I've Been Busy

Yes I have.

And I've had way too much to write for the real world.

I Murdered Boy.

OK, honestly, this is like the last thing about which one should write a poem, but then I thought to myself, "Hey! What the hell..."

This is a narration of a certain act by someone who is the quintessential master of that act.

For want of nothing better to do,
When vivid images say hi to you,
When carnal feelings take a hold,
And the blankets only you enfold,
It's time to do what a man needs must,
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.
Find a seat, either to sit or shit,
And like a dyslexic beyblade, lep it rit.

And pull, but lo, be careful please,
You do not want pain, and no disease,
And a fracture may come here or there,
And to pull and tug you'll ne'er dare
So like the desire, do take care,
And don't yank on those delicate hairs,
Just the thingy-thing needs a gentle tug,
And be careful not to wet the rug.

Diverse ways can do this deed
Hands are sometimes not your need
Lay you down, gut to ground,
And shake till wetness you have found
But alas this leaves a nasty stain,
As if you uncouthly 'let it rain',
So try this at your very own shame,
Cos such stains do cause much infame.

Now you must hold on, to produce a lot,
So laugh to scorn what you initially got,
Hold, hold, hold and hold it up,
And like my good friend, produce a cup.
But a quickie can also do the round,
When others do near you abound
And the desire does o'errun all sense,
Do it now, masked by academic pretence.

So now i've schooled you on an act,
Of which some know not, that's a fact.
But I just laid bare all that I possess,
Knowledge that'll help you in excess.
White and frothy, you will like a lot,
The sensation once you have it got,
And though it might give pain but some,
Just pull and pull till kingdom come.

Psychobabble.

The reverb hits you when you least expect it. Only a faint chorus now. Innuendo. No, diminuendo. No, both. You pick yourself up to jog through the abominations when something hits you again. A dewdrop. Rosebud, even. You continue still. Not waiting for the realization to come.
But it did come.
And now you're swept aside. Falling through infinity into a microcosm of black and blue, wishing it were all the while magenta. Not a deep magenta, more of a light pinkish tinged magenta. The one you saw on that girl's face when you saw her kissing the wolf in sheep's clothing.
And now you're back. Back in black. Back in the back. Back watching your back while someone slaps you in the face. You turn to see a mirror. You strike and it strikes you back. You fall. And now you're falling. Falling through infinity into a macrocosm of white and grey, hoping that it were all the while yellow. Not a dour dark yellow, more of a light, pleasing coldplay yellow. A mellow yellow. Without a jaundiced eye.
And you're out. You're out of the dreamscape. And yet you're in another. Reality bites. Love bites. Everything bites. It's a jungle out there. You want to go back in. You can't. Door's shut. You try and touch it, but you lose perception. And now you lose sight, and travel into yourself, all the while remaining out. You feel your spleen going red with gangrene and now turning a sickening blue before you throw yourself out. Now you're drowning in a pool of your own spit. Your own saliva. And now you're in. You're inside the walls. But you feel the fresh air smacking your spit-drenched face. Comforting your skin. Something's amiss. Just then, a hand grabs at your neck and twists it and breaks it in half. And then you go back in. In to a mesh of pain and suffering and black. You like black. You love black.
And then you're back. In grey. In white. Up high. Under the sky.
And people you barely know see you in your helpless naked form and it's okay. You don't give a fuck, all the while thinking the pain will go away. And now you hear a beat and groove to it. Or try to. Only for it to stop prematurely. As the liberation is washed away by the heat, your mind decides to take a leak. You leak. And it all comes back. You fall out. Fall from infinity into another black hole sun. Only this one's not so black. And then the spirits kick in. And prickle you to a state of shrivelled epilepsy. Robbing you of your pseudo-insomniac nights and erasing the 'pseudo', and all the while you fail to calculate the pseudo-statistics in your mind.
You wake up. It's gone. But the sun's back in. And no amount of singing is washing it away. A moment of hysteria gives way to a deluge of irritation, annoyance ... pain.
And your skin bubbles over. And all the while you're hoping for a black hole sun. No, just a black hole.
And then the cyanide sweeps in and rick-rolls you into a tube of hate, and you come out like noodles of dyspepsia. And you drift in and drift out. In. Out. In. Out. The cycle never stops since the chicken and the egg came together. As one.
One whole. One composite structure. In. Out. In. Out.
The cycle stops. You are in-between in and out. Literally, in between. And then a master of puppets consumes your mind, and you pull and you pull. It comes quickly. You control. Wait for it to seep back in, to come out stronger, more potent. Then with a last tug of insatiated andromedal force, you pull. And pull. And pull. Oblivious of future peril. Future penalties. You pull. And you pull. And then it comes. All at once. The wah is over. The wait is over. Your body is filled from top, well 'top', to toe. You feel weak and tired. All that pulling. You feel whole as the schisms come. You look down and admire the handiwork. And then look up for a sign from above. And then guano drops on your face.
To wake you up once again. This time there aren't any mirrors. No falling into colors through quantum leaps of faith. You lie alone. In black. In white. Not in grey. And you realise this is what you wanted. This is what it has all been about. You don't want to leave. And then just as you think this thought, you're falling through infinity again. But not into a microcosm, not into a macrocosm, and not even into a black hole sun. You attain nirvana. You're in bloom. And you apologize to Alan Parsons.

TRIBUTE (Thanks For Your Pains)

Pre-Script : It took me the last couple of months to come up with this. This is my small way of showing my appreciation for the many hours of listening pleasure and joy that music (rock in particular) has given me, in my times of depression. I've had to slightly alter the order of events for the poem to be readable but have tried as much as possible to stay true to chronology. And yes, there are numerous bands I've missed out. Forgive my inadequacy for not being able to fit them in. So an honorable mention is in order ... AC/DC, Bon Jovi, Joe Satriani, Steve Vai, Dream Theater, Pantera and the few current artists who are decent - Coldplay, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Radiohead, etc.
It is a really, really long poem. If you have the patience to read the whole thing then I'll seriously owe you one.

EDIT : Edited and improved version posted on October 27th, 2010.


It all began in sunshine land,
With Jackie's Rocket and 12-bar band,
And three years hence the King walked in,
And soothed his mother like Art did sing,
But ‘fore he ‘ssumed his regal throne,
A shade much darker did shout and moan,
The Buckeye jockey thus proclaimed,
The shade with praise and did coin its name.

Johnny was good and he did go,
The Godfather and his comets showed,
In the black forest, how to rock,
And to do so all around the clock.
Oh Maybellene, wish you were mine
And help me sing much rhythm divine,
Sad I feel that they missed the beat,
For all like me, walked a lonely street.

The King now fought, and some were gone,
Lament I heard, everything forlorn,
Now it was ailing; seemed to die,
But the magic berry helped it high;
It grew and now it did attack,
With grace to show the power of black
But, with Don I did howl and cry,
Crushed I was the day the music died.

But what good luck and no mischance!
Now it was the poet's turn to dance,
Waltzing he came in with his pen,
And strummed a chord in each citizen.
He gave us answers, and critique,
And sing did he of themes politic,
And then he did change all folk kin,
Picking a guitar while plugging it in.

Hold still though there’s yet more good luck!
Saints at church with the other were struck!
With a lil’ friendly help did mine-
They- a different rhythm divine.
And twice five years they sang to me,
Of Jude and how to let it be,
But followed them more who did sing,
Rule Britannia! God Save The King!

For from thence came four subjects who,
Played like a war and were called that too;
A voice reigned o’er, a staff windmill’d
Low pitch did rule and the moon ne’er still’d.
And to them I did tip my hat,
And played guitar when I picked up that,
For my generation, Tommy died too soon,
But no sooner than he who flew to the moon.

And then they who gather no moss,
Crossed wide waters and dispelled the dross,
One stone waked in the mid o' night,
To compose the movement’s anthem right.
And all this while, those saints did come,
To their abbey home, their own kingdom,
There they formed a club that did make,
Sounds too paramount to do a fake.

But alas, 'tis was not to last,
Time for them was running out and fast,
Ten years of joy for you, and me,
Time’s up for the Holy Trinity.
Fore’er they'd live in heart & soul,
For having played their brilliant role,
Tho' two did depart, without ease,
One got caught, the other caught disease.

So all hail the king, long live he,
No, not that one, this a reptile be.
Into perception, he did fall,
And did win respect for his bare gall.
But, a poet our king was too,
And did write as only could a few
His blues fore’er are etched in me,
'Tis sad that he left, clean as can be.

Came a legend; a great, a god;
And did things forever to be laud,
Tho' something wrong did seem to be,
Is that not a mirror before me?
As bold as love, the God did play,
And experienced us every day,
Alas, the sounds within his head,
Before we could hear, the God lay dead.

From his ashes, a phoenix rose,
New Holy Trinity, with new soul,
A page ‘ssembled his talent creed,
And two others did new music breed;
And thus they gave an upward flight,
Some time with chamber and lunar nights.
But, woe, alas, just too much white,
And walls to unite, did only divide.

The first four flew high like their name,
Though, not bad, but with increment fame.
When a yardbird found a voice new,
The seeds of greatness were planted true.
With Ahab and two saints did they,
Create a sect unlike any that day;
One, two, three, and perhaps a four,
And a few others, but lo much more.

For it began with times both types,
And love that they wanted whole and ripe,
Gods they became when by that grange,
They wrote their song, my desire so strange.
And though in nine, magic was gone,
That e'erlasting path would ne'er forlorn.
Quite opposite that lyric of old,
Here all that glitters is naught but gold.

All while these four flew their own way,
The queen did now march in grand parade,
And when she played those strings in May,
Cool spring gave way to the humid day.
And even though the heat did rise,
The mercury cooled and marked surprise,
His lyric stands within me tall,
I wish that I was ne'er born at all.

From architecture, did arose,
Four others, of psychedelic pose.
And though the madcap had to part,
The psalmist made cert that they’d go far.
But lo, let us all ne’er forget,
Holy waters which our thirsts did wet,
With them, we did after four years,
Make a journey thought to be too sheer.

And while they made sounds nonpareil,
Paying honor, building walls so well.
A rift 'rose twixt waters and psalms,
A wall too sure to be cured with calm.
After a final cut did they,
Part company and go their own ways,
Dry and barren, they still did ride,
Filling all with hopes with a mere slide.

And while this trinity did make,
Divine sounds that the world did shake,
A quart did form a heavy band,
A unique sound by killing a hand.
Though outside, the order did shout,
“Calls to devil, satanic, no doubt!”,
But you and I gave not a damn,
Hail, all hail, the mighty Iron Man.

Now by a lake, a fire was lit,
A castle was thus rendered unfit
Yet, I‘m grateful to that flare fool,
Who sourced the smoke that would metal rule
And followed them two groups who’d make
A heavier sound of heavy make,
Betrayal broke the law in gear,
While the device spoke of a dark fear.

Now the King did back, only to see,
Music paramount, not made by he,
So he did don the marvel cape,
To go with eagles upon his shape.
But the reign was over, long gone,
Those who cried, no more did fawn,
The King did take his final bow,
All lands with grace he had a wow'd

And while this famous King did reign,
Others famed in a different vein.
The bay-side quartet came to fore,
And the underworld did crave some more.
More was the bass, and more the speed
Yet was too fast for that fateful deed,
When the tires skid and welcomed death,
A great had taken his final breath.

But ahead forged they with new steed,
And did play better than their own breed.
Although the base faced constant haze,
Their music left me in amazing daze;
And with one song was justice served,
Though 'twas stolen, what the four deserved,
Yet came they back through hell and crack,
With a new sound and the color black.

Now flowers and weapons did the rounds,
Fuelled by fuel, they made similar sounds.
A joke was cracked, for naught to do,
But it whet appetites, and was sweet too;
But as December followed rain,
The axle did break from the night train.
No patience they did have at all,
This crazy train did crash to a halt.

To which tune, a madman did sing,
But not till the roads music did bring;
And on these roads, the train was rid,
And under them, Aleister had hid.
The world’s finest these paths laid out,
And they did aid that satanic mouth,
But damn that ride to satiate joy,
The roads did end; the man still a boy.

And in the last and next ten years,
Some Gods would gain a million cheers;
Those strings of May composed the tune,
An anthem for all the world to croon.
Dublin, where’d we be without you?
You made magic and the tv zoo;
The boss and his street gave us fun,
Because baby we were born to run.

Now backstreet's turn to sound anew,
That did appeal to many, not few.
The star though, lies 'lighten'd, in bloom
For while he did breathe, it was his gloom.
Followed him, a garden with beat
And a grandmother's own sweet treat.
They took this new Seattle sound,
A voice for the pain we all had found.

‘Cross the blue, in another town,
Two bands did make independent sounds;
While life in parks did pass in blurs,
Mornings with glory made two brothers.
And when ol’ George did go alone,
The older, their great anthem did hone,
Civil war did get the better,
But yet their songs do live forever.

Yet all was too good to be true,
And did go that sound from our ears too.
In the world we live, evil's laud,
And to do good is danger, oh god.
Shallow waters were drunk with glee,
And oceans left to just you and me.
So went the music, pushed to back,
And sounds were popped from atop the stack.

Curse my luck that I am born now,
And not when they all did us a'wow,
For now I search for that old sound,
And do get happy when that I've found.
The time is now I end this song,
And stop boring you before too long,
I had to give them rightful laud,
I had to repay my other Gods.

Mother.

'Twas a sunny day I remember,
Some ten and three years ago;
The first time you held me up,
Caressed me, told me that everything
Around me will be fine and will not
Turn around and bite me, hurt me,
Break me...

And I believed, I didn't know it,
But I did - with all the maturity and
Temperance that one who hath
Lived for five years could hope to.
I knew you'd protect. You'd nourish.
You'd care. And that you'd forever,
Be there ...

Thus with gaiety, and child-like abandon,
And great celerity, the years seemed
To pass, and our bond grew stronger.
I wanted to leave you, like all who age
Till thus do, but now I know that I never
Did. The bond between us, could never let me
Believe that...

And then I came of age for the first time,
And you handed me something else
To tie around my neck - as a coming of age
Gift? I don't know. But now you changed my
Room. This one was bigger and it housed
Many a sibling larger than me, elder to me,
So many brothers ...

And with them again the years passed,
Friendships were forged, brotherhood
Betrothed. Games played, and wisdom
Received. You gave me so much, and I
Never did realize it then, nor did I acknowledge
Your generosity. But since, many a times
I have thanked...

I have been grateful, mother, I have.
For whence I had four years left, I felt
Myself think as if I had one. I felt
Myself weep thinking about the day
That the sun would set. How would I bear
Not seeing your face every morn. But now
I know ...

You see you gave me mother. Yes you did.
But I gave you too. Not as much, but
As much, if not more than any of
My siblings, especially those of mine
Own age, gave you. You repaid them well.
But me, mother? Didn't I play my part well?
Didn't I mother?

I mean, i was even of the self
Same creed, of which you do approve,
Which you want, and must have one
Of in all your homes. You must have
Known, the writing was there, the
Hundred was too. Why didn't you see it
Mother, why?

Where did I err, mother dear?
Was it that I didn't renounce the name
That was given to me against mine
Own volition? Was it that I never flatter'd
Any of your hired hands? Never engaged
In base sweet talk that should be confin'd
To elevators? ...

But didn't I do well mother? I answered
Many for you didn't I, for the past nine
Years? And then I ran, and jumped,
And collapsed I did. And don't you recall,
How I sometimes put pen to paper? Even
When the rain wasn't washed away?
Don't you, huh?

But you didn't pick me mother...
You're hired hands chose to turn the cheek,
Pay no heed, and go elsewhere.
I thought you'd tell them, let them know,
I'd have been luminous, if allowed to shine.
Of that I'm sure. But you'll only censure ...
Mother ...

Know this that you're choice, hath
Broken me. The enemies that you've
Protected me from have achieved
Their fell purpose through you. Why
Like the pig, were you fattening
Me all these years, just for the
Kill? ...

Marr'd. Sunder'd. Saunter'd.
Broken. Crushed. Crumbled.
I lie. And now everyday I look at
Your face, and my siblings, and it
Churns my insides. Makes me
Want to vomit the bile form'd 'cause of
You all...

You have wip'd all human compunction
From me. And like the fifth witch, there
Is naught but villainous desires
In my corrupted soul. Black. Dark.
Corruptive. All because of you.
And now you want me to love you again.
To accept the situation, as if it were a mere trifle.
Hah! ...

That whom I once worshipped, now
I heap anathema on. That which I idolized,
I wish now destroyed. And take my siblings
With me. Friends are forlorn, brothers
Be gone. I stand alone. I walk alone.
I smile a plastic smile. Now I talk as in
Elevators ...

I despise you mother. I'm ticking off
The calendar with glee, waiting the day
That separates you and me. But you ask,
When can I forgive you? When will I love
You and my siblings again? Well, to
Quote your dipsomanic manservant,
" Never.
Never.
Never.
Never.
Never. "

Black Hole Rhymes

Pre-Script : The rhymes in this note are based on the song "Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden, my 3rd favorite song since the 90s began. Well, actually the rhymes are based on the lyrical technique used in the song, which is just writing down stuff that go together without exactly meaning anything sensical in the literal sense. Sort of like lyrical Half-A-Minute. You don't pause to think what you're going to write next and don't try to make it fit into the sense of and follow the preceding line, you just write down the first line that comes to your head that sort of rhymes with the preceding line.
I wrote 2 different parts - the first follows the song structure in that it has 2 verses and a 'refrain/chorus' and then a 2-line verse before going back to the chorus.
The 2nd part is just one verse after another.
Remember ... it's not supposed to make any crystalline sense.

I
Broken bones, melted thrones,
And the gold that was ne'er shown,
Makes me cry, smile I wry,
And my spirit slowly dies,
Lying dead, awake in bed,
My skin i just can't shed,
I hope that i will surely rise,
And build my artifice.

Scattered light, won't you blight,
And take me in your plight,
Scattered light, won't you blight
Won't you blight
Oh my plight

Scattered death, thorny wreath,
I can't breathe, I have no breath,
Times are lost, gone away,
Never to come this way.
And I hear, distant fear,
A phantom just too sheer,
Heaven knows, what I had chose,
For sure, it's not this pose.

Scattered light, won't you blight,
And take me in your plight,
Scattered light, won't you blight
Won't you blight
Oh my plight

All is lost, at what cost?
The sun is up yet melted frost

Scattered light, won't you blight,
And take me in your plight,
Scattered light, won't you blight
Won't you blight
Oh my plight.
Oh. My. Plight.


II
In my place, in these shoes,
Trying to walk as I may choose,
But i'm lost, can't find my way,
Hoping for yet a beautiful day,
Lying beat, battered still,
And this void I hope to fill,
Send me Lord, oh your grace,
And put a smile, upon my face

As I lay, as I frown,
And I hope to have had found
Eternal bliss, woman's kiss,
Happiness in life i miss
Buried bone, found in home,
And I pick the dewdrop stone,
Times have changed,
Times are strange, and sometimes so deranged.

Broken down, broken up,
Broken apart, I can't get up,
As I lay, dying in my sleep
I feel just like Thom's creep,
All my life, musky road,
In the rain, i lie the toad,
Wait in steed, paying heed,
And praying for what i need.

Lost and drenched, in this trench,
I can't stand this carnal stench,
I raise the gun, and cock it back
And my enemies first attack,
Now my wheels, round and round,
And I hear that fatal sound,
My friends are gone, deserted me,
Take my life and let it be.

Up above, like a dove,
Like the angels full of love,
I wanna fly, fly away,
Fly far each every day.
Kingdom come, break my home,
Steal old Michael's magic dome,
With old Leo, i will paint,
The Lord's own golden saint.

And now I'm dead, lost my head,
But tis not what I did dread.
For my life has run its length,
In death, I do feel strength.
And I did pray, each every day,
What you gave please take away,
Nought is now what I've got,
Strange, that's what I'd sought.

The Deserving

Ye are Deserving! Ye Most High!
Singly colored dreamcoat, with spotted tie!

Two shining knights, have other than the coat,
Not much save the gas which the waters wrote,
Then there are three, who wave another green,
Green, mean, with words obscene,
And their fair friend, who has suffered no loss,
For his name has unjustly borne his cross;
However the Desire does deserve,
But the aged Bard redefined The Verve.

Ye are Deserving! Ye Most High!
Singly colored dreamcoat, with spotted tie!

Two lions do roar, for they are the best,
Unparalleled, they shine unlike the rest.
Then there are two friends, for whom ought be-
Happiness, yet that can't emote from me.
And then there's another knight-like fellow,
With gas, similar, but for the color yellow.
And lastly three, not unlike the green knights,
Joy to the world, God with us in the nights.

Ye are Deserving! Ye Most High!
Singly colored dreamcoat, with spotted tie!

But Hell froze over, and the Pentatonic solo'd
Of--'cept the last page--other news it show'd;
The root like the gas did play a part,
And the green flag was not at all afar,
One other is nice, another a pain,
And who? What? Have I heard that name?
But ha ha ho ho, SERIOUSLY?
What kind of a quack do you take me to be??

Ye are Deserving! Ye Most High!
Singly colored dreamcoat, with spotted tie!

From objects inanimate, I will refrain,
Friends, niceties, and no real pain;
Though I must name that fair corpulence,
Come on, are they really that dense?
With one I do hope to answer a few,
And pick while he doth croon a tune,
Yet I wish that it were uniform, I do,
But good on you mate, all the best to you.

Ye are Deserving! Ye Most High!
Singly colored dreamcoat, with spotted tie!

I'm Back.

With apologies to Michael Jordan.