terah745

Nestled

2012-01-30T00:39:00.005+05:30

I could hear the earth above me

Was it moving?

I tried the Kill Bill shot

It did not work

The casket was stronger, healthier

My knuckles were black and blue

So was my forehead

Ah! my forehead, once laden with kisses of love

Now slowly swelling

It has been a long time now

Six feet under, i was wondering, again!

Yes, someone was trying to exhume me

Who? Why?

Loved by many, hated by none; partial jealousy

Life came down like the North Tower

Was it orchestrated? Was it destiny?

Now, i could hear scratches on the lid

What the F?? Who? Why?

Why not?

Lady Luck! Not again!

I don't like being six feet under.

Why not?

My hear beat was in rhythm with those scratches

An animal, no, maybe yes!

I was sweating now, lol

It was bizarre

Do i care?

Of course I do.

artificial breathing

2012-01-30T00:30:00.006+05:30

You make me feel that there is no more I and me

Life has been ungrateful to all the laughter i spilled and kept it happy

One stroke of sadness and I was silent:

Not everyone can face your humour

I term it a torture

Don't want your forgiveness

And stop smiling at my plight, Lady Luck!

Avhi turant maran

2010-11-14T20:17:00.001+05:30

Winter brings many surprises
On a wintry evening
As I watched him load the magazine
Once more, and there he goes again
Before I could imagine the knelt down fell forward like a sack
The next fell sideways
I was stoned with excitement
As he scanned the rest of us
He was not even wearing a kerchief over his face
Daring I would say
You! What’s your name?
Ram Janam
Now, call your Ram
I was standing as was not asked to kneel down
He pointed the gun at me
You, what is your name?
Avhi turant maran (Die instantly)
Are you joking? In a slow voice
Why would I?
I was born in these lands some decades ago
My parents had to name me Avhi turant maran
As they knew that in the times to come
This is what might happen
No matter I did something or nothing
I might die helplessly
Wondering why I was born here
With growth I understood the philosophy of fear
Told through the logic of bullet riddled bodies and blown up body parts
I am without fear, as I was born to die wondering, eyes open
He granted my wish
I lie there with my back to the ground, eyes open…

Waiting for the something

2010-10-02T18:15:00.003+05:30

Ya rahe ujad, ya rahe Gujjad
But it draws millions to its nest
Who have learnt to look and behave like them
Jombies, who believed they had the best deal
Kaal ka parichay, ab kya visiting card vhi dein?
Feeds everyone, on the streets,outside the temples
Kills everyone, on the roads, at midnight
Wheels of fortune, creates a misfortune, now and then, very often.
Winter is approaching and blankets are being washed,
It's time to get ready
I still don't believe that it won't rain again,
Assurances don't stop the game, they slow down everything
It still makes you believe every moment
There is something waiting for you, only for you
At the end of the day, at the end of the decade
Centuries have passed, the waiting continues
Anybody seen the Pandavas?
They are chilling in the lounge of the T3, waiting.
Moving out, till the games are over.

Floating in Love

2010-09-20T22:27:00.007+05:30

The poem is written by a sweet little girl... she is one of the purest...

To all the love that floats in the universe,
I want to ask you and also thy 'love',
Tell me O dearest, you are always so loved,
You are the obsessively desired and craved so,
For many have died in your name, your love,
And many a evil try to conquer your soul,
And some brave and mighty hearts, race their guts,
To tread into the uncharted territory of your misery,
Of your blood, of your delusions and of your dreams,
But you still reign supreme – undefied, undefeated, unconquered
Coz you are the essence of our dreams and fantasies,
Thy lavish promises, make our eyelashes flutter,
And eyes gleam with some inner radiation,
You don't exist but we worship you, just like the Almighty,
For the very thought of your existence, pumps blood in our veins
But you still sit there on a cold throne, with that Gothic crown
Coz you rule our hearts and influence our faith
You are there, we are happy, you are not there – we wither
I want to capture you like a bird and put in a cage
So you sit, close to my heart, till the dawn of eternity...

Love at the time of Dengue

2010-09-16T23:42:00.005+05:30

Somewhere in Delhi... Sometime in late 2008...
Does it matter? If you are drunk?
How does it?
You may be drunk, but still
Kicking that same tune
"Baby I may be drunk but–
I still love you."
Lover never dies.
It cannot be frozed;
It is forever chilled
Just like your beer
Your favourite beer
You keep on sipping
One after the other
Never wondering why?
The seconds exchange glances,
With minutes and the hours stand by.
You are dead drunk.
Guys asking you–
"You are the drunken poet? Are you?"
"Haaahaaahaaahaaaahaaaahaaa...
No, mister,
I am just drunk."
"You sure? Ask they?"
"Yeah, just a poem sir,
Nothing else."
A damsel with coffin nails in a plate
My girl might
My family might hate
But my neighbour pulls one.
The nail looks cool in his lips.
Never feared for the salvation.
Nirvana never known.
"Am I high?"
Who cares?
I never do.
The nail sticks to my lips, too.
My neighbour has that smile–
You look drunk?
Do I? ... God Almighty!
Please!
I want to be in this place
And be away from it at the same moment.
The smoke still kills.
Who cares?
Not my neighbour—never.
The smoke follows.
The vodka shoots all left and right.
The music vibrates my tee.
"Am I drunk?"
I ask thee.
I don't look like one.
It's a hell of an experience
Under the table.
I still manage to scribble.
Nobody cares. Nor do I.
I just scribble a drunken monk's tale.
Totally conked out, I look for my neighbour.
To him I show my wristwatch
The speakers bang my heart
They pound my head.
Everyone looks so happy.
So do I.
Why?
The Father of all sins.
The Devil smiles in the corner.
Making everyone drunk.
This is not what I wanted.
"But you don't get what you want, do you?"
"And you don't want what you get, do you?"
Control, control... go for a pee
Oh! no! will I be
Able to pee?
I wonder, how long will it take.
My neighbour smiles again.
Do I love him?
You bet I do.
Forget the commandments
It's the whole religion flowing in a glass.
The ice is cold, so is the way of life.
The projector, crowded by people–wondering
I don't know, let's see–what's in store?
Heeeeeeeee...
But baby, I still love you...
love you...
love you...

TAKEN FOR LOVE

2010-09-06T01:39:00.002+05:30

WHEN LOVE GETS ALL OVER YOU
ALL YOU FEEL IS THE GRIP OF THE ATTRACTION,
THERE IS AN UNFULFILLED DESIRE IN WAITING,
TO HUG YOU,
TO FILL THE EMPTINESS CREATED BY YEARS OF IGNORANCE,
THAT SOME THINGS IN LIFE ARE FOR GRANTED,
LIKE THE GOOD THINGS IN LIFE ARE ACTUALLY,
BUT, BEING HUMAN IS NATURAL,
AND NOT TAKEN FOR GRANTED IS NATURAL, TOO...

Fire in the hole!

2010-08-15T01:02:00.003+05:30

The fire is out
As the belly got burst
Now it's all over the roads
The gut is drying – few flies
But that's not what matters much
It has spread to the whole neighbourhood
And has travelled all the way to Moscow
Earlier it was the oil spill
Now it is the gut spill
Do you got any cement?
No the OC at the CWG took it all, by force!
Damn it!
They took our cement, too?
No wonder the circus looks like a circus.

Wasted on the shores

2010-06-07T23:58:00.002+05:30

Rivers don't meet me now
It's the sun and the sand part II
No, I am not the desert, stupid!
I am just empty
With the price hike, it was difficult for me
To decide what to do first, where to go first
Believe me, I am just empty
These are no poet's tears rolling
Just a dry throat and a hoarse voice following
The call centre lady didn't like it nor the PR girl
I feel like screaming at the top of my whispering tone
My room mate snoring slowly, turning in his sleep
Where's the voice?
It's gone to the Old India
I heard they are bailing those who don't want to be
And leaving behind those who seriously want to
I am empty darling
I am broke
Believe me, they did bail some of them
Please bail me,
But will that help?
With miles to go and just a gallon
Tch... BP!

Nine years without bed tea

2010-05-26T12:01:00.003+05:30

It's been nine
One gets less during this period
It's eight they say
No one cares
Empty green beer bottles below the kitchen sink
Dust on the books
Dirty linen everywhere
Cigarette butts on tea cups
Some wet some dry
The smell of which is nostalgic
Ah! Biri Phukan
DVDs and CDs, old cassettes
A black radio with dead batteries
The owner, too, without them
The desert-cooler tries its best to beat the heat
Buckets of waters it drinks every six hours
Sky Blue in colour with a rusty fan
A motor which never stopped
Designed for the Sultan of Delhi
Still serving the neo-sultans
It is witness to many fights and love scenes
From a twelve by eight
To a three bedroom
It has served all and served well
Its fate still designed to continue
With the fate of the beer drinkers
And meat eaters...
When relationships and friendships look like illusions
And the virtual becomes reality
Reality still screams
The moment you close your eyes
This was not me
This is not me
Nine lives and the cat smiles...

The same old story

2010-04-19T23:25:00.003+05:30

Once upon a time in India
There were many rajas and rajkumars
But there was this prince
The Rajkumar of Darkness
He was the darkest of the lot
Even the huge floodlights of the Eden whimpered
When it came to illuminating this prince
Such was his darker side
"What the F@$%!"
"Don't smile at me
It's not my fault"
Radha kyoun gori mein kyoun kala?
"Tell me about the prince."
"Ah! The prince, yes the prince.
They made a movie and called it The Dark Knight
Not the Bat thing but the catch thing
You catch my ball
I catch yours
Catches win matches
And the cattle class watches
The smoke engulfing the Whiteland"
"Sorry to interrupt but where is the prince?"
"He is smoking Down Under
Can't you see the grounded hansas taking lutf?"
"Taking what?"
"Lutf that's almost ulfat
Of the whole scenario."
"Are you high? Are you high?
"No, it is not the Pineapple Express
It's the smoke in the Whiteland I am talking about."
But where in the name of the lord is the prince?"
Aha :-)
He just caught your ball
What a catch, Karbonn Kamal one–Superb.

Crushed to serve

2010-04-17T23:41:00.003+05:30

Tick tick tick tick tick
Time smiles yet again
The mystery is not what is in the last pages
Fun is when you are in the middle of it
We all know it's all pessimistic and lost
Yet try to find some meaning
Rotating bottles do tell some stories
Who cares for others when your house is burning
Hope is such a miserable optimism
One does not feel like thinking else
The magic phrase–this shall pass, too,
Awaits in the centre
Where are the right backs?
Free the gloves of moisture
Press them gently to the ground
Wipe the sweat with style
With the tongue gently moistening the lips
All chapped and dark
Too many cigarettes spoil the saliva
And the sense to smell gets smoked out
When rhododendrons get pulped into bottles
With migraine loosening its purse of wealth
Into the valley of death road the five fighter jets
Theirs not to ask why
Theirs is to just fly
Into the boiled vegetables tossed on a pan with some butter
When you don't have to shake but stir
With a magnum on your temple
One can't add one plus one
Forget the taste of salted peanuts on your plate
Add some more butter honey
As the lips are dry
And the wind is away on a honeymoon
When realism does a little bit of magic
When there are too many whens and ands
There is a machine vrooming somewhere
Twenty minutes away from the strips
The bitumen is sweating and waiting
For the rubber to lick it hot
Some more smoke in the air
Burn some more rubbers buggers
She ain't feeling much...

The greenish blu-ray

2010-04-17T23:31:00.003+05:30

The numbness continues to hurt
Imagination is not something that I look forward to
To bail me out
It's the reality that poses a big question
Personal matters spilled all over the editor
Sentences in passive voice look so active
Quibbling to get some time
Never coming to the point of discussion
As the limited knowledge tries to get free
From all delusions
And create an imaginative world
Full of sudden emptiness
The creation of which took some decent time
That a blu-ray might cry
Burning it...

Neonicotinoid

2010-03-31T23:39:00.003+05:30

Hahahahahahahaaaa!
The mad guy is back
He not worried
Whether the key is working or not
The lok is, and, the ayukta, too,
Redemption song–
Bob dos not worry
Who rots where
As the stench is bearable now
So are the traffic jams
The engine of the motor is on
It's hot outside
Spring hasn't started properly
Premature heat
Sucks the fucking brain
Leaving a dull feeling
That we are insects
Proven by the insecticides in everything
Those green salads devoured bowl after bowl
Stomp! stomp! stomp! m'f'k'r die!–:-)slowly...

Smoking the past

2009-11-18T12:15:00.003+05:30

Ah! it hurts so much
Forgotten friends when pop up
From God knows where
Hello, C, hou'z you maan?
And, you look like a fool
You not only forgot the names
But also the faces
You remember swearing that
It was the best time you had
On drinking and other rounds
But you don't remember the names
You feel sad on not taking Carnegie seriously
Or not finishing the word power thing
It was all about memory
It still is
Thank you Lord, I am not a crow
But I still love You
Someone said that only the bad remains
So it was all good back then
Why lament?
Just hug him tight, ask for a cigarette
And get curious about his habits.
So, what are you doing these days?

Chequered Horse

2009-05-26T22:29:00.004+05:30

Let me tell you all a story:
A boy came running the next day
From over 1800 AD
Summoned by the Chosen One
Where the Wisest Fool once roamed in his chequered horse
The horse was the talk of the town and slowly the whole country knew about it
Only a few admitted it was dark
Only the underdogs knew that it was white
No one never knew its colour
Such a horse never seen, never dreamt
I mean, have any of you dreamt of a chequered horse?
Nor have I.
But it was there and the Wisest Fool had this horse.
Don't forget my friend from the second line
So he came all the way for he was called
Maybe to be coronated as the 'Small Chosen One'
When we reached the citadel in our small chariot
We were surprised to see other large chariots
Drawn by horses we could not possibly count
Strong chariots with gold and silver work
Their owners in silk that could surprise the Moon
Their confidence would break yours into pieces
For they too were summoned by the same One
Anything might happen
As there was no caste in between
For in the eyes of the One
Everyone of them is equal
Isn't it?
We waited for our turn
Smoked a few hookas
And shooed the barking dogs
Who were feeling uneasy
At our presence
And barking
I thought they were trying to say something
Well no one would believe but I always believed
And it got confirmed when I saw that animal movie
Where a fat Panda and a Giraffe talked uncontrollably
That animal, not only talked, but some Penguins in their element
Can fly a plane which B or A won't even touch for repair
One by one they entered the citadel
My friend too went in
I waited, and to kill my time, tried to decipher the barking
The dogs were clear this time
"Bow bow bow bow bow"
I walked to them and made a bow
Wondering whether they were referring to the Gandiv
"Why have you come?" asked the leader of the pack
Was I shocked? You might be wondering
No, I already believed they could pull it
"I come with my friend from over 1800 AD"
He has been called by the Chosen One" with pride in my voice
"Oh! you have come as an ally?" enquired with squinted eyes
"I am my friend's ally and no one" again I replied with pride
"A million hair must have faded and fallen from my body
And from this experience I tell you stranger
The Chosen One chooses none
For there aren't any, who are ready yet
There still remains a heart impure
For all the purity can't make him buy
What your friend has to offer
For the One is not there to buy
But just to try and know
Who can ride the chequered horse" ended he
"The chequered horse?"
"Ah! another fool" were his last words
The barking suddenly started
This time I was not able to understand
A sentry came out and asked me to stay away from the lane
For I irritated the faithful ones
My friend came out with a stony face
"What happened?"
"Do you know about a chequered horse?" lamented he
The barking had stopped
The leader was smiling.

Summer's toll

2009-05-26T22:20:00.003+05:30

The coronation is over

A thorn here a thorn there

Loads of corn lying around

While a lot go hungry

And those well-fed make a lot of noise

In the streets

Honking and swearing at each other

It's hot and it just got hotter.

World Without End

2009-04-29T10:05:00.000+05:30

The numbers are rolling

So are the days

Once upon a time in India

A crow sat in a tree and a pigeon on a temple nearby

The pigeon made a painting on the parapet

With what you can call shit

The crow cleaned the garbage area

With what you call its beak

It ate the leftovers and never questioned

Even when the UNESCO made the parapet painting

A world heritage site

Millions came to see the shit

Were amazed at the feat

At what a pigeon can do in here

They drank water from plastic bottles

And threw them wherever they could

Green bottles with all gyaan

But nobody took the gyaan

The poor children needed the bottle

It was indeed cool to carry it to the defecation mine-fields

They compared the size and colours and cracked jokes

About the people being amazed at the pigeon shit

They laughed and changed their spots while relieving

Hoping to create another heritage site

This is the fact that I live with

This is the truth that I live with

No matter what you try to do

No matter what you have already tried

It's a world without end

It's a world without end.

Envied by none

2009-04-18T16:47:00.003+05:30

The old poet is dead not his poetry
The new-born is dead not its parents

Cries from the land of opium
Where 10 million lie buried in the golden land
To maim and kill those who want to tread
In the path of truth and liberty

It's back to where it started
The B-52 is hot dogging the cleavages again

Where Eskander roamed with his army
Now ruled by bearded men
Envied by none

You don't give up that's why I love you

2009-04-01T00:03:00.003+05:30

(written on 13th May 2006, lodhi colony)

You have been playing!
O' Lord?
Why do you play?
Am I not too insignificant for you?
To play with.

Your constant purification
Of my stained soul
In this dry hot summer.

I must have been a fool
Not to understand
Your passionate lust for me
But

The (my unquestioned) faith
On you shakes at these times
Yet making me feel unique
Making me feel complete
Without you!

My questions don't shake your faith
Do they?
I know, they don't.

Seasoned players like you.
Playing both sides
Mother are you?
Oh no!
Father you are
Is not it?

You never give up
And want it that way
Always.

So why expect from me?

It’s winter and I am warm in love

2009-03-25T19:04:00.000+05:30

The flowers don’t want to leave the stand

Beside my bed, with blocked nostrils

I still have the scent in my lungs

Are they the wild orchids?

Or just another bunch from the green houses

That won’t be wild, will they?

It’s a wild winter here but my heart remains warm

There is no need to explain that I am still in love

The leftover of the mushy dark chocolate cake

With quarter of my name remaining

Spreading the flavour in the fridge

Waits for me to get my taste buds back

It’s winter here and my stomach has got butterflies

There is no need to explain that I am still in love

The card that she gave me is under my pillow

Wants me to read it once again

It’s winter here and the only thing I want to do

Is to read the card once again

A warm stripped muffler in pink and white

Lies near the pillow

Pleading me to touch it

It’s winter here and my hands feel the warmth

It took days for her to make it

It will take ages for me to comprehend

Its warmth

It’s winter here and I am full of warmth.

Fire in the Soul! Fire in the Soul!

2009-03-07T14:56:00.004+05:30

All my tears for forgiveness won't wash my sins

For I have committed too many.

All my joys can't make me smile

For I have pained myself too much.

The smoke from my pyre will reek of burnt ego

And plagiarism of thoughts.

Aping to unknown limits

Have ruined my identity

The soul screams and cries in dismay

"For this filthy transient life, why did you leave the paradise in hell?"

The after-math

2008-12-12T15:25:00.002+05:30

Whom do i believe?

Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Did you talk about belief?

It's hard to believe your eyes

They don't trust you

Your eyes don't trust you?

Nor do your senses

There goes the black hole

Into the black hole

Thank you Sheila Dikshit!

Simian Love

2008-02-17T19:49:00.002+05:30

Hello!
Have you been doing like a monkey?
Doing what?
Thinking of course.
But, how does a monkey think?
It doesn't.
It does what it feels like at the moment.
So, that means I am a monkey.
Yes, we all are.
We just delay what we think.
Complete them and feel we accomplished.
And end up becoming a monkey after some time.
For we do what we feel like, don't we.
So don't wait to become a human or something.
Your fate has been decided.
Go, get some bananas.
There is not much difference.

Still visiting this place?

2008-02-06T19:54:00.000+05:30

Lord's plans are hard to understand.

I tried and now I do understand one thing.

That I will never ever understand anything.

The inquisitive mind full of mis-understandings.

Please don't misunderstand.

I don't mean to irritate you or anything.

It's just that I am feeling lonely and want to write something.

So where was I?

Understanding his plans. Right?

Yes, His plans.

Why do you think it's so cold outside?

Duffer, it's winter no!

Why didn't we have fog so much like always?

Dumbo, it's Global Warming no!

So, tell me why Microsoft wants to buy Yahoo?

Oh! it's big fish eating the small one to eat the other big one!

Then why did Cheat leave two jobs in three months?

Stop this nonsense, he was trying to understand the Lord's PLANS.

What did he find then?

He found from an SMS that Lord was in the darkroom playing with his negatives, cleaning them!

Lord! you lying?

No, Lord is trying to bring out his best positives!

Where's the frame?

In those hearts who love HIM.

Designer's designs

2007-09-20T09:32:00.000+05:30

The Lord designs your destiny.

As season ends a new dress is on display.

Some of us like to wear His designs.

Others- have their own designs

His designs are very plain and simple.

Pockets of beliefs and truth.

A collar of righteousness.

Buttons of humility.

Colors of love.

He takes personal interest in your appearance.

For you wear His designs.

He will make sure that the fabric does not let ego stain you.

Nor will it get torn by the simple learning excercises of life.

It will have a fragrance which won't let greed block your senses.

Its color won't fade in ages.

To retain the freshness of His presence.

You just need to wash it every night with a soap of prayer.

Leaders of the universal brotherhood

2007-08-20T11:14:00.000+05:30

The flock got lost in the billions’ crowd
Lost its identity: even its shroud.
There is none to identify the bodies.
Torn and mutilated souls of the great Himalayan Empire.
Waiting for their leader to arrive and deliver.
Pull them out of the quagmire they are in.
This is what has remained of their souls.
Always waiting for him and her to help them out at different periods.
To lead them, to make them feel comfortable.
No one ever tells them.
No one ever makes them realize- that
Genetically each one of them are leaders.
No country in the world can produce leaders the way this country does.
But the flock is full of leaders with dreamy eyes and lethargy.
The fear of the unknown which binds them to the pole.
Never letting them come forward and lead.
The souls will never be free from the clutches of dependency.
They will always roam in the hills and plains.
Searching for their beloved leader.
And the continuous prayer to the almighty to provide them with the chosen one.
“You don’t need a leader to lead a straight and simple life.
To walk the path of righteousness and universal brotherhood.
You need to have faith and belief in the way of life.
Well defined and in scriptures of the ancestors.
You don’t need a leader to tell you what is right and what is wrong.
You don’t need a leader to pull you out from your deep sleep.
You need to have faith in the almighty to make you the chosen one”
O LORD!
‘Wake them up, make them leaders’

Thoughts Aren't Enough

2007-06-19T11:03:00.000+05:30

The poems have lost touch with the meanings.

They don't look good.

They look forcefully written.

Just to fill the space.

Just to quench the thirst of the poet.

A major flaw recognised by all.

Except the originator.

For his is not to think but to write.

Just write spontaneously without thinking.

The meaning is not what he writes for

He writes to remain in touch with himself.

Lost as usual he always is.

His poems act as the compass.

'Tis way is north pal'

'Oh! tis s not da way'

There is a blockade and there is a blockage too.

Of feelings not trying hard to express themselves.

In the form of poem that he wants to write.

"See...I told ya"

'Tis poet is gone.....finisheed.....ain't ya'?

Cheers!!!!

In Love With Pain

2007-06-12T16:45:00.000+05:30

The clouds don't cry.

For they are happy and won't comply.

They will only when the happiness reaches you.

And you understand its true meaning.

You sweat and cry.

And you are not happy.

Happiness is a state of spreading it.

So if the clouds are happy why don't they spread it?

Don't fill the glass if it is already full.

Don't wet the homo sapiens if they are full of sweat.

See, that's why clouds don't cry.

They know you need rain.

Your love for natural showers and drizzles.

But in love there is pain isn't it?

So there is no rain.

For the clouds love your pain.

And the way you spread it.

Cursing anyone available.

Self-made traffic jams.

A long stretch of thoughts.

Traffic lights of common sense.

Red with the heat generated by you.

Calm down to let the lights turn green.

Enjoy the pain to let the clouds understand.

That you understand.

That in love there is pain.

And after the pain there is rain.

Diamonds are forever

2007-06-11T17:32:00.000+05:30

I intend to write a hot poem.

Will you help me make it hot?

The nature is already helping me.

We almost got half-boiled yesterday.

Imagine those half-boiled blonds!

Ah! they are hot, aren't they?

Any way this is going to be a crap hot poem.

Could someone write a poem with brains boiling?

Yes, a cold man who has lost all love for hot things.

Except the pelvic thrusts of bollywood babes.

Cheap but hot babes working rilly rilly hard to manage those thumkaas.

The coldest man in this planet can write the hottest poem.

I didn't say the coolest fool.

I said the coldest man and not guy.

You know it's crap I know it's crap.

Yet I write and you read. (not the first timers)

We are not fools.

We are diamonds and diamonds are for ever.

Are diamonds hot?

No they are cold; the coldest.

So let's ask the diamonds to write poems.

Hello diamonds, are you listening?

Are you still reading?

Why don't you just close this page and promise me never to come back?

You won't listen to me and I won't listen to you.

We still bluff each other.

We still love each other.

What about the hottest poem?

Do you still think it's possible to write that crap?

I believe in you.

So let's try to fix this hot potato.

You want to swallow it?

Okay, let's say you don't.

Then we will need someone to make the poem interesting.

Let's talk with diamonds.

Would you like to swallow it?

"Why not? We have been eagerly waiting for it."

Okay then let's start from you.

The hot poem by the coldest diamonds in the planet.

True Move

2007-06-07T14:53:00.000+05:30

The pawns make the move.

Their whole fate is trapped- cornered

It's not a win of egos
It was always a fight for truth

And here they say-

Let the truth prevail.

The power of truth prevails.

Though not for an infinity

But the moments are sweet to cherish

And the feeling of being with the truth

Knowing its true power

Of letting things happen in the way they should

Keeps the pawns moving.

Hoping for that one in a million moves

To remain truthful.

The sword of Damocles

2007-06-04T15:15:00.000+05:30

The ghosts come running with their arms out-stretched:

The moment you try to run away from them.

In the best of your times they arrive without knocking.

Taking you by surprise.

It is what the newspapers call "shock and awe".

Ruining your continuous introspection.

Of getting closer to your inner self.

Your practice is immediately threatened.

They are infact, in disguise, your character testers.

Soul and mind testers rather.

Your breathing becomes polluted and you become insecure.

A sense of uncleanliness binds you to the pole of frustration.

Beating you with a whip laced with spikes of non-realisation of anything.

You become captive and try hard to come out.

Therby falling in their redundant traps.

Traps which don't have doors and mazes with no catacombs.

It is not about solving the mystery.

Mysteries can be harnessed and satiated by reason and logic.

But you cannot harness evil for if you try you will be left with none.

Except evil.

Let it get you to your core displaying its DNA.

Once it is done it's finished.

Mind at its business

2007-05-24T12:17:00.000+05:30

It is painful.

To be in a state of advice.

The heart beats at an abnormal rate.

And there is complete loss of vision.

Due to the perfect solutions at hand.

Accompanied by the realization of myth.

Holding the composition of the neurons together.

To cleanse the process of thinking.

It is painful to be in a state of comfort.

Activating the defence mechanism for everything.

Arguing, to get hold of the cumulative decisions to be decided.

Nervous, about the outcome which might not be favourable.

Almost ruining the day's unplanned happiness.

Breathing doesn't help nor does positive thinking.

The mind is clearly confused by the clarity at its disposal.

Continuous clarity which kills the simple things in this complex life.

Everything or nothing

2007-05-15T22:31:00.000+05:30

Can you fetch my soul?

I just lost it.

From the seventh to the fifth house.

And from the fifth to the seventh.

It has been six months may be more.

In between somewhere.

I see that so called mad man.

Shouting to the sky sometimes.

Eating the leftovers from those tea stalls.

Some kind lady offering rotis and daal.

In the maze of neatly kept newly financed cars and motorcycles.

Paan shops and juice corners.

Right there somewhere I lost my soul.

My sense of distinguishing the right from the wrong.

My peace of mind.

Lost in the fleet street.

The push and the pull doors smiling at me.

"Here you come early in the morning"

"There you go late in the evening"

"Half of the day in the basement."

"Rest of the day in the wooden and glass box."

"Waiting for the sun to set."

"Waiting for the thoughts to hammer you."

The mirror in the lift smiling.

The message in the notice board smiling;

"Happy is he who has no expectations."

"For he is never disappointed."

Someone leaves to come back again.

Others join to never leave.

The road to the old capital.

Leads through the mind.

In between the old capital and the service lane.

It does some searching.

Laughing at me. Running away from me.

I don't have the expectation to get it back.

Nor does it has the drive to come back.

Speaking tree in between.

Fiddling with the briefcase full of sanctity.

Insanity. What else?

The Devil's Own Gentlemen

2007-03-29T19:37:00.000+05:30

We still don't believe it.
It's hard to believe isn't it?
2003 hadn't erased itself.
Yet, we still took the jinxed ones?
We don't have the spirit.
Ask the Tiger-
His spirit is to be understood.
Ask the minnows (they say)-
Their spirit is to be believed.
We all saw that, didn't we?
They made us believe our tigers are jinxed, didn't they?
The ghost of 2003 haunts the whole country.
The spirit of 2007 will cling forever.
This is a gentleman's game.
You pay heavily for being one.
You are paid heavily for not being the one you are supposed to be.
There are more stitches in our hearts.
Then those in poor Woolmer's body.
May he be in peace- wherever he is.
His spirit still remains with the minnows.
Nice way to end an innings.
Nice game these gentlemen play.
Yorker if a batsman is troubling you.
Sixer if a baller is.
Strangulation if a coach is.
We need some good wood for the coffin.
Indian bats are the best.
Less used- more strong.
Amen.

This still happens with me

2007-03-06T16:05:00.000+05:30

This has started.

So many things are starting.

I agree it's March.

I agree it's almost full spring season.

But what has it got to do with me?

Am I still working for them in the good books?

Who decides?

It is painful to keep running like this all the time.

The sense has to be understood before it becomes non-sense.

I don't deny their contribution.

Nor do I question their authority on the subject.

But where do I fit in all this?

Any change of plans are made known at the last moment.

And I am told to keep my eyes and ears closed.

Who decides what is to be seen and understood?

Why is 'why' important than anything else?

The Great MIB war has started

2007-02-22T12:27:00.000+05:30

The war is on.

They don't stop, do they?

It is obvious they won't.

Fighting for personal gratification of the ego.

This is an all ego war.

Learned guys fighting for space and time.

Wasting the energy to crucify one another.

Some devils won't stop.

Others will join them like unwanted pop-ups.

To do evil is easy and supposedly fun.

To write it so that it enters the brain and screws the other has begun.

There is a difference between wise guys and wise men.

Let's not talk about the women.

It's all about fucking males trying to satiate unknowingly.

Their regular eruption of personal sexual libidos of the mind.

It's all in there. It's all in their fucking wasted brains.

There will always be polarized opinions and biases.

When two or more Indian Male Bloggers try to fight for pseudo-intellectual space.

Male Indian Bloggers Suck.

They do man. They really do.

Go fuck yourself.

And let others blog.

Constipation in the sky

2007-02-21T10:50:00.000+05:30

The fire still burns.

Why does this happen all the time?

Water, water everywhere.

Not a drop for my burning thoughts.

Constipated thoughts.

Looking for an outlet.

Need assurance to let go the attitude.

The road itself becomes a mine-field.

And every step amputates the already scattered thoughts.

Constant amputation has finished the lonely desire.

To move ahead.

Not because of fear but with another thought.

Ki, maybe it is not the last one.

No more torture, no more heart burns.

But one cannot fool them.

It's difficult to fool the thoughts.

They are so foggy yet so clear.

No I don't need the CAT-III.

The pilots aren't trained either.

More chaos might follow with more accents.

Different accents bring different processes.

We are already circling the airport for days.

The toilet paper has finished.

May I use the curtains?

How about the wet tissues?

Let them shout, let them.

There is a bomb in the plane.

Hijackers! Alarm! Alarm!

Just shut up your baby.

Or we throw you both.

Fasten your seat-belts.

We might land in the flyover.

But that's a clover leaf.

And it's full with traffic.

There is a traffic-jam out there

How about the Indian Ocean?

Okay let's do it.

Loser, it's the F-22 Raptor.

Oh! May day! May day!

SAM! SAM! SAM!

Fireworks in the sky.

Everyone jump!

One, two, three, go go go go....

The water is cold! the water is cold!

Ah! at last.

It happens here too

2007-02-19T14:01:00.000+05:30

Everyday India

2007-02-19T13:55:00.000+05:30

The fields on the highway

2007-02-19T13:39:00.000+05:30

On a Highway that's National

2007-02-19T13:28:00.000+05:30

Roads don't lie

2007-02-19T13:24:00.000+05:30

Early morning

2007-02-19T13:18:00.000+05:30

In India we trust

2007-02-19T13:13:00.000+05:30

On the road

2007-02-19T13:05:00.000+05:30

The road with lights

2007-02-19T12:58:00.000+05:30

Lights in the new year

2007-02-19T12:54:00.000+05:30

New year Lights

2007-02-19T12:48:00.000+05:30

Lights for new year

2007-02-19T12:40:00.000+05:30

Welcome back

2007-02-19T12:33:00.000+05:30

They had already started

2007-02-19T12:29:00.000+05:30

For those who came late

2007-02-19T12:21:00.000+05:30

Ban Ki-Moon

2007-02-19T12:19:00.000+05:30

Natural of course

2007-02-19T12:13:00.000+05:30

Devprayag

2007-02-19T12:04:00.000+05:30

Final Destination

2007-02-14T13:15:00.000+05:30

Brothers-in-arms

2007-02-14T12:57:00.000+05:30

Fire and Moon

2007-02-14T12:42:00.000+05:30

The Moon That Night

2007-02-14T12:34:00.000+05:30

We welcome the New Year

2007-02-14T12:24:00.000+05:30

Bonfire for the new year

2007-02-14T12:19:00.000+05:30

It's time to book a hotel

2007-02-14T11:57:00.000+05:30

Almost there

2007-02-14T11:44:00.000+05:30

On the road to the destination

2007-02-14T11:27:00.000+05:30

One has to stop now and then

2007-02-14T11:14:00.000+05:30

The Road is Different Every Time

2007-02-14T11:00:00.000+05:30

It's Fire

2007-02-14T10:52:00.000+05:30

31st December 2006

2007-02-14T10:46:00.000+05:30

The common man and his summer vacations

2007-02-07T15:37:00.000+05:30

The common man is really common.

He sounds like a mango.

His value is that of a mango.

Suck it if it's ripe.

Pickle it if not.

I don't want to discuss the common man.

He is too common to discuss.

The fortune favours the brave.

And the brave don't want the fortune.

The world has changed a lot.

It wants everything or nothing.

Some still desire something.

Well, desire is fun when you can't fulfil them.

It is not funny for the steel baron to build a steel house.

It is funny for the poor school teacher to put a tin sheet as roof.

For if he puts a tin sheet he is surely doomed.

For the summer is round the corner.

And the country is famous for not having the MWs.

MegaWatts of course- whatever.

I don't want to discuss the school teacher.

He is too busy with the tin roof.

Life is a teacher.

I want to discuss life.

But who is bothered about life.

When you can kill millions and make the left ones refugees.

Well the UN food programme is there.

But the poor African can't digest the food.

The stomach is filled already with blood and hatred.

So some more African blood.

Who wants to discuss Africa?

It is poor and struggling.

Let's wear their diamonds.

The pink ones the big ones.

WEF anybody?

India will eat the world.

World has almost digested India.

I can smell the lousy stinking fart.

In the Multiplexes and the malls and the coffee shops.

Whoever heard of BRIMSTOWAD?

Hey, howcome drains are so important?

I want to discuss drains.

For it does so much for us and we still treat it like a fucking drain.

And sometimes in some July it comes to your doors.

Knocking.

Anybody out there.

I am the drain and I am broken and over-deluged.

Can I take refuge in your streets and parks?

Hey, how about your first floor.

I have just met your local transformer.

He is happy meeting me and wants to shake you up.

Heh heh heh heh heh

You common man.

Don't forget what flows in the drain comes back to you.

How about some sewage massage?

It sounds crazy, isn't it?

Haven't you heard the country is ready.

For a massage.

The summer is coming so are the mangoes.

So till then

Just Suck UP

Let's wait first

2007-02-06T17:48:00.000+05:30

The country is ready.

Someone coined it.

I believe it is true.

It is ready indeed.

To be plundered and massacred again.

We always talk the positive and forget the negative.

Okay let's forget the negative.

Let's welcome TATA.

Let's give some more Padma Bhusans and Shris.

And why not a Bharat Ratna?

It has been three years.

Let's wait for the bones to come out from the drains.

Let's get the lab reports.

Let's wait for the movies to be released in that state.

Let's wait for the party to win in these elections.

Let's wait for their marriage.

Let's wait till the games are over in that state.

Let's wait for the two crore cheque.

I believe it will happen soon.

Again.

Devprayag

2007-02-05T18:11:00.000+05:30

Deoprayag

Open defecation by a young Indian

2007-01-09T12:34:00.000+05:30

One India is flying.

The other is dying everywhere.

From the jungles of North-East India.

To the coal fields of Bihar

And the cotton fields of Maharashtra.

The other Indian dies every moment.

The Wi-fi death follows him all the time.

The tiny voice at the back of the head screams.

Let there be quota. Let there be quota.

Quota for limited corruption, murders and suicides.

This and no more will you plunder.

Your self-esteem and ego.

And your culture.

In these six decades you finished yourself.

Now you are the followers of Ramdev and Ravishankar.

Narayan Murthy and Lakshmi Mittal.

Oh! I forgot the Tata.

And the once Brothers in Arms.

Let's not talk about bollywood.

The other Indian is the follower of the stone gods.

And any other he wishes to follow.

He is free to choose.

Enjoys personal dips in the cold Ganges in Sankranti in public.

Walks to the Amarnath and to the Great Kumbh.

The other half enjoys-

Drinking his Pepsi and munching the potato chips.

Clicking with his 5.1 megapixel camera.

Chanting the mantra of "I am khool"

"Fuck off maaan......Get some life........"

"India is khool......"

Girls discontinue school.

For there is no toilet for them there.

So their bladders don't support the little education.

That they need.

The growing: to be mothers of tomorrow.

Haven't grown physically and mentally.

To give birth to awesome kids.

Which Narendra spoke about a century back.

But they are producing Maoists and we have let them produce.

They are producing guns and killing innocent people.

And we have let them do so.

I see a pulsating dynamic revolutionary.

Coming close to get hold of your neck.

And then twist it like the butcher twists the poor chicken.

Let's fuck stop this talk about these people who don't exist in our fucking lives.

The Blu-Ray of hope

2007-01-04T12:56:00.000+05:30

We are in the new year.

Happy New Year to all.

There was rise and there was fall.

Last time I remember.

Passing through these unknown lanes.

Of fibre optics and blinking blue lights.

With blu-rays showing the way.

Which wasn't there before.

I felt uncertainity all over me.

Things ended with a hangman and a mobile clip.

Let he be in peace and let the world be too.

Things started with the revelation of the motives.

One big fish gulping other twice its size.

Another trying hard to gulp or to chew.

Lessons for a few.

Open thy mouth as much as you can chew.

Or be left bleeding in your circle.

Body bags all over the cargo bay.

Fresh cement for fresh bodies.

Freshly laid forever in thy own motherland.

Dead somewhere for some reason buried here for the same.

People still crying for the lost ones.

My lines still lamenting the untold loss.

From ice-bergs melting to species getting extinct.

Day by day.

With heavy-metal in my ears.

I welcome the new year.

With open arms.

Welcome 2007

Who let the cat out? Meow, meow, meow

2006-12-18T10:32:00.000+05:30

The past is so redundant.

That you don't see it seeping in you.

Slowly and silently.

This is not the past that you have seen.

Something about which you know something.

Trends and conditions.

This thing is pretty old.

Older than you can imagine.

You don't need to be wise to see that.

Wise people always fail to understand the past.

They will just give you examples like-

History repeats and learn from your mistakes.

The child is the father of a man.

And this earth you live is round.

Mind-blowing stuff they tell you.

Do you care?

You don't.

For you are worried about your performance appraisal.

And the negotiations for the next job.

With your girlfriend giving you an ultimatum.

Marry me or perish.

Or marry me- you will definitely perish.

The credit card bills take your salary away.

And you still live on borrowing.

Either your country borrows to make roads.

Or you borrow to buy the sweet home.

We all borrow.

And we forget all the time.

That this life is also borrowed.

It's true but has a personal angle.

We live for a time and then we leave after that.

Nothing new in that.

But everything foolish in that.

You try so hard.

To give this life a meaning.

You remain positive all the day.

Taking deep breaths.

Ignoring your shouting boss.

Yet you don't understand.

That the chains of slavery which you don't see.

Still binds you to the dark room.

With a small round window.

There is a difference in people who can be free.

And people who can never be in this lifetime.

I know you are the one who can break the chains.

But you won't for the past taught you not to do so.

I told you so, isn't it?

Is this what you got to sell?

2006-12-12T15:23:00.000+05:30

Can you write this?

Can you fight this?

Can you believe Pinochet is dead?

After many heart-failures.

This was his turn.

Don't you think the world is moving at a fast pace.

Indeed but where?

Isn't it the same small world.

The fucking Global Village.

Fuck you five times.

For giving me all the shit.

I don't even deserve this.

How dare you push your frustrations to me.

Do I look like a garbage bin to you?

Bastards.

Your father is known you mother is known.

But you have become a bastard of your mind.

You don't get enlightenment in a decade.

Or in a century.

You don't get it at all pal.

You never do.

For you treated others like shit.

So you sell shit, get paid for getting it sold.

Now you and your fellas are trying to do a research.

How to shit-sell and stink the fucking world.

May you all drown in shit-pit.

Just fuck off.

The Complete Man

2006-12-05T15:48:00.000+05:30

Is this the time to tell a story?

Do you bother to read one?

Someone please tell them to fuck off.

This writer has gone pervert and crazy.

He doesn't have anything to do in this world.

His hips don't lie and he is satiated to throat.

With memory lapse and nervous disorder.

Holes punched in his ill-fated bloated ego.

He goes down the darkest hole.

Spinning like a zombie.

Smiling though.

His thoughts dismembered by heroic misfortunes.

And over-calculated risks.

A complete loser when it came to losing.

The complete man. (courtesy Raymonds)

Attack of the Mojos

2006-12-05T15:37:00.000+05:30

Throw the pen.

In your shit pan.

Oh! don't forget to do the same.

With your scrapbook.

The fast cars and wi-fi is here.

With eveything digital.

I guess the condoms are digital too?

What the fuck?

Get the news before it gets you.

Reporters beware!!!! the day-sub is here.

He will screw you right and left.

No press-releases, no cut paste or else.

You will be cut and pasted too.

The wires are there -invisible yet obvious.

The Mojos are coming.

Are you reading?

You will be news.

I will be news.

Shakira Shakira.

Adrenal Rush

2006-11-24T12:41:00.000+05:30

Water water everywhere.

Enough to drink and lots to pee.

Miles to pee before I zip.

Old and new unguarded.

Walls to pee.

Trees to pee.

Fresh green plants to pee.

Dark corners to pee.

Gallons to pee before I zip.

You donkey's son don't pee here.

Says the writing on the wall

My pee rushes fast to the wall.

First the head then the body.

And a twenty-legged monster.

I pee.

The writing is covered.

An ear to ear smile follows.

The name is pee. DrinknPee

I pee to a height, I pee with a force.

Sometimes I pee on my shoes.

Sometimes on others'.

I talk while I pee.

I pee while I talk.

Someone said I have a loose bladder.

I peed on his shoes too.

Casually though.

He never knew.

Asshole.

I love peeing he doesn't know.

It is a relief.

I release everything in my pee.

Pain, sorrow, hunger, frustrations.

Everything.

And also all my erotic fantasies.

Rush out.

Oh! Time to pee.

Ides of November.....The Rain The Rain......

2006-11-23T13:02:00.000+05:30

The pawns play.

Their claws are out.

The Raiders are sniffing.

Their ears to the ground.

Prince wake up.

The Empress is here.

She is not happy nor content.

Sands of Time.

The warrior and the two squirrels.

Long lost in Nagaland.

The faith to rule the conscience.

Don't blame the Gods.

They didn't do this.

Stages have always been set.

To welcome Ceasar and then to stab him.

Of course it is a normal practice.

He has pained many.

So be his destiny.

But what if it was Jesus.

Let that be His destiny.

Jesus!!!!!

When the soul searches for a meaning.

In these earthly battles.

Which are the pieces of a weaver.

The Dream-weaver is back.

Now everyone will be screwed.

For he will not let you know.

What the dreams are for.

And what reality is all about.

The passion to fulfil the dreams.

Will be shattered for a moment.

It is the season.

You can't blame his arrival.

As you won't his departure.

With loads of dreams to think about.

Never to be completed in reality.

Trying vainly to complete though.

The gates are closed.

The metal clanks.

Dreams have started.

Stay asleep.

Lines written in late autumn

2006-11-14T16:04:00.000+05:30

The woods are suddenly dark and deep.

The winter has its effects on them.

Do I look dark as I could never be deep?

Who bothers about such frivolous things?

These questions don't have a meaning.

Does the life that you live and will leave has it?

Frosty where are you maan?

Long time no see.

See the woods are lovely again.

I know you have walked for a long time.

But that does not help these days.

You don't need to walk that long.

You can sleep for four hours and slog the rest.

But I still love you frosty.

In Love Truly Said.

2006-11-14T11:27:00.000+05:30

She is the best.

When it comes to ditching.

She ditches at the drop of a hat.

She winks me out of my senses.

I seriously think she is with me.

Tightly clutching me to her chest.

And in my ear she whispers-

I love you.

Ha

As if I am really an idiot.

Not to feel the evolutionary design.

Of her community.

The fact is.

She is never with me.

She has been doing this to me all the time.

There for me and not there for me.

Spoon-feeding when required.

And a tight slap for no reason.

I still love her.

Though she calls me an impertinent bastard.

It seems like an approval to my sudden smooch.

Or a required full smooch.

Ass hole I am no doubt in that.

A word-breaker shoe-maker.

Bitch she is I know.

One big melancholic she turns now and then.

When she is selfish.

Looks silly but very very dangerous.

But I still love her.

Therein lies the whole problem.

Happy Prince

2006-11-13T10:15:00.000+05:30

The winter is near.

How do I know?

People have become cold.

Of course towards me.

I don't blame them.

It's natural.

You cannot bear two.

But what is my fault?

I get what I deserve.

But do I deserve cold feelings.

Oh! somebody in indiatimes taught me.

The term is Royal Ignore.

Is this post a vent or something.

The smoke is everywhere.

And I got to cross the water curtains.

Run through revolving blades.

Catch a ledge here.

Fight with the Raiders.

The Crow Master and the Shadow.

Lost all my warmth in the process.

The swallows have left.

Greener pastures.

An Area of Darkness

2006-11-09T16:11:00.000+05:30

We meet the Prince.

Omnipresent he was .

At that moment.

A bit surprised.

In destiny's game.

Still 25 after ages.

Can't recall when we last met.

The number is his.

But you got to earn that.

It's foolishness.

But who cares.

Priorities smell of a meaningful life.

In this meaningless world.

Yet we run.

I see them run from my Ivory Tower.

Smiling.

Feeling the gold embroidery.

Clutching the invitation.

In my pocket.

Get set go!!!!

2006-10-16T15:11:00.000+05:30

They walk this planet.

Maybe some other planets too.

Harbinger of common sense.

Now and then you meet them.

All of a sudden.

They break your truth.

You cannot hold them responsible.

Their destiny is to change destinies.

Or the origination of destinies.

The logic that they forward.

Looks so logical.

You cannot look back.

At your Super Alter Ego.

To free you from their grip.

But the best part being human is.

You have a sense of denial.

If you believe you don't.

They don't.

You are free.

Not necessary

2006-10-16T10:37:00.000+05:30

The war is over.

Mothers don't weep anymore.

Tears have dried.

So have the fields.

Smudged with dry blood.

Expressing displeasure.

Their color has changed.

From green to black.

Winter is near.

The worst fear for the grass.

Having to spend the whole winter.

Waiting for the rains.

Homecoming

2006-10-16T10:30:00.000+05:30

A home somewhere.

A wanderer in the misty morning.

Of Delhi.

Watching the marathon.

It is so hard to run the full one.

So you run it half.

Make it short.

Who cares.

It is fun.

To see people run.

Wanderer did not run.

He never did.

He always was the winner.

It still rains

2006-09-18T11:17:00.000+05:30

The rivers don't meet.

This time.

The rains didn't come.

This time.

The patch is less green.

This time.

I don't feel at home.

This time.

I haven't gone there.

This time.

Fuck man.

Idle

2006-09-14T18:07:00.000+05:30

Sacrifices don't make you anything.

You sacrifice and look like a fool.

It is hard to jugde when you are losing.

It is hard to define why?

Answers are easy.

But not satisfying the mind.

Mind is at fault not the reasons for it to be such.

Disorder

2006-09-14T17:10:00.000+05:30

This decision to take a decision.

This inability to see any further.

To write any better.

To think any better.

Bites me now and then.

A pure case of lost confidence.

A pure sense of lost sense of humour.

Call it anything.

It might be the rains.

After many days they are here.

It is a case of weather depression.

Yes.

Nothing special

2006-09-14T16:43:00.000+05:30

The nerve is about to split.

You don't call it nerve-split.

This is lack of oxygen.

Afternoon sucks.

The air-condition sucks.

It sucks your peace of stomach.

You feel uneasy.

You don't know what to do.

So you write poems.

In weird blogs.

Just to vent out the anger.

Of being not able to do anything.

About global warming.

Green house gas fucks.

O Lord.

Help.

Still in love

2006-09-12T21:00:00.000+05:30

It is difficult.

Every lover would agree.

A life without YOU.

Let us not talk about the gender.

Let us just talk about love.

Unquestionable love.

Everything that a lover needs.

To be in love.

Can't there be a romantic verse?

The poet has lost all.

Why doesn't he go back?

Get those torn old diaries.

Written in a young age.

When love meant nothing.

Love was enough to make anyone.

Spend a sleepless night.

Wondering.

:)

I still love you baby.

My poems are not like those.

But my love still is.

Now I miss you more.

Now the pain is more.

The scream is a way to say.

I love you bitch.

I love you.

More than I love myself.

That's not true.

:)

But I love you.

Mmmmmmm.........

Rise of the Machines

2006-09-12T20:25:00.000+05:30

They look tired.

But they have not lost hope.

It's all in the mind.

The challenge is the survival.

Survival of both the entities.

Rise of the forces.

Eager to rise to the highest level.

Respecting each other.

Trying to impress each other.

Using force to tear each other.

To see what lies within.

Plugs and Plants

2006-09-07T17:37:00.000+05:30

You try to fool everyone.

Sometimes we catch you.

Sometimes someone else.

Don't try to give the explanations.

We don't need them.

Not everything is market driven.

It is called self driven.

"For me only for me "

There is something called integrity.

Towards the self.

But the system does not let anyone.

Nor us.

What is wrong in trying?

We succeeded last time.

It works.

Trailblazer

2006-09-06T14:20:00.000+05:30

Let us cut the grass.

It is green on you side.

Let's cut you to size.

Let's cut your green grass.

You have grown tall.

It does not fit you.

Your image.

Let's malign it for sometime.

Then we will retrofit it.

Suitable to our needs.

:)

True Lies

2006-09-05T14:10:00.000+05:30

The flow has stopped.

No it hasn't.

Just trying to recuperate.

They say it happens.

No one needs to prove.

It doesn't.

Yet people try.

And end up messing things.

The harmony is disturbed.

There is total disintegration.

Of thoughts.

Insanity prevails for some time.

Then soft music  and some sleep.

Bingo!

Time Consuming

2006-09-04T12:22:00.000+05:30

Is it time bound?

It should never be.

There are people out there.

Watching it all the time.

These things should never be chained.

There should be no end to it.

But no one remembers the beginning.

So it is bound to continue.

Animals don't sing

2006-09-04T12:10:00.000+05:30

He is slow when on prowl.

Fast if he wants something.

The mother is always stronger.

The father won't live with them.

In search of new mothers.

Seasons come and go.

The cub grows to be a mother.

The father is now the brother.

It is not about being an animal buddy.

It is about being a fucking human.

With reasoning.

All out of Love

2006-09-04T11:53:00.000+05:30

There was a time.

When in love.

I would do crazy things.

I don't do them anymore.

But I do other things.

Which I never thought.

A whole new world has evolved.

And relationships are so fragile.

They are always ready.

To break you apart.

Amazing, this thing love.

I am still deeply in love.

Somewhere in Indraprastha

2006-09-04T11:50:00.000+05:30

The prayers have been accepted.

He was himself in the chariot.

Surrounded by clouds.

For four days and more.

He kept on moving.

From one place to another.

The greenery still needs some polish.

Well it took time but it did happen.