A Liar's Guide to the Dreams..

In the dead of the night, the dreams come in one by one. They cling to you with soft acceptance, and they know it all..

These are the dreams which leave a note of remembrance. They cling to our tongues like a bittersweet delight.

They feel familiar, though their flavour melts in the mouth... and taste distinctly unusual.

December 24, 2006

I'm Posting This Everywhere...

Disclaimer : This message contains certain comments that at best should be overlooked... and at worst, should be undermined... offended christmas lovers please delete this message at this ripe point cause the Grinchess is going to go "Glingle Glingle" over all that overflowing Christmas spirit...

Well, Mother Mary's Mistake was born on 25th to provide the world with a semi-holy Ghost who walked freely among us and turned water into wine and died because nobody else could do that and they all wanted free booze but couldnt make any... so year after year we celebrate the day that marked this great man's birthday, who was the world's first one-man insta-distillery...
And then there was the other guy, Nick, who gave away free gifts to kids, and spoilt them beyond their bratty pants, and their poor parents were supposed to provide gifts, because the brats would not stop until they did... St. Nick just started the tradition, who cares where those poor parents might end up on their way to the toy/chocolate/gift/other goodies shop... cursing their dwindling bank accounts and wallets for being so slim and trim (well, FAT is in, at least when it comes to this)...

And then there are the songs and the traditional cakes and chicken (in lieu of the Turkey or Ham).... yada yada.... Yes, fine, and all that. I just want to tell everyone that it all adds up to the Spirit... the Booze that is...

So there. I had to get that out of my system. For those who reside in this world, Happy Christmas... for those who reside in this world and the Disc, Happy Hogswatch... may all pigs fly.


December 21, 2006

My Way

I stand here in the empty darkness,

Waiting for the first chord of the bass to fall

Behind me lies the distant dreams that I forgot,

In my fingers lie the silken chords of silence.

I can choose but my choices make no move

They melt in the depths of the darker shades,

They rustle through the wind like dry leaves,

They split the dry ground and eases within.

So many memories of mythical madness

My presumptions, my illusions, all fall down

Frequent mistakes I have made, but I

Never thought of the consequences to come.

Now they have come back to haunt

The depths of darkness that stretch in front,

But I must walk this path, although I can feel

It is fading away into the dark abyss.

December 17, 2006

A Farewell to Cell....

Well, so I lost it. Finally.

For those who does not know, its my new Mobile Phone!!

Well, not so old maybe, but it was only 6 months I had it. I bought it with my own money, hard earned own money.... thats what makes the absence of the fat little piggy so bad. It was my baby, my pillow for comfort. My Nokia 6600.

I will miss you, my bloated buddy. You were there when I needed to video record, or listen to music, or something equally important. Nothing will replace you.

*Audience shall excuse me now while I bang my head against the keyboard.*

December 09, 2006

Two Poems.... for the mists of an Autumnal Dawn

Arka, this is because I was too lazy to mail.

The Retreat

I've stopped loving you.

Whatever courses through my veins now are aftershocks,

Denied moments of paralysed thoughts,

Unbearably familiar.

Oh, I have stopped.

Waving, wading towards the unreachable horizon of Eternal Belief

When I once perhaps could unite

But now the straining drops of molten wariness

Chase the futile fragments;

My memories float in the shallow pool

Of numb distorted moments of fragmented vision.

Yes, I have stopped it. Finally...

The Partition

My fingers creep towards the door

And unlatches the lock

And then freezes in the distant discord

Of melifluous harmony.

In the roots of my aching bones

Something wake up to call forth

So many dried-up memories

Born again, from the drugged

Hole inside the rusty depths

Of this chaotic vision.

My spirits hover over my head,

Crooning, caressing, craving

The necessity to give in

To shameless, wanton discourses

Of dissected emotions,

Laying them moments apart from

Where I stand, hands frozen

On the doorknob,

Waiting for an entrance

To my divided portions.