Uncertainty

Herculean strength, the outer persona,
Barren wasteland, hidden beneath,
Micheal's light, shining freely,
Or Nebuchadnezzar's pit, in sanity's sheath?

Mist around, clouded way,
A dollop of gold for the last ride,
Enough it seems, flimsy delights,
Hell awaits, arms open wide.

The whirlpool beckons, the cracken cackles,
Yet the angel calls, opening the passage free,
To the pearly gates but slippery is the way,
Angel herself's lost or seemingly be.

What shall be lost and what found,
Remains shrouded in the shackles of time,
Hope lingers, will the angel too,
Charred is the end or eden sublime?

Epilogue:

I wish I knew :)

The modern Gospel of Judas- Injunction

Epilogue:

Clad in trinkets hiding wounds,

The silent arm gently swayed,

Watching the blade's brazen glint,

For a clean cut he prayed.

Again, but with a difference. Or perhaps the only difference lay in Mary's  reaction. Perhaps Christ was no longer the pillar of hope and sanity that he thought himself to be. Or perhaps Nazareth's crown of thorns had swayed her away. Restlessly he had battled within for over an hour deliberating the merits and cons of having a conversation that could only go 3 way, each way playing word by word in parallel inside the confines of his highly efficient brain. 

*An hour of dabbling in holy smoke later Christ finally summoned up the wits to have that conversation with Mary*

Mary often observed that the there lies absolute chaos in things well panned out. And the most clarity lies within chaos. What we truly are and what we choose to become depends on choices that lie in the hands of those most ill suited to take them. And yet we allow them to. Christ could relate to that, his entire life had been proving the same! 

But despite his well put words, for he could put them across really well, there seemed no difference in Mary's pattern that always ended up in invoking extreme loathing for the self. But the thing with hate is, you just can't hate specific targets. Once you invoke the demon of hate, it shall trudge its way up from the bloody pit only to swallow one and all in its way.

But what Christ always failed to grasp was the fact that words well meant are most misunderstood and often become the preludes for more saiyances to summon more and more demons from the pit of self wallowing and destruction. Can you imagine the pain of the saintly man who watches a lover writhe and cry before succumbing to a grotesque fate, right at the altar of their love? And then as the cherry on the cake, he is then made to carry the very coffin of his lover, strapped to his chest with the casket open so that nothing is allowed to escape his eyes. And he does so willingly. Such a masochist himself, Jesus effin Christ! 

Prologue:

Cuts, blunt and too many,

Suffering that never seemed enough,

His friend perhaps best,

Tough love or perhaps just rough.

Where reason fails does will survive,

Free will, a burden or a reprise,

The irrelevance of words,

Often lies in the best advice.

LOSS

Last words of an
Obiter dictum
Strangely incomplete yet
Subtly final

Rain...

He could feel the sticky drops of sweat binding him to his Tee and he wanted to break free. Get out of his skin. His insides had been eating him for days at end now. He'd tried almost everything, legal or forbidden, to rejuvenate but alas to no avail. He remained a prisoner of his own sub-conscious, the demons of his own creation...

And then the heavens opened and he saw a downpour like no other.

Rain

... thoughts failed him for once, and he ran out of all that confined him; the dark humid room, his sticky clothes, his own mind. The cold drops hit him like bullets, pelting from above. He braved the barrage for a couple of seconds before letting go...and let his naked body soak. A million faces and a zillion thoughts flurried through his mind before...

*BLANK*

It was all empty, zilch, nada, zero, nothing!! The downpour washed everything and nothing remained. Time passed, minutes, hours, days, eternity; he neither knew nor cared. He let the rain consume him until he was free.



Freebird

Fly high, Fly far,

Beyond the skies, beyond the stars,

No fear to stop on the way,

Fly freebird fly, this is your day.

Your nest is yours,

Nobody gets an inch,

Fly freebird fly,

Feel no pinch.

Ride the wind, let nothing stop you,

Above the clouds yet with every drop of morning's dew,

The angels are watching, become who you are,

Fly freebird fly, there is no bar.

Come back when you want to,

Nothing will have changed,

Fly freebird fly,

Thou art unchained.

Ek murde ki vyatha...

मुर्दा कहे शमशान से,

वादा था एक दिन आऊंगा,

आज खड़ा हु, सिर्फ तेरा होके,

थाम ले तो प्यार से सो जाऊंगा,

शमशान के वादे हज़ार,

किस किस से निभाए,

जनाज़ा जिसका जितना बड़ा,

उसकी बारी पहले आये,

जिंदा था तो रोया था,

मौत की बेवफाइ पे,

चाह के भी मौत ना आई,

तड़पता रहा वो ज़िन्दगी की रुसवाई पे,

आज मारा तो भी चैन कहा,

वक़्त का खेल अनोखा,

जलने की भी जगह नहीं,

शमशान ने भी दिया धोखा,

सोचा मुर्दे ने लाश का तो कोई मज़हब नहीं,

चलो दफ़न ही हो जाते हैं,

पर जो जिंदा बचे थे,

उनके नियम कहाँ ख़त्म हैं, 

मुर्दा कहे शमशान से,

कहा जाऊं अब हिम्मत ख़त्म,

कोई तो रास्ता दे दे,

कहे तू तो बिक जाए हम.

उपसंहार :

पुर्जा पुर्जा हो बिक गया,

ना बचा कोई मान,

मुर्दा आखिर ख़त्म हुआ,

अंत तक पुकारता शमशान.

(Every year about 5 million dead bodies are illegally sold for all kinds of sick reasons, who notices?)

(Selling Bodies, Making Profits)

From the smoky hues - a dream...

This was written eons ago, almost in a different life time...today just felt like sharing it again... :)

I am glad for those foggy nights,
And those dim lights,
When I felt your soft touch beside me,
Where you and I in those eccentric moments became we,
When I felt every single one of those unspoken words,
That you and I've said so many times in my dreams of another realm,
But that shall never become reality,
Even I do not wish for it as you already seem so happy,
In your dreams for they seem so real,
But in mine you remain the Alice of my wonderland,
So surreal.



Prologue:

Now I fret again for the smoky hues,
For I am glad for those smoky nights,
And those dim lights,
For there again you shall be,
With those eccentric moments, mine and waiting just for me...