Skyblanket

The world I see, so far beyond my reach
time travels so slowly, but still
they say a dreamer's dreams they never die
But how loud they moan, when met with peril

Trapped between rocks of fear
There is no place to run and hide
The sky is a blanket and the water below
There is no green for miles and miles

The path may take you on a different road
The one you chose strewn with what you cling to its hope
But water flows slow to slowly quench
The thirst which builds up within your soul

Does the story have an exciting end
Of dreams which knew no beginning or base
Are left to wander for themselves
And are stuck, lodged in a crevice

Time will tell, time my master
Time hides the harshest of truths but reveals
A blanket thrown into an open sky
To uncover vastness which describes no means.

All light may swivel, all darkness may fade
The twists which lend the story thus
But, what is left and that's all thats worth
To carry forth, the gold and dust

Life's a battlefield

A million thoughts flow throw my head
They strike and tarnish my soul with poison tipped arrows spreading
gloom and depression in their paths.
They draw me from side to side, pull at me with strings.
Make a joke out of me, a clown with empty tears that don't stop.

I feel battered, abused by none other than myself
The weight burdens my mind , not with regret
But at my inability to delay to awaken
Nothing but a stone, now glow or shine of the divine

They say eyes reflect the soul
Do people see stones in mine?
For I am the soul, the stone is me
There are no windows, I feel trapped.
The empty echoes, echoes in emptyness
Lonely streets they mock me
I swore never to write out of depression
It's not depression, its inertia which overthrows; renders me incapable.

I look for God desperately, I look in songs, I look in my heart
He stays far away. And all I receive is emptyness

Writing was an exercise to feel good but look at me.
All flat, but I don't care
No voice that soothes.
No song that is mellow.
Can dark art be called beautiful?
I used to think so
People are dying. Their death is real to me
I study it like a technicality.
I study questions around if we should show the events which led to their deaths.
It doesn't free me.
Why am I not free?
I speak of causes and the past
I speak of what led me here.
But the mistakes and hardness of heart
Remind me each time.
I need to quell these.
Like a demon blown out of proportion.

I once was on an aeroplane
Landing in this new place
Full of hope and imagined splendour
My beautiful life and all that is left of it
My abilities, I had them once
It's not so much about having them as reminding me that they exist
My heart wants to feel again
My head wants to be unburdened
Where is the fire that once was?
Or did I imagine it.
I rarely write this way
The optimist in me, never lets me
But this gives me pleasure.

My feelings are real
As time goes by, fear takes over.
And, make me want to fight back hard.

Welcome to the universe

One of the nicest and the most unfortunate things about life is that you always get the unexpected. Reality hardly matches with your expectations about people, places, experiences, life. It never matches with your carefully considered way to get to where you want -the easy and safe path that takes you there, strewn with the obstacles you can scale easily, where you emerge shining as the the overall hero and champion of the story.

Why is it unpleasant? Coz its something which unwraps itself differently from the neatly wrapped present you pictured in your head. The present you you made with thoughts of endless scope and possibility. Of blazing change and burning from within which takes you to higher places never seen before. Comforting thoughts of how you can overcome any kind of resistance. How you will always douse the fire which eats you from inside and stroke than fire which merrily burns on. All given lesser meaning as the slow unwinding of something which was once so wound up takes place.

Even the most hardcore, adventure-loving, risk-taking person wouldn't jump into it all at once and accept things they way they are. With a lil space given to the possibility of the existence of such a brand of super-people, nobody is calm when chaos plays its part in producing the questions and blurring the answers to issues which arise when grappling with questions of whoami and whereami. I think these two questions live with people more often than people seem to care or realize. They seem to care and look for the answers even less.

Why is it nice again? Coz it pulls you beyond the suffocation of the 'idiot box' you are idiotically tricked into seeing because of the hedonistic ideals which are so ingrained in us, we hardly know they exist. To be comfortably wrapped in the illusionary cocoon of a place where you have everything you ever wanted.That's just the best feeling in the world, yea? Experience has led me to believe that it makes you feel really lousy when you get too comfortable. Although you don't wanna admit it when its in motion and your swimming against the tide, its probably better this way. At least this holds good for those among us who love to be challenged as much as we hate to be challenged.

Obviously, these which float on swishy, water-pools over my head are fresh on the realization that its been exactly a month since I've landed in London. The point by now is clear is to not elaborate on the wonderful-ness or the trashy-ness of life here.

Time flows like a river and you can't quite catch up with it. It frustrates you when you can't put every moment to good use. Sometimes, it sweeps you off your feet and you are knocked down and sit hard on the ground remembering that it once mattered to you at some point but you don't know when and why it did. And then you refuse to get up coz you wonder if the effort is worth it. The space between sitting and the getting up, thats the effort whose lack is gonna make us all extinct one fine day. It's also the very same which presents us a chance to make the unexpected evolve into something much more meaningful than an ordinary word like 'nice.' It's what makes everything worth it. The unexpected.