Saturday, September 6, 2008

Those Streets, These Times

Cinderella is dead.
Her coffin is laid out on the streets.
A hundred men mourn her.
They call themselves her lovers
her coffin is to be carried by them.
Snow White has come to pay her respects.
She has grown blind with pain.
Sleeping beauty with all her prettiness
sleeps an induced sleep of morphine
Overdozed last night to mourn the living.

And Charming walks around the streets
With his masked escorts.
The escorts brings him pleasure,
Cinderella never meant much to him.

A car is coming in through the crowd.
The headlights are burning bright.
An unhealthy girl is laid out from inside.
She is pale and thin, without the signs of life.
Rapunzel has lost all her hair now.
She has the cancer of heart.
Is in therapy of love to remind her of the pains .

A drunk is running around with his special antics.
He says, he was the King, reciting Shakespeare.
Runs around in circles.
and collapses in his dizziness.

The Evil Queen is crying away.
Rummaging through her books.
She wants to bring Cinderella back to life.
Working on a spell.


Suddenly a few paramedics comes out of the ambulances.
Begins to pack Cinderella up.
Everybody calls out,''She is dead".
They say,' Dr.Frankenstein will decide about that,
we are taking her to him".
They ambulances leaves with Cindrealla.
The centre of attarction has left, no need to stay.
Eveybody leaves the row with a grump and growl.


It's empty now.
A peasant with a violin comes.
sits down to play the Moonlight Sonata.
A man enters the row with a limp,
Romeo has come to look for Juliet,
In the emptiness of the street.
Casanova has eloped with his lover.
But the news has spread that Casanova has passed away.

Alexander will be coming with is army soon.
But the army wants a new leader.
Someone who kills for blood.
Hearing the name of Alexander,
the peasant escapes down the alley.
Romeo, alone, is dreaming upon the streets.
With The Seven Dwarfs, who are searching
for Snow White's Diamond Necklace.

Then the huge army enters the streets.
For the night's refuge.
they put up their tents and eats supper.
Alexander goes up to Romeo.
the Great says to Romeo, the army is low on provision.
Romeo wants to know about Juliet.
Alexander sighs and tells him.
Juliet has been lost by him to a man called Hercules
During two rounds of drunken gambling.
The Piper is seen with his pipe strolling down to them.
Sits down and talks about war and games.
The three men of renowned fame,
sits together and frowns at the ambulance.

The paramedics return with Cinderella.
they find trouble moving in through the army.
The army sling curses!
The crowd gathers back in.
Cinderella is back!
From the chambers of Dr. Frankenstein.
She has been finally declared dead by him.
Oh! What a dismay!
She is all torn up and stitched again,
by the good-samaritian Doctor.
pity flows through the streets for her.
She is going to be buried tonight.
The Evil queen comes running
When the coffin is about to be lifted.
She said she found the cure to mortal sickness.
She casts her spell on Cinderella.
She rises from among the dead.
The queen roars with laughter in all her magnificence

But Cinderella is in a state of pity.
Her skin is stitched upon in everyplace.
Who would possibly marry her now?
The problem is thought out by Einstein and Freud.
They quarrel among themselves,
but do come to the decision at last.
Cinderella is going to be married to Jack.
" Jack always had a fascination for tearing girls apart".
says Freud, blowing smoke from a Cuban.
The bassoons are sounded.
Jack has come to marry Cinderella.
Cinderella smiles upon the look of him.
It's love at first sight for them.

Confusion, Indecision, tears, laughter and magic.
All make the streets complete.
If You ever want to visit
Just give me a call.
I will guide you through the path.
Where every stone is laid out in perfection.
You will meet people you thought you knew.
Here their maskes would be open.
You can take peek if you want.
But if you are disappointed.
Don't blame me.
Because they were always lame.
and will always be.
I just Gave them some flavor.
And You will like it.


Thursday, August 7, 2008

The River Side

Bewildered by the voices in my head.
I sit by the river side.
Contemplating about the edges, now in my life.
Looking forward for fool's gold's bright.

It is the dusk, and the darkness has spread out its wings.
It flutters in my mind, heart and the brink.
Though what art I sought?
Love is only an instrument for loss.

Be it on a sunny morning or a gloomy evening.
I wonder, if I wandered there ever alone in sight.
But dusk, they say, bring us to a new night.
A night of darkness, unnoticed by the philosophy of light.

The river water is all dark now.
A reflection is no more a possibility.
But why should I want to see my wretched face once again?
Only to dream and walk the barbed wire of hope again.

My heart has been punctured by a thousand wounds.
It oozes out blood, in your dying fumes.
Celebrating the ashes of ruins of beautiful worlds.
Shaken up by the mighty thunder and cremated by the river water.

The world around me has come to a standstill.
No birds do sing nor any animal is seen serving its whim.
And here all alone, my thoughts too reflect them.
It is static as the mountains on the earth's bosom.

There, now, I see a light shinning on the water.
My mind moves to grasp it, beyond my powers.
And It is soon swallowed by the darkness.
The light sinks like lead in the night's emptiness.

Neither do I think nor do I believe.
My heart is not broken by you.
It is burnt as the soot, blackness with its deadly mark.
Taking me to a palace of shattered dreams.

I still sit by the river side.
Contemplating the edges, now in my life.
Though, if you may wander around here sometime.
I shall leave my mark around on this side.

But, if the dogs of the day eat it up.
Blame me not because I loved you first.
Blame me because I will love you till the Last.
And believe in something, this is the Last.

Monday, July 14, 2008

The Preface( The Picture of Dorian Gray)

The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim.The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.The highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming.This is a fault.Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only beauty.There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written.That is all.The nineteenth century dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass.The nineteenth century dislike of romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in a glass.The moral life of man forms part of the subject-matter of the artist, but the morality of art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium. No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true can be proved.No artist has ethical sympathies.An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style. No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything.Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art.Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art.From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of the musician.From the point of view of feeling, the actor's craft is the type.All art is at once surface and symbol.Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.

Monday, May 12, 2008

A Dream

I can’t explain what I am feeling now.
Is it a hope, a dream, or a mirage?
Which will just fade into a void.
As with time I grow nearer to it.

I am feeling afraid.
If my fear grips my neck.
And tries to suffocate me to death.
Could I be able to choke my death away?
When it comes with all its glory.
Never will it be defeated but it will be lost.

I am never happy.
I always wanted to find happiness.
When the sun shinning, and the stars were bright.
All through the night, I drove my desire to life.

I am always alone, but never lonely.
I have someone to talk with and share.
I share my thoughts with my mind.
And my mind talks about it with my soul.

I was once in love.
With the fairest of the fair.
Under the sky we drove our fantasies.
Intewove our lives melodies.
But I killed my love.
As soon it made my mind stir.

What am ‘I’?
A dream, unreal, maybe, but it’s too carefully made,
To burn itself to the ashes like the phoenix.

Be Born Again.
Learn to breathe.
And Light up your torches.
March up to the Gates.
Bring it down. Tear it apart.
With all your might.
Lock them up one by one.
Curse them so nobody ever breathes again

Let’s Rule the World with just a Hope.
That there won’t be death, as I am always a mortal escape.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Emotions

A child prays to relieve him from his dreads.
Ghosts, ghouls with a thousand mule floods across his head.
Bringing fear, such that he can’t even stare out in the night.
And look about those dancing lights in his fright.

A man about to lose his consciousness of dignity
Raise his fists to commend with violent clarity.
His anger brings fear and can take you to a place,
Where dark mountains rips through the earth’s base.

A woman waits for her love to return,
From the war where there is no return.
Blessed with pain of love, she forebears the loss
Even mighty men are helpless before her hand-held Holy Cross.

A Man is said to be in a perfect state of happiness.
He holds none dear, no fear, nor hatred, nor love, so no one to lose.
Bereft of emotions of love, pain, fear, anger, he is the Lord and the Master
In a tranquil world, He lives where His serene peace is found and calm without others.

Tell me a story, sing me a tale,

Where only Happiness prevails

Thursday, March 6, 2008

The Rain ( She loves Me)

The Rain, why does she comes back to the earth?
Why does she tell us stories?
It brings us joy.
Do you know?
Or do you even care?
Predeccessor of life, succeeded by by hope.
It entwines us in its enchanted path.
The Mighty Messenger from Heavens.
She is the one, whom I worship.
The fantasizes view from the top,
Or the deeply searching view from the ground.
She makes everyone rest or run in her fun.

When she falls on me.
I think, she loves me.
It is when I can also feel her embrace.
In my arms, open wide in love.

She has been long gone, for sometime now.
I am in hope, for her presence again.
Haven't felt her since the winter's chill.
It is now the summer's hotest heat.
I plead to you, my love.
Relief me from my pain.
Hold me tight this time,
Donot let me go.
I want you for a long season of love.
And she comes with all her fun.
Dancing in the twilight, immortalising my time.
But I am a mere mortal, she can't give me all her time.
does she have others to love
I donot know but, I know one thing, which I say.
Why does she comes back on earth again and again
No one wants to know, no one even cares.
But I care for you.
And I know she comes everytime
To love me once, and everytime in her joy and my pain.

Monday, February 25, 2008

The One (Life)

Is it ok?
Are you sure?
Are you the one?
They talk about
Did they kick you out of their doors?
And told not to return.
Are you the one?
They want back again.
Did they come to ask for you?
For their dire claims of life.

Are you the one, I love.
Are you the one, I trust.
Are you the one, I fought for.

If you are then.
Come out of your cage.
Lift your face.
Show us your age.
Lead us to the way.
We have lost your way in the mists of time.
Show us the place, where happiness never dies.

Where Have you travelled,
All these years, turning tides of time?
Or have you lost your taste for nature.
Or have you have your own greed.
They say you never realized.
They say you are one of those who cared for us.
But told us to run when there's still hope for a fight.

I don't believe them, they got the thing all wrong.
You are the one who cared for us one and all.
But left us to rot after we ran.
They say, you may come to recover the remains.
But I don't understand when the need is high.
They want you back again ,
Even after all the sorrow you gave them in their lives.

But I really love you.
I always wanted to be lost like you.
Not to be found by man in his lifetime.
But looked for, by everyone when the hope is high.

I always wanted to find you.
So I searched for you,
And reached this place.
But are you the one.
they talk about,
Are you the one, They miss.
Are you the one, They mistrust.
Are you the one,
for whom they live to see another day.
Are you the one.
Who will make us run, when the hope is gone.

If you are then.
Give me your hand.
If you are too frail to stand.
And I will take you to the land.
I will carry you to the end.
Where happiness never wanes.