Canvas Blank

You don't walk in my boots,
You don't wear my skin,
You don't know my roots,
You don't make my kin,
You don't live my life,
You don't bear my strife.
So judge me not by what you hear or what you see,
For I'm not what you think I might or might not be.

So judge me not by the paint on my face or shabby tattered drape,
For you've never seen by my eyes nor ever casted my shade.


I've read from the pages of people in this moving library,
And talked to the chapters of a book as if a kin dearie.
Some calligraphed smelled aged but with the corners chapped,
While others were new paper crisp but intellect sapped.
Some brimmed with sophistry but prosed pretty wise,
While others were flashy illustrious but quite ugly inside.


Hence, I humble began with a broken easel and a canvas blank,
On it painted my dreams with pigments of flowing sand.

Muses tittered at the looks of my plain pale apparels,
My art had me courted beauties of unimaginable parallels.
Following show-bibles still absolute maverick in my own way,

I smear it with the paints, painting portrait of an eternal soliloquy.

Humor Divine

Standing amidst all, in a gaudy gala of the masquerade

Leaving lies of the light, he seeks truth of the shade

He walks silently, within the shadows pitch black

With swiftly paced steps, unstopping in the track

His glance scribe a story, for each untold question

And foretell mute prophecy, for all ignored commotion

Sees heads with dozen masks, but no faces underneath

All eyes toiling to smile, all hearts struggling to breathe

Dreams of their future, are nightmares of his days old
And their sobs of tomorrow, he sighs them today cold

So he breaks the fourth wall, and then shouts out mute
Looks up and asks Him, a reason for the act so rude

But skies still were all silent, as they always have been
Just puzzles without hints, veiling whatever they mean

Dejected he shut his eyes, and let out solitary tear sad
With deep breaths in, he muted the world around mad

And then only he found it, as lone lamp in the mist
Beauty worth all, mused on the strings of that soloist

Leaning in a corner, the music played as soothing smile
Still crowd rushed on, miser for a moment worthwhile

Pulled with tipsy eyes, he forgot all that's been wrong
Soloist handed him a fiddle, told to go and play along

So he chose another nook, with the fiddle in his hand
And played his heart's song, doing magic without wand

So he too played for thirsty ears, uncaring if yours or mine
Enjoying the dance now smiling, at the hidden humor divine.

So I choose my own ...


Bored of the faces living in a daze

bored of the rats running a mad race

Now running short of illusions to chase 

I'm running short of sights that amaze

So I choose my own races to run

and choose my own crossroads to turn

I choose my own typhoons to sail

and choose my own peaks to scale

So I pick my own evils to side

and pick my own battles to ride

I pick my own threads to think

and pick my own poisons to drink

Now I foresee future and the hands of fate

As world grows and adapts, I watch and wait

history gets written on this very date

many will ignore but others will hate

people will hiss and boo, some will shout and cry

and the trials will be fake, the stakes will be dry,

Iron shackles but free, I shall wait for my turn

but smiling still say, I chose my own way to burn ...

Partially inspired from  : http://zenpencils.com/comic/108-sophie-scholl-the-fire-within/

Flightless Orizuru

This is me fantasizing what if all my wishes would come true . And comparing it with the reality and still keeping hope to keep going. Orizuru (Japanese) meaning folded crane. According to old Japanese beliefs if you fold a thousand paper cranes a wish of yours comes true.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sadako_and_the_Thousand_Paper_Cranes

                                                                                 

Only if paper cranes flew

All my wishes would come true

Some hung pretty, strung thousand in a lace

Some perched on table, sidelong aesthetic vase

Some full patterned, colours several a piece

Some simple white, still handsome indeed

Some lie on floor, as angry crumpled lump

Some torn to half, in a waste paper dump

Some drew blood, with paper cuts deep

Some tainted soggy, with last night's weep

But on all hills of joy, in valleys of pain

Amid forest of efforts, wandering lost insane

I march on ahead, till the life-moon wanes

& keep searching treasure, 

keep folding paper cranes

Still ,

Only if paper cranes flew....

                                                                                        -Soloist

(Autumn Leaves)

Symptoms

When the head meets a quake  ,

               at the inception of a thought .

When the eyes dream awake ,

               watching a battle being fought .

Mind turns oblivious ,

               to the existence of beings .

And senses turn numb ,

               to the charm of things .

Time zooms past ,

               seasons halt and commence .

Whims feel puny ,

                and trivial in essence .

Hypnosis of future ,

               its beauty, its sheen .

All symptoms of a soul ,

               haunted by a dream .

 

Sunshine 

 

Blow like a leaf in zephyr

Flow like a pebble in nile

Fall like a drop in monsoon

But shine like winter sunshine

 

Down The Philosopher's Lane 

When on this road I stepped, 2 things I was told,

Insanity waits at the end, and you will be standing all alone.

Away from time and reality, I searched for the truth untold,

Sometimes stopped and looked back, but still wanted to walk more.

Now I stand at the end, inside a light flickering with fear,

Insanity now I  what it is, for they were right, there is no one near.

So to those who hear these sounds, I still haven’t lost any hope.

I want to go back and prove, prove them wrong just once more.

-- from my philosopher friend , Prashant

DEFINITIONS .......

There is a  big turbulent ocean .This ocean is the collection of ideas , beliefs , moments , questions , answers ,pleasure , regrets , truths , lies , which  I experience , understand , awe at and/or am unable to fathom.
This is full of perls ,corals and rubies. 
This is the depth and the blue which I seek to gauge .
This is the blanket which finally hides the sky in its bosom.
Its breeze gently blows a feather and its typhoon rips out the trees . It is both serene and violent .
I have made a boat . I have set on a quest through this ocean .
I call this quest : the life



There are waves in this ocean . These waves rock the my vessel and of several others who have dared to ,who are daring to and who will dare to navigate through it . I try to brave those who come my way and sway my boat . I meet several other vessels on the way .
Some lost , some steadfast .
Some in a dinghy , some in a galley .
Some with a beacon , some darker than the night itself.
They all seek something . Few of them have a map ,many follow others and the rest are simply lost.
I desire and seek the island of truth . Its stories have always amazed me and its questions puzzled me . I dream of its treasures and its riches .
I call this adventure : the purpose 



This ocean is bigger than me like the sun in front of a firefly . It is full of fire and light at the same time. It is :
Something which is too far yet so warm .
Something to fear from and desire for at the same time . 
Something which is majestic yet it can be covered by a single thumbnail in a perspective .
It is something which enables every living entity to survive and yet it can destroy everything in minutes . All live under its face in the day and sleep under its image at night . It affects them all . It causes them all.
I wish to imitate its light . I wish to copy its warmth . I wish to be its believable imposter .
I call this wish : the dream

IMAGINE .....

Close you eyes , just listen to the hum ..
& imagine a battle with a beating war drum.

Feel the gust , with the ruffling of hair ..
& picture a hawk ,under the sky, blue, bare .

Breathe in the pollen , blowing in the street air ..
& roam around in Eden , happy , devoid of care .

Savour the nuance of a freshly baked bread ..
& relish ambrosia on mount olympus in the head .

Observe the red sun, of the dusk , of the dawn ..
& dream slaying a dragon with a sword of a pawn .


Just imagine the moment and dream for the day  ..
that won't make it shorter ,but will brighten the way !

Days ...

Some days are yellow bright and some dark grey ;
Some hail from December and others bloom in may ;
But the day ,when it all ends and finally I lay ;
It will be glad to know that I smiled all my way .