Makin' Sense

Someone once asked me in an interview, "If that is the number of visitors actually hitting your blog, why do you have it anyway?"
To which I replied, "I have it because I love to write, because it is somewhere I can share what I feel, because it is someplace on the internet I can really call mine. How many people read it and what they think about it....well, that's just someone in the stands shouting out to the real players, about how to do their job better."

Looking back at those days, I guess that was one of the very few answers that actually came from my heart. You know, the ones that guarantee to impress the interviewer into getting you through the horrid cycles of evaluation and re-evaluation.... Sigh!

Well, things change and here I am, thankful to all of you for having a decent enough crowd breezing through this blog. It would be better though if most of you would actually stay for a while and read stuff, but I guess I ain't one of those guys who put up shit and still manage to have a menagerie of mongrels lickin' up everything with a slurp.

Its good in a way. I can stay focused. I can stay real. This place still distinctly belongs to me, is about what I feel, and is put up in a way I want it to be. Kinda like what someone close to me once said: "My life...My way!"

Can I add, "My Blog...My say!"?

Ciao

The Agony of a Heavy Heart

I walk alone
empty corridors
echoing my rubber soles.
Dead weight of
the pistol in hand
benumbs my senses
its lethal power
quivering, yet still
throbbing heart
restless, but at peace
in ghastly silence
expels a serene breath.

I walk across
the bench where
Haley and I
conquered calculus,
across the court where
had shot some hoops
with the Scott brothers.
Laden feet dragged on
reverberating, shattering
swishy whispers
where Brooke cheered on
and her smell lingers.

"Mea Culpa!"
chill, piercing sonic
slashes away
the shiny lights
with breezy sway.
I look down
and there I lay
head twisted in agony,
mouth agape,
the wound drippin' crimson,
exonerating, but
draining the vitality away.

Words And Moments

Words,

words that hurt
words that heal
words that are for you
words that are for me
words that I said
words that were meant to be
words that shake the ground
words that are surreal
words that touch
words that make you feel.

Moments,
moments that mar
moments that mark
moments that flow away
moments that come again
moments that open your eyes
moments that make you smile
moments that fly by
moments that pave the way
moments that are precious
moments that are just for us.

Struck out lines of incomplete thoughts

Another day, another fight. Another bag of hurt feelings for each one of us. Another day irrevocably lost and memory marred by us. Things happened, words were exchanged and I said the fatal words somewhere in between. And so I am here, sitting on my bed with this notebook for company. She won't talk to me as long as I don't do what she asks me to. That's bad considering she has asked me to dig up, re-remember and document each and every bad memory, hurting looks, scaring remarks or in short anything that has hurt me in the duration of our relationship of 2+ years. now I tried explaining to her, to make her understand the futility of the exercise, but to no avail. Yes for arguments sake you may say that maybe it would help her understand and avoid her mistakes, help her to hurt me lesser. But that's a long shot with the risks too daunting to be attempted. Moreover if that be the objective, I prefer to pass on and talk about such information in a piecemeal format, not jotting down everything in a bulk. Now the risk, one of many anyways. Forgetfulness is a bane, but in some situations its also the biggest boon. Things happened, I get hurt, I bleed but then I also heal. Yes some cases leave scars - some longer than normal. But when thought in an overall scheme, I prefer to leave all bad memories behind & collect the good ones. Its not easy, but I can bet it, its much more difficult for her. Of course I may not be giving her enough credit for her efforts but this is simply too big a risk for me to take willingly. So I decide, I'll make a list all right, but of all the happy moments that I can remember so that both of us have something to cherish, something to treasure...
So where do we start? I guess the beginning would be a good place to do that. The first time I saw the girl people in college used to call 'Jassi'. I used to wonder why. Yes its about all good in a person of somewhat non-ideal looks. Well thats okay but when I saw her, I thought she's not at all anywhere near the person she's being compared to. And then I went on to wonder, doesn't it hurt her feeling and emotions. Little did I know that she does get hurt pretty easily but only from people she allowed close to her. She told me recently, she used to feel good infact, if not indifferent to it. Well, back to the scene when I first saw her. I was sitting with same friends on one of our college lawn benches when she walked across the scene, kinda in slow motion as I observed her yellow suit (more inclined, like 90%, towards the green one) had a handbag or something of that sort on one shoulder and was walking straight across, unmindful of the other people around in the lawn, in a world of her own. fast forward a few months and a few occasional interactions and we were standing near block C staircase (although I still feel its block A). She was in a white suit with little pink flowers on it. Her hairstyle was different and I guess thats why had'nt heard of the 'Jassi' comparison for sometime. We had had a small walk chatting on various topics that I can't recall and while parting I wished her "Happy Valentine day". Apparently, that was something other guys were afraid to do. It didn't seem a big deal to me back then or even now for that matter. But it is a cherished memory nonetheless.

Silence

Silently she screams

bleedin' inside out
unspoken fears,
unleashing
the beast within,
weeping
deadly tears.

Silently she sleeps
screeching
unforgiving nightmares,
searching within,
screening
destructive sears.

Silently she sees
despairing within
broken dreams,
excusing
scathing within,
remembering
indelible years.

Hold me to Believe

I can see the hurt inside,
when you smile with broken eyes.
Pincers pierce with searing pain,
when I see my work in vain.
Woe be gone from your life,
blissful memories all step aside.
Just hold my hand and believe,
your side I shall never leave.
Why the hurt? Why the pain?
'coz for you I make it rain
from the stars to the sight
of heavenly minstrels bright.
Little girl still deep inside.
Let her go, let her fight.
Let her live again her way.
Let her believe together we may.
Let her see that its not that tough,
to sail past the briny rough.
Let her feel that together we stay.
Let her feel my love, come what may.

Prick Me Not, My Lovely Rose

- stirred back to life by 'La Cleora Ortiz'

As the shiny morning rays
gently caress your surreal waves
O' my beauty! O' my life!
you run me through, you make me smile.
I step outside and take a while
to dip into your pool divine
"Blesseth be thy lord above"
to let me have this gift of love.
In the gentle breeze you sway
lifting my spirit in a million ways.
Your sublime beauty with me stays,
takes me high, paves the way.
In this crimson aura I lust
everyday from dawn to dusk.

But as the silver moon smears
shiny sparkles on your million tears,
a thought fills my head with dismay
'will there be another such day?'
Dark clouds loom overhead
making me restless in my bed.
The thing of beauty, a joyous sight,
maybe may not, but then just might.
Boards creak as I make haste
not another moment I shall waste.
Labored on albeit a smile
to and fro, went a million times.
Till again the golden fingers play
on the Birchwood lying astray,
and all the seven heavens glowed
beaming down on your new abode.