unoriginal(first and last)

I felt like mocking the fuck out of people who try to judge me.And fortunately I was listening some music by Eminem.The words felt so right that I thought of using 'em(with some alterations)..so all of ya'll..have fun.

See I'm a poet to some, a regular modern day Shakespeare
Jesus Christ the King of these Latter Day Saints here
To shatter the picture in which of that as they paint
me as a monger of hate and Satan a scatter-brained atheist
But that ain't the case, see it's a matter of taste
We as a people decide if Ash's as bad as they say he is
Or is he the latter - a gateway to escape?
Society scapegoat, who they can be mad at today
See it's easy as cake, simple as whistlin Dixie
while I'm wavin the pistol at sixty Christians against me
Go to war with the Mormons, take a bath with the Catholics
in holy water - no wonder they try to hold me under longer
I'm a motherfuckin spiteful, DELIGHTFUL eyeful
The new Ice Cube - motherfuckers HATE to like you
What did I do? (huh?) I'm just a kid from downunder
makin this butter off these bloodsuckers, cause I'm a muh'fuckin
RENEGADE! Never been afraid to saywhat's on my mind at,
any given time of day
Cause I'm a RENEGADE!
Never been afraid to talkabout anything

You

Shades of divinity
shrouded in sands
of an endless river
of an infinite time
in which I dive,float and drown
and find golden treasures
lifting the veil of illusion
in which I am concealed and wrapped in.

Rising to the surface again,
I see my own reflection
of gentle purity and easy smiles
but the vacant eyes
still betray--and the vaccum
still waits for the fight.

You're my last remaning light.

Job

I tend to make people feel out of place.That was an observation some manager made when I went for a job interview yesterday.I was lost in some thought of my own.They had given me a form to fill.I filled it to the best of my knowledge.The post was for some front office where the one has to direct the ppl to the department they want to buy stuff from.They thought that since i was presentable as far as my photograph goes,i'd be good in making people feel good too.I wanted to be liked by people for a change,so i wnted this job.I had promised myself not to show my 'I don't really care if you hire me or not' to them.The first round i cleared.They asked name and etc and told me to go for the personal interview.The HR was a lady in her 30s.Looking prim and was trying to be very friendly.My initial cold 'good morning' maybe damped her spirits.Someone had advised me to put on a fake plastic smile and try to appear as i would gladly kiss their ass.She asked me why i wanted the job? I wanted to say "to amuse myself" but I said that i wanted the job cuz I thought the company was wonderful and that my abilities to make people comfortable around me(I could just stop myself from laughing when i was saying that) would be perfect for such a job.She was clever.She asked me why am i so confident that I make people comfortable around myself.I said that i just know it.It's something everyone tells me.She smiled .I should have smiled back.I just kept looking.She finally asked me my hobbies.But somehow I started getting bored.I said that my hobbies are music and poetry.She told me that Shelly and some other dude were her fav. poets.I told her that according to me they suck.She didn't look all that pleased.She tried venturing into music.Told me that Ricky Martin is so cool and what do i think of the band called 'Blue'.I told her that R.Martin is the darling of silicon babes and bimbos and boybands have no right to exist.She ventured to tell me that my opinions are kinda violent.I told her that i am doing my best not to smash the flower vase thats kept on the table.She told me that i should leave and better try my hand at something which does not involve human beings.

As i was about to leave she said"One more thing .You make people feel out of place.One day you'll make them all run away."

I wanted to say "I care?" but i decided to be kind.I flashed my plastic smile and just left.

It's another whisper,
a downright mute accusation
of the flowing flowers and the rainbows
in the slow moving,grinding wheel of hope
he sits;shivering,naked and blind.
Free of fear and the aspirations of the moon
he sits on the grass,frozen in wonder
or is it just boredom.
you can't ever know
a lifeless gleam sparkles his eyes
Was that the raven that cried,or the emptiness
that echoes and dies a trembling death
within the womb of the night.
And then he lies down,tired and deflated
while the sweat drops merge with the dew
and a smoke of indifference rise,from afar
mystical,shrouded in pain.A prayer leaves
the shaking lips.And then the same vacant eyes
which rise to the horizon,are frozen to the ground

Will you be there to meet him?
Must he rise alone.

I won't

Static.
It grows on you
a mind numbing sensation of uniform complexities
and gaping mundanities.

Slow.
Death creeps on you
freezing cold death of a razor blade
sharp,intricate and useless.

Dull.
A hazy twilight of hope
redemption and happines,interwined and decayed
atrophy of the aesthetic senses.

Why?
A familiar itch
Jesus was crucified into oblivious magnificence
but we won't die a glorified death.

I won't.

The Comparisons

Saby has a link in this blog..'Slyvia Plath reincarnated' which directs to my blog.I am amazed at the parallel.How can one ,even someone as sick as saby is,compare me with S.Plath.I had no idea of anyone existed by that name until sometime ago.And even then i didn't bother to check what/who she was.I however thought that she might be some drug infested rock n roll chick who had a melancholy streak in her.Even in the past I was compared with people like Kurt Cobian and Jim Morrison,both of whom I loved as musicians but hated as individuals.An extension of self hate maybe.I would have liked people to compare me musically with them(though on second thoughts highly unlikely to compare me musically with Kurt,I was never a grunge guy..acid music is what we did),but all they saw was the same self destructive streak.I have kind of developed a paranoia about me living past 27.Both died at around that age.I have 4 years to reach 'em.oh well..Sylvia Plath though is a different kinda person.De.vile if i gather first remarked bout her in one of our talks.I however read about her only when i saw the name again in Saby's link.She seemed to be a real talent with words.A troubled soul nevertheless.And yeah,she too killed herself.I am not gonna kill myself.It's too damn easy.In that sense I am a sadist
.Not that there aren't good moments living in here.I do enjoy the company of certain ppl.But mostly things and people disappoint me.Or as Kurt sang ~Things have never been so swellI have never failed to fail~

And yeah Sebia..i'll write something funny sometime soon.I had the mood to write something nicer today,but that link kinda swayed my moods.

The Wait

The wait is sometimes so delicious.A seething sense of antagonism rises in me.It will quell soon.No worries.I have experienced such endless waits before,and I am quite impervious to their power over me now.And yet,even now,like a faded memory it comes back..the sense of the deliciousness of the wait and the annoyance it brings.It gives me a sensual pleasure to sense that I am sitting so still.My hands are moving over the keyboard,and the whole body is still.Completely still as far as I can notice.There are no thoughts intruding my headspace right now.A single though occupies the empty recess of my brain.--I MUST WAIT.I am not even listening to any music.Which is doubley strange.I only music which I like when I am in such a laid-back-with-no-desire-to-twitch-a-muscle mode is either Radiohead or early Floyd.It's depressing as some might say,but sometimes when the inner depression is being echoed out..it's soothing.I even think that i degrade myself when i call it 'depression'.It's needs a cause.I have none.Maybe it's emptiness.A hollow emptiness.Just like in monuments with high ceilings which aren't corroded by tourists.Where softest whispers are amplified,as if by the silence which hangs in the space b/w the canpoy and the floor.In my case however it's like the noise reaching to such high vibrations that no sound is heard anymore.A quiteness which isn't due to non existant noise,but a noise too unbearable to be recorded by the ears.Dizzying isn't it?Or plain stupid ramblings..don't blame me,I was waiting ,and had nothing better to do.

We are the world.

I wrote this after reading a news article about the death of Terry Shciavo.She didn't mean anything to me,and I am usually unruffled to the point of callousness when it comes to deaths.I have seen some ghastly ones in my lifetime of 23 yrs and they kinda have left me numb.But somehow this death ignited some long lost spark in me.It had died now,ofcourse..and once again I am back to my usual 'i -don't-give-a-damn-about-people' thingy..but i wrote this poem.almost in tears last night.I donno what the fuck touched me there..the new item began with"Terri Schiavo, who had been in a persistent vegetative state for 15 years, has died at age 41. Schiavo's feeding tube was removed 13 days ago, after her parents lost a protracted battle with husband Michael Schiavo for guardianship"..fuck that.


This time it will go away.
It won't hurt that much.
It's just a moment afterall
A night's sleep and a new beginning.

Oh how we fool ourselves
the iron vaults of the numbed heart
sometimes open,oh dreadful pain!
a heart of flesh still quivers.

A silent death,how paradoxical
she probably didn't feel anything
maybe infinite sadness
we would never know..we ever care?

The angels of God might laugh
a great farce follows her departure
please let her die in peace
she never got a chance when she was alive.

Was she ever alive? we would never know..we ever care?