Their Gazes Met Across the Sea

On the edge of a ravaged battle cliff,
the solitary warrior stepped across,
bodies and bloody pools,
and gazed across the sea.

On the other shore,
stood his wife, mother and aging father,
tear stains on their cheeks.

Across the water,
flew a white dove, bearing news to be read -
they hoped - by the father -
of his first child now cradled in its mother's arms.

Somehow, the dove was just a showing of faith and hope,
for their gazes met across the sea.

My Fool's Gold, My Gold.

So I get onto this bus, University headed.
Working over summer, campus job.

Break Dance image in my head, light purple lights on a red stage, hat bowed down

The lady I was aware of met my eye and I sat down right opposite her.

"Boy, I can see it, can I see your palm?"

So now I'm randomly excited, I'm gonna find out stuff about myself seen by another on my palm. Cool.

"My name is Mamma Love. My name, on paper, is Angela Seventhunders. From New Orleans."

Cool, Mama Love.

"Boy, if you could see what I could, whooo!, You have been gifted!"

Whooo... Me on track, headphones blaring, 8 Mile, Mozart, Satch, Me, Sharp Note on Impeccable Beat... "Whoo!"?

Me and my gold, my everlast.
A felt tipped velvet word mile,
Me and my gold, my ever past,
Tinkles in my ears as I smile.

Boom, boom, it sounds as I laugh with all the gifts I can lay my hands on.

"Boy, you also think too much, both of yourself and not, and my name is Mama Love."

The sparkle didn't really fade, as my guitar strung out in tone, but pointed my eyes forward.
And but I do realize that my foolery is such a bliss,
and for that I don't atone.

I'm having this semi epiphany, I can be a fool for life,
for that just makes me deaf to a no,
and I got Mamma Love telling me so -

"Boy, I see you doing good".
Street grease, Deaf tones, iPhones, Reality and Music. Sure, yay!

She said it off a palm...

So I am on this bus, right? University headed. Summertime. Campus Job.

... read it off your own damn palm, then...

And for the overt foolery that just don't cut it -

"Boy, sometimes, you just have to cut out the bull... And my name is Mamma Love, spread the 'word', spread the 'love'".

Things align, I feel it, you feel it, you do - you know you do -
and if there's one more thing I have to say to you -

We're happy if we can be fools when we like, not fools when we like to be happy.

- know that if you need to.

A Drop of Silence and a Cup of Love

They sat down on their hearthen rug,
next to the fire, with an earthen mug,
each in their hands.

The day had passed, at long at last,
out with their sweat, shouts and hass-
le in their course.

The one deep breath that they,
took together, took away,
the edge from their their tone.

The one, matched stare,
kissed despair,
out into the cold.

The one warm drink, together made,
on their one tiny stove,

said that they needed,

their bonded drop of silence,
and a cup brimming, full of love.

On Pike's

Salty air, salty breeze,
musician come, sway me please,
flying birds, flying fish,
watering mouth, exotic dish.

Farmer's fruit, freshly wet,
charming faces, happily met,
artiste's child, to parent's help,
lost in colors, is myself.

Obscure wares, colorful all,
changing though, as the fall -
musicians mind, travelers heart,
of a kaleidoscope, is a part.

Complacency and Complexity. ^_-.

A mighty roar out of the ferocious lion's den,
Bound Ulysses' scream of pain layered Siren voice,
mighty sonorous gong of Commandments ten,
and back to poor Ulysses against his choice.

Man, to be back to writing on paper again,
so much heavy stuff I seem to spew,
emotion this, balance that,
'mportant 'tis - but lets start anew.

I talk now about a simple man.
With a simple smile and a simple plan,
who went to work, lunch in tow,
with a hum dada dum did this man go.

He worked all day,
and felt his veins shudder at the unstable challenges that plagued him,
and fought to his muscles breaking beat against the world's din,
and on and on and blahdidramatiyatipoo...

No, no... Keep it simple...

He went to work with a simple smile,
and his simple plan took him 3 miles,
after work to the grocery shop,
for his wife's shopping list and a soda pop.

Phew.

The Iceman

Iceman

He stood, sinewed in silver,
not a speck of color in his world.
Not a love, not a hate, just a view,
crystal clear, nothing near, nothing far.

He stretched out his hand,
and one might think that the air grew cold,
but it changed naught, for the same was he,
unchanged throughout, he was but taking a step.

Then a rose blocked his path,
and he grabbed it, and gasped.
He could not let go, for two milky palms pressed his close.
Roses have thorns you know, red streams from iced veins arose.

And as the color speckled into his eyes,
the Iceman had his demise.

This Sunlit Haze

For them happy-go-lucky buggers.

Oxygen deprivation? Nah.

This is true fun.
My eyes tire to open, screaming out tears on the road.
But they do open, and smile at the world.
My wet lashes cover my sight, partially though.
Its like seeing the sights through a diffracting prison cell,
colors so real that all must be well.

My step's light, and I did have a headaches five minutes ago,
but its going now. Gone with the smile thats stretching out on my face.
So what if its going to snow tomorrow, the sun is out now.

I see the crosser sign turn to the white walking sign.
Each figure in front of me seems a story as it crosses the road,
linked to another, so much motion in my sight.

I don't seem to walk in distance, but in time, or so Einstein said.

My head does clear once I cross the road,
and I risk another glance at the setting sun.
Its there, poignant as ever,
leaving me to see,
where my new mini era has begun.

The Joker

Chaos is true. Pure chance as well. And I'm gonna prove it.

I live in intensity. A kind which you can't dream of. Yet to you I seem so distant and grounded.
At my weakest I may acknowledge a rival, but then thats my secret.

Escalation is me, in pain of a kind that hurts to feel.
With recursed memories leading into one another, I live in my present, which spans your lives' extent.
I can see your core, only because I've lost mine,
and take and break your quest to find yours.

And in the midst of this all, the one human part of me is what you would call cruel,
for it amuses me, and pushes me to cure that I see you as: my boredom.

How I sit on air, strolling through your worlds, in an attempt to amuse myself,
searching for that rock that resists me, a face that I wouldn't mind seeing in my mirror; and hence break it.

I wasn't always like this, I like to recall, but that is non existent now.

So smile with me, for I do exist. Either in your wildest fantasies or darkest dreams, hoping for my answer who actually makes me work.

Escalation is me, in chaos of a kind that builds and builds again.
How I test, without rest, spread out in this ordered mess, the unstoppable that is me.

This show is such a parody. I'm just different, thats all.

Prophet's

For heroes will rise, and villians will fall,
and villians will rise, or nothing at all.

The world revolves, and us with it,
the betters, with a compass tugging at their hearts,
they flow through their dreams, their wants and aims,
not waiting for their world to start.

Some stare, lost, into the skies,
the stars' existence from up above,
beamed into their starry eyes,
holding their dreams, their wants and aims.

Some are sharp as the edge of knives,
cutting through what they despise,
silver hazes in others' eyes,
cutting away their nightmares and hates.

Such a pulse it is, living on,
such drives there are, burning on,
makes me feel so wonderfully incomplete,
with my changing aims that I will never meet.

I see the symmetry of twos all about.
And I celebrate this tug of mighty souls as they clash about.

For heroes will rise, and villians will fall,
and villians will rise, or nothing at all.

The Untitled Song

For heroes will rise, and villians will fall,
and villians will rise, or nothing at all.

The world revolves, and us with it,
the betters, with a compass tugging at their hearts,
they flow through their dreams, their wants and aims,
not waiting for their world to start.

Some stare, lost, into the skies,
the stars' existence from up above,
beamed into their starry eyes,
holding their dreams, their wants and aims.

Some are sharp as the edge of knives,
cutting through what they despise,
silver hazes in others' eyes,
cutting away their nightmares and hates.

Such a pulse it is, living on,
such drives there are, burning on,
makes me feel so wonderfully incomplete,
with my changing aims that I will never meet.

I see the symmetry of twos all about.
And I celebrate this tug of mighty souls as they clash about.

For heroes will rise, and villians will fall,
and villians will rise, or nothing at all.

Laziness

A Force Unto Its Own

There is a quaint difference between will and desire.
One who unites them, is a force unto his own.
A man who thinks not but to reach his goal.
A man whose machinery drives him down destiny's beautiful road.

A man whose will alone is aligned, simply walks down the path.
He knows he has to, but the music is gone,
gone is the sound of the breeze upon his skin,
simply lost in his creations din.

A man whose desires point him down his path,
will diverge from his perfection, and upon reflection,
will tangent into this pathetic mode,
without a will, is without a force.

Thus beauty and strength form this blade-pen,
allowing a man to calligraph his will,
and flourish his nature of human being.

Street Grease

Flip, chop, turn, sizzle.
the aroma wafts with the spicy drizzle,
of perfect gentle rain upon my face,
as a street master prepares to ensnare my taste.

The food tastes so damn good,
it flavors on just as it should,
sure sounds unhealthy, let it be -
street grease at its best, for all to see.

Bite after juicy bite, tastes just like grunge,
to me and to people who seek to expunge,
any insensitivity, anything mundane,
on the rain licked streets, and to be profane.

This is street grease. Its rude. Its more than just food.
Be a citizen, but be of the grease. Please, trust me, please.
Its fun to be alive there, without them hassles, without a care.
Don't point up your nose, to strike a pose.

This is street grease. Its rude, but definitely more than just food.

For Sneha And Samit

Samit, I've always been Sneha's first true love, sorry man. :).

There have been such times when I've lost my heart.
But you've found it back for me, every, single time.
And thrust me back into the world, saying,
go lose yourself again.

There have such times when I've shed tears.
But you've collected them, drop by drop,
and why you claimed them precious, I never did see,
But ever did you think of holding a soft hand to my wet cheek.

There have been such times when we’ve - gone nuts laughing,
At such silly little things,
Laughing till we sobbed, peal after peal.
and reveling in how the next euphoria feels.

What you give to me has not a name, it is a new emotion in itself,
so I've always been clueless about how to thank you -
merely contenting myself by shouting at you, losing my heart, shooting a laugh, shedding a tear,
just to see if you were near.

You'll be near Sneha, I'll keep you so.

Samit my man, you've always been joined to us,
just covered thus far by a beautiful drape,
and I could never have asked for more,
as I see this beautiful bond take shape.

How I love you both? Its tough to say,
just know that you'll have me tag all along,
and be a disruptive uncle,
as you go about your married way.

The Light that Lit the Darkness

She didn't like her mom,
for as long as she could remember.
Since she gave her a no,
for that something last December.

They sat at a table eating,
in glares they were competing,
the mother just resigned,
the daughter - angered mind.

Then darkness fell, and there wasn't a candle in the house.

They had a cluttered home, t'was impossible to move.

The daughter wanted her feelings,
dark as they were, to further blacken the air,
her mother thought of her little one,
sitting in the dark.

The daughter thought of all the things,
to scream at her mother's face,
but she could see it not,
for it was dark.

She realized she missed the sight,
and longed for it again,
if only to rage at, if only to cry,
"how can you not understand?"

She realized she felt the void,
of her target in her eyes,
she realized that all she wanted was a bond,
no matter what its guise.

All of a sudden she felt afraid of the dark.

In silence a hand took hers, and held it there,
and the daughter never felt so aware,
that what she felt was an angry love,
and tears fell on their clasp from her cheek above.

Finally, she closed her eyes,
she could see her mother so much better then,
the lights went on, but her eyes stayed shut,
and the tears washed away the dark within.

Developing Passions

All my life (thus far) I've wondered what I want to be good at; one obvious answer would always strike me - that I want to excel in whatever I do. Thats all good, we'd all love to be virtuosos in virtuosity. But I look around me, and I see limits (from what I've read, people call this growing up). We aren't exactly going to do everything and thus be great at everything, so what DO I want to be good at?

I'd sit down and wonder and ponder, becoming lethargic after a point - and become irritated at my lack of want of a specific (want of want, seriously). I envy people who know exactly what they want and set out to get it, thus becoming masters of their fields. In my case, I sometimes end up feeling happy because there are so many things to be good at, and get stuck with the - kid alone in the candy store+the man who got an egg and dreamed of a castle - syndrome.

What I have seen as, I now want more specific things, at least more specific than before. On one side of my age, us kids talk about being clueless so as to where to go, on the other side of my age, us adults reminisce about being in such a state of energetic youth when they were younger.

I don't mean even to say that I'm confused, merely rambling, detached. All I know is that, as an ultimate absolute, if you can take an easy breath in and tilt the corners of your lips upward (even if all of this is in your mind), your fine. There are so many material things to guide you on your way, so I just look up at the sky, and know whats going to make me smile. Its a lovely feeling of anticipation. I know now that photos of people with their arms stretched out in front of cliffs have captured not only current exaltation, but also future ecstasy.

I just love looking up, seeing it stretch across, seen by so many others. It feels so wide, just like the possibilities in a field and outside it.

Chocolacy

Doesn't that taste good?
More than good - damn - its great!
I need more of this,
who said truth was only bitter?

Makes me feel like a god,
in the midst of a deep bite,
makes me pose for a pic,
with a wide brown smile.

It makes me want to curl up in an orange coffee shop,
with heavy snow outside,
it makes others want to do a lot of things,
it governs, no questions, just thus.

So take a bite, a sip, a sniff,
and flash your own brown smile,
and conduct your own chocolacy with others -
it starts and ends all, so stay a while, and smile.

Ends of a Rod.

Life can be... mixed... at an international university. So many people from so many places, so many different cultures - all engaged in developing some aspect of themselves and of their surroundings. In the midst of so many, it is as easy to get completely lost as it is to find an interesting experience that will help you find yourself. I sometimes just loved to sit in the common room of my library, watching such a flux of humanity flow past me. Quite a chapter in permutations and combinations, I'd imagine my math professor to say...

Math class started, and I observed from the back bench as two stalwart scholars set out to answer all the outrageously tough questions the professor had put to us the other day. None of the remaining students, including me, had bothered to even raise their hands as the two tried to outdo each other with their increasingly brilliant and efficient solutions. I shook my head as I prepared myself for Physics, where the same thing was about to repeat itself.

Those two were in all my classes - I never found out their names, but I do remember that they looked so alike. The same height, roughly. The same rough coarse hair, the brown skin, seemingly soft features with sudden harsh contours. The same shaved upper lip (completed with a french beard below); I chuckled to myself thinking that they wouldn't appear out of place in any reputed software company.

I also noticed a certain animosity between them. They never spoke to each, never referred to the other by name. A common friend (just an acquaintance to them) mentioned that they were second generation Americans whose home countries had a few tensions between them. They looked so alike. They spoke in similar fashions, I'd heard them to laugh in exactly the same manner in reaction to the same joke. They even liked the same girl. Thank god they didn't know it, or else they would have seriously had something to fight over. They never worked together, and I think they resented each other for being so similar.

Two ends of rod, thats what they were. Two ends of an inflexible, metal rod - staring right out in opposite directions, despite being fundamentally the same. Imagine if they were elastic, they could actually meet. And gain some expertise on being the end of a rod. And still come back to their original positions. And there are so many people like them. I don't know what figure has those many ends, but I do know that all those people, all those ends, could meet to form a ring. Actually see each other. All it would take is a little bend.

The Day before College started.

The Day before College started.

For the un-initi-Ated, I've been on vacation since march (yo!, uhhuh, fill dat! - *BEATS*)
I'd been strummin 'round - later bored as starch (yo!, uhhuh, back dat! *FLASH SIGNS* *BEATS*)

Well, in the world of rap, I'm sure starch can get bored. But I do have enough of feel in me to want to rap on starting college. Cuz it is March since when I've been on vacation - till September! Its nothing compared to those rich boy vacation some people send their kids on ("Discover yourself beta" - or - "Discover the world beta"). Much as I wish I had the money, I do not wish to go on a tour of holdiay forced self discovery. I am to discover myself, let me to do it apace normal college life.

The day before college started.

The day seems as momentous to me - more maybe - than the actual college inducer itself.

The day before college started.

Might as well start writing sense about it, no?

The day started out with me springing out of bed and knowing I was gonna do a compelling work out at the gym. I spring out of bed, at 9 AM... Then I see the copy of Brisingr, the third book in Chris Paolini's Inheritance cycle, lying so brand new on the table. Hard bound too, never remember mom letting me buy hard bound stuff in India (not that I ever complained, ever). I took my time reading it. Chris Paolini, has matured, no doubt, but I hope he can complete and execute the mound of information he's dumped on us. If the fourth book fails, then the series shall as well (kinda duh, but whatever).

The book took me a while to finish because I interspersed my reading with stuff like napping, food and a movie in the evening.

The movie I watched...
I watched A Wednesday, starring Naseruddin Shah and Anupam Kher to name a few. The movie's citizen view capture was almost flawless for its perspective. It started out with a few moments of over cooked action, but the second half of the movie was apt, climactic, and dominated by a crisply delivered sililoquy by Shah.

The movie's strenght was in its second half sharpness, though they could have spent a little more money on production values.

The movie did manage to inspire several laughs with its irony and street humor. The movie managed to prove its worth when it ended. Instead of rubbishing the movie, we found ourselves in the midst of a heated discussion about social issues in India...

But I digress... College starts today... Finally... I hope I'm good for it... I can be a baby at times... Before I went to sleep, my head buzzed with so many things I wish I could remember I wrote down. I wished (in the words of another) to whisper myself something very profound and then fall asleep. Needless to say, I last remember thinking about sushi, and how expensive it is here...

*Yo! Yo! Back it up! Uh! Uh! Shawty! Dawg!* *Thump BASS*

Peace to all.

Red Moon

There is a shiver in the sky.

There is mystery afoot, no one one knows why.

There is tint awash the dark
there is a hint of falling bark.
A change of times? No one knows why.
There is mischief afoot, amidst the sky.

Tonight is one that a fortune shall change,
tomorrow is one where no sights range,
destiny puts its mark on today's brow,
there is menace afoot, no one knows how.

This lighter than black seems darker instead,
as it kisses innocent sleepers a'bed,
will they see red when they open their eyes?
I know not. No one does.

There is mischief afoot, no one knows why.