My little Finger

One night sleeping on my arm,
I woke up, In the middle of it.
One day writing my paper,
I stood up, in the middle of it.

Was it a nightmare, or the fear to fail,
I don't know, I don't care,
For all I know is

My Pinky is numb,
I can see it, but, I can't feel it
My Pinky is dead,
I can feel the pins and pricks.

The Lady In The Portrait

The sweet smile, and a morbid love,
I never knew, what changed my mind,
But when I drew her on my canvas,
It was night for me, and sunshine for her.

I tried, to make the colors look alive,
But she was adamant, made me look grim,
I reasoned with her, and then a long walk,
But nothing would change, for she was mine.

I drew her, a damsel in distress,
I drew her, for I loved her face more,
The colors were alive, and vibrant with fear,
Then a scream, when my true colors came alive.

Was it the noose, or the blade,
I couldn't tell but she screamed,
She called me crazy, a compliment,
When I let her dangle on her life.

She was captured, never to be free,
She was enslaved, within my dreams,
Then with a chilling shrill, she broke free,
Death became her solace.

I tried reason, but she would't listen,
I tried love, but she would't understand,
For all she saw was a withering cloud,
Under the shadow of a new dream.

Then finally to capture her,
To enslave her within my portrait,
I tightened my noose and swung my knife,
Until not a red drop would remain.

Judge me

The Infinite Love

"...What a fool was he, to believe in love, for I haven't found one, not in the hundred years I lived..."

Was it pity, or lust for blood,
That moved her heart, to help.
As she dragged him in, half dead,
Dragged him into her abode,
And let him live.

She was a vampire, an un-dead being,
Sucking out blood, to satisfy her needs,
But for him, she couldn't touch,
For on his neck hung,
The cross pendant.

She was moved, I could say,
For she helped him stand on his foot,
She had changed, I could see,

For she nursed him back to health,
Was it Love?

For months they stayed together,
In the little dwelling of hers,
And for months she nurtured the love,
As it grew strong with him.
Had she changed?

Then one day, she confessed her love,
"I feel the same", said he,
And for an embrace, he leapt in,
But she screamed, and held back,
The cross pendant on his being.

"If you love me, remove that,
Remove the wretched pendant from your being,
For it makes me weak in heart
And kills the love in me"
She said, with a shaky voice.

He tore the pendant apart with a shove,
And to dust he threw it,
And they broke into a sweet embrace,
Which only love could know.
Then she kissed his neck.

With a sudden jerk, she bit into him,
Sinking her fangs deep into his throat.
"For months you have evaded me",
She laughed, a bone chilling one,
As she drained the life out.

When she was done, she wiped her lips,
And threw the limp body to the floor,
"What a fool was he, to believe in love,
For I haven't found one,
Not in the hundred years I lived"

Dedicated to my lil' sis Josmin

A Random Poem :D( aka The Eclipse )

"...Exist for a cause, wither out without a warning. For the reasons you shine, are less known to Men."

One day, in the corridor,
When my guitar failed to play,
I sat wondering, "Why me god?"
"Why does failure sadden me?"

I heard no sound, no answer,
Yet I yearned for one, as I strained,
Strained to Listen to that little patter,
And the crackling of a dry blade

No answer came that day,
With a sullen heart, I slept, I wept
Still I hoped for an answer, but none came,
Next day, I played again.

God's busy, I said to my self,
And wrote a song, for a busy God,
And I played, and I sung, and I danced along
Till my finger bled, and my throat ached.

Tired, I sat dreaming, and slowly faded away,
Into the night that never ends, I dreamt my way
And that is when I heard his voice,
Like a thunder, echoing through the rain.

"Have you seen an eclipse", the voice asked,
"Yes", I nodded in my dream
"Does the sun, so mighty, chose not to shine,
When the moon shadows its grace?"

I planed on writing more, but I am too lazy, and bored. Please do comment ( Good & Bad both, please ), makes me feel good :)

The Truth

"...The war has made me, made me what I am. It showed me that life is what I crave for..."


I stayed, just behind the lines,
Lines of brave men, ready to die.
I stood, armed to the nails, prepared,
Prepared to bring down the enemy.

We charged, as bulls fed on anger,
To devour what came our way.
We charged, with swords drawn high,
To cut every head that stayed.

With each swing came down a cry,
A cry of pain, a cry of fear.
We marched into the midst, fearless,
Ready to fall mountains, on our way.

Little did we know, about the trap,
Trap that lured us into their midst.
And I watched on, as my men fell,
Fell one after the other.

I hid among their corpses, afraid,
I hid to save my life, and I held on.
And when the enemy was done, they left,
Left me with a mountain of corpses, my own men.

Was I a coward, or a wise man, I don't know,
For I just wanted to live, and I did.
And the war made me, made me what I am,
It showed me that life is what I crave for.

The Carriage Wheel

"Her screams drowned by the ramble beneath, drowned by the sound of the Carriage wheels...."


I caught the glimpse of her eyes,
As the train halted to a stop,
Her hair, silken black, shining,
Divine beauty, etched by gold.

A tear escaped her eye, with goodbyes,
She alighted, a righteous air by her,
Infront of me she seated, wiping a tear,
As the carriage chugged slowly, moving.

I read her face, flawless and vibrant,
As she sat reading a book, a paperback.
Then our eyes met, a smile, a conversation,
The melody of her voice, ringed in my ear.

She could talk, and she did, as we chatted,
Birds and trees to start, then came life,
Daughter of a widowed mother, she spoke,
Spoke with a vigour beyond her age.

She was young, but wise for her age,
We talked on, as shadows grew long,
The night came, and shadows disappeared,
And soon the sleep was upon her.

I watched her sleep, gently in her dreams,
As I sang her a lullaby, of a long lost prince.
And she slept like a child, as my eyes sparkled,
Sparkled with satisfaction of an evil deed.

A gentle smile curved on my face,
As with the knife I carved her grace,
Her screams drowned by the ramble beneath,
Drowned by the sound of the Carriage wheels.

Soon morning came, as I alighted at the station,
A bloodied knife hidden in my pocket,
Her silver necklace dangled in my arms,
As I bid farewell to a girl wise for her age.

The Sour Grapes

"I just wish I had tasted the grapes, atleast I wouldn't have been cribbing about them being sour..."

Smiling one sunny day, the fox,merrily rambled away,
Through the undergrowth, and a wet path covered in moss.

A vineyard he did cross, whence he laid his eyes on the grapes,
Dark-purple and delicious, they did hang on the drapes,

He sat underneath the grapes, "A grape or two won't hurt", he thought,
A jump followed the thought, then another, and another, till he tired out.

No mater how much he jumped, no grape he could grasp,
So atlast disheartened he started to march back, with a heavy heart.

There sat a crow, watching the show, smiling to himself,
Then a question escaped his naughty little beaks, as he squeaked.

"Why do you leave Mr Fox, already tired and giving up are you?",
"The grapes are sour, and I don't fancy 'em any more", sighed the fox

"But they are sweet up here", mocked the crow, in a sympathetic voice,
The fox din't reply, he swallowed hard as he walked away, thinking.

"If only I had tasted a single grape, I wouldn't have lied, I wouldn't have cried,
but now I crib about the grapes being sour, even without trying one."

Fear Of a Crimson Dream

Wrapped around in a hazy dream, I slip down a pipe hole,
Frozen in fear, as the solitude becomes my nightmare,

Green witch clad in a purple robe, wave your wand, let me free,
As the anger I smoke in, to breath out a crimson cloud of dream.

I walk, leading my path, a burning fire, wobbling in front of me,
I slide to see what is there for me to see, blank spaces with seesaws.

I see her run infront of me, my little guardian angel, who never sleeps,
But today she is drunk, she is drunk with my ingratitude, and solace.

Life played a trick on me, magic is never true, I shout in the streets,
Life played a trick on me, left me to fend for my self, I paint on the walls.

The crimson nights would come, when the dreams would cease,
Then the shades of yesterday would comfort your sleep, as you try to dream.

A unicorn that flies, with the wings of a mighty eagle, pure as white,
Dreams are for those who can sleep, but for me, its the black of the blankness.

The Un-great-fool

"...He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has..."
- Epictetus

I am not wise, for I lament for the things I have not, and care even less for the things I have.
"Life"
I have a wonderfully gifted Life, a life which I got through a miracle, a real miracle, but still I play around with it, tossing it around, carelessly, the chances that I might drop and break it, are real high, but still I play around with it.
"Family"
It took a while for me to understand the importance and value of a family. It would be a lie, if I said that I cared for my family, but I have changed, I have become someone who I was not, changed for good, changed for bad. And together with me my family changed. It took me two years in a practical jail to understand what family meant. Now I long to see them, long to be close to them, but the truth is, time has run out, the only thing we as human beings can't control.
"Friends"

The only thing I have in abundance, friends, I can get along with people, easily, without trouble. I have seen people who are really a pain to adjust with, they don't have friends, they just have people around them who sympathize with them, because they don't have friends and because they feel sorry for them. And then there's me, who has his own private world full of friends, and doesn't even care about them. Well I have had complains from many, "...You don't hang around with me these days, you have got better friends than me", ah well they haven't seen me hang around with the "better" friends, I hang around alone, I crib about the lack of friends, I lament about being alone.
"Intelligence"
I have enough Intelligence to last me through my old age dumbness, enough to stand for my own beliefs, to protect my own principles, but I lament, I look at others who are better off than me, and despair for their intelligence, neglecting mine. I let my brain rust, its blunt these days, it requires a good brush up, but I know I will raise again.

"...I have been ungrateful to every one around me, to my friends, who have actually been there during my hard times. My family, because of whom I am what I am. My self, without whom I wouldn't have had this identity of mine."

And towards the end, the golden touch, golden words to give me solace throughout my life, a phrase which would be etched in my memory, which I can use as a defense, to protect my own ungrateful soul from torment.

"The Past is gone, a new beginning awaits you"

The Snake

Her beautiful face covered in mud,
As she writhed in pain, screaming,
A pain, she couldn't feel, but it ate her,
Ate her inside, the pain of fear.

She coiled on my hand, hissing,
Tightened her grip, never to lose me,
I felt her heart beat faster, as she slipped,
Slipped away into a hole, A safegaurd.

I watched her slip through the hole,
The poison as it ran through my veins,
I felt my heart beat faster, and then numbness,
The two punctures, as it showed through my skin.

I never asked her, why she hated me,
I never asked her, why she disliked me,
I knew fear was all she had, when her teeth sunk.
For she was afraid of me, and me afraid of her.

Stars Among the Strays

With her little hands, she paints a happy face

The sun was hot, burning bright,
Sweaty, sticky, turned the red light,
I waited, cursing the man in front,

I waited, under the sun that burnt.

Half a minute past, I stayed at the juncture,
When a little hand, crawled up to a tap,
I looked and two little eyes looked back,
The strays of the land they did their tricks.

A small hoop-a-loop, and she starts her trick,
A small drum, the boy beats the brick.
They jump and loop through, at work or play,
Then the small hands come up for the alms.

I did feel a little pinch, she is a kid, said my heart,
I put my hands in my little purse, to pay,
But alas the driver won't stop, nor would he care,
As half a minute later green comes up on the fair.

Happiness

Typing this thing out, is the easiest way, through which I can get rid of the craving that is slowly and slowly pushing my brain, to think that it exists outside my body. Yesterday was a colorful day, with the trees being green, birds being yellow ( well I don't know how birds look like) and flowers being multi colored, and out of the blue I needed a porcupine, which actually led into a real bad mess (no wonder these animals are protected under law). Things turned out to be so ugly, that I thought it was time for my real half to disappear, and he did so and now I am stuck up here with half a brain typing this out.

So coming to the point, yesterday I was totally kicked around with a volley of fancy words, which were supposed to define the being I am, well my usual answer was "I don't care", but somehow deep within me, I did say "Please can you stop it, you are hurting me". Then there was this little pointing out where the person concerned said, "You are one f***ed up mind. Even an average boy is happier and merrier than you.", well I wanted to ask, "Define happiness dude!!"

That got me thinking, and thinking, and thinking. What exactly is happiness? I tried Mr Google for it, and he gave me a good and satisfiable answer

"Happiness is a state of mind or feeling characterized by contentment, love, satisfaction, pleasure, or joy."
I should be happy according to the definition, I am happy with my life, except for may be an occasional mood swing, which can't be helped. I feel love, I feel pleasure, and I feel joy. So according to the dictionary I am happy, but still why would he say that I am not happy.
The only possible reason I could figure out was because I only shared the sad feelings I had in my life with him, the happy feelings were reserved to my own being.

So as Mr Shakespeare once said, "All is well that ends well", I hope this phase just ends up properly.


Look at the stars, as they shine bright,

Each one its own master, its own slave,

Look at the lone flower that blossoms by,
Under the sun, its happy, it withers, dies

The river flows, alone through the land,
To join a bigger family, underneath the sand.

So why does the world say happiness is lost,
For its just a hands reach away from life.

The Violet Sky

I am afraid of the calm after the storm

One fine evening, under an orange sky,
I sat with her, her hands in mine,
Looking at the sky, and the setting sun,
I sat there, looking in her eye.

It was calm, and the peace stayed on,
No words were spoken, but eyes said it all,
A fear lurked within me, as the grey crept in,
For it was the calm before the storm.

The orange of the sky was lost,
And the grey of the storm took hold,
Slowly breaking the strong bonds of love.
And soon the storm was upon us.

The eyes said it all, and tears held the words,
Silence spoke loud, in the sad shades of grey
The storm ragged, as from me she was torn apart.
Never to return, she said, for the storm to depart.

The storm subsided, but from me she was gone,
A violet haze poisoned the sky, as the calm returned,
A painful calm where no words would ever be spoken,
Or is it a calm before another storm sings aloud.

Reasons - 2

Its been long since I actually wrote something sensible in this blog, ( well apart from the regular poetic explosions of fear and anxiety ). Today was a day I actually ( when I say actually I mean it this time :P ) tried to understand the reasons behind my screwed-up existence. I have had dreams where I was as normal as others were, where I could talk normal things. Think normally. Fall in love, have some one, who holds my hand and walks with me when I am down. Well these were just perfect examples of a perfect life.
Something happened, something which made me believe that there was no turning back, there was no returning from what I am, but as usual- "Who gives a F***". I hate it like this, I hate the reason of my existence, and everything linked to me. Thanks to a handful of people, I still breath ( not fresh air though :D ), I just wish I had a time machine, but well people would have missed "me" then.


I knew a man with no face,

No face to remember by.
I knew a memory with no name,
No name to recall it by.

The night was in its youth,
When two hands touched,
The night was in its death bed,
When the dreams were shattered.

So I stand tall, to protect my dreams,
And to do what is best for me,
So I stand up against all fears,
But still the night crushes me down.

I knew a man with no face,
Because I choose to forget,
I knew a memory with no name,
Because I hated to recall it.

Fathom

You will burn in your innocence when the world steals your smile

She waits under a sunburned sky, a woman in her primes,
Waiting for the day to dawn, to wake her up from her denial.

He would come, she says, but little does she know,
That despair is his only pride, and death his bride.

A long lost war, a shielded window of shattered faith,
Now she waits for her man to come, to save her from her fate.

Gods would show me favour, and let me be one with him,
But oh great sea, why did you steal his soul from me.

Is it madness that counts, or the love that kills,
For she stood there thousands of days, waiting for him still.

He won't come, the village echoed, crushing the last piece of hope,
He won't come, for he is one with death, sang the multitude aloud.

By the sea she stood, but why did you take him from me,
For an aching heart you have given me, and an eye devoid of tears.

Ages passed and soon the village forgot, forgot about the woman,
Until one sunny day, she came home, huddled in a casket of her own.

The Walking Stick

A sunny sky to mark my day,
I strolled along, alone, and bored,
The park was lively, with birds chirping,
Dogs barking, and fish swimming.

A tree swayed, and a sparrow flew away,
Up soared the eagle, to catch its prey,
So on such a sunny day, I strolled,
Alone and bored, nothing to do.

At a distance I saw a boy, a kid of my age,
Play with his dog, as his grand old man,
Aged with wisdom, wrinkled with love,
Sat by the tree, and watched him play.

Next to him lay, his walking stick,
Wood of the same tree, or so I presumed,
To support him, till he made peace,
Till he lays down his worries and leaves.

The kid played along, urging his old man,
To play with him, to throw a ball or two,
The old man did budge, stood up to play,
But his weak legs wouldn't let him stay.

So he picked up his walking stick,
To play with his little kid,
Something struck me at this point,
And for long did I lose myself to thoughts.

The walking stick had become a part of him,
A part he cherished and lived.
A part which would never leave his side,
I wish I had a walking stick too like him.