Black

An Old one.



Black,
And I opened my eyes,
Then I saw that pretty thought,
Never been in any epic immortal,
But there she stood, rite there,
In the altar of my soul,
In this space of my life.

Black,
And she opened her eyes,
It was eternal infinity I saw,
Those ravens in her hair,
Flying in my fantasies, smoldering,
Dark as the night, her skin,
Moonless starless, cloudless in my love,
So dark, as from the cradle of life,
She was my black,

Black,
Dark as my lonely heart,
Black in my dreaded desire,
Divinity in my darkness,
Black angel in my woes,

Black,
In my reality, black always true,
Everything now would turn black,
Soothing dark, black love,
Like dressed in the haunting nights,

Black
Dark eyes, shimmering.
A word from her, a smile,
To the wind bleached night I begged,
To show me her love,
Like the blood splattered sunset I craved,
Smother me in her dark.

Black,
Oh she was dark as dark,
She is all I want,
As dark as dark,
In my nights when dark,
As dark as dark,
In my religion her life,
As dark as dark,
With her black to complete me.


..................................................................................

Missing you...........

There is a corner in my heart,

 

Where you still live,

 

A moment in my solitude,

 

Where I still miss you.

 

You still paint my dreams,

 

Whilst regret silently rains,

 

A lost throb in my soul, 

 

When I still want you.

 

In despair's stormy clouds,

 

I survive this lonely lie,

 

Of love I now deny,

 

While I still desire you.

 

Only your face I see,

 

In a thousand lonely tears,

 

Bleeding in my qualms, 

 

While I still want you.

 

Inking words only for you,

 

Humming voiceless songs, 

 

Mending every desolate breathe,

 

Enduring this tormenting curse,

 

Drowning in aching tears,

 

From that moment, when I lost you,

 

Probing in dreary madness,

 

For that moment, why I lost you.

 

Questioning my damned fate,

 

Of that moment, while I lost you.

 

From that wailing memory, 

 

To this moment, I miss You.

 

I miss you.

A quickie, after stealing(or got inspired) a friend's status message...........



Settled in now,

Green grass color my eyes,

Sun lying low,

Bleeding gold through blue skies,

Wishing time would never crawl by here....



Here right where I belong,

Floating into hopes' door,

Humming every dream's song,

None left to cry for.

Time! wish it never crawls by here.



Forgetting love's frost,

Memories spooling out a smile,

In fantasy's lull I am lost,

Eluding away to this dreamy isle.

TIme! wish it never crawls by here.

RainDrop

When a person breaks away from the society, from the consistent and mundane existence he lives in, I think he becomes the lost raindrop that falls during the scorching heat before the thundering monsoons. He falls first crashing into the blowing heat, maybe vaporised on its way, but lost to all, alone.


The Raindrop.

No heaven knows,

of a raindrop lost,

through the silence,

into the solitude.

Birthed itself betimes,

from a burning charring cloud,

of desiccated dreams and stagnant thoughts,

Diving into a rushing future ,through qualm mists.

Emotions not colored by rainbows,

No ears to hear it spatter,

reminding the grey aging land,

of a approaching fragrance, intoxicating .

Yet lost to light, lost to faith,

Lost to affection, lost to love,

For we can't see,

A Raindrop cry.

Who am I?

Something I wrote long back..
Pasting it here, sticking to my existential agenda

-->

Who am I?

Trepidation saturates, no rationale why,

On qualm grounds, never found a purpose for I,

Restless echoes, desperate in an unforeseen plea,

Untaught among mystics, slaved to imagination,

Diffident to warm affection, embracing the hushed frost,

Refrained I ask this fanatic lie,

Who am I?

All my senses high,

Fresh Desires, yearning to fly,

In creation's obscurity I cry,

Who am I?

Comfort withers, soaked in malicious sacrilege,

In living epics, my conviction in no golden page,

Haunting tunes, astray in a nonchalant rage,

Undead among hopes, living in this concluding cage.

Starved, echoing the query of mine,

Who am I?

My entire wisdom try,

Pledged wished, crisis stanch to untie,

In faith's anarchy I stray,

Who am I?

Since spawn desires ablaze,

Belief's Outlandish, life perplex,

Who am I?

Too tired to lie,

Too tired to die,

Too tired to try,

Who am I?

To you I pray,

Tell me where I Stray,

Tell me where I lay,

Tell me why?

Who am I?

The Dust Speck

Four black frames. One boy six words.

Bill Watterson’s Calvin and Hobbes is the greatest.

They say Alan Moore’s Epic “ Watchmen” is The Greatest Comic and one of the most profound, deep and philosophical piece of literature. I say all that is the masterpiece above.

A city’s greatest curse is the missing stars. The heavenly pool of immense wonder and euphoric splendour. We don’t see it. I used to spend some of my nights in college laying on the dirty floor of my terrace, sometimes “high”, gazing into the open starry skies. A whole cauldron of possibilities starts to bubble in my brain. Sometimes I used to be space traveller hovering from star to star, skimming the velvet space between the stars. Sometimes I am on the Star Ship Enterprise, and sometimes I am Mr Mulder being abducted But most of the days it used to be one single question that echoed in my upstairs. “Am I significant?”

I gaze at the stars wondering if there was anyone out there, looking up into their skies and looking directly at our earth, at me and wondering the same thing. It could be possible.

We, humans, with our extended arrogance and boundless self importance can never ever be significant. Millions of multiverses, billions of galaxies in them, and again gazillions of stars in them. We are nothing but a dust speck on a dust speck on another dust speck on a dust speck on another dust speck among billions of other dust specs.

How I wish I could just pop my head out the window stare at the stars. Damn the cruel damages of development and cities.

Every little moment we live on this messed up planet, we are in the shadows and lights of a billion mysteries hovering around us. Every single particle linking and bounding to form a human being, every particle that forms a thought to make me write this, the same particles that react and act making you read this, is also a cog in this whole system that we can never comprehend in our life time. But we move on, with the sneering contentment of a lion that eats a baby rabbit. We just live, survive. Walking paths everyone else walks, polishing thoughts everyone has, decaying from birth to death, our bodies and minds slowing poisoned.

I always hope I wont be one of them, Decaying, slowly poisoned. I want stare at the heavens and realise one day that amidst the infinite expanse of space, I am alive, living a life of empathic contentment. I hope I would realise that I am a dust speck that has realised that I am the dust speck that is a part of this immense spectacle of creation.

I always love to gaze up at the stars. Every time I do that, I fall sleep curl under this vast existential fantasy, with wet eyes. Those never are the tears of joy, depression anger or fear, but of overwhelming sense of beauty, of admiration, of immense satisfaction, of immense significance.

I shall .....Again

I have tried before, and failed. I can remember two times. Well this is the third. My third attempt at writing down stuff for the whole world to see it. Now probably I will give up tomorrow. But I hope to keep going, the reason being that life has become really boring and busy. Busy doing really boring stuff.

So my big epic novel plan is spiralling and spiralling near the drain’s ugly opening, And my glorious idea slowly burying itself under all that dirt.

So I start writing again muddle up the effortless spiralling and hope all that dirt clogs up the drain.

If I was any more brilliant I will start to glow.

So coming soon, most of the stuff that grows in the weird landscapes of my brain, that generally waits for a few drinks and a couple of friends. All the chaotic verses, the existential ramblings, the mind numbing scenarios and a whole lot of junk maybe be headed to you, who might decide to read further on , in the near future.

To all those in an “anandamine” high ….Cheers to the chaotic mind that searches for what to search for in life.