The Monster of Rhymes II

I jump I fall
I'm scared, I drawl.

I dream I doodle,
I like to eat cold noodle.

I laugh I cry,
I also like fish-fry!

I try too hard too much,
To think, to budge.

I drink a glass of water and lime,
To make this stupid thing rhyme!

The Monster of Rhymes.

Is it offensive to be defensive?
I wonder when i'm pensive.

Drifting shifting paradigm
Shrieking soul in mime.

Am I pugnacious?
O goodness gracious!

Pitter-patter clatter clatter,
Does the sense even matter?

With Eddie in Mind

Right now you are breathing,
Right now your mother is cooking your favourite dish and missing you,
Right now you are walking in the space between two crashes.
Right now you are thinking what's coming next,
Right now you know there's only one thought in your head.
Right now the world is changing you to be more competent,more effcient.
Right now you are struggling.
Right now you are still dreaming your favourite dream.
Right now there's a bullet in your brain but you're still walking,
Right now you are not here but somewhere else.
Right now you are breathing.

Nursery Crimes.

Tic tac toe

Friend or foe.

Jack and Jill

Have started taking pill.

Ba ba black sheep, have you any wool?

"No I'm a skinhead now, it looks more cool!"

And up above the world so high,

All the diamonds have been stolen from the sky.

Along the way...

thanks rout . . . . this list should be handy in case the fairy godmother finally makes her grand appearance!

i'm thinking about. . .

what could've been. . . if my life would've followed Plan B.
I wonder whether the words of Gita still holds good; " . . . . whatever's happening, its for the good, whatever is going to happen, it'll be for the good. . . ."
because sometimes they just don't make sense, the words just don't balance the equation. Contrary to the good ol' albert.

While i'm crawling across my room. . . .

00mins : "mockingbird" is playing on my winamp; how would've Hailie felt after listening to the song? The best gift a father can give to his kid or a cheap media confession to alleviate the guilt within?

02mins : damn i have to go through that article in this month's Top Gear issue about the new line of Hemis. and when will i own the sinful gallardo?

04mins : how do i kill the wretched twins in "POP - The Two Thrones". . . should i slash then jump or just die?

05mins : is she thinking about me now?(yes its a selfish thought.) or is it just me? what did she mean when she said that? what am i doing here? why am i thinking all this?

08mins : he he. . . . thats a funny piece of lyrics!

10mins: where is all this going?

I want to . . .

live off a suitcase(or something that's more convenient to carry.) and visit all those places in india that don't qualify to be put on the map, or even on a humble milestone.

give in to objectivism and buy anything that glitters and ride anything thats lamborghini.

be the last one to give up, on anything.

live this life like those fire-crackers; explode when you're at your best.

I wish . . .

there were no language boundaries.

all the people in this world would agree on any one point, anything.

there were more stories with a happy ending.

I hear . . .

anything that inspires, amuses, relaxes, depresses, pscyhes me most unexpectedly.

the croak-symphony after a heavy downpour, the chirping cacophony at dusk, the threats before a catfight, the howling calls at three in the morning.

I wonder . . .

the amount of talent and sustenance it takes to create a masterpiece.

whether i'll be able to raise my kids well.

whether words are malleable enough to take the shape of our thoughts, or do they get distorted on their way?

whether its really important to stop all the war; we have never lived in a world without them! Then how can we presume that it'll be a better place without them?

I am . . .

a very complex alogrithm of alternatives and probabilites guided by the contemporary environment.

I dance . . .

whenever the music makes me.

I sing . . .

if i need to :
remind myself of an important lesson
share a secret
turn a lie into truth
walk through my deja vu-s
get high or if i already am!

I cry . . .

when love goes wrong(in movies or in reality)
when animals are in pain
when i witness something so beautiful that i cannot take it.

I write . . .

to remind myself what i was and what i am now.

I confuse . . .

myself by reading too much between the lines.

I need . . .

to understand somebody well enough to turn words redundant.
to be a better son.
a safe ventilation for my pent-up fury.
a different set of occurrences.

I tag mysore. This'll be good!

The Red Kitten at the Green Signal.

Why did the kitten cross the road?

Possibilty #1. She was following her feline instincts and closing in towards a heap of defeathered chicken skin and rejected gut, lying in the dirty canister outside "Hafiz's Meat Shop".
Possibilty #2. She was being chased away from the heap of defeathered chicken skin and rejected gut, lying in the dirty canister outside "Hafiz's Meat Shop".
Possibilty #3. She was the Christopher Columbus of the kitten world and was out on her brave little "Castile"-ian expedition.
Possibilty #4. She was just a poor kitten lost in the concrete jungle.(The kind of situation that used to form the staple fodder for the Disney animation movies.)
Possibilty #5. She was just plain suicidal.

But it doesn't matter now; her fate has been written by the bloody tread-marks on the sweltering asphalt road. 0950hrs.

Like a victim being raped by a group of junkies, each taking his time and turn to make use of the situation and his phallus. She writhed and squiggled in pain, her puny body disfiguring. And the busy commuters took their turn, as the signal turned green. Their cars as mighty gesture of braggadocio. They took their turn.

It was like any other day on the road. Burning eyes, honking symphonies, revving two-strokes, running pedestrians, sweaty and dusty people hanging on their lives and the bus, reluctant school-goers. And somewhere beneath all this choreographed mayhem, she counted her last breath, remembering all whom she loved, begging Him to forgive all her mistakes and take away her pain. And God smiled upon her.

A true incident that left me horrified after witnessing the sheer nonchalantness of the thriving civilisation we live in.

The Drug in Us.

Psychological Effects : The effects can vary greatly, depending on factors such as previous experiences, state of mind and environment, as well as dose strength. Generally, it causes expansion and altered experience of senses, emotions, memories, and awareness. It does not produce hallucinations in the strict sense but instead illusions and vivid daydream-like fantasies, in which ordinary objects and experiences can take on entirely different appearances or meanings. At higher doses it can cause synaesthesia. The drug sometimes spurs long-term or even permanent changes in a user's personality and life perspective.
A "trip" can have long lasting or even permanent neutral, negative, and positive psychoemotional effects. The experiences can range from indescribably ecstatic to extraordinarily difficult; many difficult experiences (or "bad trips") result from a panicked user feeling that he or she has been permanently severed from reality and his or her ego. If the user is in a hostile or otherwise unsettling environment, or is not mentally prepared for the powerful distortions in perception and thought that the drug causes, effects are more likely to be unpleasant.

Witdrawl Symptoms : Some people discontinuing its use report extremely vivid nightmares while others report that they feel as though they're intoxicated while awake. Emotionally, those experiencing withdrawal often feel like they are on the verge of tears for no particular reason, have little self-worth, and thoughts of self-harm.
Other studies suggest that the incidence rate of withdrawal symptoms are mild and comparable to that of placebo, citing escitalopram as "very well tolerated". Many emotionally intense experiences can lead to flashbacks when a person is reminded acutely of the original experience.

Now tell me thats not how you feel standing inside her love.

(Excerpts from medical reports on LSD[Lysergic acid diethylamide])