our universe shall end someday. Evolution is a cycle, the history of existence is equivocal. It's survival of the fittest as Charles Darwin once said and he was undoubtedly right. They are the virus, they are the Earth men, goo goo g'joob. 

Windows...

Impulses of beauty are yet to strike the diverse visions of loneliness,
Faint and shallow visions of insecurities,
Pubescent joys welcome the coming of age,
Ambiguity is a tease at its best....

Intergalactic qualms of our minds,
Were devoid of the pleasure of solitude,
Greatly unaware of the inner world,
Under the robe of insolent strive.

The lingering scent of masked gratitude,
Not so sensual when claimed,
Contrary to adulterous mediocrity,
The forbidden fruit has come even closer...
 
 The world is a pendulum,
The protagonist possesses clandestine admiration for the antagonist,
The objectification of purity condemns lust,
Greatly unaware of its virtues...  


She wasn't attractive but she was beautiful!
The grenade of contempt has now been scattered into the land of indifference,
Replenished hope hovers over the mould and mask,
Deformed words adhere to the satire of nasty chance...

Image- ( sirjohnlawesart.blogspot.com )

Raw Innuendos...

Gargantuan undertakings were made as we entered the aisles of our shortcomings,
This is were futuristic fairy tales were spun.
Where the lies had blended with a fantasy,
Where we never quite big goodbye to the hearth...

Poetry inspired by poetry now incorporates itself with the gusto of the wind,
The past had to be thawed to make way for existence.
Her slot today is finally devoid of any variety of stereotypes,
Finally free to writhe in silence...

 We shall now distance ourselves from the cynical countryside,
Arrange for a journey to the city of our minds.
The ostracism is flawed,
The  scepticism is lured...

The  nymphets shall not sway to patriarchal whim,
Nor shall they lament for its woes,
Instead they shall strive within parallel treachery,
To vex any illusion of violence...

 She shall now do her rhetorical vengeance moves,
 To charm words encrusted by frost,
Arouse the coming of the end of youth,
Question the stark amount of ease on the subject of lost virility...

The wisp of the voluptuous mystique,
Erotic decay thrives within the stories of the past,
Sanctity was silenced by the revelations of the light,
Progressive knowledge to comprehend the grotesque side...

I shall cease praying when my legacy is tangible,
The bottle of pheromones mocks the aloof prejudices,
The Luna bond has seized the allure by being coy,
The perched land of lust contradicted the approaching intertwining depth...

Crude aesthetically pleasing demeanour carved its way through pious walls,
Woken to liberate the underbelly of the primitive sheath,
Vulnerability stalks our night shadow,
Clamouring to wake the dark spirits who for fighting paucity of life and beyond...

     
 Image- ( ligotti.net)




   

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.