Thursday, October 09, 2008

The Meteor Shower

I got charged for a meteoroid shower 
I got a glimpse of nature's power 
As the weather sent a chill down my spine 
I sat on my terrace, hearing the dog's whine 

The neon signs poisoned the sky with the light 
The stars tried shining, with all their might 
There as that big one, at the end of our lane, 
I felt like massacring it off, like I'd gone insane. 

As I counted the stars, one two, three 
I got a meteor gearing up for free 
A large fire fly, swam through the sky 
the swish..... sound it made, I saw it with my eye 

I turned my head, towards the pole star, 
It was just near the horizon, but a li'l too far 
A thousand eyes looked on from the sky like a beast 
It made me enjoy my weekend celestial feast 

There was the Sirius, the brightest of 'em all 
Orion looked like humpty dumpty, who had a great fall 
I saw Pleides shine with poise 
Sagittarius always playing with his toys

Monday, February 18, 2008

LEAVE ME ALONE!

Leave me alone! it screams out.

LEAVE ME ALONE!

NO, Im not talking about the GTA vice city cheat code to keeps the cops off. It's about those juvenile teenage eyes that sparkle with coherence like a hundred stars in the pleides. A cluster of glowing, twinkling, dewy, wet stars amidst a pleasantlty inconvenient face.

"Leave me alone!" it pleads wiht utter helplessness. So utterly helpless, against the mighty yet insanely stupid satanic nuisances that torture its soul, invade its privacy: out of sheer momentery ecstasy, fuelled by grillions of seconds of persistent mental instability, that led to a drastic degradation of the humanly spirit that camouflaged the monster within.

The word "GOOD", being as alien to it as an i-pod is, to a neanderthal. A sort of a force, that conventionally reads the word "LIVE" as it's own palindrome.A force that acts as if in constant inebriation, a force, as content with all the evil in it, as young palestinian kids playing soccer on a wrecked warfront.

Unconscious.
The mere sight of the force; It's mere name describes complete sub-consciousness and extrordinary foolhardy.
It's opponent slowly, steadfastedly gains momentum.
Ignorance, though, IS bliss. After all, the proponents of this hypothesis weren't inexperienced!

The irritation is taken with silence. Fatal silence, it should seldom be referred to as. After all, silence is, they say, golden.
As pleasant, as golden, as those inexplicably - absorbingly - mindboggongly - gorgeous Irish ruralscape that sing about Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme.

The bitter struggle lingers on...