PYRE FIRE

Bottle brush reds

2011-10-10T15:41:00.000+05:30

There’s this distinct memory that keeps flashing before myeyes.
It’s a summerevening, about thirty minutes past 5. I’m not old enough to know how to read time, but the sun is at about the place in the sky, when they said it washalf past 5.

I’m at my grand dad’s place, standingatop his boundary wall as the sun is on its way down. We stand face to face.

The end of the road glimmers at me. Black and gold.Not a sight one would forget. All while a fully loaded bottle brush tree sweeps in thewarm breeze, over my head. My vest, damp with sweat that found its way trickling down myneck, from behind my ears.

And then i spot my mum riding back from work. Wearing a starched saree, that wouldn’tbudge an inch, even against the warm wind. I hear that familiar sputter grow louderas she closes in on her Luna. I jump off the wall, run onto the road, get herto stop and ride into the driveway, standing on the vehicle’s foot-mat as shebalances her way in.

High point of the day.

Mti kills it on the axe

2011-08-25T19:27:00.001+05:30

So there was this online competetion of sorts, among indian indie guitarists. There was a PRS on stake. You were supposed to upload a solo on a backing track that was provided to all through a free download.
Here's an entry i fell in love with. Been listening to it more than about 5 times a day since a week now.
The guy's called Mti. He's from Nagaland. God knows where the fuck he's been hiding all this while.
respect

today

2011-07-23T12:48:00.004+05:30

I was driving down home from Delhi in my zen, when i hit a traffic jam in Faridabad. But i wasn't complaining, because it was the opposite side of the two way road that was locked.
I wasn't complaining, till a huge Toyota SUV with a red beacon light broke away from the jam and sped into my lane, head on. I came to a screeching halt, so did the Toyota. And almost instantly the driver rolled down his opaque, black tinted window. He signaled me to back up.
And back up all the way till the end of the lane.
I could have, there was no one behind me. But why the fuck? You mister Toyota, are in the wrong fucking lane. Surely, you're not in an emergency. Besides what sort of an emergency could you possibly be in. Because, SUVs with flashing beacon lights aren't really known for responding to calamities.
So I didn't budge.
Soon enough, the traffic on his side started to move and he forced his way back onto his side.He stopped right next to me and barked, "teri akar ne thikaane lagaa dunga. kaun hai tu behenchod?"
I pondered the question as his beacon flashed in my face. I had no answer.

the first rant this year.

2011-06-21T21:36:00.004+05:30

i hate to admit it. But life is slowing the fuck down. And what's scary is that im only 25 years old.

It was about 5 years back when i was dabbling between 2 bands, college, music school , a girlfriend, animatics AND a mass media course all at the same time.
People'd christened me "mad scientist" back then. But i fucking loved being all over the city. Studying, jamming, learning, romancing. I loved not having time to spare.

today,i work in what they'd call the best ad agency around.
I have a girlfriend who i know im going to settle down with
Im committed to a band that's doing well in the circuit as well.

But it just doesn't seem enough. I mean if i were to sit down and run the past month back in my head, not one instance would wow me. Where is the sensationalism?

fine i recorded an album with the guys. But now what? i sit on my ass for another few months for it to be produced and released.

Also, I never thought id ever get used to the unpredictability of advertising to the extent that i'd start finding it predictable. And by that, Ive hit a new low, boss.

I think imma to shake things up a bit.
Be a little stupid, and do things the wrong way.

The rant ends. The riot begins.

Metro Blues

2011-05-10T11:14:00.002+05:30

So ive been traveling in the delhi metro for quite some time now. Was never a regular, but ever since i shifted base from gurgaon to delhi, the metro's been a saviour of sorts, especially through the summers.

One cant help but notice the mix of people that travels in the lines, unlike other public transport. You come across quite some characters, and for people in creative businesses, its not difficult to find a muse even!
I found mine for this post!
I think im going to print some stickers with these lines on em. And then slyly post them on metro property. Sure it's vandalism, but it'll give the bored commuter a good laugh.

Dear guy sleeping on the seat meant for the old and physically challenged, everyone knows that you’re not really sleeping.

Dear stud with the Bluetooth earphone. You look like a total retard talking to yourself.

Dear man with the straight face. You might have not realised, but you winced when you gassed us.

Dear auntie with the veggie bag. Your pointy bra hurts us more than your elbows.

The mind of an active mind

2010-04-21T19:16:00.005+05:30

So she sat high and mighty at her candlelit dinner table. Forking through sea-weed, nicely set in a grey plastic dish, as her obese cat purred around, often brushing against her bare legs. Raptula was a good cat, unlike many other rowdy ones adopted from the street. He practised much patience, like his mistress.

She had had a bad day at work. Much too similar to yesterday. Or the day before. Like every single day life had shown her. Life, since she started earning a living for herself. What good could selling pebbles at the shore bring anyway? Other than a few obnoxious gestures from some creeps adorning man boobs.

You’d enjoy those gestures if you were a nympho. But Sigret. She wasn’t one. In fact she couldn’t even spell ‘nympho’. Or ‘sex’ for that matter. She was just 6.

Living alone in an abandoned beach house with a patient cat has its own charm though. Especially if you’re an imaginative 6 year old. You get to christen your name, your cat's name. You control its existence. Or your own for that matter.

ConflictO

2010-03-31T18:53:00.004+05:30

Just realised that my last post was the first this year.
Twenty ten. That's what they're calling it.
Fucking mass of bourgeoisie intellect.

And yes, Happy New Year.
Quit frowning.
Bring that smile on.
Here's a hug.

मार ही डालोगे (You're totally gonna kill me)

2010-03-31T18:42:00.004+05:30

A line just popped - stunning all else that was going on in my mind.
Like a mushroom finding life in a meadow calm.

"A fossilized smile is all that remains of you. And it's the most beautiful memory i have"

Blech!!!

Dang!

2009-12-17T16:28:00.001+05:30

Man at times I just don’t get situations. And people more often.

But it’s all so funny, so I don’t mind

Tripstars

2009-11-16T14:21:00.004+05:30

This post is a lie. We dont even like the mentioned brand. But advertising often forces deals down your throats.

After a week long camping trip you’d usually expect to come back feeling fresh and all charged up. But the three of us felt rather drained on our arrival in the city. It was probably because of all the walking we did. And once we stepped into our pad, all but one of us wanted to do, was to crash.

Wangdi, being on a metro sexual trip these days, was rather pepped up. His pep had something to do with an apparent detox that his body had gone through. Because of all the sweating we indulged in while we trekked in the past week, wangdi had his “skin glowing with radiance”. Very gay.

So after stepping into our messy heaven, we threw our rucksacks where they least belonged and collapsed. A few minutes of lazing on the floor – in a room as hot as an oven is when thirst struck. The kind of a thirst that knows what it needs to quench itself. A thirst with a very specific antidote. We were all probably thinking about it in these many words when we passed a smile amongst each other. Wangdi being the prince of gaydom, popped up and offered to strut to the safe.

“Safe?” you might wonder. See, with beer this Godly, its imperative to have a separate refrigeration facility for it. So our very own Paris Hilton (as we’d recently started calling him)catwalked and got us our favorite golden bubbly. On the count of 4 and not 3, we chewed our retro looking botts open.

Budwieser is something that goes back quite some time, when it comes to the collective lives of the three of us. Back to our days of glory – barely a year and a half back as the “quite some time” may be. The many University matches that we not only were witness to, but part of, under its happy influence. The many classes that we attended, while our backpacks clanged with empty botts of Bud.

So we took our first sip, spared a moment of nostalgia, that hardly qualified as being called it; and carried out our ritual of sprinkling the second sip onto the framed Katrina Kaif poster. We’d only commenced with our trash talk about the failures of the National Highways Authority of India, when Wangdi snapped back to reality and screamed “Aaah… fuck detox. Im gonna guzzle”

We walked/crawled/writhed to our huge balcony that overlooks an all women’s gym and enjoyed what we realized we had been missing for a whole week. And after an hour of cleavage gazing and mathematical calculations that had a lot to do with mass and its relation to gravity, our discussion got to a point when we just couldn’t understand what it was that made us do the “get away” in the first place. The city is where us buds belonged! The city is where the life is! The budlife!

Macabre Zindabad

2009-11-06T13:27:00.001+05:30

Worth a browze, these two.

http://ops.tamu.edu/x075bb/poems/gorey/

http://www.myfirstdictionary.blogspot.com/

Nigambodh gets it on.

2009-10-26T19:07:00.005+05:30

ok so we went to IIT Kanpur for a lark. All we had on our minds was to gain some momentum in the circuit, let people know that we existed.

Registered ourselves at the fest for a whopping 650 each, had ourselves dumped with the rest of the bands at a shoddy dorm and smoked ourselves retarded for a good 4 days.

Manish scored well with a cutie from delhi and finally got himself some action.

Also, we won 2nd place at the rock fest. We were judged by these firangi rock n rollers who call themselves "Jaded Sun". The win came despite San facing massive technical fuck ups and missing out on his awesome solos while we continued to play on.

Also, also we won 3rd place in the fusion event. Plus we managed to bag the best bassy and best vox awards as well.

The fest left the band richer by around 30k in cash, a spanking new Epiphone les paul bass, a cannon digicam and hordes of people who call themselves our fans.

Yes! we have fans! haha!

Good trip.

Who me?

2009-10-08T13:04:00.001+05:30

Been long since i wrote anything in here.

Not much that I'd want you to know has happened since.

So chill.

Not Artois Enough

2009-08-22T15:28:00.007+05:30

Something that got bombed at the agency today. But i love it.

9 steps to a perfect first date

1) Sport a slight stubble. Shaven to the skin, is well, just gay!

2) Before picking her up. Make sure you’ve left no trace of gum residue on the windscreen, while you peeled off that “rent a car” sticker from your Bentley.

3) Needless to mention, wear your best attire. If she was the kind who didn’t care, you wouldn’t have needed that Bentley.

4) You don’t want to scare her with your love for BDSM on the first date. Your hold must be gentle when you greet her.

5) The first three pages on “greatoneliners.com” have been abused to death. Arm yourself with jokes, the 4^th page onwards.

6) You don’t want her to know that your familiarity to Italian Cuisine is limited to just pizzas. Take her out to a Lebanese restaurant – she’d be equally clueless.

7) Never order cola. You know you can’t hold that burp in.

8) No matter how big and mushy, talk to her not them.

9)Save this ad for future reference.

Ode to Tenzine

2009-08-20T17:39:00.003+05:30

my shite.
Hot and mellow, almost yellow,
In thine eyes i see.

For a reason not known to man,
you continue in continu-um
and try. In vain.
To reach the divine shite
with your waggy tongue.

my shite.
Eat it.Bitch!

When trance is psy

2009-08-12T17:28:00.003+05:30

The nuclei collapse into balls of light, giving birth to a plethora of colours. Photons shoot out of a vacationed fissionary school. The tribe shakes its ends in the air, trying to catch them brights. Sounds of intermittent bass lines surround and then fade into clicks. And then silence.
Human Choirs try in vain to emulate sounds of the ocean.
Engulfed by flashes of light, white light. The tribe waves at the pepper haired man on a podium. He responds by throwing a sphere of sound at them. They die. Instantaneously.

This being my favorite psy night of all time. till date.
Raja ram came down to gurgaon. killed it.

My weekend

2009-08-07T12:56:00.002+05:30

I am so motivated to travel right now that i could just jump into my untrustworthy zen and drive fucking off. Anywhere. I'd love to be anywhere but fucking here man. Not that being here is killing me - it's just that off late, ive realised what a rush travelling is! A rush that stays with me for a while, even after Im back. The excitement makes me perform better. At work, at sex, on stage. I usually come back not only refreshed, but driven!

However, travel i'd like to - without any baggage. at my own will. The way I want to , where i want to. i want to take along just the self. "Into the wild". Its going to be my plan and its going to be my trip. and i think im going to do this around the 15th of this month. I'd probably head for the mountains up north. I'll end up broke in the middle of the month if i do this - i know. But What That Fuck. I'll do this. I'll fucking do this.

inlackofspace

2009-08-03T16:46:00.003+05:30

thispostisntgoingtobetoolong.Butthecatchliesintheabseceofspacesbetweenwords.andthat'sthebeautyofitforyoucanreaditthewayyouwantto.Englishwillnotbindmydearfriends!thisisthepowerofperceptiontoitsmaximata

Twip Bubbleh

2009-07-28T15:08:00.006+05:30

The sky rained itself demented outside, while he sat on his thinkpad - thinking. Directing his thoughts not towards what he was being paid for, but towards an escape. An escape from this trap that he had only recently realized he was in. “Fucking masochistic - this life, I tell you!” he thought to himself.

He was only a few minutes into his thought-pool, when his buds called out to him from across the white hallway. “Fucker! Wanna come out for a smoke?” As they both synchronized a peculiar hand gesture. A gesture, that would attract eager smiles from the like aged. A gesture, that involved rolling an imaginary sheet of paper between one’s index finger and the thumb.

Pat didn’t think twice before he switched his monitor off. (Something he intentionally did while leaving his desk. He did his bit towards environment protection). He nudged his chair back a couple of feet with his ass and paced out with the two of them.

The trio walked across the patio, to their car, parked barely 15 seconds away. 15 seconds in that downpour though, served enough to drench them to the skin. They jumped into their champagne coloured hatchback and slammed the doors behind them. They looked at each other in childish excitement, while the rain their hair had collected, flowed off their noses. Drop by ticklish drop.

After a moment of uncanny silence, Mark barked, “You wanna roll or what man?!” This exclamation of his attracted a frown from the other two, as they almost harmonically choired, “You have the stuff, don’t you?” The two gave each other a split second stare that screamed “WTF!”

They consciously chose not to voice the WTF. For they thought pointing out their lately common vocal synchronies would be rendered a corny observation by the other. With the massive egos they had, being assumed corny would be a disaster. But by the time Mark remembered that he did have some stuff on him and rolled it onto the dash, the moment had passed anyway.

So Mark prepared their appetizer as Pat drove. Rather inched! See, there was a massive snarl right outside their office complex because of the rain. Typical of Delhi traffic. A centimeter of rain; and there you have ‘em. Roads choked like a whores on dicks.

But our three motherfuck’eteers were anything but bothered. They were out to tap some bong. Not bong as in bangla-bong. But otherwise. Only they had no bongs to tap. Bangla AND otherwise. This though, was hardly an issue for them. For they smoked the DU way - Just lace your 5 buck cancer stick with some hashish grains. And presto.

So they smoked.

Mark got stoned in the first drag

Pat, after a couple of puffs, was as happy as a goat grazing on Swiss meadows.

And D assumed her usual “I’m so cool. I don’t get high on anything” character.

Only; she could never hold this facade for longer than 5 minutes. Wonder why she even tried. Her antics, after she got high always gave it away. Antics that she never even realized that she was at! Like this time, she gazed out the rain dotted windscreen, with her mouth wide open, flicking the buttons on the car stereo’s remote. Almost as if, she was expecting the channel to change.

Their nice little trip bubble popped as D’s phone buzzed into this obnoxiously nasty ring tone. The fucking rot of an agency had managed to scuttle in here as well. Mark had been absconding from his desk for all this while. Which is what triggered the commotion at office. His incompetent boss found himself lost in the chaos at work and had decided to pull his lifeboat in. The three were all, but too used to shit coming their way when they least expected it. So they didn’t really get cranky when this happened to happen.

What Pat didn’t realize though, was that he’d just managed to escape the trap he’d been stressing about some 30 minutes back.

bLoT

2009-07-17T13:36:00.005+05:30

Rosebery creatures

they pop and go.

They talk not

of michaelangelo.

With them i glide

to lands of the trance,

where only voids suffice

and not matter.

Geometry was a monster at school.

But now there's none around.

Only fluid lines that stand

in incompetence.

Unable to bind within them,

the colours of neon.

BIG red S

2009-07-13T14:48:00.004+05:30

The big red S has been at it again lately.

Staring at me in the eye.

Only now, its stares lying on its side. More comfortable.

It blinks a lot these days, rapidly so, mommentarily.

But i can fix that. Dont worry. master.

It's hypnotized me into believing that it wants to be stolen and lie on my desk at home.

It shall be done.Master.

Muhuahahahahaah!

Happy valley

2009-06-19T12:24:00.005+05:30

A drunken evening. A chauffeur driven ride to the tracks. An overnight sleepless glide on the rails to witness a morning full of chaos. A little bargaining with the locals and a 9 hour journey afresh. Sleep. A wake to nervousness. Scenes from the tele right before your eyes. Love at first sight. curiosity. Then sleep again.

A "welcome to the happy valley" signboard marked with bullet holes. Herds of beautiful women and men alike. Fields of saffron, circled with with monstrous rocks white, peppered with trees. The smell of greens. Fresh. Then a curfew stricken town. Gunmen and armoured vehicles that stand guarding daffodil lined streets.

Bombarded with a script i could not read.

Warmth. Food. Family. Food. Sleep. Food. And food some more - like I'd never had before.
A never ending water body - the life of the valley. Cholesterol-ed. People look at you with hope.
A panorama of meadows that meet ice. Rain. Hail. Snow.
Muddy glaciers melting into a thunderous river that runs with you everywhere.
A forest lodge at the edge of it and a night in it. Another night in a palatial house that floats. and then another. Some # to score. Wonderous.

Cherries!Strawberries! Straight off their orchids. A ford fiesta that took us everywhere and then finally to a fortress of an airport. xrays, sniffer dogs, frisking, anxiety.
Heroism!
A turbulent flight with a scared to death company, bad food and a malfunctioning in-flight entertainment system.

Welcome home. A wind blast tempretured at 44degree C. Long wait at the conveyor. Bad taxi. Nostalgia. Fuck!
All my wonders of why they want the valley so bad put to rest.

Drako Fellatio

2009-05-28T12:41:00.003+05:30

I couldn't even judge right. But you can't blame me. Being in a circumstance remotely similar to mine - you'd crap your pants. Your neon signs would start to flicker and then short circuit. You'd cry and not know what to do. You'd turn your engines off, maybe even strip and run around naked - on a beach. That'd be quite a scene. You stripping naked and running on the beach. I'd either throw up or intercept you somewhere down the length of the beach and jiggle with you.

But then, that wouldn't be right. Jiggling with you in public, if at all.
Does it matter though? Being right all the time? Falling into that trap. That choosy societal black hole that's full of all the rights and wrongs none.
Now, how laid out a life would that be. Only doing what's right. Imagine knowing beforehand, of the choices you'd make. You'd practically be living Utopia.
Where's the action in something like that?

Anyway.

Atta Chowk in Melbourne

2009-05-26T12:02:00.004+05:30

This woman cried out loud from her balcony on the 9th floor, "bastard! whose car do you think that is!?" And spat out a blob of sputum at him. He didn't see the blob coming his way, and accommodated it on his shiny bald scalp with a loud plop.

The woman heard the plop some 1.2 seconds after she saw it land. She didn't smile till she heard it land. And the smile was a vicious one, let me tell you.

But him; he didn't care two bits about the goo on his head. And gave absolutely no importance to the verbal abuse he received from the woman. She screamed these words at him everyday.
Every single day.
Every single day of his life.
Every single day of his miserable, deaf life.

He just walked into the parking lot every morning and went through the same routine. That's all. That's all he ever did. Every morning.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, a father cried his bloody baby to sleep.

what a beautiful life

2009-05-13T11:39:00.006+05:30

The population around me fails to inspire me and so does the environment. Things are too comfortable for me to try and rack my grey muscle harder. I've been cracking ideas that have really impressed people at work lately. But the problem is, that those ideas dont impress ME. And I dont think an ad is good enough, if the creator himself thinks its mediocre!

The self remains unimpressed. I need action man, maybe a break.
I have a week long trip planned to Kasmir next month. I'm sure i'll have lots to write about once im back from there. I hope. I mean im so uninspired right now, that writing ads for a living aside, I dont even have anything worthwhile to even write about in my blog!
BAH.

What makes it worse is that im nearly broke - and its only the 2nd week into the month. I've got only 40 bucks on me right now and 300 in my salary account. I even tried freelancing this month to cover up for my broke-en- ness. And got a good assignment! I wrote some 5 television commercials for this private university. The client bought them all in the first go - but then, the buggers wont pay in time. They owe me around 10 K.

And i have a nasty cold. And have grown a mush. Imagine! i dont even feel like shaving.
Bhanchod.

Fuck i almost feel like a chick on PMS for ranting so much.
Bugger.

Tiger tiger burning brighter

2009-03-30T16:56:00.010+05:30

Well, i shared the write up with my band.
this one
The next thing I knew... we were jamming, composing music to cover it.
We renamed it as "Doga ka intekaam" (Doga's vengeance). Doga being the tiger cub.
My bassy added another stanza to it.

The recording is very low res and the sound quality isn't a hit either. It sounds better on a set of headphones.
I'm on the drums.
WATCH!

The payback

2009-03-17T16:52:00.001+05:30

The August autumn blankets humid memories
Of foxhunts and days of glory.
Left with pieces six, of silver
all to remind me of days that were.

Whatever’s left was not my plan
When swims in fancies was my game.
Doled it out tad before time
From six silvers to just a dime

Sell my body sell my soul
Or execute to make some more.
My options are but limited
Choose the easy track now – quick!

I am invincible , so is my knife
I am no specimen , nor is my life.
I slay for pleasure not for cash
I live for blood and blots in mud
I’d love to tread on but
My revenge against odds is complete
I’ve reached salvation – My good deed.

poeple them and people us.

2009-03-17T13:08:00.002+05:30

Ive been obsessing over blogs lately…
Not that this is news… but of late I've been reading some foreign ones…ones logged in by folks living in some other part of the world. I happened to stumble onto one and just followed the links thereafter… kind of a fixation now.
What I’ve come to realize though, is how similar, yet different their lives are from the kind we live here! The only 2 things I've read people fretting about in their write ups are relationships and money issues.
These guys have to work their asses off to earn the kind of cash that’s barely enough for them to survive on. I could never imagine handling two jobs at a time… but its sort of a pre-requisite for survival there. And this is the United states I’m talking about.

Not that I’m living a fancy life here or that I have no financial issues to worry about… but 2 jobs?! Faack! No!

As far as relationships are concerned... well i have only my personal experiences to compare to. And believe me, i don't fret about them too much. That's probably because all of the ones that I'm involved in are secure. The security, i feel is more of a cultural issue. We here, tend to just live through the relationships we form - not that we take them for granted; but it's just that we don't bother looking outside of our relationships for options. (I wonder if I'm making any sense at all, really) The relationships we're currently in are penultimate. This goes for friends, girlfriends, folks ET all! We sort of have a make-do-with-what-you-have kind of an attitude. But then again, this is from what i feel about "us" from what I've learnt through my relationships with people around me.

Weird post.
whatever. yeah. Ughh!
I'm hungry, I'm gonna go snack.

Wrath-less

2009-02-22T22:37:00.006+05:30

After being hooked to the lambs for over 4 years straight, i was very excited when i finally bought the Wrath album from my neighborhood music store. I was actually surprised to find it in a dreary place like faridabad, but that's a different story altogether.

Most carefully did i tear off the lamination and slide the disc into my car's stereo. What i heard for the next hour or so, however, was nothing short of utter disappointment.

Going by how beautifully the guys have progressed with each album that they have released, I expected this to be LOG's best work so far. And it was - but only production wise. Never have these guys sounded better. The mixing in there is superb and everything gels in well - except of course, for times when they've deliberately accentuated certain parts. The bass, for instance, in Contractor - which was a first in itself.

But coming back to my disappointment. Blythe is all over the fucking place! His vocals sound forced especially in his 'choke sermon'. And whatever it is that they are trying with their melodic riffs and solos. The solos lacked prominence and seemed highly uninspired to me. A few listens down, i still cant recall what any of their songs sounded like... Unlike their earlier albums that had tracks so catchy, that even my gardener would hum it to his kids.

The one track that Blythe did work good enough to give me goose flesh though, is 'In your Words'. A song that is opened by a floozy 'The passing'. The sound of which reminded me of my gods from the time i was still in school - Metallica. It is songs like 'In your words' that makes Lamb of God themselves. Sadly, it is songs like these that Wrath Lacks. 'Reclamation' comes a close second to In your Words with its powerful vocals and sledgehammer like riffs. Beautiful.

Needless to say Adler continues to churn out groove after unbelievable groove, many of which are interspersed by near incomprehensible fills.

All in all, even though i don't really hate this album, it is what Reload was for metallica, or what popularly perceived, 10000days was for Tool.

PS on 14th march2009 - actually i like dead seeds also

Hell surrenders

2009-02-19T18:43:00.005+05:30

Our world is yours to burn
To rape.
We’re set to char
Decay.

We are the prey.
And you our lord,
That predates as a mandate.
In our country of sin
Of betrayal,
Glutton and sloth.

Sew your weaves of terror,
Mesh your demons – communicate,
Your mercenaries to slay
Us mortals, immortally cursed
To the end of this non existent day.

Behold!
These streams of puss shall gush,
through our gardens lush
With daisies that bloom death
And drip temptation.

Time has no end
And neither our pain.
No one to save us
from the preposterous.
Ridiculous!
This life we live,
to satiate hungers that never die!

Sew your weaves of terror,
Mesh your demons – communicate,
Your mercenaries to slay
Us mortals, immortally cursed
To the end of this non existent day.

Tiger Tiger Burning Brighter

2009-01-21T16:52:00.009+05:30

Lurks in the shadows- mingles with blades tall.
Parting them to peep
at a game that opens into- gunshots and ricochets,
Bursts of blood and rain.

Spurts of life driven out of his own…
His own, who gave him life,
licks of love and warmth.
She, who launched him
to his own love for pungence - the colour red
She, who gave him his form.

Jungle demon yellow little,
Paint strippen’ black.
He doesn't deserve a death - nor pity
Just his country back!

He stands in awe
at the gasps, the chokes,
the groans in full colour – raw.

(He's witness to massacre…)

He stands there clueless -
before those misty eyes
that stare at him,
and then into nothingness.

Jungle demon yellow little,
Paint strippen’ black.
He doesn’t deserve a death - nor pity
Just his country back!

A new Year

2009-01-20T16:25:00.000+05:30

... and nothing has changed.
Much.

Fish sex.

2008-12-01T14:35:00.004+05:30

69, the famed oral course position, according to me is a favorite amongst Piceans.

let 69 = image

flip image at a 90 degree to the either side - whichever side you may.
What do you see?

Label me insane, but i think i just discovered something.

pseudogamy

2008-11-06T15:56:00.005+05:30

Psychobabble trash-talk
& paranormal promises.
Ground nuts that smell like sunflowers
on a daisygloom morning.

Whiffs of camphor
cats, dogs & toads.
Black label bottles-
creativity in my stylus.

Orgasm shreds on a
90D micro cube
that wails like a baby
of doom.

Licks of thunder, tears from heaven.
Prayers of cleansing
darkness of its void.
Unicycling, high wire walking.
the stereotype indian rope trick
It's a circus!

Londonner rasputins

carnivalesque vermillion spreads.

societies of pornography,
photographs of grass.
tears streaming puss
render vision void
and thought loose.

DRAUGHT BEER

2008-11-06T15:13:00.003+05:30

Rise
to the wave of mediocrity
Slay
slaves of excellence

Broken dreams
Not broken bones.
resultants of apex brawls
amongst brains that claim
superiority.

Being a calf

2008-09-02T12:35:00.002+05:30

Buzzing cubes spewing hot air fit tightly in their windows. I often wonder what joy they find in acquiring more of these cubes with each passing year. I mean… what purpose could they possibly serve anyway, with the summers getting warmer every time the season hits us?

Then they like to be jailed. Fascinating! They construct the tallest of walls around their manicured residences and revel in their shadows. Very rarely do they venture out – and when they do – they zip out in these moaning boxes – which incidentally, also disgorge hot air!

Mum always warned me about the big ones – the big boxes roar and stop for no one – like dad when he’s in a fit of rage, mowing down anyone and everything that comes in the way. I guess I should’ve followed what she told me, because this pungence (in full colour) that has been dripping from my hip doesn’t really make me look as pretty.

Unreal Tournament

2008-08-12T14:04:00.004+05:30

Stump pinks flutter.

Spiral tail’d,

Squeals of Pork echo.

The game thrown open,

gunshots and ricochets,

bursts of blood and rain.

The pinks flutter,

descend in a gyre.

Pigeons unleashed,

Salivating- they rocket

To where the gyre

ends in a thud.

-Cooing, they retrieve.

“Meat!” the decadent gamers cry.

It’s a take away.

Their wives howl back at home,

at wolves that wait patiently

For the gamers’

colonial return.

Korean Guerilla

2008-07-29T11:35:00.003+05:30

I finally went and saw Dark knight yesterday. Awesome movie. Joker's character was superb and Heath carried it through, with a peircing performance. Ive always been intrigued by all of Batman's villains. All, from Penguin to the riddler to joker... but this post isn't really about the movie. Its about what i noticed in the movie hall.

I went to one of the PVRs here in Gurgaon and while waiting for the auditorium to open, I decided to buy myself some pop corn and soda to kill time...which is when i noticed something really interesting. On either side of the candy shop, there were Plasma TVs installed in sets of four - screening trailers of movies that were soon to be released. Now, 3 of these 4 plasmas on each side were of Samsung brand and one was of Lucky Goldstar - otherwise, popularly known as LG.
The LG plasmas on both the sides, had distinctively poorer visual clarity than the Samsungs they were right next to.

Of course this was a set up!
Samsung wins!

Encash, not bash the male.

2008-07-28T18:31:00.008+05:30

The very cocky headline aside, I have a confession to make, a few questions to ask and a few suggestions to add to all the hullabaloo.

When I was at college, final year – I took up women’s writing as a subject just because the alternative (Literary Theory) just sounded too difficult to crack. I chose the subject without knowing what I was really getting into – not that I regret it now, 2 years down. I’m rather happy of the intelligent choice I made, unconsciously so and the way it has shaped me as an individual.

I was the only guy in class to have chosen the subject, probably because I had absolutely no hang ups/ was confident about my sexuality- at least that’s what I claimed back then.

(Before you gawk - I’m straight). In a class of around 40 people there were only 9 of us who took up feminism. The guys stated that they were too macho to study, analyse and critique frilly write ups (this is how they imagined the subject to be – wrongly so. It was only through me that they later learned that feminist literature was much more harsher and violent than the Greek wars they read and romanticized about in class) and the girls… well they had no excuse. They just did as the society had molded them to do, over the years. All that it would have taken for them to counter society and the patriarchy that is so prevalent in it was to have taken up the course. Well this was the reason of their choice, for most of the girls – exception claimers aside.

My girlfriend being a staunch feminist herself, attracts a lot of stink eyes from people when they learn of her stand on gender dynamics…and later, when they learn that even I am on the same side as hers… they are suddenly more tolerant. Ridiculous, how people function!

Like just the other day, when a servicing guy in my office was bitching about an art chick he thought had too much attitude for her size said “…and I think she’s a feminist too! By God! Shit!”… Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean???

The saxay boy shut the fuck up when I told him that I was one too, and that I didn't understand what the big deal was about being one.

I remember once in my feminism class back at college, when a lecturer of mine recalled her thoughts from when she was expecting her 1^st baby - “I wish I have a daughter. Then I could raise her to be a feminist”

This comment of hers left me confused…

See, with patriarchy having to do with male domination and the acceptance of it by even women – would it not be intelligent of us to breed more male feminists than to breed more and more female ones? The society functions – like it or not – as men do or say… so why not have men preach feminism?? Its not that hard to have men on your team you know…Coz we are gullible as fuck. You just need to hit the right spot. Give us a Grear with visuals or an even more modernistic version of the same to flip through. Or even better, (sexist as it may sound) have a pretty looking chick read it out to us! So, my point basically being, that rather than bashing males so generically, one should try and get them to join the revolution instead!

I’m going to end this stream of consciousness right here because some lousy copy driven work just came in …

And just for the record, this post was triggered by the comments I read on a blog that I came across today. This blog was by a chica who shares the same nickname or maybe her actual name with Gunj, and may I add – even looks like her!! Ironical as the situation may be, she’s a feminist too. Of course, the Gunj I know is going to slaughter me for this. She thinks that this new Gunj is an impostor! Also, Tenzin shall be slayed ( who is a pseudo anti feminist – someone ask him why), for introducing me to Gunj’s blog. The new Gunj’s blog… not the one we know. Okay this is confusing.

Also, I need to buy shorts. I had too much of the red bull that the promotion cuties gave me for free at work today – which is making me piss like a monkey. I still haven’t watched dark knight – I’ve to go as soon as I find someone who hasn’t watched it, provided we get tickets. The London International award’s and The Goa fest’s call for entries posters are staring at me. I am random.

Killer Queen

2008-07-15T17:05:00.003+05:30

If I had a choice I’d vote “Mr. Fahrenheit” for president. Even though now, that he’s dead. The man’s vocal skills have continued to amaze me since I was still wetting my cotton nappies (in my days, diapers were a luxury available only to either the supra rich crawlers or ones who had their fat bottom’d- frequent flier aunties visiting from the UK) Anyway, him being as gay as a daffodil and the fact that Freddie didn’t like to be reminded of his connection with India aside, the man is ( as I reiterate) a wonder, a master composer, songwriter, singer and performer. Note that I use the word is and not was… for the man has brought generations after another to tap their feet, bob their heads and swing to his tunes. – Cliché as it may sound; he still does, 17 years after he sung his last song.

RIP

Earplugs

2008-06-24T17:34:00.004+05:30

An idea just whizzed past my mind. I’m trying hard to avert all its efforts to whizz any further.

It’s trying to run, run into that area in my brain, of which I have a limited access to. Its almost like it knows of this, like it’s conspired to tax me.

I close my eyes.

I purse my lips.

I clench my fists

I concentrate

and try desperately to pull it to a place in my head, from where I can see it clearly. But that bastard of an idea is a tough player. It runs farther away.

It sits beside me at the coffee shop.It laughs as it sees me reading Asimov while I try to figure out what the fuck a Compendium Trans-functioner is.

It rides a hexagon’s edge, jumps off it and slides across a table. I don’t know what significance the hexagon or that sun mica top table hold in my memory – but it rode and it slid.

Sharp, shiny daggers fling into the nothingness on my left. This, while I hold a dartboard in my right hand.

Water. Under its surface, then on it.

Tea, iced. 3 bucks. D-school. Dante’s Inferno. Sighs, laughs, conversations that lead to nowhere.

Connaught Place. I stand in awe, gazing at its architecture marvelous.

And then… just then … as I lose myself to this beauty in all white, the fucker just vaporises- the idea. In fact I can’t even remember what the idea was about anymore, or what triggered it for that matter.

Fuck.Usually, I’d try again. But this loud, sadistic toned blunt Bangla that keeps pounding on my eardrums just won’t let me.

News

2008-06-23T18:01:00.004+05:30

okay so i got my offer letter today. Big Deal... big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.
Yes it is.
and I'm Happy

Gurgaon

2008-06-23T15:07:00.001+05:30

What’s with your hair? Why is it so straight? Why the fuck do you flick it so often? Why are your teeth so white? How come your nails are so clean? Why are your lips drippin’ gloss? Are those boobs pumped? ... and that ass?

What’s with the big mobile phone? Why does it ring so often? Aren’t you a management trainee?... Yet you drive a BMW?

What’s with you woman?! What’s with your pink ear rings? What’s with the high heels -everyday? What’s with the unfinished beer? What’s with the two nibble dinner?

Why can’t you bear the heat? Aren’t you from around here? Why do you still talk of the vacation you had in the US eight years back? Why do you listen to hip hop? Can you recite what they rap?

Why do you hate the jaat? Why do you hate his language? Why do you have an accent?

…And what the fuck are you wearing that fruity perfume for lady - It all makes me want to throw up!!!

(- to be continued)

The Grand

2008-06-19T18:09:00.003+05:30

The charred butts came to life as I pulled the lever. The gush was crystal clear – only froth, I could see. The corpses seemed to enjoy their swirl in the bowl though. This, while I stood looking down at the action, amused at how they allowed themselves to be manipulated by this force.

Calm spelled the glazed room, just as the bowl gurgled, swallowing all, spurting fine drops onto its rim. And then it suddenly struck me. It made me turn around and look at myself in the mirror – my nostrils flaring. I had never smelled anything like it before. While what remained of my Davidoffs bobbed their way through the capital’s sewers, they left behind an aroma, which now blended with that of the naphthalene, probably stacked in some corner. I inhaled ever so deeply. It was crisp, the smell – very masculine, and I swear I could wear it all day.

Anyway, I realized how dumb (read gay) a moment I had just had and walked right out, zipping my pants up, as I did.

What awaited me outside was a ride back through the shredded Aravalis, to a few hours of learning how to advertise good. The ride was exciting.It included a can of beer.

Publicis France not

2008-04-30T21:39:00.003+05:30

My intro to the blog has been rendered viod.

I reset the privacy settings.

The blog is now open to public view and critique.

Thanks.

A momment in the life of a copywriter

2008-04-07T16:11:00.003+05:30

The phone rang louder than id' ever heard. As it did, i snapped out of the gaze into my sub-conscious. It took a while till i realised things around me. In utter chaos - just as i'd left them.
I often leave myself behind...unwillingly, but i do. In my own world of utopia i wander... while my conscious spews garbage.

peek a BOO

2008-02-03T22:54:00.002+05:30

background - pre noon, companyless, bright,still day; absolute silence, i notice my shadow falling on the rocks..... what resulted was a choppy piece of stream-of-consciousness writing.

note - the pic is from a different time, same location

Do i follow,

or does it follow me - my shadow?

- or am i one myself?

Im often advised by it about my anatomy - my hair in place- if not

But then 'I' command it mostly.

It has no inhibitions - falls on, steps on ,just about anything - it mingles well.

- It's formless, spineless!

Colourless?- or colourful?

Is my shadow my Reflection?? ( this question - assuming that It is my shadow, and im not one myself)

Opaque?-Transparent?-translucent?

is it alive?

Sugar -Sugar

2008-01-22T21:44:00.000+05:30

Misty wind blast,

piercing cold.

-numb tips,

ears hurt,

Breath goes heavy.

-Freshness swallows me,

i go snow-blind

-as heaps of coke i conquer.

The Kind of Friends I Never Had

2007-11-02T18:39:00.000+05:30

I'm writing a prose as a result of constant doting by one particular member of the royalty.

Ive been feeling very restless lately, having been bitten by the nostalgia bug way too many times in the past few days.

College ended a few months back and i never realised how much i missed it, and the people there till i recently got together with some of my ex-classmates cum partners in all imaginable forms of "adolescent" crimes one can expect from fully grown men and women. We met at JNU, dined together and had a Lil booze session later on.

En route to our booze venue, the lord and i caught up on each others life and genuinely felt happy for each other.... The lord deserves that sweet smell of success he's been sniffing lately- even though he's been purposely ignorant about it- lest things go wrong, and his dreams come crashing down ( a pessimist that he is)

If all this emotional wrench wasn't enough, SirZ called one of us up,while we were drinking... all drunk himself. We passed the phone around (on loudspeaker) and talked to him. I don't know if he had prior info about all of us being together, but you just couldn't miss that shiver in his voice when he took all of our names, talking to each of us. It was that shiver in the man's voice that struck me - no matter how much he tries to act cool, his voice gave away how much WE mean to him..... or maybe I'm just imagining.

The Bombay jaat landed at IIMC to meet me and the duchess today.... I'd been waiting to see her since so long, especially since we've spent so much time together back at the university.Other than losing a lil weight from her illness, the girl hasn't changed even a bit...and i wouldn't have her any other way anyway. She's as over expressive and funny as ever!
It dint take even 5 minutes before her bitching session began with the duchess with me as a witness.... Deja-vu! only the location had changed... we weren't sitting cross legged under that big neem tree at D-school this time around.

I'm surprised i haven't gone under depression thinking about Ramjas so much .....
.....and i know that the A's and W's and H's of the world wont help me even if i do... what'll help me will be the company of the irreplaceable family i formed around 2 years back.

invasion

2007-07-25T20:30:00.000+05:30

Time sweeps by
but i,
cant do much.

They spot me
from a distance far
as I;
contemplate, they grin
not at me
-they die

I grow restless
as i,
cant do much.

Monstrosity flies past
It squeals by
as I,
stand just watching
the wasteland
for I,
cant do much.

Craters of limbs
my land accommodates
crusted, headless bodies too,
what were once lush
accommodate.

And I
cant do much
but cry
-massacre!

post A

2007-06-30T16:34:00.000+05:30

okay, the last post was written while i was still under A. Hence, utterly unimpressive.(plus I'm not good at prose anyway) Ive decided to let it be, and not edit/refurbish it. The experience was scary and at the end of it all, i was superbly exhausted : passed out for 16 hrs straight.

sweet tooths - BEWARE!

2007-06-25T16:11:00.000+05:30

parabolas I've been riding man! and the peaks are wwwaaaayyyy apart from the troughs. its almost insane, only that you know whats going on, and you're almost in full control. you feel superbly confident to even slaughter, let alone other petty stuff that would make you crap your pants otherwise.

Psychedelic. now i truly know what it means.now i know what those colours are about.now i know what those flowy flowers are.....they're all over the place! crystal clear- even when you have your eyes shut.
You are alive with a capital A alright.... but so is every thing around you. from tables to walls to trees...everything has a mind of its own. i had trees reaching out to me , calling to me as they gestured. concrete walls looked liquid ... flowy! i touched em and they had ripples in em,but they felt solid.
things that are metres away from you, seem in reach and you try for hours to grab them-in vain.
you cant sit still....you HAVE to move....you feel scared of being swallowed by the ground if you sit or be still.

This lasts for long.
but when it wares off....you take a plunge...a plunge deeper from where u started...deeper than you've ever been.at this stage, its like every one's conspiring against you..especially ones you love.you trust no-one.you'll be sitting by now- only sitting-sitting still. staring at the rotating fan above you. you're contemplating, but thoughts just whizz past your conscience- you're constantly chasing them- you just cant hold on for long enough for your thoughts to make sense.
You feel like a lump.wasted.worthless.miniscule..... and looking back to those hours....i was every bit of what I've mentioned here....i was pure lump. just lying there.
this lasts long too.
longer than the high....but when it wares off....don't think it to be the end.

Just when you talk yourself out of this depression you feel like you just washed down a dozen cans of red bull.superbly energetic....maybe aggressive as well.I took a swim during this time. being a good swimmer, my capacity to swim at a stretch is about 500 mts, freestyle. but under influence of these dozen red bulls, i swam for 2 hours continuously. taking few, short breaks. took countless laps of the 50mt pool, and was still raring to go after i got outta the pool.
you're emotionless during this high....only energetic.

i guess i have another dip to go before I'm back to normal....and am on my way....I'm dreading the dip....nothing is scarier than yourself.
i have another sugar cube on me right now....and i can very well take it to prevent the dip....... but i wonder if i should....maybe i will.....but if i do....then I'm done for....since this cycle is endless.

(WAR) Man down

2007-06-09T11:46:00.000+05:30

My life does a passing
as i lid it thrice
in pain.

My breath soaked
in full colour
-Raw

Pungence puddled around me,
for the ground i lay on ,
is saturated with the pain
of all my kind.

I see those eyes.
Gazing down
-Glistening.

born Free

2007-05-15T23:08:00.000+05:30

Disowned at birth,
I lived my life so.
An outcast,
i struggled
in a world
devil's own.

Discovered adulthood
that only i comprehended
and felt too!
-I Did!

-Labelled void;
i loved too,
but never voiced;
for i was bound to the outcome
of my birth itself.

In negation I Lived,
and i lie here today
dying
-still sexless

Serene

2007-05-15T22:51:00.000+05:30

That Stone doth lie there .
Dead it has been,
Dead it will be forever;
Watching....

Revolutions, changes for the better
love lost, for the worse.
Hatred it has seen,
with itself sitting
calm,
in drains of blood

--blood that has crusted onto it;
that no-one has bothered
to wipe clean.

That Stone doth lie there;
born it was to this 'world'
in phases
-as it lives on in them too.

It's wrath never lets loose,
though it feels so much

That Stone, dead forever,
doth lie there.
Not an inch it moved
since it born
....just shone

Dead

one last time

2007-05-11T23:02:00.001+05:30

Ashes fly in
as the westwinds blow.
Against the flow
they fly
-ashes

After Burial

2007-05-06T18:38:00.000+05:30

I lie here in my grave
open eyed;
contemplating.

Darkness I've lived through,
till after my casket was sealed.
Claustrophobic.

I ascended, as i was lowered
for burial.

My lover's teardrops
saturate the soil above me.
Daises blossom
-black
-burnt
-charred

This topic was one- given to folks who participated in a poetry writing compett at Ramjas.... I didnt participate, but tried my hand at the topic post event

lesson 1

2007-05-06T18:18:00.000+05:30

Kill you will i?
No that's too mellow.

Slit you, scar you,
chain you,
and let you lie-
bleeding.

So you learn,
the essnce of life.
so you learn,
what every breath means.

....And all you'll have,
will be your blood
to drink;
to keep yourself
from treading towards
eternal misery

The

2007-05-05T14:14:00.004+05:30

This is it!

Derogation

2007-05-05T14:14:00.002+05:30

Never called truce
with her war-mates.
Lost all.
Her all in process.
She shunned all good,
all that came her way
-"Pseudo!"

Lost all to the world,
hope with the world's own
she lost too.....

Spun on alone,
herself used,
abused,
re-used

Screamed and groaned
through her last breaths,
leaving her home
and it's seekers in misery;

no one to set her aflame;
She is still
at war

Come Hither, and Stay

2007-05-05T14:05:00.000+05:30

It comes to me,
when I'm at my peak;
above all
i soar,
am proud.

Proven though,
too proud i reckon;
for i came
tumbling down.
To a level so low,
I'd never seen myself so.

The pressure is immense.
Unbearable.
will i have to let go?
Let go,
of my pride??

NO!! The pride shall stay
for this is what i am

it works

2007-05-05T02:09:00.000+05:30

ok....i take my curses back....
finally figured out how to work this shit...
thankyou

anytime u need help, just flash that flood light in the sky
----batman will come!
PEACE!

PS: i love stram of consciousness writing :P

ONE

2007-05-05T00:41:00.000+05:30

Man on the edge,
almost fallen
holds himself,
-just an inch to go

"What will it be?
-Sink to glory?
-or back to labour"?
He cant decide.
He holds himself,
with just a step to go.

Something beckons,
spotless.
Glistening,
calling.
Luring as it is,
leaping towards him,
calling again.
....Just an inch to go

But he!!
He steps back;
for he remembers
father's words
from when he was three.
- "What doesn't glitter ,
may be gold"

He takes his chance;
greedy as he is
for gold, not salvation.
Realise he doesn't,
that salvation he has reached.

---That one inch covered
that one step taken

KING - OF - OUR - SYSTEM

2007-05-05T00:15:00.000+05:30

'Bleeding' in
through the 'pain',
killing shadows
-and what lurks in them.

Their wings
he rapps,
with just one drop of his.
On.
Everyday.

BLAH!

2007-05-04T23:58:00.000+05:30

ok whatever....cant figure this out, so im just gonna keep postin mad.... to hell with organisation and presentation.... i can take my readers for granted since they are so generous....whatever that means....this is a stream of conciousness writing.... and im enjoyin it!! YAY!

alright, poem time

WTF

2007-05-04T21:52:00.000+05:30

ok....
either this site sucks apples....or i dont know how to handle it....

i cant seem to put in enough spaces between my verses man!....
i pressed "enter" between each of the lines in my last post....but it doesnt show....and the verses simply stick to each other like vineet to vagina!!!
haaalp me learn...
pilij

Nostalgia

2007-05-04T21:44:00.000+05:30

Lusturous images

of green with blue above,

distorted they turned;

width wise.

Hazed they lay now.

New charecters emerge

over time.

Unwanted, since uninvited;

irritable as i get,

i want them to leave

(they are grey)

i want the original

back.

The blues and greens;

sharp again,

crisp,

unhazy.

cant go back in time,

will go on hence

to have the original

back

INTRO

2007-05-04T21:36:00.000+05:30

see, I'm not a writer...
am definitely lousy at prose
but i try my hand at poetry every now and then.....
cant say why , but usually end up writing "dark poetry" ,as they call it.
thought id share it with a select few....the few who know me better than what i look like, or seem like on the outside....
also, most of the poems here, I've written beforehand and am just making them available online for critique.....neither have they been published chronologically

so basically if you're reading this.... consider yourself a privileged ass.

here goes nothing.........