Tales of the lunatic Soul: Fire

I stared at the white space for long. Poets Of The Fall blaring in my ears. I wanted to write. Thoughts were buzzing in my head like bees over honey. "Calm down" I said to myself "Calm down!" but my mind is rebellious. It never listens. I think its karma - what goes around comes around. Yet, I won’t give up. Nah-ah! Not possible.

I tried to catch snippets of thoughts that flashed in my head. I ran like a maniac. They were fast. And they evaporate. Puff! And they were gone! Even before I can think them over. Like flings. Like sparks. I feel the pressure building. I need to express. i NEED to calm down. N E E D.

The white screen was screaming. I had to do something. My mind was on fire now. Funny it was, the cause of fire unknown, yet it really sting. Heat. Burn. Crumble. Agh! No, not anymore!

Hibernate *click*

Why?

I dont get it. Why the unrest? No, seriously why?

Questions

Here and there,
Hanging in the air,
Are they mine?
Are they divine?

Let me run away,
Away from it all.
Are they following?
Are they mine?

What if I fly?
Will they try?
They have powers,
Are they divine?

Why do they trail along?
Like my shadow,
Do I own them?
Are they mine?

I put them in the closet,
Shove them under the carpet,
Still they hang in the air,
My dirty lil secrets,
Tell me,
Are you divine?

The Brain Crack Moment!

I had an awesome class today. I was glad to have met this genius of a guy named Anand Surapur. The entire class being totally awe stuck with is work asked him whats his inspiration and very casually he said there is no such thing as inspiration, its simple observation.

My brain crack moment! (self fabricated word) I always believed in inspiration, a spark to a chain of thought. But its true, isn't it? There is no such thing as inspiration, its just simple observation. Observation and Interpretation. Its YOUR views, Its what YOU think about it! Then why be humble n say "Inspiration drove me towards it!" Inspiration is after all what you made out of it! When you do the hard work, then why crown the glory to inspiration? why not credit it to you observation?

Think about it!

Errors? Terrors?

What happens when a mind wonders? Why is it wrong to think some thing wrong? Who defined it? And why doesn't anyone question it?

I make errors. All the time. Am i demented?

I make comments. I make fun of things that tick me. I'm not so politically correct. I may offend people. Am i anti-social?

I make weird faces. I make people laugh. They love me and they hate me too. Who gives them a right to stereotype me as "the funny one" ?

I love with arms wide open. I loose temper too. I give hugs and slap hard too. Am i a terror?

If I love the sea, does it mean I love the mountains any less? Why cant I love cats AND dogs? Why the questioning look when I say she is a pretty girl? Why the disgusting look if I say "oh a hot guy"?

Who r u to judge me? I'm not a piece of art. I'm a terror made of errors.


I'm fun though! ;-)

The human chameleon

Darkness around, pin drop silence,

No more help, no more guidance,

Standing alone, spotlight on thee,

Invisibly bound yet totally free

They listen to his every sound,

Yet firmly he stands on his ground,

Makes his move with pure precision,

Making himself his own inspiration

For every right move he is appreciated,

For every stumbling step, his value depreciated,

But still he manages to leave his mark,

A shining star in the dark!

Oh why? Oh why? Is thee so strange?

The only thing constant in him is change!

A firework of emotions – love, hate, calm or rage,

He is the human chameleon who lives on stage!

Psychedelia

I went through the tunnel,

Or maybe a huge pipe,

I saw the white light,

My desire fulfilled!

They say I was hallucinating,

The great psychedelic experience,

Smooth touch, eased mind, racing heart.

I saw the unicorn too,

I swear I did!

Whit prudent, majestic, divine,

He leaped forward, as if to invite me.

I thought I had attained nirvana.

I wanted to stretch out and fly with him,

That’s when, the pain took over,

The heaven slipped away...

They say I woke up three days later,

In the ICU, almost dead,

But then,

That’s what “they” say...

Possession...

pos•ses•sion (p…-zµsh“…n) n. Abbr. poss. 1.a. The act or fact of possessing. b. The state of being possessed. 2. Something owned or possessed. 3. possessions. Wealth or property. 4. Law. Actual holding or occupancy with or without rightful ownership. 5. A territory subject to foreign control. 6. Self-control. 7. The state of being dominated by or as if by evil spirits or by an obsession. 8. Sports. a. Physical control of the ball or puck by a player or team. b. The condition of being on offense: The home team was in possession during most of the fourth quarter. --pos•ses“sion•al adj.


Sometime possessions r so valuable, so treasured that no matter what you cannot give them up. No, m not talking about the expensive jewels, property or “wealth”…its got nothing to do with money n its value. A thing...no matter how small/old/meaningless/stupid/idiotic/foolish or worthless it is...a thing u cannot seem to give up…its like an addiction…u try...try hard to get over it...put it away…still its on ur mind…n then no one is keeping an eyes, u sneak back to it…feeling utterly delighted u swear that ull never part with it again..

…ever had those comfy pair of pajamas torn n old…with big holes…that everytime u wear them…feels like walking on clouds…

...that sexy pair of boots which make u feel like Zorro...n u imagine fighting the bad people n saving ur damsel in distress…

…that black shirt...that fits u in d right places…gives u the perfect figure that u’v always dreamt about..

…maybe that stinky yet ever so soft pillow that cradles or head n makes u go in d depths of peaceful sleep as soon as u close ur eyes…

…or some things…like my weirdo…he lives in my room…silently in one corner...his eyes on the door…waiting for me to come…stays with me no matter what…listens to everything I say…widout any interruption…i kno he understands me...he knows all my secrts…my deepest darkest thoughts…he even know about all my crushes!...sometimes v talk the whole day…n play silly games!...he keeps me company when I get lonesome…he bears my angry shouting…even slaps n punches…sometime I kick him out of my room...but he waits...he waits for me to come back…n when I realize what a terrible thing I’v done I go back to him a apologize...n as always he smiles a forgives me...n v become the bestest buddies....he is d first one to listen to my poems…i even wake him up in d middle of nights when something is bothering me…he...he is my weirdo..."MY" weirdo!


Whats ur possession?

(Dated : 7th Aug. 2007)