The Final Plunge

This poem, I must say has been one of the most difficult to pen. Harder, due to the fact that it is not what it seems at first glance.
Primary observation tells a message that its a stupid, suicidal, crappy trash... But like-minded people will know what I am talking about.. If you look more closely, you will also notice that I have sublimely mentioned the name of the man who holds the biggest influence in my life...
Here is my attempt at "metaphor"...

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The Final Plunge
27VI00
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Shimmering in the dark,
    was the soul of his eyes.
As he stood upon the edge,
    his trembling, withholding...

He wants to run away,
    and so hard he tries;
But couldn't budge an inch,
    as he sees his fate unfolding...

Gathering up the bits of strewn thoughts,
    in the oceanic expanses of his mind...
He ponders upon his will to die,
    and the fear that attachments will bind...

Decides he, to hold no more;
    He wills all his thoughts and chooses the final one...

As he flies,
    he hears a voice say...

Rejoice!
    ... for you shall be no one.

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The Machine Head

This poem was written long before Eminem came onto the scene.. so if it seems similar (with all the anger and violence and fight back..); well, he copied me. I didn't.. :-) (but anyways, he doesn't mean what he says and so don't I)

About the poem, well,
Its about all those kids, young and old people alike; who are being pushed in a corner by the bullies of this world... The poem tells that it's a dog-eat-dog world and you need to fight back on your own... no one will stand for you, no one will be there for you, no one but you alone can fight for yourself.. The poem says so, not me... :-)

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The Machine Head
01VII00
--------------------------

Hey kid!!!

Don't sit in the corner,
    tears shouldn't be spent...
Keep your angst within,
    do not give it a vent!

Wake up to the fact,
    that you are not yet dead.
So what's the big deal?
    That makes you lose your head...

What does lie above,
    needn't be present beneath.
But all that matters is;
    that the sickle cuts the sheath.

Become the sickle,
    and you will win.
Chops their heads off,
    who try to barge in.

Skew them or skin them,
    no one need be spared.
For to be a winner, you need to;
    become a Machine Head.........

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Diabolique

This is another of my favourite poems.... I dont think this needs anything to be said about... check for yourself

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Diabolique
10X98
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Come step in my grave!
    Let me taste your blood.
Die with me, be my slave!
    I call you to join my herd.
As you live, you can't be,
    try as you might, to be free.
I will possess you, make you mine.
    The sun will fade, the moon will shine.
You will age, but the time will stop.
    Don't you think it is ironic?
But believe me, dear friend of mine.
    I am, a little bit diabolic... !

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The Pool

The month is coming to an end and I still haven't had time to update this.. well its never too late for anything.. so here it is.
Wrote this piece in 98 and may have overdone the creepy bit, but hey, who cares...? I've no experience with NDE nor do I wish to, in the near future atleast. So can't be sure on the technical or medical accuracy. But still, here goes...

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The Pool
[26V98]
------------------------

The blood is flowing down, unstopped and uncollected.
Try to feel it coursing down, the cascade of a mighty river of red.
You are growing weak, for your every ounce of strength is deserting you. You can't stand. Your eyes are bleary and the sight is darkening. You can't seem to see anything. Your legs go weak, your knees go bending. You crash to the ground, your eyes closed. The pitch darkness that has engulfed you, slowly giving way to a dim spark of light, so very gently grows larger and fills up your entire mind and you pass off in the glowing furnace of eternity and all that is there left,
is nothing but a pool of blood.

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I Wish

This is the second attempt. Written on the same day as the previous one and is a bit more cynical than the former..

Disclaimer: If this poem reminds you of some famous indian personalities, then the resemblance is purely co-incidental and not at all intentional. Ha ha, you wish...

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I Wish
[28VI00]
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I wish to be a bearded popstar,
    who ties his hair in a turban.
Whether he's croaking or he's groaning,
    people are always having fun...

I wish, a famous cricketer to be,
    who talks like, he was born a she.
But who cares, coz he is the king.
    And he's got it all,
        whether honestly, or by fixing...

I wish to be a hamming filmstar,
    who always blows his horn.
But "k k k clucks" his way to the bank,
    after spinning the same old yarn...

I wish to have a moving waist,
    and yes, also an extra thumb;
With my dancing and my good looks,
    I would leave the whole world, numb...

But above all...

I wish to be, good old me,
    with loads of easy money.
And all the glory, that comes along
    & who'd forget, the chics who'd call me honey! ;-)

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The Hour & Half of Darkness

All right!

Lets welcome the new month with something lighthearted...

This is just one of the two attempts that I have made at humor so far. Hopefully more to come.. but if this seems juvenile, well, you aint seen nothing yet..

This one is about that time in every student's life, that they dread.. Atleast I did.. well, read on and see for yourself.. and no, I didn't end up as the protagonist :-)

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The Hour & half of Darkness
[28VI00]
-------------------------------------
BEFORE:

A ninety minute culmination,
    of six months of sparse attention.
Concentration at it worst,
    a great attack of palpitation.
Who knows what will happen,
    everyone seems so very frantic.
As I rush around, memorising thoughts,
    my mind flies transatlantic.

How I wish, I did it earlier.
    It could have been so nice.
    It could have been so better.

As I ponder my heartwrenching worries
    and curse myself for brushing off my studies,
... but every time the same drama runs,
    as the darkest hour of every student appears.
Formally speaking, exam time comes....

NOW:

The hour has come on,
    Oh Teacher! Save me...
The hell with saving, goddammit!
    Just for once, please, promote me.

AFTER:

Goodbye! Cruel world. You can go back to work.
    I could have been Einstein,
        but its all in vain now.
Now all that I am destined,
    is to be a government clerk.

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Keep the faith

This is a short para written in the summer of 98. It preaches the need to possess self-belief, to not get bogged down by petty failures and to rise above small misfortunes. This one is titled the same as that famous Bon Jovi song...

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Keep the Faith
[04III98]
-----------------

There are some days when alls wrong.
Seems like you've got up from the wrong side of the bed.
Nothing seems to go your way, you feel dejected, helpless and hopeless. No one's with you. No one's for you. Youré in the midst of a crowd and yet alone.
You feel suffocated, not due to external factors, but due to your inner turmoil, the storm that is brewing in you.
You want an opening, a break, an outlet to catharsise your feelings. Yet, there is no way out.
You feel a failure, for there is no success. You feel a loser, for there is no gain. You feel stuck up in a place where your'e not supposed to be. You want to know what is right for you. What is it you want from life? What is it that life wants from you? And the answer comes to a nought.

That is when, arises the true test of life. That is when, you can prove your true worth. That is when, you can fight back and get on top. And the one and only way to achieve it is faith. Faith in yourself, your deeds, your abilities, your right to carve your own destiny...

Have the faith. Keep the faith!!!

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King Nothing

Another one of the hard rock inspired rhymes, here the James Hetfield influence seems heavy.. well so are the words.. here goes...

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King Nothing
[08XII97]
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Sleep! and you will never open your eyes.
    I am your master,
        the lord in disguise.
Have come to get you,
    to send you yonder.
To the kingdom of darkness,
    the land without, the sky within.
For I am, the King Nothing...

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Evil Me

This poem happened in winter of 97, that same creative day when I churned out some 7 poems. Had been listening to some hard rock, you know the Metallica, Black Sabbath kinds.. always been a fan of that beautiful cacophonic melody...
Anyway, so the influence seems to have rubbed off on my rhymes too as you can see.

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Evil Me
[08XII97]
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Lick the wound, taste the blood.
    relish the moment, roll in mud...
Feel free, kill the herd.
Shout & scream,
    for you will never be heard...

Live in passion, die in pain,
    try to run, cry in vain.
Where so ever, you want to be,
    you can never escape the Devil,
        the Evil that is ME!

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She

The following two poems were written with a space of 3 years between them and are dedicated to that mysterious girl of my dreams, the one who exalts me with her whispering presence and agonises me with her fading absence...

The one who is there, but still isn't.



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She
[02IX94]
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She was a faded face in the darkness of my dreams,
    a mystery, an enigma to me it seems...
To visualise her, whenever I tried,
    she used to vanish.
Leaving me in a state of mental anguish.

But still, I tried and tried to see her
    and not a single girl I met could be her.
In the seas of my thoughts,
    she was like a white pearl.
She was and she is,
    still my dream girl...

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She
[08VII97]
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Her face is tranquil,
    her eyes are the deep blue sea.
Her hair is a cascading waterfall,
    her lips are rose petals,
        teeth are pearls.

Her breath is warm as the morning rays of the sun,
    her talk is poetry, the laugh sheer music.
Her body slender,
    her walk graceful.
As I admire her,
    as I fall in love with her.
I realise, she is not there anymore.
    She never was...

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Absolutum Infinitum

This piece, doesn't in any way reflect my mental state at that time.. was just being creative.. ;-)
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Absolutum Infinitum
[04XI98]
-----------------------------

You’re fine! How am I? Alive? Dead? Certainly not at the time of writing, but maybe at the time of your reading. If not dead, then alive. If not alive, then dead. So far, so good, so what?

Enough about me, how about you? You’re fine. But what is fine? An idea, a feeling, a circumstance, a situation, a state of mind or a mere four letter word.

It all lies in the mind of the matter. If you like being well and you’re well, then it’s fine. If you like being ill and you’re ill, then it’s fine. So anyway, you are fine. I’m fine. The world is fine.

Funny, the ways of life. You come into life out of nothing and you go out of life into nothing. As within, so without. As without, so within.

You come out of nothing into nothing and go out of nothing into nothing. You are nothing but, nothing. So am I. So the rest. We all are nothing but paradoxes in this nothingness called “Life”. A mere existence called “Life”. Quoting Shakespeare, “The world’s a mere stage. All men and women are mere actors”

Life is a dream. We come in it. Play our roles. Say our lines and perform. The world watches. When the curtain falls down, there is no encore, no applause. Because, no one was really watching, though all were present. And then awakens upon you, the hard fact of life, that we all are zilch. Mere puppets in this grand show of hypocrisy and falsity known as “Life”, where all roles are pre-determined and all lines are pre-edited. There is no rehearsal, no epilogue and no prologue. You pass in oblivion to what people call life after death. All hogwash! Where is the place for any other hell? Or heaven! Heaven is obsolete.

Ever wonder how life changes from time to time. You change. I change. All change.

Change! To good? To bad? Too worse…No one knows.

We all live without knowing and we all die unknowing and unknown. No one mourns us. No one misses us. They all are busy wrapped up in their miseries and calamities, or so to speak. They don’t understand that they have done nothing, are doing nothing and will do nothing. They amount to nothing and eventually are nothing.

Still….

The time has come, to go, to love, to hate, to live, to die. So bye, for all, for God, for Devil, for life, for death, for now, for ever…………

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The Walking Dead

This one, written in a burst of creativity and imagination!
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The Walking Dead
[01VII00]
----------------------------

Graveyards opening,
    sweet smells of decay;
Rotting corpses are
    coming out to play.

They are out here
    and they are here to stay;
Watch as evil unfolds
    and see life drain away.

Pain troubles them no more;
    they lost it long ago.
All they want to do is kill
    and kill and still kill more.

No one can stop them;
    nothing gets in their way.
They are the walking dead.
    for Satan is their ray.

As I watch their gory deeds,
    I can't help letting out a plea.
And I see them all stop at once
    and suddenly turn on to me.

The more I try to run,
    the closer I get to them.
They finally catch hold of me
    and drag me in their realm.

Inside, I see hordes of them;
    they seem like a great rising flood.
And all seem to do one thing;
    drinking, what resembles human blood.

My heart is pounding, as I see,
    they slowly start approaching me.
Death is inevitable and I can't flee.
    I am bound, their next victim to be.

They are very close.
    I can sense their scheme.
And looking in their eyes,
    I see a wicked gleam.
Holding back no longer,
    I let out a loud scream.
And wake up perspiring;
    realising, it was just a bad dream.

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The Open Door

Another favorite one depicting the pleasure and pain of parenthood...
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The Open Door
[21VIII00]
--------------------------

A gift of life has come to thee,
    whose innocent beauty beckons you to see.

The tiny feet, those eyes twinkling,
    the pretty mouth, the gurgling within.

The throb you feel, when you hold it close.
    The warmth of its breath on your neck it blows.

The first step it takes, makes your heart glow.
    When it gets hurt, your tears start to flow.

The joy you get, to hear it call you.
    And nothing in this world, except it, seems true.

You want it to be happy, even if you have to cry.
    To give it the best, you will always try.

The small successes it gets, makes you feel so high.
    than see the sorrow in its eyes,you would rather die.

How would it feel, for you to know?
    The apple of your eye, will one day grow.

Fluffing up its wings, will turn away and soar.
    And you will be left wishing for your child
        and watching your open door.

Vision

Another one written some time back..
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Vision
[04XI98]
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Vision of a person
as it cuts through the haze.
Feeling of the eyes,
when they return its gaze.
Bestowed upon you
is the blessing of God,
as you look up to the heavens
in a fit of daze.
Blessed are you,
grateful you should be.
For you can look at the sun
and see its rays.
Think about those who live their lives,
in darkened nights and blind days.

?

Here's one to start off the show!

Almost every intelligent individual who is slightly aware of his or her self must have asked this question. And it has been asked since eternity, maybe since the days of the first man and woman on this tiny little third rock from the sun.

Here is my poetic version of it.

Had written this on 8 Dec 1997, an unusually creative day for me. Was sitting at home, had just graduated, was trying to find a job or rather elude one for the past 5-6 months, searching for some meaning in life and pop goes the weasel. Wrote some 7 poems on this single day..

This one is called
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       ?
[08XII97]
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Who am I & why am I here?
        Why do I cry
               & whom do I fear?
How have I come & to where do I go?
       Who do I rule
               & to whom do I bow?
What shall I do & how shall it be done?
       For life is nothing,
               but a big question....
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