Uninspired

You were left hollow,

Empty like a vacuum.

You became dense, numb

To all external stimuli.

There was the time,

When you used to touch the sky,

You stood for something.

Yet now,

You are but a shard,

A fragment of your long lost glory.

Broken down, crushed

Left to nothing but a

Crack in the glass.

I was there,

Right next to you,

Feeling powerless at happened,

At what she did to you.

I could not find the

Fragments that had been lost,

Nor could I heal the

Crack you had become.

I cannot save you

From what you are becoming,

Neither can I save myself

As you make me uninspired.

She has left us all,

Yet she still survives,

In you,

In your mind.

In a labyrinth,

Where she holds you captive.

Your mind a prisoner of

Its own creation,

Needing to be rescued,

From your uninspired love.

And when life will

Once again overflow the vacuum,

We will rise once again.

Maybe

Bright white lights,

Flickering,

Visions of time,

Flashing.

Darkness surrounds me,

As I hover in the

Emptiness, hollowness,

Why am I here?

I reason out.

I dig deep

Into the recesses of

My mind.

Why am I here?

When was the last

Time I stepped into

An expanse.

When was I last here?

Are these visions

Of my past escapades

Or my forthcoming mishappenings.

Maybe I’m dead,

Or am I dreaming everything,

I will only know

When caterpillars turn

Into Eagles

The Future

There was a time when the sky changed colours,rather than being a dull black. A time when the sun shown above us. A past when the human mind was fathomable, and the human ambition infinite. Yet in the present, the morals have become twisted and the dreams have turned to dust. But even in all this, the longing to dance in the rain one last time, remains, albeit fading away into the dusty recesses of our own mind

LOST

I journeyed into

The mountains of ice.

Ran headfirst into

The trap of being nice.

I jumped here,

Jumped all over,

Reached nowhere,

Right in front of a clover.

I took it to be luck,

So I let my feeling run amok.

Once again

I jumped everywhere,

And once again,

I reached nowhere.

So I’ll raise a toast,

And will not boast,

That I was lost

In this white frost.

Half Past Three

It is half past three, I think. I don’t have a watch to tell the time but experience can teach you a lot. I am under the same old huge towering tree. I wonder whether my parents realized that I was here, under the tree in the park and not in my bed?

The breeze is fast and cold, and my shorts provide minimal protection from the cold breeze. My shirt however is more suited for such a weather and well my long hair are as good as cap.

The spot where I sit has one advantage, it gives me a great view of the moon. I don’t know why but I somehow like it. They always say that someone who cares for you has their eyes set on it too and you can look into each other’s eyes and peer into each other’s heart. Well I didn’t know of someone like that in my life. I’m pretty sure that they forgot to mention that there are exceptions. Even so, I love the view.

What makes me come back here night after night is the quiet I am offered. This puts me and my mind in a state of tranquility, providing me means of escape from a rather hectic, loud and insecure life.

Life, you see isn’t easy when both the parents are unemployed and work is hard to come by in the recession, or as my parents call it, the second coming of the devil, especially when it’s tough to pay the bills.

It gets frustrationg all right, having to bear the same thing day after day after day, but as time goes on, you learn to live with it, accepting it, even when your insides cry for you to fight back.

But this spot, it has an aura that soothes me whenever I come here, gives me energy, gives me hope, makes me forget all about the recession, the loudness and the insecurities of life. It gives me a goal to come back here everyday and enjoy the view.

I’d better come back to happy thoughts before I start sulking over how life is now and what is in store for me. It’s best I face these some other day.

It’s getting late now and I better leave before I have that huge yawn that will put me to sleep for a long time and I don’t want authorities to take me in as a homeless vagrant trespassing on public property.

The breeze as cool and as fast as ever, I start to run home to enjoy the warmth my blanket will provide to my legs.

My Love

Its been days,

No months

Since we last met.

I remember everything about you,

The way you felt so smooth,

Of how you were so round,

Always providing me with company,

Whenever I needed it.

We met so many years ago,

When you were in that shop,

As though waiting

For your someone.

Oh and how fate deals the cards.

Of two never known  to each other

Became so important,

Of how my existence was made perfect only by you.

Even though we

Are not together,

After you died and left me shattered,

I will always remember you

My Love,

And you will always be better than a DVD,

Oh my Uncharted 2 Blu-Ray CD.

Minutes To Midnight

It was fifteen minutes to midnight, and as usual, I was leaning against the same old tree which is eternally young at the same old spot which never seems to grow old.

And as the wind became faster and colder, I tool out my cigarette and lit it up. The same old habit that has never left.  Funny, eh? 

The city, filled with skyscrapers, building of weird design, with people living in the past, worried about the future and missing the present, with companies using electrical billboards to tell us to save electricity. Funny, eh?

Every day the same old monotonous routine, same old hustle and bustle, the same old boring people with no change whatsoever. But then again, I’m not so different, coming here night after night.

It is this spot, up on the hills, putting me far away from civilization, the concrete jungle.

Everyday plays out about the same, wake up, do stuff, go to work, come back, do more stuff and then come here to take a smoke and escape reality, then go back and let the river flow without disturbance.

Every day I see the same cars and the same people, going to work or coming back or partying or murdering or assaulting and I wonder, do they never like a change? Do they also never see me? Don’t they ever notice a pair of white soulless eyes glaring right into them?

It was still a few minutes to midnight when my cigarette finished and about time for me to move away and fit back into my place in the space time continuum without interfering with the natural order of things. And I put on my white cloak and floated away, looking twenty-four hours into the future, not surprised at what was in store for me