The Canister

Walking

2011-12-31T00:49:00.000+03:00

A silhouette in the distance
The streetlamps cast their lights
Momentarily cast a flickering glow
On his round hat, his trench coat.
He walks.
Though the night is dark
Though not a soul is awake.
Wandering, searching,
yearning
Craving for what he knows not.
He walks.
His eyes are dead hollows
Mystical allure
Of the darkness within him.
He walks.
He moves with purpose
His steps are firm, resolute
His black worn out boots
Yet to see the light of day.
Well past the witching hour

He treads.
He walks.
He walks alone.

The Clan Falleth

2011-03-01T20:43:00.006+03:00

"But kindred elves we be,
How canst thou slay thine own family?"
"Mine thirst for power must be quenchd'd,
The darknes within me keeps me enthrench'd..."
And Dwin'rae slayed his brethren
The land bled,he spared no friend.
The sacrifice made, he awaited.
The ritual pillage done, his soul dissipated,
Calmly ebbing; The Elven Curse didst fall,
Dwin'rae had doomed his clan, once and for all.

An Insufficient Tribute

2011-01-27T22:59:00.005+03:00

He came at a time no mortal man was ready for. His speed, his inhumane abilities could never have been foreseen. He is nothing short of superhuman, his 'Airness' is a reincarnation of the God of Basketball in flesh and blood. No other man so rightly deserves that acclaim, the very fabric of the noble sport stitched into his skin. None could could stop him, none could catch up with him. Gravity seems to seep away as this celestial being rises above all others, his weapon of choice none other than himself. Words are lost, there is nothing but amazement; speechlessness arises out of sheer awe. Some might claim him to be the best, there is a reason why. His name commands respect, and no other being deserves it as richly as this man does. Michael Jordan. A Legend. The Legend.

"To Air is not human, its essence Divine."

The Curse

2010-12-11T10:21:00.005+03:00

Mayst thine nightly slumbers,
Be possessed, dreary, encumbered;
Mayst the accursed flames of Hell,
Despised by all, wretched beyond compel;
Consume thee, thine flesh of despair,
O ye, mayst thou suffer beyond compare.
Burn, quench my bloodlust,
Spill your guts, I thirst,
For thine sinewy agony,
Thine tortured cries, mine undying harmony.

Haiku - 1

2010-11-04T10:32:00.003+03:00

(Hope I got the number of syllables right.)

From air comes forth fire,
Round infinitesimal wicks;
Thine destiny blazes.

Ay Jay: A Study Part 1

2010-09-11T01:05:00.002+03:00

Due to an overdose of pure idiocy and skullduggery which is ever present in the Ay Jay's overloaded mush of a brain, we observe that he is unable to comprehend the very essential things that matter most, such as a career or education. But one must admit, passions ought to be respected. After all, to each is his own man. And a noble sport such as Basketball which Ay Jay honours from the very depths of his throbbing heart ought to be respected even more. From whence this obsession, dare I call it, comes from is unknown. But it is clearly observed that a major portion of both of Ay Jay's conscious and sub-conscious mind have been possessed by Basketball. Many have tried to wrench it out of his complex and yet simple system. But all efforts were in vain. For an obsession such as this is akin to Love, maybe even deeper. For Love is in Ay Jay's opinion a silly way to waste one's time by being completely icky, gooey and mushy. But Basketball on the other hand is true, faithful and undoubtedly constant for one's Love for Ballin' can never diminish, it can only grow stronger. It is not mere passion that fuels this inextinguishable blaze; it is sweat, fury, adrenaline, and the will to win. The agility, speed and effort, the submitting of oneself entirely body, mind and soul is surely justifiable, is it not? And yet, facts remain as facts. In this conservative society, things such as further advancement in one's non-educational quests are unauthorised, looked down, and scoffed at. Even if one wishes to pursue a career in Journalism, or in fine hints such as Literature, one can expect to be denied one's wishes inevitably. For you must only have a career as an Engineer, a Doctor or a C.A. But alas, I digress. Further delving into Ay Jay's brain shows us that although he is capable of doing great things, his laziness tends to overshadow everything else. A remedy for this affliction of his is still under research, although it is found that when it comes to matters concerning Basketball, we observe that his laziness immediately disappears and he is pumped up and psyched. Why this happens is believed to be mainly because he finds everything else counter-productive to his existence. And yet, surprisingly we find that despite his laziness, he does wash himself everyday, which is very ironic because his area of inhabitance is a very accurate resemblance of a pigsty.

Continued….

The Paranoia of Life

2010-05-11T22:31:00.009+03:00

The darkness reigns
Fire falls
All hell breaks loose
All around the deathly chambers
The stench and reek of death looms above;
Quartered and mangled
The bodies all lay
The skulls in a pile
Homicidal psychopaths
Deeds so dark and dreary
People fear to speak of them
The darkness reigns
Flowing through veins
Fury falls, flowing forever
Preying upon the lives of the innocent
Hearts burn with pent-up anger,
Repressed sorrow and fear
The darkness reigns;
Fear my little child
You must know, you must fear
Life is expendable
No time to waste on tears
Dreams shattered
Sorrow in abundance
Suffering and misery
All around you
The evil and darkness around us
May be hidden
Fear it, believe it
Stand up against it and fight
Evil reigns around you
Tempting tendrils coil
And reach out for you
Claiming one victim after another
The darkness reigns;
Monsters slink in the shadows
Awaiting the night, awaiting
For their prey, for thine lonesome being;
Acts committed so dark and evil
That no one man can comprehend;
Those dark and evil monsters
Feed upon thy flesh;
The darkness reigns.

The Raging River

2010-04-30T13:12:00.000+03:00

There once flowed rushing rapids, strong, fierce and tameless... But alas, it was hoarded and water now flows as a mere trickle... But the barriers weaken, and the river wishes to flow once again in all its glory.... But can it? Should it? Its flow unlike before may not be the same... It may flow along different meandering paths... It may break and finally flow as feeble streams, back along the barely feeble streams...... It may even pass into nothingness… Only time will tell.

Shady, Aftermath...

2010-02-23T19:04:00.003+03:00

TinyURL and bit.ly shorten your URLs, but this one packs quite a punch, I say...

Disclaimer

2010-02-09T22:35:00.002+03:00

This applies to all work including but not limited to text, audio, video or images published in this blog. No piece of work can be ripped off, or in evasive terms, 'borrowed'. If thou wishes to do so, thou mayst request by stating thy purpose of work usage and other relevant details mentioned under the post you wish to borrow. Any resemblance to living or non-living beings or objects, fictional or non-fictional may or may not be intended. The author does not take responsibility for flaming or related issues, by various other third parties, mainly in the comments section. If thou feels that thou hath been insulted, then thou canst leave thine thoughts in the Comments Section. All work is original unless otherwise mentioned. Most of the pictures within the blog are from devaintart, a brilliant collection of artwork. If thou feels that the blog author has ripped off any piece of work or due credit has not been given, then you may leave your rants in the comments section under the post in question. Anything and everything in this blog cannot be used in a court of law or in a dictatorship or other institutions as evidence to bust the blog author. The blog author has the right to remain silent. Anything the author says or types cannot be used against the author, so on and so forth. Any contradictions can be mentioned in the Comments section under the post in question. Peace.

Where Are The Critics And What Have You Done With Them??

2009-09-12T17:17:00.005+03:00

Everybody's a critic. So, where are you critics? Have you been abducted? Been absconding? Or on a break? You're never around when I need you.... It's not like I'm sensitive to criticism or anything, rather I'm in need of it..... Where's the !@*(&%^ critics?????? Give me the criticism, the opinions, the slander, the dissing........ You're torturing me.......

Hair-Brained Schemes

2009-08-04T15:42:00.007+03:00

By the time they reach puberty, or in most cases way before, the general section (read vast majority) of the male population acquire a sense of obsession with their manes. If any of you humans have not encountered any of these lock-combing-addicted males, then welcome home from your trip to Mars.

Aye, this species of the human race is as common as mosquitoes in India. The author, albeit being a male, has no idea why his fellow members of the species are so darned attached to their tresses. He is not into the concept of a comb or hair gel or shampoo or whatnot, unlike other males. The author finds no purpose in these flimsy habits of combing (or hygiene for that matter).

He prefers going bald as it gives freedom and relieves stupidities such as those mentioned above. And so, once, having been enraged by constant bickering, he threatened to shave his head as he’d had enough. Pops said, “We’ll see whether you do that.” And so, a trip to the barber’s was due [Oh no, will he do it? Will he do it??? Read on, dear reader.]

On entering the black carpeted (covered in hair, duh!) edifice of the barber, the author requested a complete shave. The barber (Mallu guy, poor bloke, he was too darned misinformed), baffled by such request by a teenager to have his mane chopped off, asked whether he’d just heard me say I wanted a clean shave [I know, those darned Mallus are everywhere. 1 out of 2 readers of this post is a Mallu]. Of course, yours truly replied. Waddyu looking at me like that for????, added the author in his mind.

And so, reluctantly, Barber Boy picked up his handy-dandy razor and began. Believe me, although it’s a friggin’ blade scraping at yer scalp, it sure don’t feel like it. Stroke after stroke, it went on. Having successfully eliminated that black pain-on-the-scalp, he surveyed his work. Not bad, if I say so meself. Hey, is that a leprechaun?(Hell no, he didn’t say that unless he was Irish or something!). Having run a hand over the oh-so-smooth surface that was now the author’s head, he’d gotten up, and bread exchanged hands.

As he stepped out of the shop, sheer ecstasy passed through his veins [No, not the dope, although I wouldn’t mind trying some out ;)]. For ‘twas a windy a day, and absotulutely no feeling can be compared to that. Until tried out (Ten bucks says you won’t) it is not understood by lock fancying pansies.

Now, the reader might be wondering, for quite some time, why in the name of Merlin’s baggy tes ..um.. trousers would he do that. Ah, the answer is that ever since the author was a wee little Ay Jay, he despised combing that darned black thingamajing on his scalp.

Having succeeded in completing his quest, Sir Ay Jay ventured home, having defeated the evil black dragon. As soon as he entered back in his lair, fellow lair-mates, on seeing the clean, polished surface that was now his scalp, their mouths had made lots of space to accommodate their foots, in sheer WTF????? Ah, said Ay Jay, Thou hast seen what I hath prophesised. ‘Tis me destiny, and none of thine sarcasm shalt deny me mine fate.

And, that night, he enjoyed the calm soothing feeling of an ice-cold pillow on his bald pate, waiting for the next day, wondering.............. To stupidity, and beyond!!

Dans L'Inde

2009-06-29T08:00:00.016+03:00

View from the apartment where I stay in India:

Rain clouds a-gathering

All green

Dusk view of above

Juvy Jail School

The Lay-Up

2009-05-07T19:06:00.006+03:00

Thump thump thump... The opponent charges in... Raises the ball for a shot......Rejection!! No. 7's tapped the ball away with an awesome defensive move and grabs it..... The ball's moving down the court.....He's just a blur.....He goes through the defense, breaking their barriers..... He does a crossover....Marks his target..... Fakes, fooling the defender....... Jumps up..... Raises his hand up with the ball.... He soars.... He shoots..... The ball bounces off the board, moving ever so slowly..... The crowd waits with fingers crossed in anticipation...... The ball rolls around the rim.... And he SCORES!!!!..... The crowd cheers... He thumps his fist in the air, savouring the moment........

The Time Cometh

2009-03-05T20:20:00.004+03:00

The tide of time has washed me onto a rugged shore of rocks and pebbles. Yes, my fellow earthlings, I have finally reached that period in my life where I'm supposed to be enjoying the fragrance of those schoolbooks more (or rather a helluva lot more) than I usually do. I've reached the Tenth Standard. Study, study, study, study and study some more. That is the general policy to be applied. Just to get some marks in some exam that'll decide my entry into some college, ie, if I screw up, I screw up the rest of my life. Sounds rather calming and soothing, doesn't it??
It seems like only yesterday when I was trying to mug up all of them Math multiplication tables.........