poetry?

listless, profoundly amusing,
changes, in the regular lane of life..
open, to the mirth, of disillusion...

occasionally flying..
wandering...
about them...who care?
recklessly seeking refuge in boredom.
impotent confusion...

wonder if you can feel..
pains that burn through
unreal nights of existence....
devouring slumber.

cancerous delight plagues-
the throng of vision..
clouds, contorting pleasure,
unmasking emotions
-of innocence and fragility
of an oblivious soul,
lost in the realms beyond......

mistakes

MISTAKES...the eight lettered identity of our eternally spotless, unrelenting mind.....

once committed, it is rather difficult to retrace the steps responsibly counted by our very weary existence..what exactly does "to err human and to forgive divine..." mean???!!the catchline for the new breed of self-proclaimed martyrs, out there, to keep us all from sinking deeper in the flimsy filth??

i have indeed committed,but am yet to forgive...or forget..this, in all probability is due to the unnecessary independent existence of my conscience, as a separate entity, endowed with powers to breathe, live and more importantly think...torn away from my pithy existence, i have indeed lost whatever little bit of mind that remained imprisoned within me...

flying high on rooftops, (none much higher than the 5th floor though...) it is the realization of a new high...new feelings-emotions that i never knew existed!!

yet...it is the time to copulate with pain....to awake to reality, to smell the mustiness of the lanes locked up in weary corners of the imaginative mind...they rather feebly offer smelling salts to the fast asleeep practical monter within me...makin me realize.....futility...

park stret is the realm of "sins"...the hub of mistakes...the furnace of desire and pain...where demons revel under the divin psychedellic lights of attraction....

i try to retrace...my thoughts, my words, my action...i stumble...i fall...

into the fiery pits of damnation...and i enjoy...every moment of it!!

nonsense, sensibly

tweedledee and tweedledum
sitting innocently on their bum(s)
are the looking real glum?
"oh no! just chewing gum!!"

how very obvious it is to realize that i am, as usual, loitering around the neverending corridors of cyberspace...aimlessly, pointlessly and rather mindlessly...with the lightning speed connections and easy access to the interne, minds have become rather.....

do we actually need one when all the information we need...(both correct and incorrect) is just a click away?how many times have you felt foolish by being unhesitatingly proved wrong by the realms of cyber knowledge?
how many times have u had the irresistible urge to burn anything offering information (but not looking remotely like a computer?) realizing that the "object actually dares to offer you information that contradicts info found on the holy cyber trail??!!

nonsense.....thats what this post really is....when there is too much of time on hand and no constructive thing to do...an affair with the keyboard seems brilliant!!!how fast fair fingers glide over its spine...how smooothly it can be carressed when mindlessly one thinks of sense...and more foten...nonsense...and the clicking responses to the caresses do not exactly remind you of a mundane lover bored with the daily routine of love making.....how good it is to find solace in imagination.....



drown....in the psychdellic swirls of misty untruths....
seek solace...
peace...

and then, there was blogus

the very existence of blogus does seem incredibly weary...cooped up in a 6X4 cubicle all day, staring intently and relentlessly at my thinking, blinking companion. reading stories off the "urban legends" website does seem rather mundane now...to welcome change and celebrate novelty, i unhesitatingly registered and am typing what can be classified as my very first blog on blogspot...

more staring, more blinking and more "exciting new offers" pop up on my screen...never ceasing to add little snippets of excitement in my routine grey life..few strained patches of "californication" filter through the (heavy with boredom) air and reach my cubicle. no-one else seems to have noticed...all all, no-one else is working, hallucinating, trying-to-work, giving up hope...like me.

female foeticide, death of croc hunter, yamini something or the other...wisps of smoke, rhythmic drumming sounds from the nearby "pandal" being constructed, polyphonic ringtones, humourless laughter, return to reality.....................................................................................................


stories from "urban legends seems to be the only salvation....and blogus, remains suspended, incomplete.....like the rest of my work piled up on the table.