Thursday, December 15, 2011

Quote of the month

Better than a thousand hollow words, is one word that brings peace.
- Buddha

Deep convulsions

At the break of day,
when the cuckoo lifted up a voice
pulling all afar from dormancy,
there ascended the red star
that blazed through the dimness
smiling from a cloistered corner.
It had the features of dismay
and gave a companionless glare
to the heavenly body that whirled around it,
it leered at us with awe
and strove to bury the overturned grin
which was acutely herculean.
The spheres abut asked the sun
"wherefore look'st thou sad?"
in a bothered infliction,
but the sun simply cloaked it's dejection
because anything at all it was swallowing
it learnt no one would assimilate.
It moaned when no one peered
it attempted to simper and
award hope to all and sundry,
but his faith was consumed
by contention and bloodshed
it had witnessed enough of malady and distemper.
It eyed a chiliad that cried
and jillions that died
yet couldn't screech to a halt but bemoan,
riff raff killed and died
extirpated their own livingplace
this left the sun unsettled.
It everyday went through discomfort
noting the residers of the globe
annihilate their own fellow mates,
heaps of carcasses cruised
through the red lake
and none was concerned.
The brightest star had seen the Earth
germinate from nullity
just like a little child,
it frolicked around negligently
and mothered
all the earthlings generously.
Perhaps the brainless earthlings
are over cold-blooded to comprehend
the works and deference it,
instead the mankind has made
all sins to despoil it
and has begun to axe the mother that nurtures them.
This concerns the sun
it has perceived it can do nothing
but blandly howl,
it knows none would sense it
because they have begun to envisage
and nail themselves in God's spot.
If you raise your bills,
give ears and scan the sun
you will hear it yowl,
for the blue marble,
for the warfares it has recognized
for all the affliction bred.


Sunday, December 11, 2011

To my bust friend

Sometimes I just take a load off and envision
how empty my animateness would have been,
if I had not been music's paramour,
and just a petty kin.
I would not have known a little about you,
about the bedraggled brain you have,
if you were not here with me till the end of the rain,
I would have remained in situ, halved.
Just like the liquid sunshine delivers chroma to the barren ground
and a preteen does to the ashen charta,
you have tinted my elan vital
with the most comely colors one can see.
My nucleus, my mind, my spirit
is like an open quarto to you,
only you can bury yourself in it and skim me meticulously
this makes our comity real gone.
I trot to you when I feel blue
because you know me the best,
and not to let slip from memory the sweetest part
remember, we share our vests?
The bickers we have had, I would forever exalt
I won't obliterate them ever,
because those were the only things
that succored our friendship be denuded.
My adulation for you will at no time kick the bucket
because you are out of the ordinary to me,
not a soul in days of yore has taken pain for me
as you do.
I long to have you till the end of time
I feel certain that I wont collide into anyone akin to you,
even though you stink like cow pies
I will never terminate my love for you.

For my bustfriend x

Friday, December 9, 2011


This is a lyrical thought I had Penned down a few months ago..

Wipe out the burns that beset inside of you,
bring to light the charlatan that lingers within you,
perorate the mots you have been sinking to opine,
divulge to the world you are not penitent to play your own character.
Push the truth and let it out,
push the fear out of your mind,
you are the king of your own fate,
be credulous to yourself, that's the only way.
Tribes come to rend you down,
don't be a scapegoat, not this time,
try to be tenacious because you're dauntless,
try to hold on to yourself, you can no longer be tamed.
Don't spin to uncover where you stand,
don't speculate yonder your existing state,
learn to be a combatant,
learn to be a survivor.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Without a legitimate title

I have been away since quite some time now. The excuse is ofcourse, cramming. At a certain speck, life gets really prosaic. Anyhow, the purpose of this post is to air a new poem. This is a bit ancient. I had inked it at the age of 12 or maybe 13. A month before my 14th birthday,to be more precise. So here it is..

I am not impeccable,
and nowhere nigh to it,
i've made a gob of bungles,
that you can't even guess.
I like to plummet and plunge,
just like an anklebiter,
but that's just one facet of me,
i splash other colours with time.
I give my feet a rest and think about others,
more than i deem about myself,
i can be my own guardian,
but about the others, i can't tell.
I tend to break down pronto,
and every so often for no brains at all,
Jane Q may call me a batty she,
but their theories to me are of no magnitude.
I like to paint my visage,
and I can be boisterous,
i'm not always so insipid,
i'm just a bit too numskulled.
I nosedive and tend to lose -
all my troth,
but i've burnt midnight lamp on getting up to treat my bruises,
so that's what I do.
I keep faith in me more than anyone else,
because i've known myself for long,
other's concepts don't seem to,
worry me at all.
Despite of all these flaws and foible,
i think i'm pretty hunky dory,
i stand alone with my uniqueness,
and forever will be the same.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Don't hit back or talk back to people who have been intrusive. It will just make you fall into their pigeonhole. Learn to forget and forgive to fall into a division which is way beyond others' league.
- me

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

God in all

This sphere is an ethereal corner,
with beautiful, exemplary heads,
some embrace the bonne qualit├ęs,
and others endorse to pillar the bad.

No one has arrived sinful to the sublunary world,
nobody can abscond sinful from this globe,
just as clean as a whistle and as innocent as a lamb,
every error is disrobed.

God has a spot in all our souls,
which makes us all so pure,
no matter how lowbred we strike as,
a congenial person guards us from within our thoughts.

Saturday, October 22, 2011


When the sun, the light, the day
begins to retreat,
the darkness slowly slays the light
everything conveys the message of being meek.
The trees stand tall on the real estate,
with their crowns bowed down,
the wind lulls something into their ears,
they fall ruined and in sleep they drown.
The flowers look obscure,
and muted and dun,
it's chroma haltingly fades away,
just like the subsiding sun.
All the quadruped mortal animals look for a cave,
where they feel guarded and inviolable,
because the witching hour,
cannot be conspicuously decipherable.
With the ingress of the dark occasion,
old and young sprawl in coma,
aphid bob up and inherit the gloom,
the eventide has it's own aroma.
This darkness conceals masses of lies,
heaps of truth and piles of crimes,
affairs that cant be disguised by man,
is sequestered by the shadow of calumny.
But akin to the whole ball of wax,
the night reaches its borderline,
like every heinous character gets polished off by the god's messenger,
the lambent light kills the cimmerian shade.
Once more the dame sings the aubade,
and embraces the flare,
exhilaration can be sensed in their hearts,
as they turn on the light at the end of the tunnel and with hope they glare.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

The unsung melody..

Sing me the melody I wanted to hear,
don't take too long or you'll find me in a casket bier,
because I have already waited too long,
to listen to your mellifluous song,
that song you said was contrived for me,
that song you never made me see.

A part of me inside is dying,
there's no vindication for me to be crying,
my ears are waiting for that chime,
that can't be annihilated by no ode, no rhyme,
no king, no Caesar, no crown head,
can shoot ahead of what you have said.

I brood over the accede you had made,
but I can see it nonchalantly fade,
what am I supposed to encipher from this,
grief, sorrow, misery or bliss ?
i'm craving to get a load of the melody,
you said you had contrived for me.

My perfect day.

Today I tried to search within myself,
the depth of truth was not shallow.
I cant let go the pain inside,
it cant be left this narrow.

I hid the screech that came out of me
with a pleasant cry
I looked around to find happiness,
but that's a gift no one can buy.

I learn to grow, I learn to live,
I learn everyday,
but the day i will make use of it,
will be my perfect day.

Friday, October 14, 2011


Sometimes I grouse about things I dislike,
for my dreams have become gritty and powdery with time.
Sometimes I see grotesque pictures before my eyes,
but I just fumble and push them aside.
I don't want to make a killing or a bomb,
but i'm afraid if my irksome kins lay me off.
I can't stand like an iron pillar, I get flimsy and frail,
because sometimes words sting me worse than an apian.
I don't sport a bedaub over my face,
it's not unfathomable to be on good terms with me or my base.
Be bountiful enough and you'll see,
all the true colours of me will set free.
I may like to croon, to troll, to trill,
nobody can desist me from doing what I will.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

I Do.

I do.
I do realize whats wrong and rite,
for words have always flown away like kites.
I do realize what I need to be,
for i am not strong, just as you can see.
I do realize which song I need to sing,
for love is something only time can bring.
I do realize how difficult times can get,
I have been through all of it, ready to bet?
I do realize how people are,
some are sweet others are sour.
I do realize how is it to fly and fall,
its you on your own, nobody to hear your call.
I do realize how painful it is to be betrayed,
even your loved ones leave you in dismay.
I do realize how fast things can change,

for people I know are no longer the same.


Friday, August 5, 2011

..and from here, I begin my journey

As most of you, or none of you, know, this is my second blog. I already have a fashion blog which, i hope, will one day be among the top fashion blogs. 
So, yesterday, as I was sitting in my classroom gazing outside the window but pretending to listen to the teacher, I asked myself, "Do you have a life?". The question was quite perspicuous but it felt like I had lost the answer to it somewhere far away in my thoughts. As I persisted to find an answer to that question another question came running inside my head. "What is life to you? How to you want to live it?" That was the moment when I decided to continue writing. I was always a good writer but a baffled speaker. I had started to show interest in writing and reading novels at the age of 6. Even when I was 3, when all languages were greek to me, I used to sit at one corner holding a big fat book, staring at it interminably . Then, as I grew up I started to visualize the world better and bigger. I started to create other plans for my future and pushed the idea of being a writer to one corner. At the age of 11 Music and fashion topped my priority list. Writing did not come to a halt though. I used to (and still do) compose songs, bringing forth all the emotions that hide inside me. No matter how hard I try I just fail to hide things from myself. Iam 15 and Iam a total slave of music and Fashion. I think the art of writing just flew away with the wind. I dont know if I can ever get it back. Nevertheless, I wont throw up. This is the blog where I will be posting all of my self-composed poems, quotes etc. I cant guarantee to be a very nice poet but yeah, I can assure you that after going through my blog    you wont loathe me. x