December 11, 2007

On That Dusty Road...

I'm walking on a dusty road,
A lone dusty road.
Don't know where I'm heading,
I just look at the horizon,
Yes, that's where I'm going.

A dancing peepul tree; dances alone,
And marks a spot for me.

I sit there,
Still looking at the horizon.
Ah...what a charming sight...
The royal blue sky,
Touching the rugged hard earth.

I look at the sun with my sleepy eyes,
Through my friend's foliage.

A cool breeze, with some dust,
Brings me the scent of rain,
From somewhere far.

But myself I'm all wet,
Covered in the same,
Soft smell of earth.

The sky is wet,
The road is green,
My friend is having a bath...

I am still getting wet,
Better than before,
I don't run; I decide to stay,
And take a nap.

And like all the cosmos heard me,
The delicate sound of distant thunder,
Of leaves and raindrops hugging,
The elemental smell of the bathing lady,
And the wetness of the rain...
They all put me to sleep.

With an unknown lullaby,
And in the memory of my long forgotten
I rest.

Its quiet.

''Excuse me sir, do you know
where this place is?''
I am startled,
I wake up.

I look at the traveler,
I look at the paper,
Then point towards the horizon,

I'm wet, with sweat but,
My friend laughs at me,
As the dry, hot, blazing wind,
Shakes off the dream from my hair.

And I still am
on that dusty road,
With my naughty friend...

I Did Try...

That night,
The skies were cold and dark,
The air still and damp.


Totality, I felt then.
The night was numb.

That night I cried,
It was hurting all my life,
never knowing,
When it all began.

It just hurts all the same,
Every day.

Every day, every night,
Those bizarrely same walls,
Those fake people.

Every time I go out,
I look at every face,
Searching in them something.

I pretend to smile,
I pretend to fight,
And to try.
But inside I'm still searching.

I touch my forehead to the window glass,
I take a sigh
And everything blurs out.

But that night I did cry,
That once I did try to get away.

I still am numb,
I still am awake.

I touch my own face,
I try to kiss myself,
Try to tell myself it's ok.

I don't know, what I am,
I can do nothing,
I just lie down,

I act, well, pretty well,
I act to live,
And smile,
And to laugh along.

But I'm lonely,
Without refuge.
Maybe that's why I cried.

Yes my Love,
I did cry that night,
Yes, I did try.

December 6, 2007

Scene from the diary...

I wander and wander around,
In this strange land,
Thriving on ancient meals
And the fuel of my burning dreams.

My limbs sway with every step,
My eyes don't want to see further,
Now instead of a sound of symphony,
I hear listless clamor.
My nights are no more special,
The wind too is fitful.

Day by day, part by part,
Frame by frame,
My dream disintegrates and,
The void swallows those lonely,
Parts of my desires.

Slowly the demonic ancient
Is making its way to the
Core of my being,
Corroding all that blocks its path.
And i can do nothing but stare.
I'm dying....
Slowly and surely.

My quest will halt,
Before the end...
And a beast will die,
Before it opens its eye...

For Rest...

A leaf dangles,
In between the currents,
The beam of light pierces through the
minute dome,
And falls apart - scatters around.
Meanwhile a young eagle takes to the skies,
Some stormy skies.

In the bamboo forest,
It is there i like to nap,
The wind winds through
the multitude of beams,
Echoes of their peace.
It crawls under my skin.

The sun too,
Casts a shadowy dance,
of grassy leaves.
It is then when i hear,
An eagle cry.
Its the same as the one,
From the stormy sky.

The spirit inside is of a demon,
A collosal race, forgotten in the mist.
But some things are better off,
Like a charred quartz.
I'm mildly insane...

December 5, 2007

Daisy Dew.

In the dream which i was awake.

My soul seemed to walk the path that would make.

Up to the cemetery gates

where upon a tombstone,

someone stood.

Has watched me through my own eyes.

And just as the chrysanthemum dies,

he fell to the land.

And again many a dark souls came over

and made the dead man bad.

As soon as the moon light fell over the tombstone

dark daises bloomed to decorate his death.

While the living ones sold his fate to the highest bidder.

Thankfully they went heavenwards

'cause hell wasn't ready to take them in,

they looked at the heavens,

and the spotless blue sky was blackened by dark dry clouds.

The daises dried,

dead flesh of fallen angels fell to the ground,

seeking redemption.

With their faces in the dirt.

And thus a few dark souls devour the cosmos

and obliterate everything...

but before this could happen,

a dew drop glistened on the dying daisy's petal

and a new sun peeped into our dying world.

And when i felt it's blaze

i woke up from my pleasant nightmare

to be safe to look at the clear blue sky again.


Take a guess,
Take a wild guess.

A leap for the stars,
An ocean unknown.
Fell from heaven,
Wandering alone.

Hearing a song
From miles afar,
I guess its a maiden
Singing away her scar.

Tears roll down,
Unknowingly I smile.
Chaos uplifted,
My skull - The Pandemonium Fortress.

Time dissolves away,
Fast in the wind.
Take a nap under a tree,
Guessing my sin.

A guess of truth and false,
It has always been,
Drifting along,
To places unseen.

Someone i saw,
I guess a ghost in the fog,
The attic door must've lost a log.

I guess she caresses me out of love,
I guess I love her,
Again I guess, I'll sleep only in her arms,
I'll sleep only in her arms.

I guess it was a mistake,
Or was it an accident?
Was it a nightmare or
Was it a fairy tale?

I guess lonely among words,
I will always be,
A corner of my mind,
That I can never see.

Guessing that I am,
I've always been.
Never knowing,Never knowing,
What there is.

December 4, 2007

One Day...

One day you wake up,
And find yourself amidst an ocean of tears.
Your eyes are sore and your head hurts,
Starts to burst,
Like you haven't slept for a million years.

You open your eyes,
And there's only a picture you find,
A picture that your dream left behind.

Unsurprised, you walk upright,
Grab that picture and live it,
Right through the day.

An amputated dream now rests in your head,
After long waking hours,
Some of it alive and some unborn.

You fail again to see the night sky,
And search for your star.
In the end of it all,
You just wrap your things with your tears,
And tuck them away,
Safely under your pillow...


Vengeance, vengeance,
My sweetest revenge.
Her pain and tears
I have to avenge.

The night was savage,
A mild perfume.
The smell of blood
And ashes exhumed.

Burnt was the village,
People were pillaged.
No one was spared,
So i dared.

There near the totem,
She cried and cried.
And asked for vengeance,
before she died.

Even though I loved her,
After she was no more.
And though I loved her,
Far from before.

As she died,
In my arms,
She found her place,
Among my scars.

From anger and regret,
As i roared,
Vendetta, vendetta,
My fist closed.

I have come for you thus,
My friend, I regret.
But her tears and cries,
I cannot forget.

My heart has twisted,
Twisted in ways you cannot see.
But the way it is,
I cannot let it be.
And with you still alive,
My soul will not be free.

The course of action,
Hence is this alone.
To take your life,
In my truest tone.

Vengeance and Deliverence.

Remember, remember the Fifth of November....
Vendetta, the vengeance. It is the sin a conscience always permits one of, but it is not an easy of tasks. The task that asks of everything of a person...absolutely everything - love, dedication, vigor, strength and determination. But what it is, still remains most basic, it is a feeling. Not the groomed and cultured ones in your pockets, that you roam around with; but the one that is bare and naked. One of the ancients, one of the instincts.
The desire for vengeance everyone has, revenge for all the wrongs did upon one, but not everyone can deliver it.
The primitive it blinds and the genius it dictates. For a man acting only on instinct, he will construct himself into a rampaging kamikaze. A genius on the other hand will deliver it, rather render it like an art, a masterpiece in his life. For this act, all of his being is intimately involved.
The means of deliverance are varied but can be roughly classified into two categories - cunning and brute. Now it differs from man to man to reason and to conclude, but I see that revenge is a very underestimated feeling.
As of today, revenge comes with a price. this is not the consequence that I'm talking about, but the one that occurs early on in the chain of events. i believe that once you have decided to avenge, with complete prudence you accept all the consequences that may come.
My parents taught me that revenge is the business of savages and we as civilized people should avert from it. But then I asked myself that - 'is this aversion from the deliverance of vengeance, arise from the fear of consequences?' and i found it to be 'Yes'. Since from the beginning cowardice does not appeal to me, I am of the opinion that one should always deliver their revenge or not desire of it at all.
So it has become my firm belief that to seek and deliver revenge is the trait that makes us human, and we should not suppress it. Hence I ask you that if we desire revenge but do not deliver it no matter what the reason for it be, are not we lying to ourselves?