A Strange Note

He is sad..He needs yank up..


He is running through a strange phase in his life..strange in a way that it has strangled him up only to make him succumb to his self..

He finds no way but to yield to his impulsive compulsion..He finds no better option than to fall a prey to the noxious vice full of lies. The abominable self cries for its ablutions, and he is still unable to wash off the filth since it has stifled his self-esteem..The game of love was so unevenly poised...and the game of hatred seems really a tough one to fight....

He can't chuck the stones of malevolence at his besmirched and revengeful self..He can't even heal the wounds of his bruised ego with all his mellow and conciliatory intellect..He finds no way but to give in to his adamant arrogance...Day by day, it's getting harder for him to wipe off an abject,yet easily foreseeable misfortune ahead of him....

So,this young chap dies by the day with no hope whatsoever to bounce back, for he has contravened the laws of life, lost his battle to the deceit of death only to end up getting inexorably smeared at every possible moment...
He feels abandoned, disdained...like a lone forlorn warrior roaming in the same old gray battlefield, groaning in endless agony, still proceeding stealthily with bottomless lust and fearless ferocity....

The Pretender

Flailing my hands to reach out to a darkness-
of frights and fights solemnly wrapped in wrath,-
And my strength struggles to bounce back,
and my weakness seems a matter of ignorance.

Lost in a myriad of thoughts to ruminate-
in a regime of silent pathos..
with colors fading away baring a region-
too obtrusively pale to soothe your vision..

My vision, gasping in my Air of Purity,
My vision, blazing in my aureole of austerity..

Today, she heaves a sigh of feigning relief..
since the door,slightly ajar to my daring decadence.

Today, I feel, I'm no bloody insane..
neither a loser and,-
neither the me in myself..
I'm just a fake,-
A clone of the lone vying for the pie of life,
and savoring the straw liquor of putrid intellect.

I keep muttering words of impotent importance.
And with a purple blotch right onto my chest,-
Instincts retaliate to anger and vengeance!

The Leader

Trailing by miles in moments of miracles,
Like the lackadaisical lad leaps beyond the line of luxury,
Like the fumes are carried off to sulk in fury,

Like the pawns galloping chequers in black and white,
With their thoughts savoring a seedy sojourn of pride and off spite.

While promises to keep, pounce on a penchant-
for life and death so closely intertwined,
Tears are the teachers n smile is an exile,...

Life goes on leading by an inch to "seek and (to) hide".

A Giant Leap

To my utter surprise, I found a line of division between the two phases of the metamorphosis of an ignorant mind... a mind that was once a reality with nascent thoughts and blooming emotions, a mind that is today wallowing in the dreams of crawling premonition of mellow affection. Trifles of joy showered on it the bliss of intellect, curves of conflict marked on it the wounds of impatience. So, it started its journey from surface to the soul underneath,yet it ends up being dumped by the tender ferocity.
Life chuckles at this sight, savoring a subtle taste of pride; death roars at it and engulfs the crude proposition to "rule and then divide".

Now that my thoughts tickle this contempt of the man in me, the mind frees itself to a buoyant ecstasy.

And,I'm right on to an ode to a superficial entity...
A giant leap from rhythm to symmetry...

Divergence

Figures of freedom amidst a divine delusion,-
Effervescing expectation of ruling revolts,-
They spread out the cheers to a juvenile passion,-
and free myself in a spinning motion.

A motion where parameters diverge to create-
The field of ignorance and dying beliefs.
Where instincts insist and desires defy-
revealed rules and exuberant emotions.

Circles of conflict and crawling pretence,-
They tumble 'round the streaks of sorrow.
Colors of joy and ashes of love,-
They define themselves and starve to swallow-
gray intellect and burning possession!

This rhythm,interwoven with implication-
of growing lust and converging complication.

Mastur-Inno-rance !O!

Shining with this black ink on the paper,
Old thoughts scribble to play in the hay.
With a penny to spare and hands in my pocket,
I reached the shore and threw it away.
Old feelings face dying delusion,
Old preachings prevent exuding emotion,
Etching out a line of aching division,
Old monks suffer from an adamant dismay.
They struggle in this crowd of a chequered mosaic.
and,paint the colors of weaving passions,
and,free the spirits of the saints who say,
"Play with your possessions and elude your pretence,
This field is devoid of the pebbles of excellence,
All we need is a divisive iridescence,
We are all gifts of our presence,
and,You are the masturbating miracle of innocence(ignorance)."

Convergence

Free yourself to this whirling world-
where dreams of debacle unite to fight,-
the thoughts of thunder and ploys of plight,
and value the valour of dying soldiers.
Where incident rays superpose to create,-
A field of ferocity of fighting spirits,
inducing a force beyond the limits.
Where drops of desire coalesce to form-
A void of lust without a fear;
Where we win the game without a fistfight.
Through the darkest hollow of humble affairs,
Where leaves are turned out of a book,-
A book of blessings showered on a brook-
with streams of laughter,screams of joy.
And both of us inching toward a point,
A point where parameters merge to find,-
An end of the battle of intersecting lines;
An end of the battle of invariant variables!