Friday, February 17, 2012

Only One End


And as I leave home,
I think it’s over,
I’ve loosened strings
I’ve lost my cover

And as I let go
Of your hand in mine
I think it’s over
We’ve stopped time

And as I turn this last page
And linger over last words
I feel the emptiness
Moving backwards

And as I hear these last words
And see your eyes close forever
I have you only in mind
With a lowering fever

And as I walk away
And you do too,
I wonder when I’ll walk back
And what I’ll do

And as I think everything is final
And as I want this road to bend
As I wish for some more
Death comes as the end.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Why do I Blog?

Ok, so what is blogging all about?
One, pretty much vomiting out your thoughts as they come and go. Two, getting across your ideas to people who will(or might not) care to read. Three, to vent(oh, yes, very important). Four, for the sake of writing. Five because you're just terribly bored. Six, because things just make more sense on paper(or a screen) than they do in your head. Seven, because it's a nice way to pass your time while you watch some random person picking flowers outside your window(it's better than telling them to buzz off, because that might not end too well). Eight, because you started writing a mail to your friend, and then realized you didn't have much to tell her. Nine, so that people comment on your writing and hopefully tell you it's somewhere about readable(no one will admit this one, but there's the bitter truth). Ten, when even on prodding and namecalling, your roommate refuses to wake from her deep slumber and keep you company in your time of need(read, time of excessive procrastination). Eleven(yeah I know you thought I'd end at Ten, so did I) because you need an opportunity to use the word "procrastination", I mean it's become so cool for some reason. Twelve, because you hope you might be able to entertain someone who happens to trip upon your blog. Thirteen, I won't say because it's an unlucky number. :p Fourteen, because now I really feel the need to get to twenty. Fifteen, because your clothes are refusing to dry due to constant rain, and absolutely no shine. Sixteen, because you know that if you just sit around staring at the ceiling, you'll end up feeling guilty for not studying(yes, nerd, haha.:|) Seventeen, because your fingers need exercise(preferably of the literary kind, heheh.) Eighteen, because you're slightly tired of loading your blog with depressing stuff. Nineteen, because you know this is just a way of delaying another dose of your depressing posts. Twenty, because I really needed to reach here. Twenty One, because sometimes it's nice to contradict yourself.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Coffee and Cigarettes

Note: That movie really inspired me.



A man and a woman walk into a restaurant. It’s an outdoor cafĂ©, with umbrellas casting a shade on each little table. She walks to a table and sits down, just as he is about to pull out the chair for her. His hands fall limply to his sides as she beats him to it. He lamely goes and sits across from her. He has a sheepish look on his face, which he tries to disguise as a casual smile.
“Why are you smiling like that?” she asks as she removes a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. He smiles even more casually, beginning to look a little silly “Oh, you know.”  He can’t quite think of a way to finish the sentence and he lets it go. She frowns at him. “No, not really.”
She sets the pack on the table, leans back and looks around, disinterestedly. “What do you get here?”
“Well…coffee, and other stuff like that. Sandwiches. Pastries. Nice place, isn’t it?” He smiles again. “The umbrellas…”
“Yeah, they’re a little pretentious. Like they’re trying to make us feel French or something.”
She sneers mildly and then glances at him and notices his face fall. She quickly adds “Nice place, otherwise, though…clean, isn’t it?”
“Clean, yeah, spic and span. Pleasant.”
“It reminds me of that place we used to go to back in college, the only fancy place we could afford. What was it called, The Cavern…or The Tavern, or something?”
He laughs happily, “The Caravan. Yeah, it is a bit like that, isn’t it.”
She nods and reaches for the pack and removes a cigarette. “So, coffee?”
“Yes, yes. Been a long, hard day. Need some caffeine!” He stretches leisurely in his chair and then looks around for a waiter, but he can’t spot anyone.
“He’s behind you.” She says drily, and signals to the waiter, “Excuse me? Yes, could we have two coffees please? One black, without sugar. The other with milk…and three spoons of sugar.” As an afterthought, she mutters “Thank you.”
She puts a cigarette in her mouth and digs in her pocket for a lighter. When she looks up, he has a flame ready. He’s reaching across the table waiting patiently to light her cigarette. She hesitates and then leans forward. The cigarette is lit. They both sit back.
“Thanks.”
He smiles obligingly. “So how was your day? Are you tired? Much work?”
She stares at him for a bit, expressionless.
“I woke up at one. Just in time for lunch. To find that there was no food at home. So I went to that takeaway place downstairs and got myself some noodles. Then I showered and watched some T.V. Then I came to meet you.” She grins. “Much work indeed.”
“But it’s a weekday. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I quit my job. So I wasn’t really thinking. Hah!”
“What?! Why? What happened?! Is everything ok?” He reaches out for her hand which is on the table. She pulls it away gently, just out of his reach. She takes a slow drag. “Will you calm down please, it’s not like I killed someone.”
“ Tell me what happened!”
“Oh, c’mon! I can’t be a receptionist all my life. It’s mentally draining. But then I don’t know what I can be all my life. I think I just need a break”
“But…but, you just sit there. I mean…I don’t mean it that way. But you don’t really, really have to do much, do you? I mean…you know.”
“What do you mean?” She laughs. “That’s precisely why it’s so exhausting. I’m so sick of doing just nothing.” She leans forward, elbows on the table. “I mean…you know” and laughs softly.
He looks mildly embarrassed. “Right, so what plans next then? Job interviews? How does your resume look?”
“Bare. But enough about me. I know you’re dying to tell me about your long, hard, tiring day’s ordeal.”
He laughs nervously. “Haha, you make it sound worse than it was. It wasn’t all that bad…I mean.” And he abruptly stops. She smiles, “Well tell me anyway, man.”
He sighs, leans back and launches into it. “You know, it was just a lot of meetings, a lot of clients, phonecalls, sealing deals etc. Had to go talk to the accountant. The amount of money coming in these days!” He laughs pompously, “It’s crazy how much people thrive on electronics. The more they have, the more they buy.”
She seems to be listening but her position slowly changes. Her chin rests on her hand as she nods absentmindedly everytime he pauses.
“The business, it’s very, you know, lucrative. It just never dies. Best way to get rich.” He pauses and then suddenly sits forward, “Which is of course not why I started working in that line. I mean, I was interested. Very much so. In electronics. And the way stuff works.” He finishes the outburst lamely, seeming disappointed with himself. His hands are very active as he speaks, gesturing to accompany every word.
She slides a little lower in her chair and looks around a few times. Then she looks back at him. He’s still talking.
“It’s both interesting and profitable,  is there a better job than that, now? You know…”
“I’m sorry, I really am, but, our coffees still haven’t come. I think I should go ask the waiter.”
“Oh, no, let me! I’ll go ask.” His voice is slightly high pitched with excitement. He smiles inanely and gets up and walks toward the counter.
When he comes back, she has her head in her hands. He prods her cautiously, almost as if she is an explosive that might burst if provoked too much. She starts out of her reverie, or as he thinks, sleep.
“It’ll be here in a minute, the guy said.” And he smiles brightly and sits down.
“It better be.” She mumbles to herself.
“Something wrong? Headache? Tired?”
She looks up sharply at him. “I’m not tired goddamnit! I haven’t done anything to be tired!”
He is a little taken aback by her tone, but accordingly chastised. “Of course, I’m sorry.”
She waves it away with her hand. “Nevermind. What was I saying?”
He straightens up. “Oh yes, I was saying. So, yes, the business is just blooming. And it’s an absolute pleasure to be in it! Oh and the people I meet, oh!”
The waiter brings their coffee. The black coffee for him and the milk coffee for her. They both reach for their cups.
“What about them?”
“Eh?”
“What about them, man? What about the people you meet?”
“Oh, you know, they’re all… not the most charming or flamboyant, or larger than life, or whatever…of course. All businessmen, you know. But they’re all, well, quite…engaging in their own way.”
She has her head in her hands again, but her eyes are looking up at him over her glasses.
“Do you sit at your desk and laugh at them after meetings?”
“Haha, you’re funny. Well I can’t really. They’re all distinguished, respectable men. All my colleagues.”
“No one’s looking at you. I don’t see why you can’t just have a quiet laugh to yourself.”
She’s now sitting up, straight and looking right at him.
He looks down, avoiding her eyes. Then suddenly he looks up at her.
“Well, you know why I don’t laugh at them? Because I don’t think they’re a goddamn joke!” And he falls silent as if that one brief outburst has sapped all his energy.
She sits back, smiling and takes a sip of her coffee. “Now that’s the first interesting thing you’ve said all evening.”
He looks confused, and slightly affronted. He folds his arms indignantly. “All right then, I’ll stop talking.” He thinks a moment. “For a bit.”
“That would be nice, thank you.” Suddenly, “Do you know what I want to do?”
“No, I’m not psychic.” He looks vaguely comical as he sulks. Like a little boy refused a toy.
“Ah, what wit. I’ve always admired your beautiful comebacks.” She winks at him good naturedly. “Anyway, what I want to do is, I want to come join your office, and attend meetings with you and then after the meetings, come sit in your cabin and snigger at all those phonies with you. Hah! What do you think?”
He smiles gently, completely forgetting his sulkiness and is silent for a minute. She watches him expectantly. He keeps looking at her.
“Do you really want to work with me?”
“Yes! I’m sure they could do with a better advertising agent than that Tina. I don’t even think that’s her real name.” She giggles softly.
He downs his remaining coffee in one gulp and stands up, grinning widely. “Well, let’s go work on your resume then. Bare as it is. I’ll just go pay the bill.”
“Right. I’ll come pay my half.”
“No, no. I mean I should pay. I mean…you know.”
“Oh, shutup!”

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Like Movie Memories


You float, we float, in my head.
Even though this bridge is broken.
You said, I said, that we were dead.
But I seem to have just woken.

We intertwine, slowly
Rough copper wires in the sun
In the dark, we are glowing,
The shine, the rust, all one.

These flashes, of fantasy
They sear, they linger,
Don’t know if it’s just a memory
As I feel your lips on my fingers.

I can see your eyes glinting
In this soft slow song
Your movements, they are hinting
That this is right, but it’s mostly wrong.

We ignore the cuts of the whip
Because we laugh together,
And as we take this drunken sip
We feel as light as feather.

We feel like two blades of grass
Yet we’re different blades,
Our greenness, it might come to pass.
As we rush through everglades.

We’re tired, we’re lonely,
We’re sunken so low
We mirror each other
In this fluid snow.

Yet our actions are different
We can’t be the same
Because you can’t accept
And I can’t be tamed.

And as these tangled vines unravel
And sing this dirge to the spirit
In my veins it begins to travel
That everything but my heart is in it.

Friday, October 7, 2011


And Saturn ended its slow spin
Its rings they whizzed like my mind
Something choked its turn
Something hollow, unkind

The drums, they were beating
Softly against the earth
Like my heart beats
Slower, faster, alternating from birth

Sickeningly sweet, this sudden sunshine
Blinding me and everyone around
Speaking its loud words as though
There cannot be any other sound

Sparks of love, they burst from me
But sparks of hate, they soar and fly
They reach the curve of Saturn
As I watch the rings spin in my mind’s eye

When that world up there can be so plain
From this distance of light
Why can’t I go closer and explain
What it should be, and what it instead might.

There are voices floating above the clouds
I’ve heard them in my waking dreams
There are colours that mix and swirl
I’ve seen them but to touch them I never seem.

I can say these things to everyone
But they still won’t know me well
They will never know the truth
The gorge that inside swells.

It might be easy to circumvent
This path of dark loneliness
But that world up there, it gives me peace
When it promises its yellow bliss.

Speak of what is, speak of what is not
But don’t tell me what you really think
Because I’ll steal it away from you
I’ll make it wreak, I’ll push you to the brink.

I’ll push you so far, you’ll balance on those rings
Those spinning circles of firedust
I’ll dangle you from the edge
Until  you break the murderous lust.

It might consume you, it might eat me up
It will fill you like ants in a corpse
Its dread is its eternal poison
Because it rises from floods, and leaves only drops.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Forced Confusion


Forced thinking
Such a compulsion
Forced feeling
Needs propulsion

Strangers talking
Slightly unnatural
Swishing their ideas
At each other, so forceful

Loud loud voice
Making yourself known
Whether you like that self
Whether it’s really your own

Look at someone
Across the room
Size them up slowly
As they consider you

Drift away from
Present conversation
Move purposefully
To a new destination

Socialize with
A devil’s intent
Spread your way through
With a cancerous scent

Signal slowly
For another glass
This moment needs
Wit and class

Drawl, drawl away
Your deep ideas
Mystify
What is clear

Claw slowly
At your own face
Bathe in this
Intellectual embrace

Call it pseudo
Call it delusion
Call it a need
For forced confusion.


Thursday, September 29, 2011

As Much As I Want To, I Cannot.


Never say a word, don’t mention yourself.
Keep the silence, keep your mind.
Don’t say a thing, don’t speak aloud,
Even when it weighs heavy inside

Lets not be foolish, lets not find a friend,
Lets be alone, for a while, for life.
Shut it all out, or shut it all in,
Even when it cuts through like a knife.

Not to be virtuous, or a martyr,
But to save yourself the coming agony
Don’t spend too long, being attached,
Because severing yourself is the irony.

For something lingers, after every minute spent,
In the solitude of another’s mind.
Something stays and refuses to leave,
And whatever left it there, is hard to find.

Like holding the air, it seems so easy,
Until it slips through your own cold palms,
And leaves behind a void to fill
But nothing to fill it, only a restless calm.

The calm is so simple, because you’re alone.
But those thoughts, they echo with disturbance,
The cave that is built seems so dark,
The mind feels so full of silence.

Something is missing, a piece of me,
I’ve given it away, I’ve lost,
I thought it would bring me peace of soul,
But I curse now, what it has cost.

I know that I will never stop myself,
I know that I will want to try.
Yet I know that as one pulls me left,
The other will keep drawing me right.