The Lie

The night must have been upto something. When the sun made a peek from the valley, she blushed. But she soon lighted up, transpiring her mood to the world she held in a gradually withdrawing embrace. The leaves greeted dawn in a smile drenched in dewy tears. And for all things moving, yesterday, a tiring day was a day of the past.

In the highest room in the tallest tower, the princess slept. The rays stroked her bare back before tickling her eyes to wakefulness. And she smiled. Yesterday was eventful. She met him for the first time in the weirdest way possible. But the rendezvous gave her a thousand promises and three times as much dream. They were together through the balmy afternoon, the breezy evening, and the unveiled nights. She had excitement when she smuggled him up her room. For the princess, yesterday, a tiring day was the most decisive.

She gently turned her head, looked over and suddenly blushed. But she only got redder. There were tears in her eyes of broken dreams. Her hair like his promises, gone astray. She sprang from her bed, as quick as her amorist life’s death. Her eyes red, her hands shaking…and she screamed at the frog lying on her bed” you lied!”

the Journals of an Existentialist

Day:Hardly Matters

Today i got up with a fresh breath(even if it stinks). It seems to be the only thing going right for me. these journals are truly a pain; a harsh reminder of the cumulative failure that each day of my life adds. I slip into the machinery of the society as usual. the footpath, the bus, the lift and to my cabinet. The cold coffee, the once bit doughnut reminded me of myself. The usual motivating crap from my do-gooder cubicle neighbor. The i mean frown business of the boss successfully tested my urge to not burst out laughing. Endless payrolls. And the company was really enjoyable. People being very generous with there nods and mechanical "mornings".Had slumdog, obama and general elections for lunch;those around the table with there own taste. The golf session to unwind made me feel like shit courtesy my skills. Had intercourse with angry customers who made me feel impotent. Closing time,music to ears. Nosediving again to the stream of humanities,flowing through footpaths, meandering through the streets and finally delta myself at the park. My favorite spot; everybody here to there last tissue feels the shittiest possible way;my brothers to whom i never speak,never dine, never drink but who understands me all the same. The serial fag from different buttts, all one in a big smoke. The mosquito bites cued me to leave. Thought for a long time on how to waste more time.settled for a walk back home for the hundredth time(where is my creativity?).Home looks just like it always did.The diner broadened my tummy.An argument with tv left me defeated. Finally a confession to my journal. Will go to sleep prayin to find a better way to feel about myself.Hoping to live to write another day,
your lover
the loner.

Of Charity and Lies

The excuse to have ones feet on ground,
a mute unresponsive slave of gravity,
a limitless world is where i am bound,
a world sans sugar-coated realities.

What is life so full of care,
you feign fulfillment in charity and love,
yet question this cancer, we don't dare,
all to please the accountant above.

If fittest survive paying strength the prize,
then why cultivate these parasites,
'charity is divine' and other big lies,
the reason they have to rob my rights.

If life is but a perennial fight,
to let body and soul together stat,
charity saves none from their plight,
but shows them miraged hope rays.

I don't lavish rewards to undeserving,
with promises of a non-existent life,
selfishness is self-obliging,
the commitment you ultimately have.

Long have we heard the story of a man,
who comforted a robbed out traveler in pain,
a very twisted story, good Samaritan,
true men stays in their life's narrow lane.

Cleaning the Mess

If the world is messed up
why cant I?
Pretending to follow the crowd
yet lie;
Normal life is in the air
a pie
how hard to think ones just
another guy.

The plain old normality has
big requisites
Whose logic peeves even
the mystics;
Ones life's simplicity is as
he elicits
a grand performance to which
society critics

I pretend to be dumb, blind
and gay,
For things are best in their way
they say
And i keep dirtying what was cleaned
yesterday
Just to wonder tomorrow" whose mess is it
anyway?"