Friday 20 December 2013

Vulgar is me

A vulgarity,
Resides within me.
It erupts like the Sicily,
When divine wonder-worlds;
Rejected!
And traced into the deepest planes of manliness.
 They say, “Try again,
Go back and you’ll stem the rose.”
O’ my dear cool advisors;
It’s not whiskey with the ice,
It’s some x-shit!
But am still pining away,
Even with a vague zeal.
Limbonised and searching,
Exchanging phis,
But, running blind.
I reply,
“I am too tired”
Tired of being vulgar.......

Addicted to Addiction II

Nights of lone!
The time when the fern grows best, as someone still impure within you had said it right. Local leaves with lime still make their way through your ever-engulfing mind and throat. Angels of doom feather around. They are ready anytime, don’t care, what’s fusing into time!
“Woo...tragedy at its best, I see?”  He gnarls like the worst foe, but places his welcoming lean on your head and hugs with pleasing warmth, like the flux of red fuming coal around an icy mist. Man! How does he manage to reach in the vicinity even on the slightest of bordering conflictions destined to you? By the way, it’s one of those interruptions you never hated indulging into. He starts again, opens up the old book.
He is eating you. He has got under your skin. He flies in your head and makes you perform through your limbs the services of his so called divine and ideal world, where only one thing can survive; momentary self satisfaction. In real, you are starving; for smiles on the caring faces, for beautification of the lost love, for recognition of the person you always desired to be, for letting yourselves rise like humane. Meditation might not be as consuming as you think. You need it.
And, he flushes out a vicious vile of air to you to for a second’s breathe. “Wait, M....E...D..., is that what I heard? Haah........”, jokes like the oldest friend. He has known you like no one else. He has been with you through the Everest celebrations, the deep unshared miseries, in fact in every tick and tock of your sub consciousness. You have regretted about repairs for him before, but never about the time during your dances in his vacuum. Well, he has never ordered you; he has guided you wildly, by thrilling ways, which you anyway enjoy.
Confusion, Un-realization and primly Addiction! All these have taken a toll over you my friend. And he has clutched onto the advantage like a scavenger. I mean, why do you sing his tunes? He has netted falseness, an enigmatic unreality over your nerves. Responsibilities, where are they? You know you are aging like your old man. You will fall; your wings have developed density. Your little sibling is passing out the longest wait of his life, he has broad expectations. Don’t weaken your shoulders; your old ones will need them to support the cart soon.
He is listening! He has held you tight around the echoes of these complexities, probably searching for highs and lows tonight. So praiseworthy is his expertise of finding matter-less reasons for you to seed ideas with him, he list them so well. His view murmurs’ around the decisions you are going to make. He whispers, “It’s up to you whether to join me or not” he is luring. He slides away through the slope for a lonely stroll, one of his old ways of a voiceless ecstatic call. You need to spare a time with him, brother.
You will never change. You are like the same movie playing on a tap reeling over and over again. There still presides a slight hope that you will revive, thrash and control him like a slave.
“No! Not a word more, Mr. Serious....Mysterious....Whatever. You, with all your harshness and theoretical vows will not play with my soul tonight. I promise: I will solely fall on your feet by the first light of the day. Sayonara!”


 “You are really done with him, right?” He asks, like a home pleading you to stay forever during a visit. You smile. He saved your ass tonight!

Monday 23 September 2013

The Abode Of Peace

It was like hunting,
For the purpose of everything.
Goddamn timers!
Did fuel for the sparks,
To retrieve lost wars.
I messed up the mazes.
I saw you,
“Nice for the Wow time”
As I first named you, remember?
You lied.
You were something more.
You natured my waves with oceanity.
Coloured me with the harmony of your answers.
You made me yours.
You became the purpose of me.
But, I had to leave you,
You were calm like always.
I will come back again,
Sleep on your grass,
And watch the infinity.
Wash in your waters,
And whistle to the chirping little visitors.
Smoke the healing herb,
That grows on your land.
And talk with you,
Till the sky turns red.

Sunday 21 July 2013

Cerebral Fiasco

My Head?
Well, I boast of it:
A majestic compendium,
Of solutes and pollutes.
Dreamer of the fabs,
Yet patience of a fly.
Experienced exponential woes;
Around positive lags on papyrus rolls.
Breaker of the broken
With peeps hurting for license.
The most apt beast of burden
Of chronicles and mutant equations.
Half-baked on the feasible clock.
Boo! The dead time dies never.
Mental!
Loath to welcome that word.
A million thanks to the Mavericks inside;
They always sign in
At the eleventh hour war,
And, they do fire.

Friday 5 July 2013

Amnesiac Crave


Chronic parrots!
Halled within their unity of squawks.
Tidal darts notch up like clones,
Till cows come home.
Lucent dates!
Stealing through the silky bedtime portal.
Yet so volatile;
Vexed theatrics roll along.
Let arrive the monsoon!
I will be new then...

Wednesday 3 July 2013

Hunters

“Man go to far greater lengths to avoid what they fear than to obtain what they desire.”
                                                                                                                                             Dan Brown
As the story goes on, some typical ape successors have the most balanced stroke of shipping away the cynical first half for decay, they savour the latter. Throughout my conscious part of life, I have come across quite a number of these consistent performers. Although factors like physical materialization, economic ranges and parentage origin are the slightest of overlapping aspects among them, a majority of things are always common. My favourite companions call them hunters, as implied by the physiomental turbulence they have to undergo in the course of their lively exploration. Rightly so! Nonetheless I have supplementary regards for them; the ones most determined, the ones most desirous and the ones invariably ready.
Desire and urge for passion! How many of you have learned to latch on to it? I bet every soul would possess it except for the rare true yogis, if there are any of them presently (not the ones who rate themselves as one of them for any mode of exchange). Let me warn you not to make a fusion of this with love and sacrifices.
What is the first thing that comes to your mind if you happen to come up with a fortune?- Building a glamorous house, Travel to random places until exhaustion, Investment in the most lucrative clan in the planet or even owing it............whatever. But what about a cloak-and-dagger passionate desire you have locked up in a private dungeon inside you? Is it something that can always be redeemed for money? Will you be able to risk even the most precious value of yours for it? Well my dearest ones, that’s where Brown appears to be substantially on track in the context of man’s quest for what he desire. But quantitatively, not at times!
Hunters, unlike the rest are stocked with incomparable sets of skill. Their superficial individuality does not theorize anything out of the line. However, a good drill will parcel out a yield of some reasonable flavours. To beef up, if I exemplify one of my best friends, whom I include as one of the toppers of my H-list (not Hit-list); he is the calmest being I have ever met. His attitude is as cool as a cucumber. No matter how stubborn my wheels roll on, even a single powwow with him is always colourful. His habit of taking on prospects in a joyous and playful manner works like a wonder, though not in frequent academic cases, but of course if you numerate the score of Rosies who fancied stretching ankles on his bed.
Furthermore, he is clever. If you go by his calmness and postulate a sweat less monopolization over him, you are quite off target shooting in the dark. His cool attitude shadows a clever mind and a con heart. At times, you might find him corny over a particular mistress of his mind. But, that’s his tempt speaking, not his literal heart. He pets his desires like everything, softly, steadily and utterly races to achieve them in silent time. His sentiments never switch, he essentially goes on adding new ones. Yes, it exactly means that he owns the exact ballgame that can lead him to his ancient dailies and again back to present ones. Circumstantial supervision of dual, trivial bonds or may be even more at a time, are a tough nut to crack. But with practices and cautious development in due time, they do not turn out to be matters to ponder about.
Courage, a yet another sampling aspect of this soul, is very situational. He is neither the one who bullies nor the one who tends to lead a pack. But on edges, he develops the guts to display what is necessary. His hunts dearly fall for him. His sugary verses can pump up the most bashful while his brave eyeball rubs can liquefy the hardest of egos. Mentioning about the zones of his hunt, social networking sites on the web have been a boon to him on present day. Apart from it old ways of live choosing and pickings are still the most riskless and the most prominent of all others.
His every project is quite like a unique business scheme. Starting from the investment in dates, films, recharge cards, style, pharmaceutical enhancements and so on, to either a profit of adding one to the total score or a loss of simply time and occasional undesired exposes. But, he respects feminism from the core of his heart like a true businessman does to his business elements. Whatever be the consequences, he is eternally destined to do these without fear. He is always ready to run for the ultimate passionate thrill through thick and thin. Well, at least he does far better than the ones who spend hours inside a bathroom and emerge out like Alexander after conquering Persia.
Hunters are the heroes of the world of desires. Temptation stands to be the key to their inspiration, intimacy is their glory. Concluding about them is never easy. Because there’s always something or the other left to word about them. A few lines about them would be nothing compared to their lengthy lists of mystic tales. Basically outlining the factors, if you want to defy the first half of Brown’s initial statement then learn to take the risk like the ones on the H-list. See how you will excel!
But, never ask them like I did, “Is she your gf?”


“Well.....mmmmm.....you know..hmm...not like that!”, was the reply with a smile that could turn millions of misses behind the cover into fishes out of water.

Saturday 29 June 2013

The Ashes of a Truth

A cup of sugary prelude,
Moments still kept alive;
Captivated in a secret den.
Recalls have overflown time.
But bees that carry honey,
Have stings on their tails.
And habits of being in the middle,
Is where abruptness sails.

Love?
I did pull, I did push; countless.
Rewarded!
Awarded!
Faulted...?
I salute you!
You are right about me being wrong.
Hope, I could read minds better than poems!

Friday 8 March 2013

To The Lord For A Light


One of the eastern nights;
Lack of a talker,
Lack of the technical glow.
Voyages of winged suckers all around the square and me,
Hoping for a precision in what I baked for the sake of my growling pot;
Gosh! Viscosity still rules the vessel.
Yeah, I know he will sing, he will, for sure;
But not after my only left little world start yelling for fuel.
Bad night!
Bad blackened night!
Ok, I repeat it again;
O’ God
You take care of your children from their birth to death,
You send angels to protect,
And demons to attack.
You are, I know you surely are the mighty creator
Of heaven and hell.
But, now I seek for something.
Please bring the current home!