me, my wild, my will

you must wake me up as we speak,
This slumber, calmness and destruction both do they seek,
Of all the gloom, the deepest darkest days
The cruel and coldest even in the summer of may.

The room seems to be full and closed
But it opens for those who know
Just think before you decide to knock
once in , theres no turning back

As I come up the alley do i see
those dead looking alive or is it me
for they dont mind my eyes , my groove
They continue picking up apples as they move

Thers that feelin I get when i look towards my nest
that my souls all alone waiting
For me to get home , to where i belong
and all my sufferings to stop.

The night winds come and go, thro the skin to the brow,
the sharpness in their bite lets me know.
People think Im a ghost, for I was all in black
They let me know without doubt the pureness I now lack

I stand in line and continue to wait
For someone to lead me to reason and light
I dont want to be left behind to reek
So you must wake me up as we speak.

when memories kill

It was the coldest day in december,
when I stared at the void and wondered.
as i cry these lonely nights,
remembering promises broken with fury and might.

am i to smile hiding behind these tears,
not to show you my deepest despair.
dont you know its not that simple,
for someone like me who is so temperamental.

you put trust in this untrusting heart,
and now you want to tear it all apart.
mebbe its a way puttin my friendship thro knife,
toyin with the idea of takin my life.

i only exist now ,long stopped living
just like your love that stopped giving
i wish thers an end to this pain
my soul can no longer take this suffering

when u find a decayed cadaver reek
worms and maggots eating someone u used to speak
i hope u realise u could have just let me be
instead it was your memories that killed me.

Windchime

Home I bought a windchime new,
Silvery metals hanging from a rosewood chip.
The best twas, I'v got a few.
With gentle breeze , chiming away with ease.
Sweet music major, minor and sharp,
From morning to noon until deep and dark.
Hey windchime, why do look so glee?
Are u unawares of the woe abt to hit thee.
With all the happy tunes u made and read,
Didn't u know u hang on the porch only by a thread.
The more u chime the more u sway,
Your death is just one giant wind away.

when i scribble

Thousand words,say nothing at all,
when its not from your heart.
hypocrites are many,they smile, they lie
am i an easy prey, am i that vulnerable
who are they, who make me,
who are they who take me
am i the best you've ever seen.
y did i trust you, in your smile, in your lies.
life, why did it stand still,
life, when did it veer away from my will
whom do we serve, whom do we protect,
messengers are nothin but a fictitious sect.
love or hate, what do i chose,
love a little , hate a little,
life moves on inch by inch.
is this human, is this divine.
answers who, nobodys fine.
sleeping with the dead side by side do i see,
he never smiles he never sees
he just rots and losses his flesh,
but the memories remain, so does his guilt.
i carry in my soul, the sapling of malign
the sprouts of deceit ,u nursed me well.
were u blind , were u deaf,
or were u just plain insane.
y did u laugh and y did u cry,
were u ever real, or were u just in my mind
and y do u still smile, knowing uve killed my mind.

black bile

There was a pretty place,
where we've been before.
hand in hand we walked along the shore,
but u dont want to go there , do you?

The sounds of a distant songbird,
resembles the song we've shared before.
when we understood the lyrics , the score
but u dont really care for music , do you?

There was time when u knew my name,
you called it loud again and again.
that was then we spoke so true,
but u dont really know my name , do u?

There was a tear that fell on my hand,
when u held in urs a tighter clasp,
moist yet it remains unforgetful of our parting,
but u dont need me , do u?

there was in u a loneliness when i was amiss,
the tears of joy, the immense bliss
that fell on me when u hugged.
but u dont wanna be near me , do u?

There was a time when my words were pure,
to ur ears there were sure,
i write a lot to let u know.
but u dont really care for words , do u?

"tain" not taint.

Like the reflections of a mirror contained only by the tain. Scrape through it and you will find looking at yourself again. Memories like the reflections have a way of being buried inside only to trickle on days where it wears a little.

There are days in my life where I try not to dither but still the knocks and the tugs, the pangs of pain when i vicariously relive my memories, remember the days that i so wanna forget, recollect ppl i so wanna erase......letting moments cloud my discretion.

Then I fall back as the day goes by when judgement takes over , say to myself I was not alone on this day and you ,who was there in my memories, went thro the exact same thing and the pain is not mine alone but the pain of me reliving the moments with you and you reliving your moments with me.

I know if it hurts it meant a moment worth spent and through it all im glad i still have them with me.

Loser

I ve known this person thro her poems for a long time, somehow i feel her flow of thot resembles mine. This is one of her recent ones:


Seems so utterly wrong, bad, misjudged and inappropriate, doesn't it?
And yet, she has done the very thing, that huge dreadful unforgivable mistake
Yes, I, the one person you thought was smart, strong, sensible and bright
Do you imagine me cringing with guilt and disbelief at myself?
Don't it seem strange that the one thing that could go wrong, did!
Ironic to see me watch the stars of my night sky, die out one by one
Seeing the end approach slowly but surely, with steeley unflickering eyes
Oh how much they laughed when down I fell, crying in disbelief and hurt
How high I'd to rise just to fall so hard and how I watched them laugh
Imagine for one moment, what I knew - something that defied all reason
How could you see the sparks there were and the times that were .... a lifetime
Maybe one can never know the intricate meanings and the listless moments
With reckless passion, endless battles shoved me on to endure with no regrets
Life's turned a leaf over, the last chapter that went unfinished ... a magic that froze unfurling.

Pearl droplets

As we flip through the pages of our rich history, we find that man has thrived on outdoing his contemporaries. He had little time to reason relationships and crushed his peers and foes alike mercilessly. All the chapters in the history book suggest that trust and amity were virtues unknown to him. Yet there seem to pages in that book that have a different shade and set examples for us. Let us browse through them.

The name ‘Karna’ is always spelt ‘friendship’ and ‘trust’. It is common knowledge that Karna and Duryodhana exemplified friendship. But did you know that Duryodhana’s wife Banumathi and Karna too were good friends? Well, yes they were, and this episode revolves around these three.

For a few days during the ‘Ritu kaal’ Karna stayed at Hasthinapura, the Kaurava capital. The ornate palace was a kingdom by itself. It would take days for any human to adore the number of rooms and their embellishments. Yet, Karna and Duryodhana preferred rooms in close proximity with each other. Set on a peaceful blue base, the mattress and headrest all sheathed with tiger skin were fit for a warrior of the cadre of Karna. The ambience of the whole enclosure was amplified with flamboyant paintings, paintings of brave hunts, war and blood. In all this rugged festooning, a cool zephyr maintained its visit to the chamber. The curtains, green in color, laced with gold threads, separated the room from the outside. It would but take another page to elucidate Duryodhana’s abode.

Royal feasts are known not only for their excellence in driving the taste buds to their extremity of pleasure, but also in rendering dizzying sleep to all those who have enjoyed it. Different as he was, Karna couldn’t however enjoy the siesta and was on his bed staring at the non-moving ‘punkah’, trying to visualize the clean blue sky that lay beyond.

Banumathi, feeling as bored, joined Karna in his room. She was as gorgeous as ever. Her pure white skin could hardly get a breath from the outside as jewels covered every inch of it. The Kundalis, with emeralds, armlets and golden choodies, with intricate exhibitions of art on them, were but examples of the exquisite. Her anklets brought pride unto themselves adorning her scented feet. The long pearl necklace and black elegant silk robe were but made for each other.

Karna, glad to have to have somebody to talk to, invited her in. He started narrating the hunting experiences he and Duryodhana had the other day. He followed that with another anecdote and another and soon both of them were engrossed in a deep conversation. Banumathi took her turn too, narrating a hilarious incident and peals of laughter rented the otherwise serene air. Guffaws and conversations alternated and took a travel along with the drifting breeze.

Duryodhana woke from his nap and looked around for his consort. Her gurgling laughter could reach his ears and he followed its scent. As they led to his friend’s room, he walked gracefully towards it and paused briefly near the green curtains.

Banumathi was quick to notice her husband and started to get up. Karna deeply engrossed in the dialogue and oblivious to his friend’s presence, was disturbed by the abrupt gesture of Banumathi. He had more time to dispense with and more to talk about. His hands reached out to stop the leaving Banumathi but caught hold of her pearl necklace instead. It soon gave way to a shower of pearls dropping on the mirror polished floor, the reverberation of which echoed through the palace. It was only then that Karna became aware of his friend’s presence.

Feelings of embarrassment run high in both Karna’s and Banumathi’s minds. Though actions may be white and pure, their interpretation are often stained. Both were worried and feared this same stain from this unprecedented triviality. Seconds ticked by, but seemed like ages. The silence seemed to kill.

The unease ceased as Duryodhana calmly walked and started collecting the strewn pearls. Briefly pausing, he looked up and asked, ”Do you want me to string these for you again, dear?”

Now, Duryodhana trusted his friend and wife more than he trusted himself. If history showed Duryodhana as an example for Adharma, what words would it have for us in its pages…

the end!!!

This is a short essay that my friend and I wrote in our school days:



The door to wisdom is knocked by an inquisitive brain.
Every time he asks a question, his mind races into a maze of amazing intricacies, each waiting to be solved. Material development is achieved by reasoning, in any field. Yet there exist some intangible things in the world about which numerous unanswered questions have been asked. One such aspect is the Eternal Sleep.

The questions on Death increase by octaves as one moves towards it and a perspective of a commoner like us wondering what it is, lies in us trying to answer four simple questions
Why, when, how and what.

Why…
Because it is inevitable. A beginning is well defined only with an end. Life continues deteriorating with time and hence at some point it must come to a standstill. The only thing that is definite for us on this earth, as soon as we are born and also throughout our life is Death itself. Death not only completes life but also breathes meaning into our existence. Life spent on Lust, Wrath, Anguish and turbulence is too fragile to survive, and may be death catalyses the freedom of our soul from vicious shackles of earthly existence.

When…
Statistical life span of man, scales the average time a human manages to spend on this earth. But what death means is the cessation of life. This meaning could imply not to the physical death that one tends to ‘measure’. Death in itself has a different definition. A man could literally die many a time in his single life on earth. We are still in search of the Bard’s ‘courageous man who lives only once’. Probably thoughts of this dimension kill the hope and faith on existence. This implies that precious life may be spent on pensiveness precipitating dejection and boredom. So, drop this question and live your life as He wants you to.

How…
Death finds many ways to divulge its presence. Technology might shift the blame on wars, disasters, or epidemics, but we know they were the fruits of our own seed. Death, definite as it is, shows sympathy only in its modus operandi. People die unaware of the process, or tread on the eternal journey through a path of agony and suffering. If it’s the same death that happens to both, it is obvious to ask the question, “Why the difference?”. Because death is a great leveler. We tally all our accounts and dues before we pack our bags.

What…
When man started out afresh in this large terrain he wondered what would follow the bright sun, the lovely day, enabling him to see the green around him. He was horrified visualizing what was in store for him among the dark horizon and dying sky, but when night arrived, his fear vanished with the sunset, dying with the rising of the moon. He smiled and said,
“If night be so lovely, then lovelier still to be, I expect DEATH…”