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.

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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.

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Five, Six Pick Up Sticks

I've been tagged my Vasudha and I'm gonna bite the bullet.

The Rules:

Link to the person that tagged you.
Post the rules on your blog.
Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.

#1 : When I wake up, and I tend to do so in wee hours of the morn, so does every other organic life form within a 10 mile radius as i blare rock music from my bathroom. I do this to snap myself out of REM (or non-REM) mode. [As of late I have taken to getting up with AC/DC's TNT resonating through the neighborhood]

#2 : As I mentioned in point one, I tend to get up early. But on a few rare occasions I'm so exhausted that not even the Immigrant Song has the decibel value to awaken me. So what I do is, I languidly spread out a towel on the bathroom floor and lay down and drift off into Neverland. I do this so that in the event of my mother coming to check on me, she would assume I'm in the bathroom (wide awake).

#3 : I'm venturesome when it comes to food. I'd be willing to eat anything at least once (even the Icelandic cuisine of Hakarl, which translate to rotten shark meat).

#4 : If I could, I would I spend all day reading books, listening to and playing music and writing whenever i find some source of inspiration. I have no trouble in putting off work, in fact I am an inveterate procrastinator.

#5 : I have oddly sensitive teeth and I haven't a clue as to why i just proclaimed that to the World Wide Web.

#6 : I talk to myself more often than I hold conversations with other living beings. And I used to talk in my sleep. Once I even did the entire sleep-walking, coherent conversing bit and only found out about the following morning, 'twas a rather embarrassing revelation (this is in consideration of the fact that my primary purpose in my sleep was to find a cow.. Don't hurry to get out your copy of Interpretation of Dreams, I'm blissful in ignorance and doubt).


[I could go on for another couple of pages, hell I could write a book longer than War and Peace (Did I mention my gargantuan ego?). But I am making an attempt at self-restraint.]

And now, I choose to torture the following innocent souls:
Ishmeet
Namrata
Lemonade
Raincoaster
Bharat
Sporadic Blogger

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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.

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Bewilderment

[SCENE: Me having an astonishingly intelligent conversation with a good looking guy (further referred to as Sisyphus).
I borrow his pen to write something down. Then I, for some inexplicable reason, fall into a trance and stare at the pen which reminds me of an incident (trivial) which took place when i was ten.]

Sisyphus: [curiously] What you doing?
Me: [snaps out of it] Oh! nothing (..) Reminiscing.
Sisyphus: [curiosity turns to bewilderment] Reminiscing?
Me: [laughs out loud] Yeah!
[speaks while looking at the pen] Profound pen thou art; you sink me into a reverie of days long gone past.

Yes, I said that. Result: he takes me for a raving neurotic lunatic (not that I'm not, but I was hoping for the revelation to be slightly more delayed).

Amazing how life, though quite simple, compels us to conjure escapable complexities.

P.S.: Whether or not this is fictitious, I leave for you to decide. But remember, reality is the one thing we always choose to deny.

P.P.S.: Reason for using Sisyphus as the pseudonym: I was thinking about the myth.

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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.

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