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

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.

An Apocryphal Song

Part I

An apocryphal love song
A terrible day
Post a worn out storm
What seems actual
Is but a vicissitude of life
Urging the inner strength- to live on
In pangs of lust
In throes of futile hunger
Candor buried under a nebulous cloud
A constant aching monologue
Trepidation over an apocryphal love song

Part II

To my love, I address this piece, my part of the monologue.


An apocryphal love song
A song i sing to you
An apocryphal love song
A song I bring to you
Today, under this moon and starlit sky
I forsake my miseries,
in your arms, I reside
When I loose all my charms
and the hay days are bygone
Will you heed my eyes?
or will you lead me into lies?
Will the love song of our lives survive ?
or the dream I dream die?

To my love, he said, I address this piece.

An apocryphal love song
A song that you sing to me.
An apocryphal love song
A song that you bring to me.
You walk into my arms with a warmth in your smile
it lights up my life like the moon and stars in the sky
with each day of your life you give to me
admittedly, the charm in you, begins to die
No more do I bring you flowers and wine
but true to my word
you have the sincerest eyes
My heart aches to see yet another moment go by of our lives
"together" our love will survive

A "love" song you sing to me
for the "love" you bring to me
believe in the words I speak
the flame of our love will never die.

PHENOMENAL WOMAN

This is my favourite piece- and the first amongsts the posts that I have not written


Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size
But when I start to tell them
They think I'm telling lies.
I say
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips
The stride of my steps
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And to a man
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees
Then they swarm around me
A hive of honey bees.
I say
It's the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth
The swing of my waist
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say
It's in the arch of my back
The sun of my smile
The ride of my breasts
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say
It's in the click of my heels
The bend of my hair
The palm of my hand
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.


by Maya Angelou

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