Of the Composition of Life

If beings of life we consider these selves of us,
‘Cause draw breath do we and bear a nous.
We reason the reason since we laugh and cry,
Feel do we glee, an escape from sorrow we try.
We boast an intellect superior than all,
For every wrong of us, another species takes the fall.
But we are still right, still abide by the rule of might,
Proud at the weak’s plight, inasmuch as our being’s a blight.
Take heed, you beings of idiocy unending,
Molecules that formed you thus, lie even in stones unrelenting.
Your nescience won’t be neglected forever,
The stones’ song is nigh, so is a coronach of thy cadaver.

The Devil did a Good Deed Today

Looking at the rotting corpse of a kitten crushed over,
Reminded I was of stench of mankind’s putrid cadaver.
Because you know something is definitely off,
When fruits of carnal flesh borne don’t stop at enough.
When calls for help and cries of despair,
Fall on ears which closed the holes meant to bare.
When tears shed and blood spilled in this heathen realm,
Form the varnished polish of progress’ helm.
And then an outrageous moral genocide comes our way,
I smile, for the devil did a good deed today.

That Haven Will I Gain

And my wandering gaze rested awhile on a busy square.
Crowded though my mind is with thoughts of a lonely lane,
The din around grows to a level too much to bear,
And I close the fleshy windows praying to stay sane.

It’s been years, and have passed many days of bane,
While the brain has to set to work, the heart’s threadbare.
Each second rife with mundanity, moments driven insane,
And my wandering gaze rested awhile on a busy square.

Those lazy noons and livid afters of the local fair,
The glad mos now hazy in memories, bold now the pain,
The bustle about me leaves me lonesome for air,
Crowded though my mind is with thoughts of a lonely lane.

Found I have much all this time, though nothing to gain,
Time boundless with me, but none to spare.
While blatant notions of home rage on a whimsical train,
The din around grows to a level too much to bear.

This wealth shall be undone, without any penchant for flair,
And thus shall my longing on my heart cease the cane,
I hazard if a recluse may I dare,
And I close the fleshy windows praying to stay sane.

The sorrow of all tears has now but left just a stain,
Smiles do I force when over the soul shameless life strides across,
Compromises have I bedded, with fallacies have I lain,
Countless have been defeats, many more a loss,
but that haven will I surely gain.

Dumbfounded…

And a desire anew has breathed in a first,
For in lieu of a lost moment,
Has been quenched my love’s thirst.

The wilful breeze blew some broken petals your way,
And you turned your gaze upon me,
‘Twas ecstatic, how my heart did sway.

Life till now was a journey but for this instant,
When an epiphanic feeling filled me,
Life’s liveliness was this fulfilled want.

The breeze passed without much ado,
And I was scared for what I’d lose,
But you smiled, pacing up my pulse’s flow.

A prayer went up, as fervent as I could muster,
Surprised at how weak I felt,
Needing cosmic strength, from my supposed Father.

I looked up frantic, hoping to hasten the loan,
To plead with my expectant eyes,
Ready, suddenly, for all my sins, to atone.

‘Twas too late, I guess, You’d heard not,
For my eyes had now met her gaze,
She spoke, and I was devoid of every thought.

Chimes, bells and maybe strings of harps resounded,
My understanding stumbling and failing,
Confused, a ‘Hello’ I said, dumbfounded.

A Fluttery Thing, The Heart

A fluttery thing called the heart,
Bewildered, confused most times,
Hither thither does it dart.

To wild bouts of fancy is it addicted to,
And to the mind it scant does listen,
For its whims are born of the blue.

For a brief moment but it stilled the day past,
When its windows, the brazen eyes fell upon you,
And that minute, that mo, felt eternal to last.
This brazen heart…

The Headroom Story

Now, how should I begin? Well, everyone reading this post (or completely unaware that it even exists) would agree on a fact that we all (mostly) listen to one or the other genre of music. Some of us going into the richer instruments and vocal details, others preferring the nether ends of lows and yet many finding a healthy balance across genres.

Primarily, we would be listening to music on our PCs, portable media players, CD players and some really exotic ones would still be using cassettes and vinyls. The music would be played on these devices but what my post is about, is the output of the music. Yes, speakers and headphones.

I still recall the days when my first source of music was the voice of my mother, singing hymns in Sanskrit. Most of the words then, went over my head, I agree. But the onomatopoeia and alliteration (terms I could only ‘feel’ then, till I came to know of stylistic aspects in poetry) in the hymns had me enamored. In my lisping babble, I had started to repeat what I heard and soon had the hymns by heart, sans the advanced meanings, of course. A musical expedition ahead

Thou art dark, thou art deep, thou art life…

Deep tissue decomposing as the blood thins out
in the vessels that serve but as mere channels
for the traversing pride and ego.

Intellect falling to pieces as the race for knowledge
speeds up every passing mundane moment,
throttling down and arresting the development,
of values we barter, the moral leverage.

The flow of time doesn’t rescind,
the stains of evil in us disciplined,
for the brains have come to rot,
and of conscience, there’s barely a thought.

We commute daily in the paths of breaths,
painted in shades of eupneic harmony,
hiding the cold and creepy canvas beneath,
of dried, anaemic skin corrupted by strife.

That’s life.