Monday, September 6, 2010


When at last the day grew dim,
to hide the sun, the clouds did swim,
the whole world quickly turned on the lights,
a flick of the switch and out fled the night,
as i sat idly in my seat,
i ignored the falsely lit street,
and looking at the falling rain,
the moment seemed inane

Mentally i walked that narrow street,
where insane and the mundane meet,
that dividing line obscured,
and languid boredom thus was cured,
the world seemed my acid dream,
throat constricted, i could not scream,
blurred colours spun around,
lovers' faces in thoughts are drowned,

People thought i have never met,
who i pass once and then forget,
now come to mind in leaps and bounds,
with vulgar colour and garish sounds,
i am feeling perversely loved,
that thought to be unconscious is shoved,
i turn away to the dark past,
and wonder whether light or dark to trust,

And still i watch the rains pace,
as drops stream down my face,
when and why did i start to cry,
i cannot stop though i try,
i want to run to that acid dream,
where i cant breathe but i may scream,
the colours make my sky afar,
and drops of darkness my stars.....

Sunday, September 5, 2010


faster or slower,
i dont mind either,
hide me, keep me under,
want to be anything but sober,

for now or forever,
keep me wherever,
this pain cant get any deeper,
if it doesnt kill me, it just makes me stranger,

suffer or recover,
the difference doesnt seem major,
this price doesnt seem to get cheaper,
this regretful smile just gets wider,

to a sadist from a lover,
vengeance never got uglier,
no more sympathy shall appear,
a sneer would follow every fear,
a drop of blood for every tear,
a life taken for all thats fair,

before i snatch that breath you take,
before my knife carves a smile on your face,
when i laugh at your misery, and you turn curious,
only one question shall i ask, why so serious,

because when you cause a wound that forever lasts,
and i seek atonement on your behalf,


On monday when the sun is hot,
i wonder to myself a lot,
now is it true, or is it not,
that what is which and which is what,

On tuesday, when it hails and snows,
the feeling in me grows and grows,
that hardly anybody knows,
if those are these and these are those

On wednesday, when the sky is blue,
and i have nothing else to do,
i sometimes wonder if its true,
that who is what or what is who,

On thursday, when it starts to freeze,
and hoar frost twinkles on the trees,
how very readily one sees,
that these are whose and whose are these,

On friday, when the moon shines again,
and i find it hard to explain,
a thought which is driving me insane,
whether to contain or to complain,

On saturday, when i see the spring arrive,
when my garden smells of chive,
and i see the bees building their hives,
and i wonder if alive is live or live is alive,

On sunday, when the week ends,
and i finally transcend,
or did i ascend?
was i pretending or did i finally manage to go around the bend?.........

Impaled and impaired

As ill luck would have it, all my posts were deleted by me after a frightful tryst with technology which off course technology won and i the son of man lost. Blame it on my stunted TQ(technological growth quotient)because of listening to bappi lahiris and baba sehgals. Actually, since it is the age of competitive intolerance so I would much rather blame it on someone else than my lack of awareness. Now blogger has offended me with this no accidental delete retrieval absence option. So now, i will take out a procession against blogger and blame them for my harassment and insult to my stunted intellect and retarded thoughts. I shall find some jhola toting people from JU who i will aptly call intellectuals because they have beard, wear thick rimmed glasses and speak like people from the erstwhile raj era. They shall be able to identify with problems of retards as competitive intolerance and the sensibility to understand it( maybe even something even more trivial might offend them all the more) is something which not everyone is blessed with. The case of the missing accidental delete is going to be inexplicably tied up with cultural degradation and we shall ultimately blame it all on capitalism. For some inexplicable reason this will result in venting out our ire on some hapless chap on the streets who would surprisingly turn out be a scribe, who at once would dial the number to cover his ass and more than that his head which again shall get a small semblance of a cut which then shall become the headlines of the broadsheets tomorrow. We shall get our i dont know how many minutes of fame. By now, we are on a some undiscovered hormone high on getting offended. Okay something has offended you. I will be offended by something even more trivial. Beat that boy. The culmination of this chain of events is either landing myself in a jail or even getting my head hoisted at the end of a spear only because i was born demented. No matter what happens, intolerance always evokes strong emotions. Shame,(which in the words of karl marx is a revolutionary sentiment)derision, mockery, or even professed indifference. There is nothing moderate about competitive intolerance. All started with only because i wanted to tell the world something about my world through this online "culture" thing. And some ralph waldo dude said once, culture with us, ends in a headache.......


As they swim around in the sea,
unlike me they are worry free,
as the waves break up upon the shore,
i am certain of things forever more,
i love you, do you feel the same?
if you dont, then who is to blame?
is it me or something i did?
or is it you a skeptical trait you hid?
i wonder will there ever be a we?
free to live, free to be,
because if you just let me go,
what will you learn? how will you know?
i thought you loved me, i thought you cared,
but reality tells me, you will never be there,
i always thought how close we were,
but my illusions, you now are so distant so far,
this confusion poisons me, cant you see,
it seems i am someone else, not me,
its the ambivalent games you play,
that have been making me feel this way,
i dont know what to say or do,
because for advice, i always turned to you,
and you are not there, to guide me straight,
you wont let me enter through your gates,
and since i am sent astray,
i think, "i will do without you anyway"
now thats a lie, as we both know,
because it pains me to see you go,
its always the times you love that never last,
and the ones you are not there dont seem to pass,
even though i was really scared,
i tried not to show you how much i care,
i should have told you, things might have changed,
but instead we are apart and feeling estranged,
as i feel the tears roll down my face,
i dry my wet eyes in disgrace