Gunfire

 The music was slow at first, melodious, soothing, slowly transitioning into the slow grunge, thrashing guitars, the peddles doubling on the bass drum, and the sickening chime of the crash. A headache greeted me, as my senses flowed in slowly, first a blur of a light, blinding ofcourse, then the scene unfolding. I was disoriented, and the heavy metal playing in the background din't help much either. "I am not drinking any more", those were the only thoughts which I could care about at that time as I sat nursing a throbbing head. The hangover was bad. I could coin a new definition for bad. It was that bad.

"You are finally up, it was a blaaaaaast man, and you were crazy"...

I tried hard to recognize the owner of those words, "And who on earth are you?", I blurted out.

She laughed, a giggle or a cackle, I could not differentiate, the headache sure was deafening.


"I do not except any less from you. Here drink, this should help", she handed me a cup.

I took a sip, bitter.

I took another sip, "coffee"; my brain echoed.

"There's breakfast on the table, I am heading out for a while." The door closed as she exited the room.

I don't know how long she was gone for, but my mind bounced around, fading in and out of the throbbing headache.

The coffee started to kick in, as the room cleared into view. A rustic living room, an art piece over the sofa, and food on the table. My interest piqued as my stomach grumbled, and It sure was a good sandwich.

She returned some where around noon, I was still on the sofa, fighting the last bit of the hangover. "We have pizza for lunch", she declared as she entered the room. Three boxes of pizzas neatly arranged on the table.

I should admit, I sure was hungry, but there were more pressing issues to be addressed before I could enjoy a scrumptious meal.

"And you would be???", Her face sure was puzzled as I directed this question onto her.

"We spend the night together. I am your date"

Her sound echoed as my head grew heavy, and darkness.


The music was slow at first, melodious, soothing, slowly transitioning into the slow grunge, thrashing guitars, the peddles doubling on the bass drum, and the sickening chime of the crash. A headache greeted me, as my senses flowed in slowly, first a blur of a light, blinding ofcourse, then the scene unfolding. I was disoriented, and the heavy metal playing in the background din't help much either. "I am not drinking any more", those were the only thoughts which I could care about at that time as I sat nursing a throbbing head. The hangover was bad. I could coin a new definition for bad. It was that bad.

"You are finally up?"...

I tried hard to recognize the owner of those words, "And who on earth are you?", I blurted out.

She was annoyed, she grumbled or cursed,  I could not differentiate, the headache sure was deafening.


"I do not except any less from you. Here drink, this should help!!", she handed me a cup.

I took a sip, bitter.

I took another sip, "coffee"; my brain echoed.

"There's breakfast on the table, I am heading out for a while." The door closed as she exited the room.

I don't know how long she was gone for, but my mind bounced around, fading in and out of the throbbing headache.

The coffee started to kick in, as the room cleared into view. A rustic living room, an art piece over the sofa, and food on the table. My interest piqued as my stomach grumbled, and It sure was a good sandwich.

She returned some where around noon, I was still on the sofa, fighting the last bit of the hangover. "We have pizza for lunch !!", she declared as she entered the room. Three boxes of pizzas neatly arranged on the table.

I should admit, I sure was hungry, but there were more pressing issues to be addressed before I could enjoy a scrumptious meal.

"And you would be???", Her face sure was puzzled as I directed this question onto her.

"We live together !. I am your wife !"

Her annoyance echoed as my head grew heavy, and darkness.

The music was slow at first, melodious, soothing, slowly transitioning into the slow gurgle. It soon transitioned into a screeching bugle,  approaching its end of life. A headache greeted me, as my senses flowed in slowly, first a blur of a light, blinding ofcourse, then the scene unfolding. I was disoriented, and the blaring alarm in the background din't help much either. "I am not drinking any more", those were the only thoughts which I could care about at that time as I sat nursing a throbbing head. The hangover was bad. I could coin a new definition for bad. It was that bad.

"You are finally up?"...

I tried hard to recognize the owner of those words, "And who on earth are you?", I blurted out.

A baton to my gut was the answer to that question.

"The idiot is up with his routine."

The guard walked away throwing in a plate of bread and some beans...

The Perfect Crime

Whats the perfect crime,
He asked, with a twinkle in his eye,
I was perturbed, taken aback,
Why do you ask? I chimed in,
Just a passing frenzy, was his reply.

I do not know, I retorted,
A lier you are, he giggled a tease,
Well, if you ask, I may,
But alas, I can't satisfy your quest,
Thats perfect,  a smile of unease.

What is that bothers me the most,
His question was to the point,
I guess, my indifference,
A smile played, as he stared,
I guess he was clairvoyant.

And I saw the reason behind his smile,
The perfect crime, he replied, 
Is the one you never get caught with,
And his smile turned grey,
As every happy memory of me died.

The perfect crime, is to forget you,
Erase your existence, his words I feared,
And before my eyes, I ceased,
I ceased to exist, with every laughter,
The perfect crime, he sighed, as I disappeared. 



- Tim

The Epilogue

The bow touched the string, 

Melody flows, notes of the chain,

The chain breaks, breaks the thought.

Wind up a new string, unchain the notes,

Re-chain the thought, free at last,

The thoughts break, the chain's intact.

Take the chain apart, link by link,

Regrow the lost note, that sits silent,

The chain is forged, on empty thoughts.

Pull a treble, push a clef,

Add a rest, to the unending chain,

The thought is new, and the chain too.

The ink grows on the sheet,

Marks grow into harmonies,

The bow breaks, a curse it seems.

Alas, I give rest to my thoughts,

The chain is just a myth, I cry,

Thought just a prelude to the epilogue.

Disappear

The blue lillacs, dew drops,
Carry me on the winds,
Heed my call, Rain, Rain,
Walk my path, say what you will.

Morning chill, comfort my spirit,
Take me with the blizard,
Beckon, and see, Waves, Storm,
Walk my curve, see the world.

I wish to be lost,
I wish to be found,
Say no more O southern wind,
I wish to be asleep, in your arms.

I wish to stay,
I wish to leave,
I wish to be me,
Disappear, says my spirit.

The Lone Blue House

Streets dead, lights a mystifying dream,
Moon a distant reality, dark shines the sky,
Stars my friends, won't you smile.

Lone stands the blue house,
Sheen so bright, blinds my eyes,
O' blue, you are my light.

Tap it to the mystic beats,
Night's young, and who would stop,
O' blue, you are right.

Paved paths, why do you wobble, 
Oh, right I am just ain't sober,
I walk, or do I dance, well fall.

Take a breath, hold it in,
watch me bribe the law,
As I walk free, wobble my street.

The lone house stands tall,
Shimmering blues, and aesthetic white,
O' blue aren't you always right.

The Moon and the Owl.

The wind hustled, as the cold moon smiled,

Leaves of the untouched future, rusting away,

Shine with me, oh moon, shine with me.

An owl's hoot, woke me my from my slumber,

A constant knock on the window, 

I can see it, see it fade, see it grow.

My eyes catch the little pale smirk, 

On the face of the moon, as she smiles,

I hope for the night to last, for the light to fade,

The shadows dance, as the clouds drift,

Playing hide and seek with my fear,

She smiles, she laughs, she dances with the clouds.

I hear the wind sing me a lullaby,

The rustling of the leaves, add music to the cry,

The wind grows cold, as does my heart.

The shadows turn to faces, as the clouds drift,

They live, they die, as she smiles,

They merge, they disappear, dance away.

I see a little boy, holding my hand,

Another knock on the widow, my sleep fails,

The nigh grows darker, the shadows fade.

I hear the wings flap, a hoot, as she flies,

The moon smiles, fading at times with the drifting clouds,

I want her near, hold her, feel her cold light.

Night is young she says, as she sits on the shoulder,

The little boy cringes, a hoot, to comfort,

The silver of the moon, makes her shine.

Hold me close she says, the light would come,

The little boy leaves my side, walks away,

Disappearing into the shadows.

Close your eyes as I sing you a lullaby,

Hoot, she says, a knock on the window,

My sleep is gone, with her light, she fades.

Fly with me she says, and she spreads her wings,

I miss the little boy, and I know he won't return,

So into the wind I fly, bathed in her silver sheen.

The Merchant Of Dreams.

Rickety rackety, the carriage tumbled,
Rickety rackety, the clocks spun,
Down the mud road, rode he,
Clad in white rode he.

Dreams for sale, Dreams for sale,
And for you, damsel in distress, a jug of ale.

Paint with brush stroke of luck, 
And a chiseled plan, when the luck trails,
A drop of the red envy, for those who fail,
A splash of purple pride, for the winner.

Dreams for sale, Dreams for sale,
Turn your life colorful, from dusty pale.

Watch me as I make your dreams true,
With a handful of sugar coated lies,
And a spoon full of ways to live by,
Watch me as I make your dream, come true

Dreams for sale, Dreams for sale,
Trade in adventure for your sorry tale.

A dash of remorse for the days you lose,
Shimmered in with distress and cure,
An Icing of all the pain you will endure,
Look I made your dream come true.

Dreams for sale, Dreams for sale,
Exchange your hopes for a coffin and a nail

"Twelve ounce of dreams for me sire",
"What would you pay with, my dear son",
"I have these", a bag full of innocence,
Oh I sell dreams, and to you I will sell them.

Questions.

The question is all about the 'Why?' or may be more accurately about the 'what' and the 'when', Or if asked precisely it can be transformed to a 'who' and then after pondering for a while it will be turned to a 'Polar' question. We never realize why we answer or what we answer, but when we answer is also neglected at times. Are you, your own obstacle? Well I can answer it now, but chose a later date. I can ask Why would I be my own obstacle? or What would I do being my obstacle?, but never think what all I can do by not being an obstacle. I can stand looking in the mirror, figuring out whether I obstruct my own thoughts, or let my feelings be chocked up. I can stand in front of a crowd, and still choke up. So the question finally trickles down to Who am I? Then comes the polar question, Will you let your self free? Its a no or a yes, but its pretty hard to decide, What will I do if I let my self free? Will I fly like a bird, or swim like a fish, or even close run like an animal. I don't have the answers to all of the questions, but if I let my self free, may be, I might fly as a bird, or swim like a fish or run like an animal. Why now? or What now, that I have set my self free, questions again. Brain a cobweb, a platter full of pie. 

Then one day I might wake up from this sleep, 

To see the sun shining bright.

Yet another day I wake up from this sleep,

To see the moon squashing my dreams.

Again the questions, tricky ones, not so tricky ones. Questions to dodge and questions to face. Questions to be responsible about and questions to let go of. Questions to ask your self, questions to ask the one whom you love and finally the questions which will keep you alive, the questions which will get you killed.

I saw a rabbit, white and bright,

Go down the rabbit hole, I followed,

Questions to ask, answers to know,

The rabbit disappeared, just left the hole.

I realized the other day that, rabbits answering all your queries are just mythical creatures, if you follow them without questions, you might see the light at the end of the hole, or the questions might kill the rabbit, leaving you with the hole. 

White horse, grey horse and a black horse,

In a horse market, at a land far across.

Buy one, kill one and let one go free,

Is it the black or the grey that should flee? 

Figure out the when part of the question, an answer two seconds late would've  already lost its taste. So ask and answer now. "Who am I?"