g's world

I often wonder what am I so preoccupied about that I can't pick up a pen and write.. I can't sit down and think about things. Things that mattered to me once, about thinking itself. My weird little thoughts when I was a child. I would associate people's faces with weird animals, would crease every line on their face and every reaction of their's in my mind, of what is happening inside my body at that precise moment... blood flowing into veins and out of arteries into my heart, of my flesh, bones and my skull.  Its really weird, isn't it? And then I would think of thoughts itself, how they flow in and out, how they open myriad windows in my mind, each jutting off into their own rambles simultaneously, of things which I barely notice nowadays, like the trees, the centipedes that sit clustered in hundreds on the moist cement pavement which I happen to notice as I go to class everyday, of the beautiful designs and patterns on their wriggling bodies, how the mill...

What's the use of feeling enraged? Your blood grasping hot iron fumes thrust through igniting the char it twists and turns and knots a million cinders burning its way through your heart and puckering through your brains gnawing a deep hole that lets you estranged. As you scrabble through  cursing wildly under your breath sweating your way into dark, uncharted poles Flick your eyeballs, as you cast them on to every syllable that has ever been inked, dissolved in the contagion  or even to be uttered scattered intrigue, a few coins up their sleeves, a back sword, a bludgeon, a pistol appears from the magician's hat there lay a crimsoned stiff or more,  rather many wailing upon their loss be it their petite stock of the green  or their soul bread that  wouldn't lead to another suicide, or the penny that fell off their spilling pockets. As the bulging belt spits out another button, he frolics with a glass of l...

I ricochet off in the chilly trains jutting across different places Through the days and the nights There I sit, listening to the thuds the wheels make while rolling out onto the tracks I meet people of different kinds Speaking unknown yet common tongues. Their phones ringing in different tones and their eyes sparkling as their food is served hot. I'm journeying to a destination that I am aware of yet unaware. My second home it might be, Yet holding a thousand promises and trenches in its wide spread arms, Welcoming me into its fold. I've just got a year with you, I say, everytime I think about it. Perhaps, it is 365 days that changed you into what you dreamed to become and another 365 will make you the one you have never imagined to be, it says .. :)

A blotch of blue on a patch of white I used to scribble verses, petite Not one, not two, But too many to few. They rhyme They chime They jingle They mingle with the million songs of the world They get into my ear play into my soul and kindle me to write the untold Yet I struggle with chains in shackle I lament about the other which contain to thyself I build the mountains put them up a pedestal look up and feel abysmal of my unfortune moments that keep fattening and tense As they loom up to altitude  I frown into doom, Doom that's dark and uncertain Or that which I call future. I pace around in anger of my fated future that seemingly sulks but when I sit and opine I realise, it is my mind that plays unto my joy my mind that scars my heart and adds streaks of suffering into my life. I decide not to lie, not to comply but thrive in what I contrive to let go of the mountains renou...

I'm there with you, my dear. I'll hug you whenever you cry, I'll give my best to save you from the bad guys, I'll turn my prayer beads for you every moment, I'll let everybody know what you've been through, I'll lend my warm shoulders for you to lean on, Let me carry you on my hips, I'll show you the huge glowing ball on the dark skies, it's far far away from the place we live in, I'll let you dream that far, And I'll help you live them too. I'm standing up now with shaky hands, But all I have in mind is you, That tear you shed, That baton you took, That plea you cried, That prayer you wailed, I promise to be by your side, Not leave you till you rise, I'll cover myself with your flag, I'll treat you like my child. The time shall come, When you rise up to the red, Clamp them with your thousand rays, Ride on your snow lions and take your people back home. The day shall come, my child.

Okay. Let's do this. Some facts are hard to digest but true. To all those pretty people with sour cream 'fairness' masks sploshed on their dusty  dusky faces once in every week, the fad dieting extremists whose diet routine involves surviving a whole year through the energy generated by a single pea (Are you the dragon warrior? Tai Lung is on the look out), to all those having a face lift, botox and brouhaha for looking the GLAM-WHAM aunty-next-door (scratch that!). This is a PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: Lend me your ears! For the media is ambitious yet honourable! The idealism that you believe which you have set for yourself is an outcome of the billion frames that pass by every time you click the remote to fill your mind with the colours of the junk box. (I'm speaking about the TVs that you either get as freebies for voting for bad-guy-politicians or that flat desirable LCD screen that you've bought online on the TrapFart's Big Bullion Day Offer)...

The time was lonely, while my day cast stars stars, unseen by the night. I was howling through the bamboo, rustling onto the leaves stifling from the beggar's yawn and  roaring into the tide. yet I was with none but me in wanderlust, in quest of glee. I was caressing the ripples of the lake glimmering through the creak of a door shimmering onto the mirror that held a smiling face ablaze on the heated coarse sand. yet I was with none but me in wanderlust, in quest of glee. I was meditating upon the shambles of soil casting colour onto the solemn' main  setting destinations for their wings to flap cleaving between day and night. yet I was with none but me in wanderlust, in quest of glee. I was coarse yet firm, bore their footsteps without frown held their roots to my bosom nurturing them to shoot and blossom. yet I was with none but me in wanderlust, in quest of glee. I was told, here is glee. I am here to...