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The One...

If only times could change. That eternal wish, passed on through ages. If only things were different. A lost cause... A gamble on meagre wages.
But what about hope...? The heart decries. What of love? That, which we hear, never dies...
You see, knowing is a funny thing. You may belive in lies But seeing through those eyes The truth, you never realise...
It is all out there. All the love, all the hate Just or without cause One's early the other a little late.
Veins pumping green And vines, red wine... And the whole world's a circle Damned and Divine...
In this mist of systems and sounds Comes a call, Stalling chaos and stilling the mind But fate's coy play around me Steals the dance once again...
Recent posts

Memories

The hunger for written words beckons me A look into the deep and soul A dramatic passion grips me A soundless screech in a great hall
Twisting shades of vivid hues Maddening any sense within Wafts of scents of red and blue Circling the world within
Fire lighting them wild sinews Restlessness driving the mind Look no further. The light renews All that's smoke, ashes or sand.
No sun overhead, but all in the see As the wind clears, light shining through. Memories surrounded. Bleak, undying residues.

Saviour

Scouring land and deep sea
In search of a soul within
Abrupt rocks and waves
Washing off that elusive scent

Caught a glimpse of her briefly
Only to be lost again.
Pining and tormenting this heart of mine
Yearns ceaselessly to feel again.

Cogs turning, Life is flowing
Slipping away, but not soon enough.
Come death my way, that gentle breeze...
Or pulling grappling, See her, I must.

Whether time stood still
Or was whisked away from under me
I still see her, reminiscing...
What cruel games fate plays with me.

I swing and hurl blows
All seeming to land their mark
But hitting air.
As things begin to slow...

I hear those whispers.
Those Coy tantrums, Sweet things I loved to hear.
I open my arms in expectation.
Only to be tricked once again, by the air.

Air that I feel I have drawn long enough.
Enough as a slave to its vital touch.
I but wait for that time
When I would have finally drawn enough...

A day in the life...

I know now how it starts. It feels like today is a holiday. Like everyone goes to work to BE shallow, like a ritual. It feels like everything you do seems like a dream. And everything that someone else does seems like an idea. A concept. A concept like what if life was like this. This mundane state of existence where everyone believes that life has a purpose and that till you do not realize it, all you can do is be pushed around by it (life). As I write this, I feel a distinct drain of energy. All images, all masks... Everything that conceals the dark, gray innards, all being lifted. Setting free the rain clouds to hover and unleash their torrents.

It feels like a holiday.  At first a pleasant, lightness of being. Like everything is a dream. Like you are invulnerable. Indestructible. And then you begin to sense the dissatisfaction of eternal satisfaction. Like there is no purpose. There is no reason. There is no life. Just persistence. Like you have aged a million years in a span of …

Rant 3

Labels scare the shit out of me. Since the time we are born we get stamped with labels. Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Isaiah. Higher caste, lower caste. Small town, developed city. And the newer ones that always seem to offend someone or the other. LGBTQ and a few more obscure letters. A dozen different sexualities and a hundred different orientations formed from those sexualities. Feminists, menimists (apparently "menimists" hasn't caught on with the Google dictionary... I bet that will offend someone). What the hell happened​ to just being human? Or is the "man" in human offensive to some pseudo-feminists? Ooh! Another label!We pretend to unite for a cause by causing several more partitions. And what's more? We get offended by the mere sight of the opposing party. (I bet that offends the "neutral" or diplomatic population) We refuse to see and instead relate. Relate to our memories. Relate to our assumptions. Relate to our impulses, obsessions and emotio…

Second chances...

March! March! Marching on!
Trunks, massive and old;
Wither and fall.

Revs and rumbles
Uprooting, trailing splinters.
Yellow machines
Reducing green to cinders.

March! March! Marching on!
Camouflaged steel;
Crushing bony offal.

Venomous microphones,
Hateful cones.
Dividing sheep and
Making violent drones.

March! March! Mar-!
A wash of white!
A sphere of plumes...

Silence... Silence at last!
But wait, look! Alas!
A sky of darkness,
Weeping on morbid dirt.

Silence, silence, silence at last...
A stillness, stiffness;
A petrified past.

And then they chose
To rise again.
A ray of hope, a heart-shaped green.
A start over, with newer friends...

13-04-17

I don’t know what I am going to write… As usual. I am mostly confused whether I should talk to myself or to someone else. I have these urges of spending time with other people. But, at the same time there are barely any people I like spending time with. I over-think things, because that is the only way I can create enough noise to change my mood as soon as things get dark. That, and because I’m compulsively creative (for the same purpose). I am purely reflective. i.e. I am versatile to get into any role a person or situation demands. But this versatility is also damaging to my identity. I suffer from basic problems like not knowing what I like or dislike. I cannot do those, “Quick! Tell me what you want to do right now!” kind of games. While most people lose all layers and dig out their identity after that statement, I go blank. Because I do not want anything. I have no desires in life, nor aim, nor purpose. And hence, no ambition. I can pick up a piece of paper on the street because …