The World As I Know It

It's a funny little thing,
This realm of the living,
Where anything is everything,
Everything nothing
And why's it so, nobody knows!

Great lives are lead,
Great leaders they tread,
But footprints never stay,
Blind still we tackle the way
And we wander, aye without a clue we wander!

Glorious edifices to rival all Creation,
Giant monstrosities defying Imagination,
But the elements still hold sway,
Bit by bit they crumble each day
And we sing paeans to glory, fools that we be!

Grand thoughts and theories that simply amaze,
Grandstanding grandiloquence that puts us in a daze,
But the ether still cloaks many a mystery,
Blurs what is myth and which's history
And we still drift aimless, amidst dazzling infinity!

Grown we have and still we stride on,
Glory awaits us at the break of a new dawn,
But those whom we crushed weigh down our feet,
Bare inches away from where sky and earth meet
And we bemoan fate, doused in blood and misery!

It's a funny little thing, 
This realm of the living,
Where anything is everything,
Everything nothing
And why's it so, nobody knows!

Beyond the pale blue sea

That's where I'll wait,

Beyond the pale blue sea,
Where the stars shine bright
And the earth smells sweet.

We'll leave these terrors behind,
These polluted shores and barren lands,
The rivulets of blood, the smoke in the trees,
And the ravens' broods that screech.

Across these murky waters,
There, where the sky meets the sand,
That's where they said heaven will be,
Where the hearths are warm and hearts still clean.

The sirens pierce the air urgently,
My barrel's drenched with sweat,
But I forge on, a gladiator incarnate,
I fight for freedom, I fight for our dream.

Bliss, utter eternal bliss awaits,
That's what they whispered in my ears,
That's why I ululate and charge into battle,
That's why I silence the screams.

I growl like the hounds of hell,
I am the devil incarnate,
I slash and tear and rend them to pieces,
For they stand 'tween you and me!

Their bones crunch under my feet,
Their agonies echoing in my ears,
But my feet march on, regardless,
'Tis the call of the sea.

I'll wash off my sins in its briny depths,
And this stench of death still lingering,
I'll cast off these guns and ropes and chains,
For the future has no need for these.

Here my love! A new life beckons,
Beyond this pale blue sea,
Which runs crimson with the blood of innocents,
That I took for you and me!

That Lullaby

Ma, sing me that lullaby again,

That sweet nonsensical lullaby,

Let your sweet voice wash over me,

And take me to a better place.

Ma, sing me that lullaby again,

Which warmed me from head to toe,

Like treacle on a warm summer day,

And kept my nightmares away.

Ma, sing me that lullaby again,

While you pat me gently on the cheek,

Hold me close while my eyelids droop,

And tell the bed bugs not to bite.

Ma, sing me that lullaby again,

As I drift away into magical lands,

Kiss me softly and tiptoe out,

And give me that last loving glance.

Ma, sing me that lullaby again,

When I grow old and dry,

Take me back to more innocent times,

And the shelter of your smile.

Ma, sing me that lullaby again,

That sweet comforting lullaby...

Images

Images,

They scratch, they scar, they sear,

They haunt my living memories,

My waking dreams,

Every minute, every second,

These images.

Images,

They make me weep,

They make me bleed,

Faith, belief, Hope, destiny,

Flow away with the bloody eddies,

These images.

Images,

They shroud the horizon,

They skewer my aching being,

Lost meaning, shattered life,

Depictions that mock me,

These images.

Images,

These dreadful haunting images.

Eulogy

That which passed away was so enchanting,

Like the dreamy cadence of the nightingale,

Or the majestic swoop of the eagle;

How it fluttered gaily under the azure skies,

On which cottony clouds drifted lazily.

Oh how so much was snatched away?

How could it leave not a single trace?

Such joy, such beauty, such sheer goodness,

Where did it bite the dust?

In which wound does it lie festering now,

Which hellhound snatched it into its maw!

Why this darkness, why this deep despair,

Where there was light, why now these demons?

No prophets come forward, no answers proclaimed,

No predictions nor prophecies nor papal presentiments,

A victim of chance aye! A wrong roll of the dice,

Destiny's plaything this cruel fate of mine;

But what use these tears that flow unabated,

With no helping hand to catch and hold them dear.

The horizon's beguiles though, wreathed in shadows,

Happiness is there it says, so walk through these shrouds, 

Another look at the grave, but the dark has already claimed it,

So I walk on again, to dig more along the way.

Nocturne

Hark! Still thy words!
They taint this beautiful stillness,
This peace, this tranquility, this bliss,
Why shatter it thus?
Why mar this image with human vainglory,
That enslaves, but never completes!

The ebony night, those sparkling stars,
Why bother them with such trivialities!
Why tread the velveteen grass 'neath fretful feet,
When the nightingale sings its melodies?
This moment, this perfect joyous moment,
Why not just let it be?


'Tis gone though, long gone, a fleeting memory,
Like a single downy feather floating in the breeze,
I beg, I cry, I implore it to come back,
But the jealous shades surround it, shield it from my grasp!
I fight, I thrash, I beat bite and scream,
But gone is that instant, forgotten is my dream.

All that is left now is this haunting melody,
That sings of quiescence, but'd never let it be...

Ode to Slartibartfast

Oh Slartibartfast, such majesty in thy name,

Such magic, such awe, so far from being lame,

How you regaled me with your triumphs and tribulations,

Your fjords, futile causes and funky ululations!

No whale alongside, yet I fall from the sky,

Caught up, as always, no matter how I try,

What is H2G2, how the hell does it make sense,

What is Magrathea bereft of your majestic presence!

Wikkit was stymied, the Earth saved yet again,

Award were won, signatures not at all vain,

Blessed be your grey hair, may you live forever still,

May Africa have fjords and the Vogons foot the bill! 

Hope

I dream of stars in the velveteen sky,

And the sands drifting in the desert dry,

I yearn for the numbing cold atop snowy peaks,

And the quiescence of briny creeks.

I dream of the life I once knew,

Of joys, sorrows and lessons new,

I mourn what gave light and joy,

What's now forlorn, a broken toy.

I dream of colossi, of titans, of greatness,

That ever eludes, teases, the slightest caress,

I reach in vain for that last shred of faith,

But it's long gone now, a forgotten wraith.

I dream of the road that beckons ahead,

And the heartbreaks to which I'll be led,

I trudge on though, I try to stay strong,

'Cause maybe, just maybe, I might be wrong...

One more, barkeep

One more, barkeep,

Of that fiery amber liquid,

That rich smoky nectar,

Oh how I yearn for thy warmth!

One more, barkeep,

For I have friends to meet,

Magical places to be,

And fair maidens to woo!

One more, barkeep,

For this night is young,

The morn far far away,

And good times await!

One more, barkeep,

The way home is too long,

The hearth’s cold and unlit,

And the heart a little empty!

One more, barkeep,

I want to cut loose, go mad, break free,

Live like I’ve never lived,

I’m just too sick of tomorrows!

One more, barkeep,

Just one more…

War Pigs

For some reason my poems turn out either lyrical or dark. Probably both themes let me explore the depth of whatever emotion inspiring me at that moment. This one is the latter kind and talks about the futility of war, just like this song by Black Sabbath. I think it came out well in the end.

Blood-stained helms lie strewn across the smoking field,
Ravens feast in droves upon the bountiful carrion,
Sky tinged crimson by the departing light,
As the night descends on this gruesome sight.

Wives, mothers, children, their wails rend the silence,
Hopes, dreams, love, crushed in a single fell stroke,
They beat chests, cradle heads, implore the heavens,
But they remain as they always were, mute witnesses.

The oligarchs still prosper, tyranny is only perpetuated,
Then why did man have to turn on man?
The lofty ideals that fired the fresh-faced youth,
Do they lie rotting too among their carcasses?

Days will come and nights will go,
The nation will continue as it did before,
Hypocrisy would erect new graves and monuments,
That's fade into obscurity, just like the ones before.

The circle of life is not for us to dictate,
Fate can't be subject to human foibles,
For we are the unclean, the heathen, blind even,
Cynics, apathetic, shackled by our own mortality.

Was it a mere illusion, this notion of evolution?
We still lust for blood, still want to kill,
The trappings of society can't fool me anymore,
There's a beast within, will be forever more.

Low

Song by Cracker. One of my all time favourites. I'm in a god-awful bad mood right now and there are not many signs of it abating. Good thing though is that it does get the creative juices flowing. So here is the output of my current phase of grumpiness and plain misery.

Darkness swirls 'neath the storm-laden skies,
Lightning flashes, shreds the ebony cloak,
The earth screams in pure agony,
As its core rebels and tears it from the inside,
Armageddon is nigh, repent ye sinners,The magi thus proclaim, their hour finally come.

Rivulets of blood run down the streets,
Cities burn as man turns animal,
Knives, swords, guns and bombs,
Nature once again red in tooth and claw,
Children weep, women beg, men are ripped to shreds,
Anarchy is the rule, raw primal and feral.

Kith, kin, creed, none hold a draw anymore,
Every man for himself, as it was intended,
Why society, why be shackled by affiliations?
What good has that ever done, what of the wrong instead?
Why prostrate yourself on the altars of false gods,
Their preaching, their ideals, all they brought was pain.

Gaia is awake now, she can't take it anymore,
We're a blight, a pestilience that must be erased,
A million years on this planet yet what'd be our legacy?
Ruins, garbage bins and blood-stained homes?
Is it our lot to merge gracefully with the sunset,
Or even that dignity is to be denied to us?
Something new for once. I actually penned down two poems in one period. I guess the credit should go to the Cost Accounting teacher for boring me long enough to actually accomplish this feat.

Why does everyone put me down?
Why do I need to be defined by what others say?
I'm my own man, a free spirit roaming this realm,
Destiny is what I make, so leave what is mine!
Rejections, humiliations, rank indifference,
Is that the reason for my being?
Dreams, ambitions, love, recognition,
Am I not meant to rejoice in these?
I try to reassert, believe in my true worth,
But the heartaches only increase, and the will weakens.
The citadel has been breached, the fragile core exposed,
Joy is evanescent, pain is the new continuum.

The flame is flickering, soon it'd be no more,
The night'll then claim me, peace thereafter.

Too Late For Love

Not about me. I just composed the following poem, and this Def Leppard song fit it to the T. This is purely a literary work. Posts about my life will have to wait a little.
The gloom lifts with the rising dawn,
Nature stirs, heralds the new morn,
Dew drops glisten in the verdant verdure,
And in the glen wanders a maiden demure.

Birds twitter among the pines as she makes her solitary way,
Head hunched low, eyes fearing the onset of day,
An opportune breeze ripples through her gossamer hair,
But she heeds it not, too weighed down with care.

The skies above turn a familiar shade of azure,
As the first ray breaks through, bright fair and pure,
Yet she trudges on, lost to this wonder,
For her heart is broken, ripped asunder.

She dreads the beauty of the early light,
That rends the dark, brings back cursed sight,
For the world of colour holds no joy for her,
Brings back nightmares that never seem to blur.

The fiery chariot now unveils its full glory,
A new chapter in the eternal story,
But this page is untouched, her slight frame shivers,
His grave swims into view, a single tear quivers.

Long Run Leftovers

This is a cut of leftover tracks from the Eagles album 'The Long Run'. Pretty much sums up the following masterpieces. Haikus are convenient little bits of writing - three lines and a set structure that doesn't let you mind digress too much. It's almost habitual for me to pen one or two whenever I'm getting bored in class. Don't know whether that's a good thing or not. I guess if someone takes it upon himself or herself to peruse this post then he/she would be a better judge. Creator's bias you see. So here goes -

I will lie to you,
Blind you bind you entrap you,
For the world is cruel.

Sail into the night,
The journey ends now my friend,
Cometh eternal light.

Darkness advances,
Gates tremble under its blows,
The nation needs us.

Figures meet in the gloom,
Amidst the glistening stones,
The living mourn the dead.

Love is a zephyr,
That titillates your senses,
Yet is ever elusive.

The never-ending path,
That we walk like dutiful sheep,
Leads to the wolf's maw.

Sail to the horizon,
Who knows what awaits us there,
Glory is hard-earned.

Flight of the seagull,
Languid over the topaz sea,
Leave the world behind.

The prof says a lot,
I sit here all for nothing,
Did I ever have brains?

Crib, cry, whine, blubber,
Stupid little weepie Joe,
Get yourself a 'ho'.

The blade is sharpened,
Hovers over the victim's head,
He leaves a bald man.

Insects are a pain,
Buzz, sting and make me insane,
Like dames they are vain.

Two hearts torn asunder,
The raging sea in between,
But the eyes can meet.

What is left unsaid,
Is often not left unfelt,
Then why the lost time?

POM not my cuppa tea,
Why did I pay the damn fee?
I am all at sea.

Deep profound thoughts come,
Chomp and stomp and make me dumb,
Is it something new?

Fly with broken wings,
Let the waves buffet your body,
'Cause the will is there.

Leave your cares behind,
Make the most of what you got,
Then maybe you'll smile.

Distant she shimmers,
In the grasp of another,
Yet she will be mine.

The tide is long gone,
Broken dreams lie in the wake,
The moon will rise again.

Sleep sleep glorious sleep,
Wherefore art thou fair maiden?
I yearn for your touch.

Clattering cuckoos,
Lifting off loads of hot air,
Am I one of them?

Sleep's the panacea,
Takes away the fears and pains,
The heart won't let me.

Like I said, there might be some quality issues. Readers are welcome to recognize these and also hunt for a running theme, if any. Expect more to come in the future.

The Sun Always Shines On T.V.

Decent song by a-ha. The title might not sound like something that might move you to tears, and frankly speaking it doesn't. It's for those moments when you just want to hear some music, any music, and don't really care about the peripheral words. The content, however, is in keeping with my thoughts at present, so I'll get in with it.

This is possibly one of the most random outpourings of gibberish that I have ever spewed out. In my defense this occurred after a perfectly horrible quiz and this was my way of venting. On the brighter side I came up with yet another universal theory of life. This one is called the B.O.T.S. Theory, i.e the "Bottom Of The Shitpile" Theory. The basic tenet of this marvelous piece of inductive reasoning is that if you are deep in it, you might as well stop cribbing and enjoy the torture, because things can get only so much worse and soon everything would be on the up and up. The following lines will further elucidate my masterpiece -

It's hot and humid
Smelly as a druid,
Sluggish slushy slime
Anything for a rhyme.
Life at its lowest ebb
Fly caught in the spider's web,
So what's the issue
Why the need for a tissue?
It can't get any worse
Voodoo, jinx or a mummy's curse,
The coaster loops up from here
So wipe away that stray tear.

'Cause there might be no light of day
But that stray gleam is not far away.

Psychobabble

Awesome song by Alan Parson's Project, and the only way I can see of describing the following ditty. So here goes -

Johnny Wacko went to town,
Everyone knew he's a great big clown.
Give him a bell, give him a whistle,
A load of dung and hand him a chisel.
For they all say he's a talented kid,
Only this can of worms has no lid.
He'll sing he'll dance he'll jump with joy,
Top him of with juice, he's a wind-up toy.
Watch him rant, watch him rave, watch him make a mess,
If only you'd got him a baby pink dress.
A word of warning, be ready for a scene,
He slangs, he curses, he can be quite mean.
Why does he do it, no one is in the know,
Just sit back, relax and enjoy the show!