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| "Live your Love. You'll love life!" - Dilpreeta |
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Monday, June 2, 2014
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Black
White is all colors
Yet
We call it pure
Black is absence of color
Yet
We call it impure
White reflects everything,
An impenetrable chill.
Black absorbs everything,
An inclusive warmth.
White is blinding
Black is blind
White is marriage
Yet
White is death
Black is protection
Yet
Black is death
Transition from life is peace
Peace is white
Yet
Rituals are black
Transition in life is chaotic
Chaotic is black
Yet
Ceremonies are white
Coal hardened to diamond
Black seasoned to white
Black is the reason for light
Black is the soul of white
Shouldn't white be black?
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Fallen
Bright lights,
Big city.
Meandering streets with faceless entities.
Finding familiarities in nothingness niceties.
Yellow raincoat,
Puddle soaked feet.
Puddles for lakes,
Alleys for express streets.
Dilapidated creativity on graffiti-laden stone walls
Or lesser gods at life’s call
Frayed toothless smiles,
Grease smeared passersby.
Disguised charades,
Or victims of the urban epidemic.
Shredded being,
Patches and threads that hold the cover.
Clinging onto soul piercing shards of shame.
Distraught pleasure in metal crushers heave down car graveyards
Doomsday?
Naah!
Just a pit stop.
For evolutionary transformation,
Reduced to shapeless iron,
Looking to be crafted into an object of desire.
Deliver the earths ye potter,
The iron ye blacksmiths,
The souls ye poets
Dazed mind, hazy vision,
Warm blood trickling temple to chin,
Losing ground.
Natures pain of labour,
For darling creativity.
Churning stomach,
Craving for just once more.
Gashed its arms to lend the world its beauty.
Ah! The high of creation,
Make believe or believable?
Flickering misery, flinching hope,
Fallen.
Blackened nails, infested wounds.
Crooked wry happiness,
Rats gnawing into skin.
Stench of inconsequential
Calling the bright lights in the big city.
Fallen
Friday, September 7, 2012
Cents to a Dollar
Every cent you take
You give back a dollar.
Every moment you fake,
You get closer to reality.
Its all about un-thought unscrupulous mortality.
Deathless.
Breathing life into listless insanity.
What really is sanity?
Is the glass half full?
Or egg half broken?
Am I simply an opportunist?
A characterization of contrived adherence?
or a picture of societal free fall?
You will love me tomorrow,
Do you see me with you today?
Time is not uni-dimensional
But a multidimensional mess.
Walking dark alleys,
Silencing poltergeists.
Or is that scream a longing for silence?
Palpable.
Untouched.
or conveniently forgotten?
Delving into condescending duality,
The spell of frivolous lust and greed.
Knowing men are vents for gods sins
HER unpretentious pleasures
His happiness but a mirage.
HER love for him, a masquerade.
And when was it that you saw beyond the almighty's mask?
HER surreal identity,
His unforgiving hypocrisy,
Both brutal.
I sit by the sidewalk,
Investing cents for a dollar to roll back.
-Jugalbandi @Route04
You give back a dollar.
Every moment you fake,
You get closer to reality.
Its all about un-thought unscrupulous mortality.
Deathless.
Breathing life into listless insanity.
What really is sanity?
Is the glass half full?
Or egg half broken?
Am I simply an opportunist?
A characterization of contrived adherence?
or a picture of societal free fall?
You will love me tomorrow,
Do you see me with you today?
Time is not uni-dimensional
But a multidimensional mess.
Walking dark alleys,
Silencing poltergeists.
Or is that scream a longing for silence?
Palpable.
Untouched.
or conveniently forgotten?
Delving into condescending duality,
The spell of frivolous lust and greed.
Knowing men are vents for gods sins
HER unpretentious pleasures
His happiness but a mirage.
HER love for him, a masquerade.
And when was it that you saw beyond the almighty's mask?
HER surreal identity,
His unforgiving hypocrisy,
Both brutal.
I sit by the sidewalk,
Investing cents for a dollar to roll back.
-Jugalbandi @Route04
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Art & Science of Deception
Elementary, my dear Watson!
And that’s what the world remembers.
A line that never existed.
The untruth that lives each day and dies.
We see what we want to.
We hear what we desire.
We believe an illusion.
And when the illusion breaks,
Say that the world conspires?
Deception is a strange game.
It relays a vicious cycle.
It plays on the weakest link,
Trust in another,
Until it feeds into your self
The beginning is where it ends.
What you give is what you earn.
What you get is,
Neither fate,
Nor out of turn.
Tied to strings,
Self-professed, oh so detached!
Holding onto the last straw,
That sinks.
Instead,
Believe in oneness and survive.
Definitions and boundaries,
Amorphous principles,
Open to scrutiny and sub-judice.
Collective intelligence,
Limiting individuality,
Pre-ordained paths to happiness.
Crafted concepts of social being.
Subterfuge of who we are
And perception.
Striving for acceptance,
Moving to religion.
Restricting living,
To sheer existence.
One amongst the plenteous stages of evolution
Is self –admission
to ravenous narcissism and intemperance.
Arguably,
love of self is ‘the’ driving force
Confronted with a tirade of continuous dissent.
All are born with colored eyes
With colored love and a colored mind.
with the ongoing struggle to demystify
with a challenge to revive
a sonnet called life.
And that’s what the world remembers.
A line that never existed.
The untruth that lives each day and dies.
We see what we want to.
We hear what we desire.
We believe an illusion.
And when the illusion breaks,
Say that the world conspires?
Deception is a strange game.
It relays a vicious cycle.
It plays on the weakest link,
Trust in another,
Until it feeds into your self
The beginning is where it ends.
What you give is what you earn.
What you get is,
Neither fate,
Nor out of turn.
Tied to strings,
Self-professed, oh so detached!
Holding onto the last straw,
That sinks.
Instead,
Believe in oneness and survive.
Definitions and boundaries,
Amorphous principles,
Open to scrutiny and sub-judice.
Collective intelligence,
Limiting individuality,
Pre-ordained paths to happiness.
Crafted concepts of social being.
Subterfuge of who we are
And perception.
Striving for acceptance,
Moving to religion.
Restricting living,
To sheer existence.
One amongst the plenteous stages of evolution
Is self –admission
to ravenous narcissism and intemperance.
Arguably,
love of self is ‘the’ driving force
Confronted with a tirade of continuous dissent.
All are born with colored eyes
With colored love and a colored mind.
with the ongoing struggle to demystify
with a challenge to revive
a sonnet called life.
Monday, May 26, 2008
So Far...
So Far..
It has been easy so far,
The truth that dwelled in our lives
Was buried and scarred
As I re-visit the essence and drive
I feel compelled to correct the standards to survive
To resurrect the dying aptitude in moral conviction
to improve in small measures
to make doable resolutions
A process of self help
A guide to what I would like to be known as best
The things I would like to do
The things that I would find time to pursue
The approach is not a whirlwind solution
But the implementation of an idiom I heard at kindergarten
Rome was not built in a day
Simple thoughts put into practice through simpler actions
Will comprise a fruitful day
An inner truth we aspire for
Is to realize our ambitions
In spheres we care for
These are:
Our definitions
Our descriptions
Our search for meaning of life
In all we do in a day’s cycle
Over an extended period of time
What stands out is the lack of growth in monotonous routine tasks
That we train our heart and mind to execute in factions of time
The vicious cycle is not never-ending, once identified
There is indeed an attachment to the mundaneness of our lives
Severing of the everyday ties
Comfort with ambiguity is rarely high
Attempting to change though healthy, is a courageous try
Moreover, can you change what you have known of yourself all your breathing life
A one shot claim is at best an outburst, an outcry,
The mechanics to change are often not hostile
The transition is through
improvements in small measures and doable resolutions
each day, everyday of our lives
It has been easy so far,
The truth that dwelled in our lives
Was buried and scarred
As I re-visit the essence and drive
I feel compelled to correct the standards to survive
To resurrect the dying aptitude in moral conviction
to improve in small measures
to make doable resolutions
A process of self help
A guide to what I would like to be known as best
The things I would like to do
The things that I would find time to pursue
The approach is not a whirlwind solution
But the implementation of an idiom I heard at kindergarten
Rome was not built in a day
Simple thoughts put into practice through simpler actions
Will comprise a fruitful day
An inner truth we aspire for
Is to realize our ambitions
In spheres we care for
These are:
Our definitions
Our descriptions
Our search for meaning of life
In all we do in a day’s cycle
Over an extended period of time
What stands out is the lack of growth in monotonous routine tasks
That we train our heart and mind to execute in factions of time
The vicious cycle is not never-ending, once identified
There is indeed an attachment to the mundaneness of our lives
Severing of the everyday ties
Comfort with ambiguity is rarely high
Attempting to change though healthy, is a courageous try
Moreover, can you change what you have known of yourself all your breathing life
A one shot claim is at best an outburst, an outcry,
The mechanics to change are often not hostile
The transition is through
improvements in small measures and doable resolutions
each day, everyday of our lives
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Of The Lesser Gods
Children borne of the lesser gods
condemned to a life of disdain
where gurgling laughter
and innocence lose their meaning
early years are reserved for menial training.
Corrupted minds and corrupted hearts
the milieu tearing their childhood apart.
a roving eye,
an outstretched arm
seeking comfort from another's alms.
Exposed to the ways of the world
nobody to tell them, right from wrong.
The only lesson they learn
that molds them at their tender age
is to survive, just another day.
Yet these children, borne of the lesser gods
instinctively, make choices,
choices of which normal childhood is made of.
They play in mud,
cry in pain
build castles of clay
and string empty cans as trains.
They too admire their reflection in the mirror,
impersonating a superstar
gather the rags to innovate them as dresses
for junk, they label them baubles and trinkets.
They too seek others of their age
uncannily,their games resemble games of those born to normal personage.
When one amongst the children, borne of the lesser gods
begins to thrive and shine
when one amongst them, begin to more than just survive
A challenge to those living lives of normalcy
One of whom, points them towards their shrine of abject misery and dependency
borne of the lesser gods, you forever will be.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Memoirs
The days of self definition,
Those days of freedom.
Living each day of our lives,
With the few, restricted choices at our discretion.
The days of casual conversations,
Intermittent, with spurts of laughter.
Those days of flirtatious admiration.
Novelty, was in all we did.
First-timer adrenaline rushes.
Gasping in horror over breath analyzers,
Post trouble-making and it's ramifications.
In love with multiple people, simultaneously,
Pouring out sighs of adulation.
Only if we could put together someone, that satiated our fascination.
The stolen askew glance to the one we desire, to call sweetheart,
Exchanging polite conversation with their best cohort.
Coffee-dates translating into endless gossip sessions,
Extrapolating multifarious possibilities one dreamed of.
Short-skirts and pleat-less trousers.
Hair styled to perfection.
A let loose, tie.
An air of confidence.
An expression, of the wannabe millionaire.
Cans of coke,
Jargon about the dame and ol’ bloke.
Slangs of generation next,
Rolling of r’s,
Struggling between British and American accents.
Alas! Contemporary hip-hop lip sync, an aspiration.
The coolest gig-
Traditional waltzing in dim lighting with a demure babe.
Driving to hangout joints with blaring tape.
Rally cars, with metallic fenders and modification.
Swatch to flaunt and mobile rescue operations.
Going dutch on fine-dining,
To afford the delectable chocolate cake.
Setting valentine’s as target to get oneself a date.
Movie romances that transported one to dream locations.
Last minute assignments!
What’s with the examinations?
Burning of the midnight candle to get a first glimpse at the syllabus in question.
Scanning the question paper for the eureka moment,
In hope to see something that trigger's our imagination,
Clenching the pen between our teeth,
With our fingers in circular motion,
In deep thought of falling grades,
Anxiety of passing and the commotion within.
Convinced we’d have cracked the paper,
Given just another day of preparation.
So tutorials will be it, parents forceful assertion.
The passport to your future millions, their declaration.
Yeah right! Like group studies were helpful!
So will be yet another commercialized educational institution.
With the best of wardrobe on display,
The best bet to break away from the school uniform, oh so mundane.
To flaunt the recent purchase of imported fragrances,
Wear streaked, treated-hair in any form,
To fall in place or apart, trained to conform.
Torn-denims, anti-fits, low-waists called the shots in the fashion hour
Tees that showcased the arduous work done.
Brief, flashes of brand endorsements, where one hadn't gone.
Basketball in hand, heading for a smoke on the court.
Equipped with all the accouterments, to be on the ground.
Football was incidental, cared for the crowd.
The high fives on meeting,
Hugs echoing fraternity,
Friends ganging-up for the sneak peek of F-TV,
To ogle at the damsels walk the ramp in bikinis.
Discussion about the hottie round the bend,
A new entrant to the colony.
Geeks don’t go far was the mantra,
Have fun, the war-cry
Years from the day of school farewell,
Half a dozen batches or more apart from that day of graduation.
The thread that ties,
The days of self definition,
Those days of freedom,
Is living our life to the fullest,
With the few, restricted choices, at our discretion
Those days of freedom.
Living each day of our lives,
With the few, restricted choices at our discretion.
The days of casual conversations,
Intermittent, with spurts of laughter.
Those days of flirtatious admiration.
Novelty, was in all we did.
First-timer adrenaline rushes.
Gasping in horror over breath analyzers,
Post trouble-making and it's ramifications.
In love with multiple people, simultaneously,
Pouring out sighs of adulation.
Only if we could put together someone, that satiated our fascination.
The stolen askew glance to the one we desire, to call sweetheart,
Exchanging polite conversation with their best cohort.
Coffee-dates translating into endless gossip sessions,
Extrapolating multifarious possibilities one dreamed of.
Short-skirts and pleat-less trousers.
Hair styled to perfection.
A let loose, tie.
An air of confidence.
An expression, of the wannabe millionaire.
Cans of coke,
Jargon about the dame and ol’ bloke.
Slangs of generation next,
Rolling of r’s,
Struggling between British and American accents.
Alas! Contemporary hip-hop lip sync, an aspiration.
The coolest gig-
Traditional waltzing in dim lighting with a demure babe.
Driving to hangout joints with blaring tape.
Rally cars, with metallic fenders and modification.
Swatch to flaunt and mobile rescue operations.
Going dutch on fine-dining,
To afford the delectable chocolate cake.
Setting valentine’s as target to get oneself a date.
Movie romances that transported one to dream locations.
Last minute assignments!
What’s with the examinations?
Burning of the midnight candle to get a first glimpse at the syllabus in question.
Scanning the question paper for the eureka moment,
In hope to see something that trigger's our imagination,
Clenching the pen between our teeth,
With our fingers in circular motion,
In deep thought of falling grades,
Anxiety of passing and the commotion within.
Convinced we’d have cracked the paper,
Given just another day of preparation.
So tutorials will be it, parents forceful assertion.
The passport to your future millions, their declaration.
Yeah right! Like group studies were helpful!
So will be yet another commercialized educational institution.
With the best of wardrobe on display,
The best bet to break away from the school uniform, oh so mundane.
To flaunt the recent purchase of imported fragrances,
Wear streaked, treated-hair in any form,
To fall in place or apart, trained to conform.
Torn-denims, anti-fits, low-waists called the shots in the fashion hour
Tees that showcased the arduous work done.
Brief, flashes of brand endorsements, where one hadn't gone.
Basketball in hand, heading for a smoke on the court.
Equipped with all the accouterments, to be on the ground.
Football was incidental, cared for the crowd.
The high fives on meeting,
Hugs echoing fraternity,
Friends ganging-up for the sneak peek of F-TV,
To ogle at the damsels walk the ramp in bikinis.
Discussion about the hottie round the bend,
A new entrant to the colony.
Geeks don’t go far was the mantra,
Have fun, the war-cry
Years from the day of school farewell,
Half a dozen batches or more apart from that day of graduation.
The thread that ties,
The days of self definition,
Those days of freedom,
Is living our life to the fullest,
With the few, restricted choices, at our discretion
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Back to Basics
Fancy a day in your life
You had no inhibitions
No one knew who you are
No one knew who you are meant to be
Broke like an old fake coin
Walking the streets at midnight
Rolling back tears
Wishing away your fears
With nothing to loose
With nothing to hide
A glum playful you
like when you were seven
pelting cobbles, knocking empty cans on the way
making deranged imitations of passers by
staring at your fingers as they take imaginary shapes
giving away your last dime to keep a poor child’s benign smile
unpaid bills, strewn clothes,
an empty house and an emptier self- unassured
How you wish to unlock the door to “your life”
And now you question me
Whose fancy, could this possibly be?
You wish away others expectations of you
When the only person left to live for is- oneself
Reach out for that dumped, cob webbed haversack
Throw in some clothes
And a pair of keds to match your stride
Hitch and ride your way
Striving for menial work to earn your daily bread
Small talk with strangers
No place to stay
Unabashed about, seeking out
Admittedly you smile more often than you cry
Perhaps more often than you ever did in you past way of life
Each gesture of generosity, a pleasant surprise
An adventure story, each day to summarize
A comfort with uncertainty
A calm, composed centre of locus
A strength to see the world through the most beautiful eyes
Clutter seems to vanish, vanity dies
Only if we could undertake this journey
Travel back to basics of our lives
A role play, with no restraint
Unsurpassed anonymity by our side
We will fancy each day- “every day” of your lives
You had no inhibitions
No one knew who you are
No one knew who you are meant to be
Broke like an old fake coin
Walking the streets at midnight
Rolling back tears
Wishing away your fears
With nothing to loose
With nothing to hide
A glum playful you
like when you were seven
pelting cobbles, knocking empty cans on the way
making deranged imitations of passers by
staring at your fingers as they take imaginary shapes
giving away your last dime to keep a poor child’s benign smile
unpaid bills, strewn clothes,
an empty house and an emptier self- unassured
How you wish to unlock the door to “your life”
And now you question me
Whose fancy, could this possibly be?
You wish away others expectations of you
When the only person left to live for is- oneself
Reach out for that dumped, cob webbed haversack
Throw in some clothes
And a pair of keds to match your stride
Hitch and ride your way
Striving for menial work to earn your daily bread
Small talk with strangers
No place to stay
Unabashed about, seeking out
Admittedly you smile more often than you cry
Perhaps more often than you ever did in you past way of life
Each gesture of generosity, a pleasant surprise
An adventure story, each day to summarize
A comfort with uncertainty
A calm, composed centre of locus
A strength to see the world through the most beautiful eyes
Clutter seems to vanish, vanity dies
Only if we could undertake this journey
Travel back to basics of our lives
A role play, with no restraint
Unsurpassed anonymity by our side
We will fancy each day- “every day” of your lives
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Biblical Seven Sins of Life
In the shadow of grey
One toils with profligacy
Let's introduce ourselves to the dark side today.
Step back and push common perception aside
I am going to walk you through the biblical seven sins of our lives.
Pride and vanity antithesis of humility
In the garb of ‘I’ and healthy competition
Caught up in the web of comparison
Feeding the gratification of dignity
Proud of what one is and whom one has.
Avarice and greed contradicts generosity
Cloaked in want for one’s fair share and a little bit more.
Whose yardstick do we use to define a true altruist
Can one give more than what one seeks ?
Can one manage expectations when they peak?
Envy is everything love is not
Disguised and huddled in the hearts of all
Impatience destroys the love inside
Too much of love is the shard of envy that pierce’s one through
Numb and immobile, selfless love.
Wrath and anger destroy the acts of kindness
Flaw of the human mind
It remembers what it listens to last
A look, a touch, a word so harsh
Revoke at will, one cant.
Lust to placate sensuality,
Desire insatiable, for power, money and lovemaking ruthlessly
Pleasure of uncontrollable adrenaline rush
Stifling for the lack of sobriety
Overwhelmed by opportunities of extravagant lifestyle
Gluttony pushes the limits of temperance
Hankering for debauchery, regalement and social vibrance
Certitude in morality and responsibility , an extinguishing flame.
Appetite to challenge faith
A path easier than forbearance
Sloth is effacing the zeal
Blighting zest for life and the spiritual inside
A sense of wasted-ness,
Stupor of mind and thought
Accepting without questioning, subscribing to existing schools of thought
In the shadow of grey
Toiling with profligacy
Living with the dark side today
Common perception pushed aside
The biblical seven sins of our lives.
One toils with profligacy
Let's introduce ourselves to the dark side today.
Step back and push common perception aside
I am going to walk you through the biblical seven sins of our lives.
Pride and vanity antithesis of humility
In the garb of ‘I’ and healthy competition
Caught up in the web of comparison
Feeding the gratification of dignity
Proud of what one is and whom one has.
Avarice and greed contradicts generosity
Cloaked in want for one’s fair share and a little bit more.
Whose yardstick do we use to define a true altruist
Can one give more than what one seeks ?
Can one manage expectations when they peak?
Envy is everything love is not
Disguised and huddled in the hearts of all
Impatience destroys the love inside
Too much of love is the shard of envy that pierce’s one through
Numb and immobile, selfless love.
Wrath and anger destroy the acts of kindness
Flaw of the human mind
It remembers what it listens to last
A look, a touch, a word so harsh
Revoke at will, one cant.
Lust to placate sensuality,
Desire insatiable, for power, money and lovemaking ruthlessly
Pleasure of uncontrollable adrenaline rush
Stifling for the lack of sobriety
Overwhelmed by opportunities of extravagant lifestyle
Gluttony pushes the limits of temperance
Hankering for debauchery, regalement and social vibrance
Certitude in morality and responsibility , an extinguishing flame.
Appetite to challenge faith
A path easier than forbearance
Sloth is effacing the zeal
Blighting zest for life and the spiritual inside
A sense of wasted-ness,
Stupor of mind and thought
Accepting without questioning, subscribing to existing schools of thought
In the shadow of grey
Toiling with profligacy
Living with the dark side today
Common perception pushed aside
The biblical seven sins of our lives.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Spiteful Calm
Am I the same?
Do u picture me any other way?
Is it wry? Are you dismayed?
I pretend to peak in confidence
And you think it is high
It is nothing more than a display
No one knows who I am, not even I.
I am not the one you believed in
Am I shattering your belief?
I am shattering mine.
I know I am not who I wanted to be
Far from love and far from life of others
Untouched by complexities
May be that’s all that I care for
Are those beliefs mine?
My verdict against yours
My truth against love and life
It is not for fear of pain or that I foresee life as dim
It is all those anxieties one faces when there is hope and folklore
All things I’d care for and all those moments I’d deny
I’d see the time skim through me and realize that it leaves us all bare
To show the face of nostalgia is to bare your face to the world
And as it fades colors, blurs one’s opinions
Surfaces the unknown
We are to witness this exposure,
We are born to experience
This life in its verve and dynamism
all that it brings to the limelight
Random thoughts and random patterns
Leaving us vulnerable to the inevitable
After a storm calm will reside.
Do u picture me any other way?
Is it wry? Are you dismayed?
I pretend to peak in confidence
And you think it is high
It is nothing more than a display
No one knows who I am, not even I.
I am not the one you believed in
Am I shattering your belief?
I am shattering mine.
I know I am not who I wanted to be
Far from love and far from life of others
Untouched by complexities
May be that’s all that I care for
Are those beliefs mine?
My verdict against yours
My truth against love and life
It is not for fear of pain or that I foresee life as dim
It is all those anxieties one faces when there is hope and folklore
All things I’d care for and all those moments I’d deny
I’d see the time skim through me and realize that it leaves us all bare
To show the face of nostalgia is to bare your face to the world
And as it fades colors, blurs one’s opinions
Surfaces the unknown
We are to witness this exposure,
We are born to experience
This life in its verve and dynamism
all that it brings to the limelight
Random thoughts and random patterns
Leaving us vulnerable to the inevitable
After a storm calm will reside.
Corrosion
A vial of corrosive fell on the years of fear
further it devastated what was so dear
it was ironical,
it was something that should have destroyed
it instead brought insight.
it did not make you possessive
it did not make you want
it instead caused a realization
that forever it is indeed yours.
now it is in your hands
your skillful creation
the mould is your mind
define it your way to best fill the crevice.
A tomb in which it shall be enshrined
you run your fingers through to smoothen the rough edges
the surface completely distorted
Very little that can be settled
an issue over which reasons are disputed.
reading those depressions that are made
the probability of future being narrower than present fade
The light at the end of the tunnel
the water under the bridge
a lot is left to be said
What has once been formed,
what has once gone
seldom will you be able to reform
it seems the worst to have ever happened
death would strike
calamity aint a far cry
moving on further
there is demise of end of hope
instead, desire surprise
the bottle of corrosive is the device
use it with discretion
practiced the wise
the treasure under the cloudy skies and blistering heat
a walk in the rain, wetting your soul,
brimming ostentatiously a bottle of belief.
further it devastated what was so dear
it was ironical,
it was something that should have destroyed
it instead brought insight.
it did not make you possessive
it did not make you want
it instead caused a realization
that forever it is indeed yours.
now it is in your hands
your skillful creation
the mould is your mind
define it your way to best fill the crevice.
A tomb in which it shall be enshrined
you run your fingers through to smoothen the rough edges
the surface completely distorted
Very little that can be settled
an issue over which reasons are disputed.
reading those depressions that are made
the probability of future being narrower than present fade
The light at the end of the tunnel
the water under the bridge
a lot is left to be said
What has once been formed,
what has once gone
seldom will you be able to reform
it seems the worst to have ever happened
death would strike
calamity aint a far cry
moving on further
there is demise of end of hope
instead, desire surprise
the bottle of corrosive is the device
use it with discretion
practiced the wise
the treasure under the cloudy skies and blistering heat
a walk in the rain, wetting your soul,
brimming ostentatiously a bottle of belief.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Stagnation
I feel dull
I feel cluttered
I feel a lack of orientation
In a gamut of nothingness that occupies my mind
Inability to think
Inability to react
Lost in a world of slack
When one can stare at empty walls for hours
And every movement is rushed
Every word plays in slow motion
And a complete lack of comprehension
The world makes me dizzy
I want to stay by my side
Enjoy the feeling of being nothing
Let inconsequential presence stay
A rejected thought
A dejected life
On the border of distress and grief I reside
Energy is negative
Words are few
The mind numbed in vacuum
Like a black hole everything seems to sink
Everything collapses, in the force so intense
An expression of blankness
To hide the turmoil within.
I feel cluttered
I feel a lack of orientation
In a gamut of nothingness that occupies my mind
Inability to think
Inability to react
Lost in a world of slack
When one can stare at empty walls for hours
And every movement is rushed
Every word plays in slow motion
And a complete lack of comprehension
The world makes me dizzy
I want to stay by my side
Enjoy the feeling of being nothing
Let inconsequential presence stay
A rejected thought
A dejected life
On the border of distress and grief I reside
Energy is negative
Words are few
The mind numbed in vacuum
Like a black hole everything seems to sink
Everything collapses, in the force so intense
An expression of blankness
To hide the turmoil within.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Who is Self-assured?
Who is self assured?
The man who bore his family until he turned 64?
Today he relies more on emotional needs,
More than ever before
Self sufficient he always was
The bread winner of the family
The character he had enacted for majority of his life ended
A tragedy
Who is self assured?
The young professional who carries the burden of his success?
He drives too hard, he drives too fast
Without stopping to think what the true motivation is
Self-satisfied in one sphere of life
But for one failure
He cannot meet it in the eye
Who is self-assured?
The owner of gold mines?
Many a sleepless nights he lives
Fraught with danger to loose a dime
Too much at stake, too much of risk.
A nervous wreck-under the spell of misfortune or ill-fate.
Who is self-assured?
The maverick, who lives his nomadic life?
A self willed way of living
Untouched by worries, concern or strife
Unsettled he is over attachments and reciprocation of ties.
Who is self-assured?
The hand that rocks the cradle?
Or
The new born with a benign smile?
Who is self-assured, but the man deprived of self?
Who is self-assured, but the man living the only truth of life?
Who is self-assured, until one meets the mastermind?
The man who bore his family until he turned 64?
Today he relies more on emotional needs,
More than ever before
Self sufficient he always was
The bread winner of the family
The character he had enacted for majority of his life ended
A tragedy
Who is self assured?
The young professional who carries the burden of his success?
He drives too hard, he drives too fast
Without stopping to think what the true motivation is
Self-satisfied in one sphere of life
But for one failure
He cannot meet it in the eye
Who is self-assured?
The owner of gold mines?
Many a sleepless nights he lives
Fraught with danger to loose a dime
Too much at stake, too much of risk.
A nervous wreck-under the spell of misfortune or ill-fate.
Who is self-assured?
The maverick, who lives his nomadic life?
A self willed way of living
Untouched by worries, concern or strife
Unsettled he is over attachments and reciprocation of ties.
Who is self-assured?
The hand that rocks the cradle?
Or
The new born with a benign smile?
Who is self-assured, but the man deprived of self?
Who is self-assured, but the man living the only truth of life?
Who is self-assured, until one meets the mastermind?
Hunger to Strive
Feed me, my hungry soul
give me more.
Greed and lust are on what I survive.
they are the instincts that make me thrive.
Feed me, that's what I live for
with mental deprivation, I'd die.
I search deeper, than what meets the naked eye,
what a loon to complicate one's own life.
Feed me, my emotional intensity
channelize your jealousy,
instead of trying to imitate me.
Moral courage and humaneness are not born out of charity,
but of strength of character to seek out when you need.
Feed me, balance the rationale with creativity
give me more.
Greed and lust are on what I survive.
they are the instincts that make me thrive.
Feed me, that's what I live for
with mental deprivation, I'd die.
I search deeper, than what meets the naked eye,
what a loon to complicate one's own life.
Feed me, my emotional intensity
channelize your jealousy,
instead of trying to imitate me.
Moral courage and humaneness are not born out of charity,
but of strength of character to seek out when you need.
Feed me, balance the rationale with creativity
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Proverbial Truth
It was not so long back,
One stopped to wonder why
It never struck us that, beauty is ephemeral
We all are a construct of the essential 5 elements, that give us life
And yet as we live,
We don’t live to meet the ultimate truth
For the life in us makes the world the way it is,
The ephemeral truth
While this may sound dark
Not befitting an occasion, I write to you on
What really, I’d like to convey is,
There’s nothing more beautiful, than the creation of god
Maybe this is reason sufficient,
to appreciate ourselves
and each other, for who we are
Although one may not be around too long
We cannot deny the indelible impressions
and their glory that carries on
One’s reflection is the best critique
only if we pause to think why
The answer is neither too superficial,
nor so deeply embedded to escape one’s eye
We’ve seen ourselves,
and we’ve seen ourselves through the world’s perception
at the end of the day
what u take to bed is nothing more than, a breath of air
with each day an individual grows
-each moment one shares
with each memory one becomes invincible
carving one’s niche - waddles through the world- a powerful script- a gamut of characters - a dramatic play
One stopped to wonder why
It never struck us that, beauty is ephemeral
We all are a construct of the essential 5 elements, that give us life
And yet as we live,
We don’t live to meet the ultimate truth
For the life in us makes the world the way it is,
The ephemeral truth
While this may sound dark
Not befitting an occasion, I write to you on
What really, I’d like to convey is,
There’s nothing more beautiful, than the creation of god
Maybe this is reason sufficient,
to appreciate ourselves
and each other, for who we are
Although one may not be around too long
We cannot deny the indelible impressions
and their glory that carries on
One’s reflection is the best critique
only if we pause to think why
The answer is neither too superficial,
nor so deeply embedded to escape one’s eye
We’ve seen ourselves,
and we’ve seen ourselves through the world’s perception
at the end of the day
what u take to bed is nothing more than, a breath of air
with each day an individual grows
-each moment one shares
with each memory one becomes invincible
carving one’s niche - waddles through the world- a powerful script- a gamut of characters - a dramatic play
Life's come a full circle
Life’s coming a full circle
Or is it a change of season
Metamorphosis and transformation
Nothing is perpetual
Change is permanent
we are but temporal
Our instincts stimulated by reactions
Reaction of one,
to forces both internal and external
a day spent in glum followed with one appreciating the simplest pleasures
life’s coming a full circle
or is it about taking each day as it comes
Philosophies and literature
Driving inspiration
Value system is certain, our behavior to them sporadically charged
Our beliefs rooted in utopia
Utopia complimented by practicality
Building nuances of individualism
Life's come a full circle
Or is it a change of season
Metamorphosis and transformation
Nothing is perpetual
Change is permanent
we are but temporal
Our instincts stimulated by reactions
Reaction of one,
to forces both internal and external
a day spent in glum followed with one appreciating the simplest pleasures
life’s coming a full circle
or is it about taking each day as it comes
Philosophies and literature
Driving inspiration
Value system is certain, our behavior to them sporadically charged
Our beliefs rooted in utopia
Utopia complimented by practicality
Building nuances of individualism
Life's come a full circle
The Burial of Guilt
The death of guilt is slow and unique
It poisons the soul,
for having been privy to a vice
A hollow tunnel of darkness within, that resides
A vacuum that one holds inside
Do we realize the teaching that sinning is sinister in the face of opportunity?
Are we testing the strength of our will?
Or the strength of a learning we never did internalize
Circumstance as an alibi – does it suffice?
Perhaps it superficially clears the haze
A haze that descended on the ideology to which we subscribe.
The archfiend, dawns the garb of our hearts to which we comply
The appeal to the darker side
To which our personage we sacrifice
The death of guilt is elusive and impalpable
When in infancy we nurture it with tender love and care
As it matures, it begins to dwindle as we tread on our way
The death of guilt is unabashed and unapologetic
As it begins to wane
Atrophying what one was
In the event of death of guilt
a vivacious cycle of veniality emanates to which one once again falls prey
It poisons the soul,
for having been privy to a vice
A hollow tunnel of darkness within, that resides
A vacuum that one holds inside
Do we realize the teaching that sinning is sinister in the face of opportunity?
Are we testing the strength of our will?
Or the strength of a learning we never did internalize
Circumstance as an alibi – does it suffice?
Perhaps it superficially clears the haze
A haze that descended on the ideology to which we subscribe.
The archfiend, dawns the garb of our hearts to which we comply
The appeal to the darker side
To which our personage we sacrifice
The death of guilt is elusive and impalpable
When in infancy we nurture it with tender love and care
As it matures, it begins to dwindle as we tread on our way
The death of guilt is unabashed and unapologetic
As it begins to wane
Atrophying what one was
In the event of death of guilt
a vivacious cycle of veniality emanates to which one once again falls prey
Monday, April 2, 2007
Another One Bites The Dust
Another one bites the dust…
If blogging is a marathon, I am taking baby steps. After struggling with the privacy issue I have come to terms with blogging. It was the best option for self-motivation, and very timely as well. As I graduate from ISB, there is much learning in the offing. Although, this could have been an ideal ground to cherish the campus memories but it is never too late. Each time nostalgia consumes the better of me I will have some prose posted that I hope will do justice. I am hoping that my rendezvous with this forum will enable me to explore my world- Emblematic-Idiosyncrasies
If blogging is a marathon, I am taking baby steps. After struggling with the privacy issue I have come to terms with blogging. It was the best option for self-motivation, and very timely as well. As I graduate from ISB, there is much learning in the offing. Although, this could have been an ideal ground to cherish the campus memories but it is never too late. Each time nostalgia consumes the better of me I will have some prose posted that I hope will do justice. I am hoping that my rendezvous with this forum will enable me to explore my world- Emblematic-Idiosyncrasies
She Will Forever Be...
When all is fair and good,
Dancing in the rain,
In the times of innocence
What happens when vice prevails?
Patriarchal it is,
Social norms apply,
Ill fated about her feminist side.
Degraded. Fallen, Consumed within.
She shares little,
It gnaws at her skin.
It is not all, that she states.
In her mind, recalling the unfortunate relays.
She paces in her graces,
Observing the amiability each day.
The gloom of shadows,
Keeping up with prejudices.
She has her moments,
Moments that don’t rectify the wrongs.
Taking the pace off her life,
She slows down, disintegrates inside.
It is contrived, defeats her faith.
Heart and soul under a veil,
Love borne off her chaste stance.
The womb of love and forgiveness has known no another.
In her facial lines, stems expression.
Words belie and a world of implicit pervades.
The rise of phoenix is her strength.
No one man injustice will conquer her land.
It is the call of curtain raiser,
Privy to her centre stage.
Tomorrow will be no different.
Innumerable follies, all pervasive.
Staring in her face as strangers once disgraced.
The loss is no more hers.
She has grown within.
Not regretting a day,
For having bent backwards
For not having tried to break away.
Trampled and tormented,
Moral courage she never deceives.
Laughs with you and humors idiosyncrasies.
Does not die a secret,
Living the life of a mystery.
The epitaph reads,
She is a woman to me, She is a woman and will forever be.
Dancing in the rain,
In the times of innocence
What happens when vice prevails?
Patriarchal it is,
Social norms apply,
Ill fated about her feminist side.
Degraded. Fallen, Consumed within.
She shares little,
It gnaws at her skin.
It is not all, that she states.
In her mind, recalling the unfortunate relays.
She paces in her graces,
Observing the amiability each day.
The gloom of shadows,
Keeping up with prejudices.
She has her moments,
Moments that don’t rectify the wrongs.
Taking the pace off her life,
She slows down, disintegrates inside.
It is contrived, defeats her faith.
Heart and soul under a veil,
Love borne off her chaste stance.
The womb of love and forgiveness has known no another.
In her facial lines, stems expression.
Words belie and a world of implicit pervades.
The rise of phoenix is her strength.
No one man injustice will conquer her land.
It is the call of curtain raiser,
Privy to her centre stage.
Tomorrow will be no different.
Innumerable follies, all pervasive.
Staring in her face as strangers once disgraced.
The loss is no more hers.
She has grown within.
Not regretting a day,
For having bent backwards
For not having tried to break away.
Trampled and tormented,
Moral courage she never deceives.
Laughs with you and humors idiosyncrasies.
Does not die a secret,
Living the life of a mystery.
The epitaph reads,
She is a woman to me, She is a woman and will forever be.
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