Don't make me your Hero!

I just do things. I do what I like at the moment. 

There is little justification to what I do except for momentary happiness.

If my actions seem to predict a long term plan, 

I certainly raise this claim that it is not my conscious action. 

They are mere coincidences. 

You are the one who joined the dots,

you are the one who is farsighted.

So, if think you are inspired by the potential success of a diligent man

then you are wrong. 

You are just far sighted. 

Cash that skill and maybe someone will see this gift in their own self.

So, let those false prophets go and think for a moment,

What have you done? What have you accomplished?
So much, if you just opened your eyes!

You were the one that survived the rat race to existence and kissed the embryo,

if it seems that common then that is because you compare,

how dare you, how dare you compare yourself to others,

when you are the beacon of hope,

the light, no one but you can do those things,

bring joy to your mother, pride to your father,

or ask questions in the dark like,

"What if god was one of us?"

and then sing that song and just as you see the random stranger,

hum that song, don't stop that beat!

That needs skill and you my friend will see,

that even giants need gravity,

to stand their ground and say I exist!

So exist god damn it,

Don't just live, leave your mark in history and

go explore every degree of success that you can achieve,

because believe in yourself and not me,

don't make me your hero,

set me free of that bondage!

Your body isn't a wonderland

I don't know how to play the guitar but if I did,

there would million songs about you,

about your eyes specially, those clear eyes,

and you wouldn't mind when I looked at you funny,

you wanted me to look at you that way,

you were happy with what I offered,

but I offered less than others could,

How could a day dreamer feed you with compliments,

when he doesn't even find you beautiful?

He couldn't care about the beauty,

he would be that stupid guy who saw nothing but her eyes and,

how they read those lines he wrote,

he would never be happy with that red sleek dress you wore,

he would rather be silent and demand solitude 

than give you attention for that sort of thing,

he is a weird breed, cosmetic beauty isn't his forte,

neither does have a greed that the girl has the milkiest of skin,

and silkiest of hair, even pashmina would fell rough,

and your slender body, would he say something,

he wouldn't, his lips were sealed by yours!

Maybe he was that awkward guy you'd see on the streets,

roaming around looking at the tall buildings,

in his own mind pondering over his short comings,

living in the past at the present moment and thinking about the future,

future where he hasn't imagined about you,

not because he's an asshole who deosn't care,

but because he cannot care, he isn't built for that,

his internal machine does not cover the software for empathy,

while his hardware for tears actas when you read his favorite book,

tha voice, oh rejoice he feels, this so called "human being",

the textbook definiton of an anti-social animal,

who wouldn't want discover that your body is a wonderland!

Greece

The gods had thunder and power,

They were immortals and non-beings,

creators of the world and the elements,

yet not far from emotions of humans!

Fear, anger, hatred and love,

all of these emotions they project,

risking all their credo as Gods,

are they even Gods?

But they are the ones who make it right,

the decision makers, the law,

the jury and the judge,

of Greece and the world itself!

Sleepless

I have no sleep tonight

Things did not go as planned today,

things come up without notice,

death itself plays its part.

But the thought of failure haunts me,

taunts me into submission,

to give up all that I have done,

yet I muster up strength to fight on!

What a stupid thought,

fight on, struggle,

Haven't I learned enough?

Oh yes! I remember,

I am an insomniac and I never sleep!

I have no complaints

You have taken me hostage and the idea,

the idea of the perpetual motion is at your reach,

and yet you my friend, cannot grasp it,

because fear and guilt cloud judgment,

right is left and wrong is true but false is correct,

but the bottom line is that you are confused!

That's immortality in that paper right there,

read it, achieve omnipotence you moron, 

but you start your tiresome monologue,

You've waited for this moment, I know,

You have had your fair share of defeats I know,

This is your moment, I know, Cash it!

But like every other antagonist you make a mistake,

you give the protagonist a chance,

but I am no protagonist, I am the anti-hero,

I do not know mercy, I know death, I know revenge,

But your pitiful existence is a mere play,

What would I do without you?

You are the yang to my ying,

My sweet grape wine when I am your lemon,

you and I share a deep bond, deeper than mighty love,

longevity of hope and the fury of the anger,

and then death do us apart,

But this deep bond of hate never ends, does it?

That Pain

Sing the songs of the war, then peace,

stanzas, lines and rhymes, bravery,

the stories of courage and the mighty victor,

the loser shall perish and be the dust in the wind,

time changes and alters, history becomes a myth,

reality becomes a story and life becomes a legend!

Soldiers, warriors and kings they stand equal,

Aye orders there may be and the chain of command,

but the blade and the bullet know no distinction,

then the blood drops and satiates the hunger,

left, right, front and back enemies all around,

Fight not just mortals but the reality itself!

Blood and gore, and death collects,

pain and agony, Satan smiles,

hate and anger, vices and sins pile up and you,

a soldier, mother, a son, a lover, a father, a child,

you are the wounded, be that your own guns,

fire them away, like a reflection in the mirror!

It is not like a moving picture or a simulation,

where you could choose sides, death or life,

but then you do choose, gun or agony,

agony of waiting, persistence and patience,

that pain, that pain of the wife, mother and child,

that pain of the motherland! Ahh that pain!

Shunya is Zero

The universe they say, was created in a big bang,

Energy, light, heat, plasma and matter, anti-matter,

all that it was to be created, was created,

But then what was the void, before all of that!

It was then I was answered, with that white board,

White like the eternal emptiness,

An empty canvass to be painted,

Shunya with nothing and lost in that Zero,

the canvas slowly painting itself!

Then where was the brush and where was the hand,

the canvas was in a harmonic swing,

it was Mozart I think, that distinct rhythm,

I should have guessed the way the colors moved,

Every stoke and every swish, flush of lights, explosions,

and then creation, hot red and cooling down,

not the paint, not the art but the canvas itself,

Infinite art from the shunya!

Then it the canvas gets bigger, bigger as it paints itself,

Stretches to the absence, the void,

 and the white board strikes me even more,

Do the words stretch beyond  the realms of the board,

does the ink spill outside the canvas,

and then does it paint or does it travel far,

far to create a new canvas and a new art,

but the void still exists beyond the realms of the canvas,

And the creator, the painter and the artist fills the absence!

Everything seems alright

Maybe I was lost in this maze which people call world,

and I was preoccupied with the fact that I did not know,

your existence was in fact not a coincidence and I,

Miss Sunshine was confused what I wanted,

I didn't find you until now, until all that past went away,

you fair maiden were found just to save me!

I was there to save you, save you from loneliness,

you and me in our own distances and barriers,

barriers of geography, biology, gender and race,

even the hundred meter sprint was too far,

missing you every second of every dreadful step,

But one step closer to where you are!

Maybe were foolish or childish even,

but we knew we were strangers yet familiar faces,

what if we spoke the same and acted different,

what if you were as lonely as I am,

what if I was as interested as you were,

We would only know when we meet and we shall meet,

and everything will seem alright!

Can I say, I still miss you?

I know you never felt the same for me,

Or the fact that I was just your friend,

But I always had the right to care for you,

No matter the amount of attention you gave to me,

You were always the center of my attention,

But you never noticed that because you were busy,

Busy with your world and I was a small part of it!

It hurt when you left without saying goodbye,

you were like the leaves of winter,

frozen and cold to my presence,

and the roses never bloomed after that,

It was ever lasting winter with tears falling like dew,

and you leaving made a void,

not in my heart but in my life!

But then you called back,

I never heard from you,

Even the world of web had no idea,

that the spider didn't want to weave any webs,

and the string was already broken!

But after all of that ,

Can I say, I still miss you?

Writing Papers

I never imagined the view from the dorm would be this good,

Neither did I imagine the full extent of the possibility,

that I, would be studying in a college,

College with its mighty glory and reputation.

But the fact was, I was only after education,

After my previous recollection,

Given my humble beginnings and humble start,

My love for the Liberal Arts!

This love dragged me into writing,

Writing and testing and pushing,

Myself into Interviews, SATs and College Applications,

Finally worth the wait searching for  a competent institution,

Competent for all its resources and might,

Google and College board, my best friends in the night!

An finally, one day the hour of the imminent decision,

Heart Pounding moment of exact Precision!

Precision of a wise choice as it granted me favors,

Favors of classes, professors and ultimately a placement,

placement into the system of valued education, 

into the life of a college kid,

Kid from humble start,

In the Liberal Arts!

And after all the scholarship and fee waivers,

finally leading to Writing Papers!

I have no idea what to write!

So, one day he comes up and tells me,

"Mate, I am having problems! Serious Problems!",

and I said, "Don't tell me she wasn't 18?",

 He replied, "It is much more serious! I can't write!"

Now, I've known him for a long time, 

from bottle problems to girl problems, 

this cheery mate of mine never came to me,

but now as his mortality was flashing before his eyes,

He just realized he was facing death.

Did he fear mortal wound?

No! But he did fear the fatality of losing the touch,

to write and create words that inspire,

that never expire and live on as immortals,

his characters larger than life itself and he more of a practical man,

man that had no plan with rugged shirt and a dirty shoes,

ink all over his pants or is it some other juice?

I dare not ask for his mistresses are none of my concern,

he my friends is a true artist!

He doesn't paint, on the contrary he is can't draw,

but he sure can write, used to anyways,

those rhymes and those nuances and those emotions,

women moaned with orgasm when they read his words,

men cried with testosterone filled cries,

children sang songs with the free verse he wrote,

it was as if God spoke through him!

Never could they say that this booze soaked man,

with love life as big as his mustache, Short and rough!

Now, this man is at a writer's block and how am I to guide him,

He is a legend and I am a writer,

there's a difference in that,

But a writer's block is a writer's block,

and only a writer can get over it,

not a legend, because legends can't get writer's block,

They retire! And so he did! 

Status Quo

Things that go bump in the night are not the scariest,

But the ones that shine in the light are,

hidden in plain sight as they roam,

roam free and wild these monsters,

The devil we know may be more innocent,

Than the devil we don't because righteousness is  only skin deep,

The real face hides behind the mask of integrity.

Integrity of dreams, hopes and personalities,

Demagogues and their hoodlums proving right for wrong,

Wrong for right and it seems right that we follow,

Who wouldn't follow a man in white suit in daylight?

For those in the shadows dress black and speak of honesty, 

honesty to self that scares us the most.

Honesty for both right and wrong committed by self!

That petrifies us, for all of us are sinners,

Under the table, behind closed doors, behind shut windows,

We all have something to hide, something to confide,

Someone somewhere someplace always lies,

To the mere fact of the sin he commits,

and he looks for a way out, just like others,

and there stands the false prophet ready to get them under his hood!

His hood is big and wide, covers everything,

Sins, good deeds, thoughts of progress and life,

life he so holds dearly holds precious,

Yet claims every life as his own to taken,

taken by force and might, future bleak,

 that future of that life he claims to take!

The prophet lives on even as his mortal body withers,

because he walks in the daylight and wears white,

scares the truth tellers away for they scare,

they are the demons and he the righteous,

they are the shadows and he the light,

His heart the darkest and their hearts the white!

Lines that Paint

A picture has a thousand words,

But they miss the voices,

The subtle tone, volume and change in tempo,

As these voices roam,

So does my mind,

Will I ever be like them?

Then there's him,

The loudest of those voices,

Resonating like an Echo among all others,

Pushing everyone around him forward,

forward to the horizon,

Where the colors shine!

Am I on the same boat?

He answers, "Of course you are,

Paint all you can and wipe with white,

paint again, until you see a masterpiece,

And then I will say it was there all along!"

But the first step is the hardest,

The Pen is the heaviest,

The paper the hardest to carve,

Harder than stone,

Nevertheless, I will carve and I will travel

travel, just like he said on the same boat!

No Heading

Why is it that you think that?
I think that because I believe in this,
But the fact of the matter is,
These twisted words have no meaning,
For their ambiguous flow have no purpose,
Like a ship without a crew,
Like me without you!

Like me without you,
Like a mountain without the morning dew,
and the train without its rail,
existing and useless at the same time,
incapable of a majestic sight,
Without a path, Without a Heading!

But then I am independent,
your existence is but a mere confidence,
To drive, to push, to turn, to shift,
This train with an old engine,
With an extreme makeover,
Because a rail is nothing without a train anyways!

Sometimes, I don't think!

To think that I have eyes,

yet I see no more than a sheep,

Loud and vicious are those voices,

Sight is the least of my worries!

The picture painted in the canvas,

Meets no urgency to my interests,

But the meat in the plate does,

For all sheep are lions in the den!

Learn from the past wise cattle,

Learn that four legs need not make you same,

Fur is different than wool,

and roar is different from a bleat!

Yet the monkeys command me,

Monkeys with their tails reverse,

Lion or sheep doesn't matter,

because a cage is a cage, no matter what!

Won't go home without you!

I am trying be easy when you say Goodbye,

But the pain that you leave makes me cry,

If it was tomorrow it would have been better,

Still, I stand at the terminal holding your letter.

and I can't still figure what went wrong,

What was it that shook the foundations so strong?

I can't say goodbye to you,

Please take me too!

It must be too bad to think it through,

To know that what you saw was true,

When you know the guy was real,

It was your heart he wanted to steal,

But you decided to guy anyway,

On the day that was supposed to be his Birthday!

I can't say goodbye to you,

Please take me too!

I was happy for a moment to hear your voice,

When it was months we were apart without a choice,

I know that cheap tricks aren't my style,

But I wanted to surprise you because it's been a while,

However, you had to go no matter what,

Ended something that you once gave a start!

Still I want to say, please take me too,

I won't go home without you!

Hurt

You know that you have that special talent.

That eye for the best things in the world.

You could spot a renaissance painting with a touch,

You could judge a wine by the sniff of its bottle,

But you my friend are clueless for the matters of the heart.

The only skill that matters in the emotional fray!

You could save a child from a burning home, 

or even win the martial art tournament, 

But your talents lay at waste,

when even the simplest words hurt you like thorns!

Nay daggers! Daggers through your heart!

You and heart, your precious heart!

You think I am your enemy now, don't you?

A man who uncovered your weakness, 

that is your folly friend, for I am you!

That voice inside your head, suppressed for all those years!

Suppressed for all that greatness, and what for?

Just to get hurt by tears! Those tears!

That lovely face of hers reminds of a memory,

A memory not real but imaginative, of a boy,

Who loved a Princess that never existed,

a figment of his imagination!

All that he could when he saw her for real was stay numb,

Numb because her tears hurt like daggers!

Shy

I am waiting for a girl to notice me,

The way that I notice her smile.

That smile of mixed emotions 

that could make you wonder, 

Is this what Da Vinci saw?

No, probably not! 

He could not fathom the feeling with a mere painting!

Maybe I am too naïve to call you a work of art, 

or maybe the world is a fool, 

To tell me that such emotions are but fool's errands.

But the fool is only a fool when the wise say, 

but who is to name the wise when fools run free!

Fools like me!

Fools for you, dear you!

You shall be the dauntless, the nameless, 

yet you have thousand names.

Beloved, Amore and so many more

but then would it be wise to call you, 

When I do not know you or how you feel.

Maybe it is just my eyes and emotion's flow!

When I see your face with that glow!

Keep Smiling!

All the lonely People, where do they all belong

All the lonely people, where do they all belong!

Their eyes watery and their faces sad,

No traces of smile that would make you feel glad!

Anger and hatred in their minds,

Nothing therapy could confine.

Murder and violence is the cruel divide for them,

All the lonely people, where do they all belong!

Minutes will surpass and yet you will not see,

The depth of the solitude they have succumb to.

Every day is distant from the memories of the past.

Neither Man, nor woman nor child, no one seems to escape the fate.

Family is just a façade and loneliness is extreme.

Extreme to the point of isolation!

All the lonely people, where do they all belong!

It is not a matter of love but a matter of respect.

Respecting the existence of another human,

Respecting the virtue of another man,

Respecting the issues the person deals with,

No, that is not love, that is respect.

They all seek that in the end and hope for it.

All the lonely people, where do they all belong!

No past anymore

Delete what you've seen, it is not fun anymore.

Even the harmless memories seem to be painful.

The cotton candy and the ice cream,

It was all but a fading moment.

No more of those memories and no more nostalgia.

No more thinking of the past and no more melancholy.

I am a man of no sins and no good deeds.

The slate is not wiped clean but it is shinier.

So shiny, that you will be blinded from a look.

That blindness will cost you more than you imagine.

My past is not a map of my soul,

and I am not a nation to be explored.

But, how will you see with those blind eyes?

The desire is overwhelming but the cost is deadly.

Or is it that you are already blind?

Has your desire already claimed your consciousness?

Have you already snooped into someone's past?

Or have you looked into yours and blinded yourself?