Wednesday, February 29, 2012

i write grouchyrabit stuff too.

Commie: A lifelong oath to red-book until you land up with a six figure salary offer during campus placement.

Monday, February 27, 2012

Arch rival of peace

films vs news vs poetry vs derrida vs fiction vs music vs sleep vs writing assignments vs staring in the sky blankly vs online flaneuring vs room-cleaning vs social butterflying vs library-hopping vs getting wasted vs making a trip to home vs jogging vs writing crap like this

=

a whole day gone

Monday, February 20, 2012

The day drags on



The day drags on
Like windmill on a sunny afternoon
Around hokus pocus conversations
and hokus pocus sounds
The kids laugh about on their merry go rounds
Oblivious to dogs wallowing on the ground
The television glares in the nearby town
Playing antics of a frowned clown
The busy streets wear a look of boredom
Like wide-angle shots of a classroom

The day drags on
Like windmill on a sunny afternoon
Walking past a shopping mall
Hoping for prices to fall
The giant malls bedazzle alone
Like shiny numbers on an expensive phone
Alien to human voice
Ever ready to pose

The day drags on
Like windmill on a sunny afternoon
Made to drink water from a finger bowl
'A cheap and easy therapy for mind and soul'
In the clutter of advertisements, words disappear
Ushering every semioticians' worst nightmare
Advertisements that breed hatred and greed
Targeting men of all caste and creed

The day drags on
Like windmill on a sunny afternoon
Tired by the weight of its existence
Too tired to even launch resistance
Modelling for the thinker and the artist
who're writing off human history as fascist
A history that's craving for holiday
By the beach and blue sky
But night would be just fine for now
Provided it has reconciled with when and how

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

This and that

I slip into
Ocean of night
motionless
Like the flight
of time
Counting minutes
before eternity arrives
Marching swiftly
like a lieutenant
In his burnt brown boots
whistling away an instruction
to those born to men
Pointing a world outside-
my humble village of emotions
Pointing at a blinding
white light (of reason)

While i mumble
in sleep
Velvety memories
(of love)
and longing
untainted by wisdom
and caution
to an attentive moon
and his council of stars
Raving, relinquishing
stories of a distant past
By the riverside
A tide rises impatiently
to signal
between now and then
An eternity that has passed