Crumbling Cookie

[Let's just say I'm experimenting.]

A slice

A murmur

A banal drop.

That's not how the cookie falls.

A knot

A tug

A banal fall.

That's not how the cookie drops.

A twist

A tumble

A banal toast.

That's not how the cookie scuttles.

A stance

A totter

A banal scuttle.

That wasn't the cookie's toast.

A sigh

A half-smile

A simple melody.

That's the way the cookie burns.

Read more...

Welcoming Back Blue Raincoats

I needed to write today. Having done that, I thought I'd stick by my old decision to be my capricious self and decided to post on this purportedly closed blog.

I make no promises concerning future posts. If you hold your breath, please take it the entire mile and emulate a five year old in a mall who really really wants another gummy bear head. Then, tell me if it was watermelon or strawberry.

It's short and possibly incomplete. But it does have a title-

Blue Raincoats

Heaven sent at heaven's end.

A sweet man's abode

Converts to a widow's chest

To reveal the crinkling edges of homesickness.

A glossy finish by a rough edged sword,

Finality by an indefinite wink.

Chapters flip with the summer breeze,

Accursed.

Sweet similes end

And children's chests heave.

Swords wink in the summer Sun

To close curses at heaven's brink.

Read more...

Chalk Faces

Words you can use to describe the following- purple, verbose, forced and downright banal.

Reasons apathy is my only response to your wailing- My plan for fluff blogging didn't work out and I haven't much else to put up here for your amusement and/or agonizing dragging death. Also, I haven't indulged my sadism in a long while.

Enjoy.

Downward curls and upward angles

A facile face, commonly discernible.

With a slight twitch and a wayward glance

The mighty sight moves off to perchance.

A glint and sigh with a bashful grin

Another simple one, identified without hint.

Toss a sneer and a muddle wave

You’ll have a splendidly confused daze.

Stoic stare, murmured immutability

Uncertainty unsure in perpetuity.

Off cadence breath or wavering peek

Works of comprehension clearly you seek.

Read more...

Haverford

[Another 10 minute poem written in Zurich. This one after a short nap and quick meal (also directly on the computer).]

Here I sit at the edge of Haverford

Watching the younger scuttle by

They brush past, they shrink on.

A wide gale of laughter,

My soft whimper of woe

Some boisterous, others unheard.

A hand whisks above the golden grain

Feeling wisps down below,

A tickling tendril totters up

Gushing giggles guffaw out.

The soil takes me in from the toes

I battle and win, but who’s to show?

They plunge down with sudden force,

The stabbing frost grasps me, clenched.

Such a feeling I have often known

Since the days of graying cold.

Now I court chirping birds

No longer being the one in Haverford.

[I came up with this while reading Beowulf. Go figure...]

Read more...

Undersaturated Overtones

[It’s been a while since I wrote something in under 10 minutes, sleep deprivation was the cure to that. Here’s a poem I wrote at the Zurich airport after the first leg of the journey to Chicago. (This is one of the few things I’ve ever written directly onto the computer).]

In a rush we scuttle and scamper,

Teetering from one end to another

A delicate feel of movement

But not much else.

Here we are, confined,

With no place to go.

It mushrooms within

Regurgitates itself time again.

You wonder at it,

Stare at its

Strange balmy pleasantness.

This is the end, here we go.

A feeble fluttering,

A sweet sensation,

An indication of final presence

Suffuses when surrounded.

Thinking of the inevitable

Just as we go.

Now we meet,

You and I.

After weeks of rumination,

Reflecting the inexorable

A breathless sigh in satisfaction,

Alas! we can go.

Read more...

Careful

The clock showing 3 AM inspired me to write something, anything rather. I tried a new tack, I failed but the rubble is below..

Here I am seated-

In the silent corner,

Atop a minor dent.

Soughing breath,

Fitful hands,

Restive lids.

Careful, though.

Melancholy music

Of coloured song

Shuffles through,

Chances brick walls.

Notes whisk back,

Tousled and turned,

Ephemeral and ebbing.

Foot grazes carpet

With periodic tap.

Fingers itch

With tedious plan.

A bead trickles,

Diverging from a mass

Ending desiccated, defeated.

Darkness impregnates:

Crescent unseen.

Searching for abyss

Facing banal grey,

Philosophy forsaken.

Focus closer

Upon lined sheets,

Imagination mislaid.

Three assemble

In gradual procession,

Stare in silent pause.

Song fades,

Foot follows,

Eyes sigh.

Careful, though.

Read more...

Brushstroke

Today, the kindergarten wall took a not so great tumble down to a ghastly pile of crap emerging from my personal Hellmouth set up by IT.

The wall mocks me in verse.

First you brush upon me

In hallowed white

But in the most impious way.

Then you burst upon me a slew of stain

From Satan’s personal palette.

This I can tell for some mortals admired

Except those of sane virtuous way.

But more I grieve as this was not

The end of your profanity.

You soon resolved to

Write upon my trampled skin

The names of books of wicked intent

None prophetic or of sacred verse

But of Irishmen and paedophilic mirth.

Irony struck when you wrote of a catch

For now you are caught in the very same.

Either desert me in this deplorable state

And be mocked by the world for incompetence.

Or amend me to a more agreeable sight

And lose your last penny to effort’s might.

Regardless of stance,

Leave your thoughts not to stand.

A week of nine days you have,

Before you’re caught in either catch.

If I feel masochistic enough sometime, I'll upload some pictures.

Read more...

In Lacking

My blog has been on a slow downward spiral for a while now. So, being somewhat sadistic, I thought to prolong the wretchedness. And here, I post a short poem which I wrote yesterday about being all out of inspiration and my dying blog.


In and around every niched corner
Above and beneath those dusty racks
It evades me still after these months past.
Scoured and sifted in hopes for an ounce.
But not one cares to cease in less than a scowl.

Searching within for the deep seated guilt,
Else maybe for the hatred of enervation
Or lastly for the hope of salvation.
But none yield ideas worth the written word
None provide inspiration for this dying work.

In a tepid attempt to express a pondering
I put down that which occupies us all-
The very truancy of occupation from others and all.
The void of faith now be filled with a specter, that of
Despair fused with far seeing hopes for a savior.

Read more...

Feels Like War

An echo from a distant land
Leaves me without wary.
So I lie and dream of lower fares
For further foe, a few thoughts spared.

At my desk in Morpheus state
A sudden thud did rise.
Followed by three and yet another,
Finally the sands did dry.

No matter where we stand
Upon the world, escape eludes us all.
A scar, a scratch, a burn or mark-
Something to carry on.

The battle, some say, has been lost
But the fight we soldier on.
Others' words evince their hopes that
Darkness nears the light of dawn.

For the rest, like I, the current betrays
A clear vista to a perpetual war.
An eternal time of dusk:
The furthest point from dawn.


P.S.: I'd appreciate suggestions for the title.

Read more...

All Turns To Ash- In Rememberance Of My Great Grandfather

Raging thunder ruthlessly
End white walled empty dreams.
Lids and books flutter open,
A placid hour spent
Spurning Hypnos' pestilence.

Another disruption, now
Upon the groaning gate.
Enter a pair in consternation
Faces held long after
Lengthy deliberation.

A brief sentence, a passing death,
A murmured syllable made inaudible.

Deterrents leave, pages turn
Thoughts turn to poetry, to crimson hearts.
A silent door opens, unveiling
A fold of paper in a knoll of cloth.
Upon it are delicate words
By an innocence lost.

The calligraphy intended for a relative gone
The hopes now crushed, faith begone.

Now restored in its early grave
Left to mourn in ashen years.
On occasion, revealed
Allowing streams to roll down
A remembering face.

The saline is then
Wiped, walled, bottled, burnt.

Read more...

Untitled

Anger emanates from within,
Ruminations of reason and objectivism
Succumb to riotous hatred.
All before initiation, the argument
Lost to the irrational.

Logic and pragmatism peter
In the simplicity of rage.
But none occur without reason;
Incentive justifies for all but one.
One, solitary and despondent,
Carries on in penance.

Read more...

Catch-22

Contemplation reigns havoc.

Unbridled humiliation or
Unfathomable disgust?
Confusion of thought
Abounded by thunderous tumult.
Decisiveness shatters as
Resolves are made
And decrees broken.
To swing one way,
I brave the gallows
The other, a guillotine.

P.S.: The story behind this is hilarious but also rather embarrassing, so I'm going to keep it to myself... use your imagination?!

P.P.S.: I wrote this in 15 minutes flat, so as you judge and doom, be merciful.

Read more...

Procrastination

[Old habits die hard?]

As the fog dissipates,
the future is foretold.
The prophesied disaster
Followed by sorrow,
Sorrow by the profane.
Vows succeed all,
But as pledges break
The cycle perpetuates.

The wrench of pain and grief crumble
At the sight of the inveterate.
But indifference, not
Admonition, emerges victorious
Over the incorrigible.

Read more...

The Second Hand

Traveling its preordained path, 

It brings closer that which I fear.
Its apathy causes indignation,
Pleas of mercy affect it not.
Traversing its perfect path
Being its only objective;
Misery, its primary incentive.
On reaching its destination,
It unveils the secrets of its land;
Casting loose either
Insidious sorrow or Utopian joy.
I now await to see
Which course the elusive shall take.

Read more...

Poetry.. of sorts

I'm not one for writing poetry (specially when it is longer than 2 lines). So bear with me and these 6 odd lines of.. well, of whatever you reckon it is.


A haze of unreality settles:
As time slows, sounds quicken.
Words that are heard leave lips unmoved
A resonating echo of dampened cold travels the earth;
The unsighted winter makes lucid all,
But a thickened fog descends upon mind and sight.

Ecstasy rises from the forgotten explored.
The echo of melody, ephemeral-
Rapture revels in its transience.
As reverberating sounds clear frosty remains
Joyous euphoria blossoms green.

Read more...

Only Words

I dont know about the rest of the world, but for me words provide the only escape route, the only means to any end. I need them, I crave them. I cant do without them.
a sharp tongue and a honed wit have always been my salvation. i have always relied on them to get me through a tight spot; to get me into one and eventually out of it again... but as of late my words seem to have gotten lost into an endless abyss , I tend to make some blunt redundant comment thus labeling myself "A fool."
My wit and words are failing me so this is my attempt a salvaging it.. tell me if its any good.

I let thus cursed ink fall upon the ravaged earth,
For it has betrayed me in ways intangible to ordinary thought.
It bore witness to the genocide of purpose and truth.
All the while dripping a tinge of blue;
Broken words of worlds lost-
Trivial and insignificant.
In bliss, as the present vanished into the void of oblivion.


P.S.: It isnt complete but i've got a block, i'll post the rest if and when I finish it...

Read more...