walk, stoop, walk

the other side of the hill.
is the road less travelled
where sun resides forever
where haze dies,
brutally with every blink
and memories arise every
new minute.

it's where you stand alone,
unabashed
with winds and hawks
singing in a monologic delight
the space bends to you
as dreams die,
in sundry reality of life

the other side of the hill
where not many survive,
not many realise,
neither the blind nor the wise
the place called the other side

depth of love is inversely proportionate to the level of dependency

the story

i have experienced the state, when i'm not comfortable in being numb. Despite of a splitting headache gruelling my enormous nerves. It's like looking up the sky and finding it immensely cryptic, when clouds seem familiar and strangers at the same time.



There is no respite because there exists no problem. There is no pain, for there is no hope. This all engulfing feeling is 'nothing' and nothing is surely pervasive today. Meanwhile jaded hands try to sync with coldplay, crooning lonely in the backdrop of a frameless mind.



Wish i could explain the point from which things appear blurred. Like a deviant shadow, difficult to discard, and dangerous to keep. The truth is i demand a lot and never give up.

This is where the story ends or begins perhaps.

oh jesus!

The town is painted red, i see stars all over the place. In the crowded mall, at the coffeebar. a tiny one on the tea stall and mostly over my head. i see humungus stars, like the galaxy hovering on tin-tin and calvin. They get me dizzy, indicative of an apparent sickness. The christmas sickness.

Amid the gala of black santa at office(black is the new white, as said by obama), i made a few observations, worthy of the space here.

1> Christmas is a polite way of spreading greed. Like an epidemic, greed envelops everybody, from the sweet old baker to a barely talking two-year olds. Going by the indian definition of gift, in the times of recession, christmas will become the fastest route to bankruptcy.

2> Many of the christmas rituals were celebrated before Christ was born. Therefore it's easy to guess the amount of truth behind the cause of celebrating christmas as the 'birth of christ'. Acoording to historians, Romans declared 25th December to celebrate Saturnia-a festival of merriment. Whereas christmas was invented to compete the pagan festival on the same date. So christmas marked the birth of resentment, more than anything else.

(look how resentment is celebrated now)

3>How many people celebrating Christmas know even the c of Christ? The ones who know, seem to remember everything but the religious aspect of it. Most of us remember it for exotic plum cakes or the flamboyant rum and turkey delight. Applying the same logic of Diwali reduced to a day of free lunches complimentary with presents.

(MERRYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!chrismas).

on the rosy side,

Christmas brings in gaiety and merriment to a lot of people. A lot of fat people get to make big dough in the disguise of the big donor, where kilograms are weighed in currency.

(The more the merry)

growing up

there, in the soft mud
i saw it sprouting,
the seed of a being
rooted to it's cause (of)
-binding freedom-
in its undaunted existence.

the harp and the arrow
failed to shelter,
for fear is hard to kill
and killing is feared no more
in the by-lanes of life
walking brave this time.

the blue night

like a whizzer,

on the naked sand

~sepentined~

in arms of disarray

touch me,

and i bite

fold me,

and i whine.

poison me,

and i shine

till then, wait for the blue night

pours the porcelain

In my dreams I'm dying all the time
Then I wake its a kaleidoscopic mind
I never meant to hurt you
I never meant to lie
So this is goodbye This is goodbye...

There are songs of pain and there are songs of ecstasy. And in between lies a moment of heightened gravity where things fall back flat, unperturbed. The song attempts to capture the visuals of the same through an intriguing serenade. The hues of grey are defined well in the melodies blurred

This one has been customarily tagged as a break-up song but i most assertively deny, for i experience the poise of the singer not seen in those circumstances otherwise. If there exists a thing called sweet pain, i am sure has emanated from this heart and transversed through the abysmal of a dense clay material.

This song is all-engulfing, in the train, on the bike and other pervasive sources of noise alike. This song requires no particular mood, to swing to. It doesn't make you wobble your booty, it it makes you wobble your heart, (coming from an avant-garde known for his house-booties jiggling on the house). It's peppy yet non-chalant, it's sonorous yet dull. It's dark yet flickeringly delightful.

I invaded 'the extreme ways' and ' flower', but came back most accomplished on this track. It's wonderfully created. and i thereby proclaim to be a moby-fan.

love bestowed

uphill,
the shrine of insanity
i stand seeking.
the virtue
which translates clouds into sheets splattered
and wind into the dreams woven underneath
atop,
lies a treasure devoid of emotions unclean
surrounded by guards of deceit
selling hearts in bits and piece
and the takers queue
in the form of prayers unsung.

unearthly worm

splatter splatter

wisdom rains

in a pot full of drain

and wakes the

crawly worm.

sneaking in the landscapes

of muddy houses

to find his earth,

he calls as home

my electric blue cloud

seer at my house,
rave at my heart
fizzle of an acid,
tearing all apart.

in a flash of wisdom,
vices disappear far
engulfing me in a thwart
like a nail on a pink wall

white lies, opaque in twilight
blubbering a penitence within
clasping its drenched hands
in it's acts of rinse and rinse

and grows the platypus merrily,
in a dainty grove beneath
when it offers a warm nap
drifting the drops and dreams

sale to the horizon

on the falling raft,
as the ennui resides
bring forth my arm
to know i do survive
the waters aren't buoyant
the seas aren't still
the mist is prolonged
and the ray seems defined

drift me away from the shore of words
as i count the sand, bereft of letters in it.

the prince and the pauper, with roles reversed more than often

Freud and Hitler, two of the most influential personalities go on becoming their biggest opponents from being room-mates for years.