Life

I've never been what you can call a happy and shiny kind of guy. But lately my degrees of feeling pissed off have reached new highs. Now, whenever I see happy, shiny people, I get a burning desire to throttle them. Whenever I see people who are always fucking smiling, I really feel like cutting their testicles off while making sure they don't die, so that they can feel the pain. There used to be this one guy in my class who always fucking smiled. You busted his balls, he'd smile... you'd throw him down a flight of stairs, he'd smile... he'd fall on his ass while running, he'd still fucking smile. Thankfully that guy left our school. That's probably saved me from becoming a homicidal sociopath. I know what you're thinking right now... this guy needs therapy. And you're probably right. I'm pretty sure one day I'll end up discussing penis envy with a shrink but till that day comes I only have this blog to properly vent out.

Thing is... things aren't going right for me right now. So, whenever I see someone else really happy and all smiley and shiny and grateful about how great the fucking gift of life is, I feel like throwing up... preferably on their happy, shiny faces. When you're like me... when your parents are earning fucking minimum wage, and for every good thing that happens to you, an infinitely greater number of bad things happen, and when nothing fucking goes your own way... life seems less like a gift from above and more like a metaphor for constantly getting fucked up the ass by a stranger.

As the late great Kurt Cobain said, "I hate my life and I want to die."

Preferably with a death-time's supply of Tuborg, chicken, cheese and rock.

Karembeu

Karembeu was a boy,
But he hadn't any toys,
So he had to make do with the street;
But his friends were all gone,
The boulevard forlorn,
Dashed to pieces with the world's war beat.

So Karembeu did stroll,
Through the heat and the cold,
And arrived at the boulangerie;
Much bread for the monsieurs,
And the rats in the sewers,
But none at all for his family and he.

So Karembeu did pass,
The rich upper-class,
With their champagne and their caviar;
They drank rubies and diamonds,
Unlike his friend Simon,
Whose thirst did take him on afar.

And Karembeu keeps walking, these streets every morning,
Which always lie covered in snow.
The sun rises never, but not for bad weather,
But Karembeu doesn't know.
No, Karembeu doesn't know.

The days keep on passing,
People keep amassing,
Silks and garments beyond Karembeu;
He then wonders the why's,
Inwardly, he cries,
Why his own rags are never so new.

The bright sun goes down,
The smiles are still frowns,
Homeward bound are the pains of the road;
Great hope's his artifice,
This world will never rise,
To be the kingdom which God had showed.

And Karembeu keeps crossing, these streets every evening,
From where suffering will never go.
They'll get crushed in due time, with humanity's crimes,
But Karembeu will never know.
No, Karembeu will never know.

The moon dimly shines,
Inside the boy whines,
He knows his whims never will be true;
He can't dream any more,
As the knife opens doors,
And he lies murdered by me and you.

And Karembeu lies dead every night on his bed,
Where dreams never do claim a stake.
The sun will keep burning, the earth will keep turning,
But Karembeu will ne'er awake.
No, Karembeu will ne'er awake.

Imperfect Circles

"Tales Of Brave Ulysses" by Cream was running through my mind while I wrote this. So I guess this can somewhat be sung to that tune.

I draw some perfect circles,
Which cast shadows of doubt,
Their perfections imperfect them,
And so I rub them out.
My sphere of thought they circle,
They help me lose my breath,
They deprive me of my functions,
I live my life in death.

I sleep with eyes wide open,
I wake when thoughts have spoken,
To my brain wrought with fever,
And to eyes which barely see...

I mock the glowing sun god,
I die when this half lives,
And when the moon comes over,
I am the light it gives.
And when this self is laid down
It blinks with beads of salt,
Or shakes till south comes over,
And brings it to a halt.

At rest it only tires,
Absorbed with soul desires,
It locks itself in deeper,
Though it wishes to be free...

Delivered from temptations,
It cripples in good health,
Its strength does make it weaker,
From blows that hunger dealt.
And its mind fails to function,
It shuns new words and signs,
But the limbs are still limber,
From picking sounds divine.

The wait is nearly over,
I scaled the cliffs of dover,
The day needs must be nearer,
When myself can become me...

The circles keep on rolling,
But friction wears them down,
As I await my calling,
From farther than crosstown,
I draw more perfect circles,
Which trap me in and out,
As I wait for those beyond me,
To deftly rub them out.

Hush

As mentioned I wrote this back in October but didn't publish it for some reason. I really liked it after I initially wrote it, but now that I read it, it's kinda...meh, not that good. Oh, and it's a poem made of two sonnets, if you want to get technical. Though I can't give guarantees about the meter. About the subject, well, one can figure it out...


The sun sets to bring the day to its close,
As the world's day departs, my day I tread,
Since it begins once your ends, for I chose,
Not the path of light, but a path I dread.
For in such a dark state, upon a chill,
A sound I bereaved which broke and made anew,
Myself, my life it turned, and it did kill,
And I donned my fear, known to chosen few.
Now I stop and think before I descend,
Into that which now needs me more than I,
Lost have I love, all kinds, real or pretend,
Dry are the tears which descend from my eye.
I killed myself when on that day I chose,
My artifice, which from my death arose.

Now I fall into each and many eye,
Veiled from within, like me yet so unlike,
A circus of histories mock me, my-
Facade creates fear but I feel it alike.
I have seen they who make children laugh, kill,
Have heard questions with no answers save death,
Have seen the dust the bible quote fulfill,
And have relived my fears to keep the faith.
I wonder how much longer I must play,
This script I wrote, but read not; on this stage,
Seems my night will ne'er end to see that day,
My act will kill me 'fore I die of age.
But I did choose this my own cursed plight,
So now hush ... everything will be alright.

I'm Back Part II : This Time For Real (I Guess...)

As a song that was pleasantly stuck in my head for the last month goes, "It's been awhile". But before anyone starts harping (unlikely, since judging by the 2 comments in this entire blog, this is more of a tete-a-tete between me and ... myself) I have been busy as the previous post has tried to suggest. I was swamped all through November and December with a whole lot of paper work and the first three months of this year I was busy with exams that don't really test much but you have to give a crap about anyway. And thus after spending all of April procrastinating this moment till after a certain something happened (something because of which I have been procrastinating every other thing I need to do), I said to myself, ah, screw it, and here I am. (That certain something hasn't happened yet, and I will mention it only if it does)

All the non-creative, clerical, and rote bally-hoo that I've had to endure over the past half-year seemed to have killed whatever pseudo-writing abilities I had, and until half an hour ago, I hadn't written a complete poem in a non-competitive, non-academic context since October! All in all, I'm happy that I have managed to write something and happy that this blog gets to celebrate a second resurrection. Hopefully it's last.

I can't guarantee how regularly I will be updating this blog or whether my creative juice will continue to flow and not get sipped in the bud (!) Till then, if you're intensely jobless, make yourselves comfortable reading the last two poems I wrote. One in October, one about thirty minutes ago.

Later.