A black rock, dirty, 
Overgrown moss and fern,
Sat by the highway,
Silent, sad, and stern;
It stood there, still,
For as long as it could remember,
Bless me! 
Rocks have very short memory,
So it didn’t hurt to ponder.

Until one day a li’l girl came by,
And the rock caught her eye,
Odd shaped and black,
She thought it pretty,
Put it in her knapsack.

The rock went home with her,
She cleansed it, polished it,
Until it shone like a star;
Then she played with it,
For a day and a half,
And then, like it always is,
It was forgotten.

Until one day she emptied her pack,
And the rock fell on her left foot,
She cried out loud.
It had hurt, like it always does.
“Stupid Rock!” She shrieked,
And threw it out her window;
The rock fell, it rolled down,
And gathered moss once again.

Sometimes now, the rock does wonder,
Why it’s gone so soft and tender.
Its shine is now gone too,
But its inside burns, much like a star.
Bless me! Did I mention?
Rocks have very short memory,
So it doesn’t hurt much, to ponder.

Moonstruck

Moonlight, she pleads for you,
So go hold her hand, be true.
Moonlight, take her in your arms,
Tease her with your unfailing charms.

Moonlight, be nice and soft,
Don’t flirt, as you do oft.
Love her, for who she is,
For once, dive into this abyss.

Moonlight, don’t be afraid,
After all things done and said.
Moonlight, bathe her in your grace,
For you she deserves… nothing less.

Presumptuous

Once in every blue moon,
The piper plays his mystique tune;
His notes have charm, they say,
The piper knows how to catch his prey.

He is young, but not foolish,
His eyes on that one Big Fish;
He puts himself on as bait,
And by the riverside he stands in wait.

He knows that she’d come,
Come what may, she’d come;
His magic had never failed him,
Fulfilling his every desire, each whim.

So the piper keeps playing his tune,
Hoping to find his mistress soon.

But tonight, something was wrong,
Dark it was, it now seemed long;
Midnight was past, but no one came,
The hours were silent, the hours were same.

And the piper, he was but man,
Cursed it all, himself, and his bungled plan;
And as he moved away from that shore,
He heard his tune from the night before.

Had a new piper come to town?
His displeasure was great, so was his frown;
But then the piper smiled, he said with a grin,
Old roots must eventually make way, for Green.

Phew!

Phew!

A month long ordeal finally seems to be at its end. My first project that took me to the depths of the “Share Jungle”, through stocks and shares (and God knows what not!) has finally allowed me to have some grip, some kind of a control. I never knew how much effort I could actually put in (being adept at leading such an effortless life all through my college days) and so it was an exhilarating experience, at breakneck speed. But now most of that is over, so phew!

Also, my French course is over for now. So I shall enjoy some freedom in week-ends. I had been really hard-pressed for time and was very much nervous before my French exam. And the chaos the girls created right before the personal interviews helped lower my mercury a bit more. They ‘ghera-od’ (the term has created its own niche, in context of Jadavpur and Singur) the interviewee as soon as he/she came back from the session and made a whole lot of noise. And ‘yours truly’ had to maintain his calm and focus amidst all that, and ‘yours truly’ truly felt that that was a remarkable job. As for the exam, it was “facile comme bonjour!”(French is a feminist language, for it makes you sound so snobbish!)

August is at its end, and with September autumn comes. Autumn, I’ve cherished always. And autumns have been rewarding. So I wait………

With all due respect...

There are a lot many peculiar things happening around me and yet I’ve been so oblivious! For example, I have known a certain person for quite a long time. This person I’m talking about is a very honest fellow, and very down-to-earth [and god knows I have no intention of defaming him]. Last month he appeared for a lot many interviews; he cracked none. And though it was completely insignificant that I should come to know of the reason, nevertheless I was made aware of it. It had so happened that the man saw it fit to put on a very healthy smile for his passport photograph and had presented the same at the time of interview. And it was one of those unique one-sided sardonic smiles that instantly puts you on your guard, and you refuse having to do anything with one who wears it.
Now I usually dig deep, and here there was a gold mine going to waste! So I intended to pursue this man’s life-story and immediately got to work. And here are some very interesting facts that I learnt:-


In his earlier days in order to get to office, this man had to frequent the ferry. For those living in the outskirts of the big city, this is quite common. And it is also very common that these people who frequent the ferry so, may actually end up late on more than a couple of occasions. So one day he was late. And as he hurried to the shore he saw the launch drifting away. He didn’t have much time, neither to think nor to act. He measured up the distance, pulled up his pants, and then with a war-cry he jumped.
He had over calculated. Not by much though. Infact, he did land on the boat, albeit with one foot. But the momentum had been too overbearing. The people on the shore and in the boat must’ve been very amused to see such a composed ballet act during the tense, busy morning hours. And I am told he had that same smile on his face when he was fished out of the river.


An interesting man has interesting friends, and they will ordinarily indulge in very interesting past-times. So they did. In the post-dinner sessions, they would gather to play cards. And sometimes these sessions would extend a little beyond normal bed hours. It is not so much that they enjoyed the game, but the lot of the one who was to loose. That person would be subject to the whims of the winner, and sometimes, I am told, these whims would extend to be…..well…..whimsical. Now, one day it was time for our dear little fellow to loose, as he lost quite often. And as punishment, he was to draw (for he had a reputation in that aspect of fine arts) a bus. Simple, and uncomplicated. And after an hour long struggle he produced his masterpiece. Now everyone who was fortunate enough to discern that fancy sketch has confessed that it was very genuine. That they have never witnessed so much done with a scrap of paper and a much-chewed-over pencil. The artist had been so witty, that he had been able to produce the front, the top, the bottom, both the sides, and the back of the bus in one 2-dimensional surface, thus putting all his predecessors (artists and engineers alike) to shame. But his ingenuity did not fetch much praise from his peers, and they refused to let it pass as art at all. The world, we all know, is cruel to budding revolutionists. So, he was made to redraw. This time around, however, they were lenient enough to allow him a “Draw-as-you-like” decree.
The man had been an employee with a nut-n-bolt factory then and said that he would draw a nut. Simple, and uncomplicated. He had begun with that same silly smile on his face; after all, for six years now, he’d been seeing nothing but nuts and bolts. But soon, his face began to loose its former luster. Fifteen minutes in, it wore a very cloudy expression. And half-n-hour later he wore a countenance so shocking that his friends had to forcibly wriggle out the paper from within his grasp. I am told, that that piece of paper was preserved for a long time, and that it was brought to public view on many an auspicious occasion. As for the artist, he had yielded completely and begged for the most unpopular of punishments, a mild electric shock, taken in the tongue, and had obliged thus every other time he lost.

Coincidences

Funny thing with coincidences,
They have a story of their own,
How a letter long lost,
Finds its purpose, so near,
At the throw of a stone.
The object of my affection,
Forever elusive, and so untraced,
Finds its way back to me, quite strangely,
And I am at a loss.
Once again I hear the same hum, same drone,
As I stoop to pick up a sovereign,
Right beneath my chair.
What feelings reach me then?
I know not, but I know,
That I am washed up at a familiar shore.
The water here tastes the same,
Only if a little bitter,
They say ‘it’ never tastes the same.
And I am confused once again,
Who to follow?
My love or my shame…

Listless

It’s been a month……

Since then many things have come to pass. I am, as of now, the same person, I used to be. I have inside me the same silliness, and hopefully the same madness. I thought that this new life, as a consultant in an MNC firm, would bring about a change. It’s been a month…….and I see, the same silly me.

Not that I desired a change, but there could have been some, there should have been some.
For instance, I knew that my initial training was to be in my hometown. But my final posting could’ve been elsewhere. And unlike most of my friends from college, I was not dead against it.

I’ve always been somewhat of an introvert, not very outspoken in the least. They could’ve placed me in S.A.P. It would’ve required me to pack my bags every now and then and set out in cross-country sojourns. That could’ve been something new, some change.
But I was placed in F.T.S instead. I do not rue that because forensics has its charms but then again…… (you know what)….

If I’ve ever hated something in life, it is normalcy. And believe me I do everything so that it spares me. It was not easy. It took a lot out of me at times. But I must confess that I always had the reigns in my hand, that not for once did I loose control. Though sometimes I had people thinking otherwise [winks].
Now, as then, the task is difficult. There is too much discipline around, too many restrictive forces at play. I have no issues with them. But I wish chaos. Well disciplined chaos, just a bit of it. For I’ve always believed that chaos was a necessary evil.

P.S. A solemn request. Do not read too much between the lines. “No work and no play” is gravely irritating, and I am human after all. Sometimes it is wise to succumb to the charms of boredom. This post is a byproduct of that and that alone. Maybe I shall be in a better mood next time around.

My 1st week in PWC

30th June, 2008…..I joined Price Waterhouse Coopers Pvt. Ltd. as a consultant in Performance Improvement. Since then, a week has passed. This entire week I’ve been busy, busy, busy…I don’t quite remember when last I had so much to do in 7 days. Having said that, I can’t deny that I am having a good time.

They are pretty strict here, at the least they try to be. But all of us have seen much of strictness, and dealt with it. Now who are “us”? We are 28, 7 from JU, and the rest from IITs & BITs. Not all have computer or electronics background though; we even have chemicals and mechanicals. And together we are a mischievous lot.

We are undergoing a 1-month training at present. After that we’ll be assigned to our respective SBUs. On our 1st day, they made us fill forms. Filling forms can be cumbersome. They made us sign documents, forms, applications, what not! In the end I was not even reading what I was signing, and breathed a sigh when it all finally got over. It took a hell lot of perseverance on my part.

The 2nd day, we had our general induction. Lengthy speeches, boring speeches, flourishes….seven hours non-stop. Our official timing is from 9:30 to 6:00, but I was let go only after 7:30.

The 3rd, 4th and 5th days, we had initiation in basic data structure. And I quite liked it, well..... most of it.

And I was almost forgetting the most significant thing, the FOOD! To say the least, it’s nothing short of marvelous. They feed us well, too well for my liking. The company pays for most of what we eat. 13.50/- for chicken biryani (as many helpings as you want!!!) is a little cheap, isn’t it?! I constantly remind myself to be careful, lest I return to my former self [sighs]. And then there’s coffee, being consumed dangerously. I find myself miraculously standing before the coffee machine at every break. This must be stopped.

We have Saturdays and Sundays off, but there’s no respite for me. I have to go for my French lessons at Alliance Francaise in the morning. I don’t know how I shall survive all this, having been so lazy my entire life. But then I feel that I shall adapt. Thankfully, I am not too bad at that.

A demain

15 more minutes to go...after that I shall be a student no more...after that I shall be... ... ...

This is my last blog as a student, and see, the words have already stopped flowing...
I'm happy for whatever I did, whatever I accomplished, whatever that eluded me....I'm happy for everything and everyone...
I'm even happy for myself, I couldn't have played my part better, I did not wish to...

5 minutes to go...and the words are still not flowing. So I shall stop here...



Wish me luck, and pray that peace be with me...

Lull

Turning the tinted, yellow pages,
Weathered and somewhat torn,
I remember a light that has long been,
Seeking life in things unborn.

Darkness was provoked, stillness was stirred,
Thoughts scurried in that tamed chaos,
A thumping heart on the platter,
Served with love-garnish, and bitter hate-sauce.

That storm lost me many things,
My sight, and that boyish charm,
And I had strayed past my boundary,
Into a sanctuary, free from further harm.

I was stout and stubborn once, but still,
My daemons have chased me away,
Showing once again him who rules,
That the Devil still has sway.

My songs are now no more sweet,
Neither does my write reek of pain,
A glum shadow of disinterestedness,
Musing over the loss of a prolonged disdain.

My Nightingale has lost her melody, it seems,
Ahhh! Her voice now is full of scorn,
And I sit by my window, contemplating,
The night that settled from a glorious morn.

Whispers and Cannonballs...

Everybody is leaving. Our gang as we have known… is breaking. True, we have all vowed that we’d never forget each other and stuff. True also, that we’ll all meet at the Pujas. But then, I should doubt that it’d ever be the same. There is more to the concept of time, speed and distance than 10th standard arithmetic.
And everything is happening so fast- “You blink and you miss”.
And all of this has got me so properly messed up, that I can’t even recollect the exact chronology of things. So I shall be jotting down certain excerpts, and trust the reader to be considering enough to get some meaning out of this…

***
The usual Round-table conference in JU[ minus the table, we see only green as far as the fields stretch]. People coming up with weird topics and bizarre polls, for example, who’d you choose to be your brother-in-law [to be picked among those sitting there], who’s more vulnerable to have an extramarital affair [and to think that one of us pulled more votes in both!!!], the most irritating person in the 4 years and lastly beauty/makeover tips for everyone [although I don’t put much stock in growing a beard in near future].

***
The t-shirt fiasco: I’d like to thank Sagar for making our departmental t-shirt see the light of day [only when we could wear it no more].
I’d also like to kill him for making a complete mess of my t-shirt design. For me, heart has always come first, then my art. No, I can’t simply let him go scott-free this time.

***
Sunday night at Eden. My first visit there. Never could believe its glamour and its glory. Last thing all of us did together. I depart early, tables are turned, Sourav’s bat speaks and KKR rides to victory. I missed the show, and came home flabbergasted. And those last words before I’d left, “Hath ta to miliye jaa, erpor to mone rakhbi naa mone hochhye.”

***
Two days later. 5 a.m. I send an sms while taking a morning stroll. Half-n-hour later my cell phone rings. I bid goodbye to the only person who came closest to understanding me in recent years. The sun begins to rise and strikes my eye. The morning sun is known to be mellow, but it scorches my eyes.

***
A week before all this, all of our gang’s at Budge-Budge, and we’re standing by the riverside. From nowhere a storm appears, typical Nor’wester, and wrecks havoc. People run for shelter, the boats drifting midstream hurry ashore, while we stand ground, hand in hand; not so much to defy the forces of nature, as to define the human-bond. The spray on our faces smells sweet. Someone sings a Dylan. In the end even we make a run, nine odd boys in an auto, soaked through-n-through, the rain biting down hard.

***
Two days back, I’m chatting with a very elated friend in Hyderabad. He is happy(!?). He is free. His taste buds have taken to the local biryani. He asks whether I’m still having sleep related problems. And many other stupid questions he knows the answers to. I oblige him. He talks about the weather there and the seemingly impressive abundance of the fairer sex. I suggest he take up blogging seriously, and he threatens that he’d be a better write. And then laughs as I frown. He knows that my ego does not permit being done in by someone of my own sex. Damn! He knows a lot about me.

***
Months ago, as I was opting for a second job, I sat for the interview at Samsung. HR round, a very grouchy looking fellow asks me, “So how’s life going?”
“Great!”
“You mean to say you are enjoying it?”
“Every moment.”
“Are you into something new?”
“Yes, very.”
“Then share it with us.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Er....what?”
“It is kind of personal.....the matter is....very close to my heart.”
A disgruntled shrug of shoulders greets me, and two very annoyed eyes.
I am not saying that I would’ve cracked that interview otherwise, but, as it were, things would’ve been very different then.

***
Every memory is fading. I wish these words to be true.

The last year in college has been the most tumultuous and most beautiful of my life, most certainly so. Each page from my past, each remembrance woven together forms a fiction too damn fantastic to believe. And most of it, like I said, too damn personal to share.
A thing of beauty may be joy forever, but its memory, decidedly, is not. And so I’ve half a mind to pay a brain surgeon a fortune to whitewash this permanently. A recycle bin won’t do for me; I’ve to summon up enough strength to press Shift-n-Delete.

Sleep

Why don’t you fall asleep?
My dear, my little cup of sugar,
Why don’t you sleep…?
Don’t worry, I won’t hurry,
I shan’t leave you while you sleep!
I am no coward girl,
So learn to be brave…
Tonight sleep with your eyes shut,
Tonight have your dreams once again,
I am by your side,
And I made a promise,
That I shall keep your nightmares at bay,
The ghosts that haunt you,
Shall be no more,
I shall haunt them far, far away…
So sleep sugar,
Sleep with a smile painted across your face,
And maybe if I watch you,
Then I shall learn what it is to be free,
Perhaps maybe then… I shall learn to sleep again!

The Send-off

A peculiar send-off this,
No guns blazing, trumpets none,
A peculiar army this,
Men carved out of foolish boys,
Bred together, taught together,
But leaving for battle on different fronts,
On distant shores…

Some leave early, some not so,
And some stay back, and grumble…
Noble deeds await,
And titles, and the silver shine…
And the shadows they leave,
Are shades that linger,
A peculiar send-off this,
The past buries the future.

A peculiar send-off this,
No confessions made, none whatsoever,
Secrets padlocked in bedroom closets,
Left to rot and wander…
A peculiar send-off this,
Dried eyes and aching texts,
Where a bashful charlatan,
Bids farewell to a few good men.

The broken wire

3 of my semester papers are over, 2 to go………
And to think that past this 12th, I’ll have to severe all the ties that had bound me for those 4 years…
This feeling isn’t new, No. I have had to leave school; that was painful. I have had to leave high school; that was pretty okay. But each time, I was also happy; I had proved my mettle and I was going to better places…and I loved it back then.
Now what do I look forward to? A cubicle?
Some of my friends seem to have the idea that with this new life, money shall come. And with money they’ll buy independence.
I was independent to begin with. I never was answerable to any one except perhaps my mother. And obeying her; I loved that……… I love it still.
So no false illusions of independence for me.
“Take whatever comes in your stride with a smile.”!!!!!
~Spare me the sermon, be so kind.

And then there are certain things, certain confessions that never were made and haunt me still. This few days, I am finding it very difficult to sleep. I go to bed latest by 2:00a.m., so that Maa has no reason to shout at me. But it strikes 4:00 and I am still awake.
… … … and one fine morning, I think it was the day before yesterday, as I leaf through the newspaper this catches my eye - - -
“Don’t blame your self if you can’t sleep at night, it is not stress (!), it is just the heat.” … … …imbeciles.

And they have come up with a new nickname for me, and its about time too. “Taar-kata”: broken-wire………hats off to ‘bhombol’ for this one… … …yesterday we were having our routine tête-à-tête after the exam, and as I’d been silent for quite sometime, one remarked, “…what’s wrong with you boy, why don’t you speak?”
~” Aami je taar-kata!”
I don’t know what made them laugh then… … … I didn’t.
In that uneventful evening I lost my glasses… … …and possibly the storm took them away, for I could find no traces, none at all.
“Things that are lost better leave no traces, or one ends up chasing after them.”

~Wires that are cut, are cut for good.

Fare-thee-Well

My life began from you,
A metaphor yet so true;
And foolish me, I tried,
To shed you off, like a dead leaf.
But last night the cursed itch
Came back again, it hurt again,
Now that I’m going away,
And that you should stay.


And as I looked back, I acquiesced,
It was not the touch of your hand,
Or the glimpse of your sunny face,
That made me smile;
But that you are in my radius,
That you are close by,
Made me earn each breath I breathed.


And you may already be wondering,
(though I surely feel you’re not)
“Why does this boy write alone,
And speaks not a word?”
The answer to this I know not,
But perhaps I am too proud to be loved,
Or am I too frail?
It’s not that I have never judged you,
But always it’s been me I found wanting.


But you know that I write when insane,
And that sanity holds my tongue,
And in madness men speak truth.
In madness I speak the truth.
The insignia that you’ve given me,
I find it hard to rub away,
I never learnt to walk the middle path.
(Always somewhat of a bohemian)
And if I don’t love you babe,
Then I must learn to hate…

Curtains

Ending days are near here, the bells will soon toll, and I look back to the four years that changed everything…

July, 2004, I forget the exact date (possibly the 5th); the day that this batch of JU-CSE began. Sixty odd boys and girls came together, on that most auspicious of days, and then it all began.

Some were lucky, for they saw familiar faces; friends from previous days…even rivals (for the word meant something back then). Others were luckier still, everyone was a stranger to them, and everyone was a potential friend. And everyone had a dream (yes all of us dreamt back then, and I believe they dreamt BIG; no restrictions were possible, no reservations apt).
… … … and oh yes!!! Everyone was ready to fall in LOVE!

The seniors were marvelous! And we experienced our share of the moolah called ragging. Not that we did not like it! Something so purely unconventional has its charms. So started our first semester… and that charm I was talking about! We finally had to give in to it, some as soon as the first semester (I was always a late bloomer and it took me three bloody semesters to be as charming as that) while some as late as few months back… … … and without much ado it can be safely said that the circle is now complete; “All them bastards have finally been deported to neverland, Capitan. And look at them fools; they are smiling with their dirty teeth out! Argh!” Charming indeed!

“Four years!” as soon as this phrase comes to my mind I let out a deep sigh. Has it been that long? “Twenty odd days left, possibly a month”- is it going to be so soon?
The time that is past, cannot be lived again, but the time that is to come… can’t we slow it down? To beat time we must run at least as fast as light, and that is precisely what I have been doing, what we all have been doing, running here and there in the campus’ field (and did you think we love playing cricket?!!!) and when tired lying thereupon (the grass was never so green nor did it ever smell so sweet; and the weather so frightfully beautiful!).

“Have you ever seen a supernova? A star explodes into a thousand pieces, each finding its way away from where the star used to be, away from each other as well- like sparks flying in all directions.”

Have I seen a supernova? .......... No. That is to say, not yet.

Lying there on the field, as we look up at the evening sky, the stars seem much closer now, as if all have gathered to witness the spectacle, our very own SUPERNOVA!
When men die it is not beautiful (and I am not much into romanticism that glorifies death); but we are not dying anyway… it’s just a metaphorical death, this. And the good thing with metaphors is that you can embellish them further. We began with dreams, yes? Some were lost in the way, and new ones took their place. Very well! We shall drink tonight and every following night to the health of the newest addition to our collection, the dream that this death is going to be beautiful for a change!

Amen! [chorus]

Last Few Months

Last few months
I did many things,
Last few months
I ran wild;
My smile was returned to me,
As I once more became a child.

Last few months
I ate a little less,
Last few months
I lost weight;
When my queue had ended,
I again began to wait.

Last few months
I ran a lot,
Last few months
I danced in the rain;
My life was hurled from a catapult,
As I lost where I was meant to gain.

Last few months
I felt no scare,
Last few months
I met peace;
My heaven now belonged to me God,
Like the pond belongs to the Big Fish.

Last few months
I ran into a lot of money,
Last few months
I didn’t have to borrow;
To own myself a kingdom of joy,
I embraced a wee bit of sorrow.

Last few months
I wrote a lot,
Last few months
I embraced hope;
Everything went smooth, as I played the Hero,
Of my long cherished dream, my hand-written bioscope.

And that bioscope’s still on,
In theatres that showcase amateurs;
It plays to packed houses every Sunday,
My pantomime and a gala of moth-eaten caricatures.

"Just another Nightmare"

Not too long ago,
I stepped into a messy quagmire.

_____________________________

At first I had had my inhibitions,
But then something happened,
Someone caught me by the hand
And said, “Come now, follow me,
There is nothing to fear.”
And so I let myself be led.

But the farther I went
The deeper I sank,
The damned stench of blood and clay;
And the all encompassing darkness…!
But none of these did my mentor feel,
As if he belonged there,
As if he were born out of that pungent mess.

I felt as if led by a Shade,
For where I was blind,
His vision seemed clear,
But the prefixes and suffixes
Of what he must’ve felt
Were blur!

But I did hold my patience
Even when everything around
Smelt of a kill, a Rat.
Until he gave me that Sinister Smile,
And I felt an inhuman chill
Crawl up my spine.
And then I ran, I ran,
Away from his sapphire gaze,
Till I broke free of that God-forsaken maze;
I was bathed in mud,
And I too now smelt of the Blood.

________________________________

It was long ago,
I stepped into that messy quagmire;
I found out afterwards,
It was just another nightmare;
But I still smell of the blood,
And whatever I touch, turns Clay.

A Dove’s Flight Home

A white dove flies…
Above the dale o’ silver grass,
O’er the fields of golden wheat;
Far he has to fly,
To the land of olive trees.

The place where the white dove lived,
The branch which bore his nest;
That place is lost,
The branch now broken,
So the white dove flies.

The white dove flew,
O’er vales ‘n’ hills;
His wings stretched above
Forests of chrysanthemum,
Marshes with smiling daffodils.

The dove decides to stop,
Its wings demand rest;
The dove is out of breath,
Scarlet blood flowing out
O’ its deeply hacked breast.

How the dove received its wound
We do not know;
Cuts and burns have a story of their own.
Though he blamed the world,
It was a fault his own.

See the dove flies again!
Pursuing hope, false but fair,
To reach his new lair,
The olive tree, his Eden owned,
A paradise lost, a new one found.

Incendiary

Burn baby burn!
Burn hard to reach me,
Burn till what is black, becomes white.
Don’t be afraid,
I shall collect your ashes from the dust and sand,
And wash my hands in the Sea;
Then maybe on some desolate shore,
You shall meet me once more;
We shall begin our story from there…
And perhaps this time,
Our little fairy-tale will have less blood, more glory.
So babe! Don’t worry,
Leave all else to me…and burn!
Burn as I once did;
You have burnt alone long enough,
A flicker it has been,
Now burn with me.

Malediction

Love is a Malediction,
A shallow farce, a sullen act,
A work of unadulterated fiction,
An insipid feeling; untamed…
So frail, so fragile,
A painted leaf upon a petrified tree
From whence sprout the roots of life.
The leaf does not wither
Unless you want it to… True;
It weathers the Autumn,
Falls as you behold Spring.
So you see…
After all the mush and sauce,
Love is indeed against the Divine will;
Love is darker than the Night,
The scar it leaves is darker still.
The Devil's Snare,
Nature’s blaspheme.

Lost in translation

I am so lost in translation
That all I want to say
Comes out wrong, makes me look a fool.
I try to discover means, albeit roundabout
To make her see the better way,
To tell her that I have no sway,
On the things I do, on the words
Spoken, reconsidered, regretted.
And how every time I try,
To write something beautiful
To make her smile;
I end up just as bad,
Writing my own obituaries… … …



My euphemisms are all old now
And my borrowed feelings just as stale,
This whole affair has begun to stink;
A proper nausea, the uneasy smell.
And each time I script this sulking story,
That has no love, speaks of no glory;
No knights here, no damsel in distress,
Not the Devil’s own,
Nor angels of fallen grace;
Each time I try thus to break free,
I end up just as mad,
Dancing upon my hand carved cemeteries… … …



For all I know, for all I care,
This story could go on;
For testaments are not meant for me.
And now that I have lost my religion,
Pursuing one god after another,
Sacrificing everything but my threadbare soul;
The Devil may take it
Not that I care much, no more,
Trivialities do not surprise me,
And oh so the masked glamour!
None of that for me, I have had enough;
For all the happy things done,
I end up just as sad,
Sketching my not so fond memories… … …

Hell hath no fury...

Glorious o ignominious Love

Whence doth your fate rest?

Is it past the scaffold

Or through the gibbet;

A thousand questions, the dullest drone

All unrequited, some unspoken

Heaven’s blaze………in this twilight

All is sinister, all is dark

Stitched eyelids, they cannot see

That I walk upon a precipice

O Love, where doth she lead me?

To the land of mist, eternal smog

Beware Man! Fear the white gloved hand,

Remember! Hell hath no fury like a woman’s scorn.

Devil May Cry

Nervous, shaken, stirred,
I rise with trembling legs,
The earth 'neath my feet
Is firm,
The sky above my head, wet.
The tears that fall from thence,
I gather them with patience
For they bear testimony
That devils may cry
And sometimes angels do play games.

Odyssey

Beyond the black waters
Beyond its farthest reaches
I went………
There were many with me
But I as always was alone.

The sea wrecked my ship
And I washed up on an Island…
Marooned alone in an even lonelier land
I paused for breath
Contemplating the Sun bathed sylvan sands
My back got backed
I felt the spray on my face
And the wind swept my feet
The water was calm, beyond was turmoil…

I stood and watched
For days to follow, numb and dazed…
Witness I did, the Sunrise
Weep I did, in the Sunset
And then Athena spoke to me
“My brave Odysseus,
O king of Ithaca! Listen……
Thy fate is in thy hands,
Their wrath proven futile
The Gods have proved their worth.
It is time……awaken…
Straighten thy mast, and once again
Cast your ship into the dark abyss,
Sail past Scylla and Charybdis
Do it for your men,
If you care not for yourself;
Give them hope,
Keep none for yourself……
That is your destiny…embrace your fate.”

And so once again
I bring out my carpenter box
My rusty tools, my dusty hammock,
40 days and nights I work
Relentlessly driven, raving mad
To create an ark so strong
That could sail the Seven Seas and beyond…
My journey soon would begin;
Home beckons………