Roped

A rope
An isolated case of frayed edges...
A braid of smaller ropes,
Almost identical to the Others
A singed carbon resolution
To stand its test and bind
A lonely, archaic bid
To stay strong, to not come free
To hide the strong, to hang the weak
Entwined,drunken and
Spineless when undone;
Not entirely a hopeless thing,but
Sore,just sore...
And I have been, as I have been
Bound
A rope
Coiled in on itself
Hanging from the ground
Roped...
Into a stranger's tug-of-war...
His world,His Life.

Nothing really changes.They just get better or worse.
Or better for good or worse for the better.

...

Happy Birthday to you.Happy Birthday to me.Happy birthday to us.

Ok,so if it's my birthday,does that mean i'm allowed to feel happy/free at the cost of someone else's pain just for today?I did it to mom 22 years ago...just wondering...
Yeah, lizy's a mean bday girl...and that's all I got today.Sorry,blog.

Poetry Aside

Incandescent epiphany,
Poetic broad skies,
Dirt-studded nails
And languid sleepy eyes
A frozen dream,in the rear-view mirror...
A growing dot behind.
A new dream being born to someone ,somewhere

And another demise;

New city horizons,
A driver's cautionary tale,
Homeless bum dragging a plastic-box along it
And a dead dog,by its dead tail.

A hinged, narrow-mind
Livid with cropped notions
Stymied, suddenly, in the faded bus-window...

Hoarse from the brimming
With walls and lines,
Brimming with the hoarse
Screaming...
In the little,cropped scrap
Of the impassive sky.

And a concrete-and-coal-tar road seemingly so alive,
Lets the sky breath, and humans too
And drowsy weeds in its hindsight;
Why can a thought, a mind then not be...
Beacon to the blind---
Be this dead, speechless road
Basking in twilight?

A poetic broad epiphany
Incandescent skies,
And languid dreamer's sleepless new eyes...

Your Urchin II

An erased mute disk stands in my doorway

Wistfully staring me down,

Hunger in its soul-less resolute of charade,

Thunder in the way it pronounced

The words that hang so seemingly in despair

Like a telegram lost halfway

In the change of times

A lost soul, an urchin by the name it goes by…

It has had its time. Time…to say goodbye.

I have had my time,

I have had my chance,

I have had my run

And my cold mary romance…

All that walking and

All that remains

Is the phobic walking

Far away from shuttered plans.

I pause; I breathe a wheeze of black breath,

I wipe my mouth and breathe again…

No noise this time, maybe a silent prayer

To the ghosts of me, shadows in the air.

The spray of pollution still hangs in there…

Like a frozen mile of crossroads to hell.

As I peer through the grime

To the hairpin curve

Ahead

The urchin of mine

Cannot but laugh away…

In the distance of the portrait of illusions,

It smiles as it stands unmoving…

I take the pen and sign my own name

With the neurotic hand of the old beginnings,

I come back around the black smoke

To my old nerve endings…

Where lost time is but a tunnel

Of inane, blank euphoria!

Where my urchin does fade

Into violins and boxes of molded nostalgia.

And my urchin can be yours

If you promise to keep it good,

If you promise to let it stay...

Happy with its insane solitude.

Happy Independance Day....
To biting nails, to not taking showers, to procastination, to wearing shoes without socks, to having watched porn( 5 minutes do count), to judging and detesting beautiful guys in less than 5 seconds, to lying to my favourite two people on planet LySS---my parents---day in and day out, to being a spoilt cry-baby and pretending I cant cry, to being a brat and not owning up and saying sorry...(ugh!), to clandestine affairs with my hair, to nicking food post-3pm, to being a traitor regarding last-minute studying, to carrying on intellectual discussions on a completely clueless mode(!), to being hypocritically hypocritical ,to having the occasional crushes on some ethereally gorgeous girls , to secretly hating booze, to being a partial racist ,to knowing my dreams of writing is a wasteful fantasy, to loving him too much to tell him everything, to resenting my friends for making me so weak and needy at times, to cursing and 'god bless u'-ing Kolkata all at the same time, to being a perfectionist and spontaneous... at the same time, to having too many grey areas about everything that matter and overtly simplified ones on those that dont...to the utter and absolute chaos that is my petty little life.However... I am fearless, this is my battle and I will fight. Because this is a dawn and this is my land.There is either glory of freedom...or only defeat.Jai Hind.

Crash report--- 10th August, 16 more days till I am reborn.

Victim of fear now.Everything is a circle.Life, ironies, ripples, clouds...
Clutching faith and a brown paper-bag...I wonder if I should cover my head with it so I won't have to see...
May we all survive the crash.Amen.