IF my life was a song

February 17, 2009 § 14 Comments

Note:-thanks Indyeah for “IF my life was a song”

If my life was a song,
Then in the verses between
In a candour coveted hand,
I would breathe alive-
An expression set to the breeze
A serenade from the versatile winds
And forever free,in the wild laps
Of the one infinity.

If my life was a song,
Than in the notes high and low,
Connected above and below,
I shall ring the senses
Of mankind and be a passe
To the future-yet remembered
As the sound which propelled
The venerated verses of a magician-
Her wishes in me carried
And complete in wholesome alacrity.

If my life was a song,
I then long,
To be spread as unseen
lengths,in the several
Sounds of a violin;
the breath of a maiden
The etude of an epiphany-
Symphony,an encore to the passion,
The penchant of divine creativity.

If my life was a song,
Somewhere,somewhere,
From I rose,
And maybe it was a lover in remorse,
Or a conundrum engraved to a suppose-
To enchant the gullible and parade
The rhetoric manevolence of a ruler
Set to dispose,the knight right
Chivalry of a mixed man.

Or a dirge ,
A lament of someone young
And fine,In verses set to a graveyard rime.
If my life was a song,
Than maybe a war cry-the sound of melee
And bombs which rob the day and night
Of people with dreams and azure wild dreams,
So as to satisfy the whims of one obscene.

If my life was a song,
I would rather be the praises
Of an exactitude,proposals
Of multitude to some Unseen
And one which the pride of
Man and ignorance is obsessed
And binds and bonds those who will free.

Or if my life was a song,
I shall be the verses of the bard,
Sung aloud in a kinder park of
Beautiful flowers and vivacious
Hearts all running to the willies
Of unknown dangers aware
Which seeked by a few who dare
And than inspired ,fought to wear
And in their arsenal sound memory’s wear.

Or a rare sound from a exotic bird,
One rare,precious chirp.
Or the virtual wisdom of a poet
And in that the wisdom’s tune,
Alive and upright,
Command and comrade,
Never to fade,
Into the shallow depths of human memory.

Yet what ever I may be,
A whine or a rhapsody,
I shall be the one who travels
The beyonds of any verse,
The corners of the hidden universe.
I shall be in my company-
The one who sees life
And death as one to sung
And then the instrument hung,
But never shall I end before another
Has begun,as the world in a song,
Seeks solace and in that phase,
I shall be the winds of change.

Mutiny’s tenacity,
That which can never be disconnected,
The works of masters mortal yet immortal,
Beyond moral and miser and miserable medieval
Macabre,the memoir of the birth of the universe,
Unbound and skinless and soulful and sounded
Strings of severe success in killing the cull-able
And pushing the dare-able
To the path of infinite morality,
One where no virtue but that of great
And echoed sounds of the beaten
Shall be a light to those who seek life within.

And as a song,
All along,in march
and in may
on a winter or a sunny day,
The sounds keep the world alive,
Oh! you blind who fails to hear this
Forever shall be self-cursed of the divine bliss.
Come alive and listen,if not to the world ,within,
The notes of the world are never missing,
For a missing verse,is worse than a visceral curse!

And if my life was a song,
I would all this, sing along,
In your sleep,
In your awaken dreams,
I shall pass on the mystery
And guard you, I shall be the sentry.
And yet do not take me for a mystic,
Just listen to me,
I am a prophet,
One by nature born to be,
If you do not act,
But in ignorance relax,
Faith shall curdle
And earth perish,
Lend a voice sing aloud,
Shout as a scout,
Or a bout of feverish hail,
If my life was a song,
I am being sung!!

If my life was a song,
I am being sung!
If my life was a song,
I am being sung.
Life has just begun
And forever it shall run!

The light shines the brightest

Peace of sound

February 8, 2009 § 15 Comments

Peace of sound,
Sense of belonging,
A Romanticism within,
A prosperous zenith,
An excess of emotions,
A blur of vision,
Clarity in that disruption.

Animals are born to survive,
Man is born to live,
Earth is a place of haunt
And to create it and lend life,penchant
Of all things alive-
An euphoric sense of divine;
The magic brush which speaks-
Of fantasies and gross truth-
A parade,a tribute,
To the power,which dares not to be mute.

The war within,
The war in the world around,
Faceless and dangerous,
An adventurer within ,
A daredevil about,
The verses of an invention
Hoarse to a few,
Alive and divine to the rest.

In the virgin gaps between the sound,
A belonging-the world is alive,
More so in the silence,
Than the condescending virtue.
In thought there is a superiority,
In life there is an affinity,
A negation to the moment,
An anti to the passion,
A verve to the mundane,
A candour to the bane,
That which seeks home,
When insults are thrown.

The peace of sound,
Shakes and bares the ground.
Releasing those who are bound
Within the pride of human crowd,
They thrall the arbitrary
And lend form and break immunity.
Pecuniary of the universe,
The adage of the moral serf.

And yet they give life,
And beauty they abide,
Within they strike,
The chords and chime the life,
And make humans forget their blight;
And in love,move high,
Towards their aptitude and divinitude.

Peace of sound,
Sense of belonging,
A romanticism within,
A prosperous zenith,
An excess of emotions,
A blur of vision,
Clarity in that disruption.

The light shines the brightest

Revolution

January 30, 2009 § 11 Comments

A calm ,A quiet,
A horrenous riot.
An hour of sense,
An ounce of innocence,
A peferct balance;
The disturbance,
permutation for revolution-
Time to change and live innovation.

As the sun moves North,
And at six o clock strikes crimson,
And at such a vertex,
Earth seems a abode,
Of nature and nurture, propose.
Thoughts concave to the power
Within;Gesticulations cover
The paradigm and belonging
Gives rise to the mind and spirit
To work in collaboration,
To churn and grow the seeds of innovation.

Action and admiration,
Solace and Revival,
The knowledge that yonder
Sallies moves the hands
To move the bows ,
Spark the verses felt within
And arise the sense to a new-
To hilt the epiphany
And turn the arbitrary
Into a modus operandi
Of reason and purpose-
Actions and reactions
Of thoughts and conclusions.

And at such magnanimity
The force against is a hurt
To remind,a scar borne
To inspire and become livelier.
In the strength never shall wilt
And now in force there be no guilt.
An excess maybe split,
But creation and mutation
Are there to push-a shove
To the reaches and a drag
To the limits,an urge to think
Better and discover,
An urge to see beyond the seen
And to life,the secrets redeem.

Revolution,
Revolution,
Revolution,
The world in change is constant.
And at such gullible penchant,
Remains a reverberation,
The need to know,
The need to throw
Light on the ability to fight
With tools ,to sound the wind
With words of wisdom
And of conclusive thought-might;
So that the err of the weak
Shall be an onus for them to bear
And face their own needy glare.

Never shall a sown thought die,
Nor shall the greatness of knowledge go by
Without a struggle and in surrender to the darkness,
Of those who are afraid
Of their very shadow,
As they destine themselves to a dark morrow.

The light shines the brightest

A metaphor called God

January 19, 2009 § 19 Comments

A blanket above,
A world below,
As dreams fill sleep,
Angles oblique and steep,
Fill grotesque hours with
Inert worth of days, betwixt.

The day scumbs to night,
The hours hang alive,by minutes,
Postulates to the sense of being alive.
Attachments call,to feel,
To be,to sense victory,of something
Which is an image of something greater.

A metaphor called God,
Revives a sense of an all
Engraved hour-into one,
Of an acclaimed need,in a few
Verses,which relight the sight,
To the touch of a greater proportion,
The value of life-the pinnacle of salvation.

To err is human,yet to err is not human.
A cell of nature,an atom of a final being,
Circular waves of creation and destruction,
Flow within,thus making a final preposition-
That balance is within and around,
Freedom senseible and yet bound.
The liberty to move,
The capricious constants,
Which grow and grew,
Thanks to winds of east and west,
Some ultimate zest,a locus at every point,
So cunningly mystic,
that to not dream is drastic.

In the being,a sense lives.
Of what?Of whom? Of where?
Is something which few dare,
To raise and even fewer to chase.
And to one whose moral is low,
How to put across,how to show,
That beyond everything there is a gap,
And that which dares not to show up,
Is the one which we need to find,
For a known foe is better than an unknown fiend.

God,a superlative common,
To all.Yet one which we deem to be stoned
Or ubiquitous yet made to be borne.
But nay,the circumstances,
The thee breaths free-as free
As any human born into the world,
A product of nature and essentially
Of something greater,a wall against to run,
To constantly compare and raise to,
From birth to death through.

The God is of a greatness,which within
We strive to evolve,to push the being,
As God is one,and all is one,termed
Or understood to be God.If not for
Man’s intellect how would a word,
Be thrown about,stud to every language,
Common to everyone alive? how a concept
Be so profound and left to interpret
And yet be starved with glorious neglect
Of a few? From where or when arose
This force or concept such,
That its value be so little yet so lush?

When can a mind,be so alive,
That is sees life? When can pain
Be so alive,that living is a sense?
What worth is this world,
When one dreams? And what of
God,does is it mean?
A mode through which we know?
Or a clear and stark iridescent show?
A spark of light?
Or the setting sigh of a twilight?

What integrity does everything propose
To,that we have a value to set aside
And compare and abide? The way of God?
If so,then a balance and not goodness to all
Can be seen,how can a universe be,
Set to a better tune,when the impact
Is seen as the one to reach and not the
Beauty and vivacity of each string and sound?
Is this a way to be bound? Ignorance
Seems to chaff life of a greater benevolence.
Yet something keeps alive.
Something tells you,you are right.

One in all,
All in one,
Justice, poetic,
Illusions mystic.
Movements,songs,
Verses,Prayers,
Sounds,sight,
visions and thoughts
All within and around a circle,
Yet what tangent should we find,
To take a new path and understand
The nature of light?
If life be a force,
If earth be or not be more than a rock,
What is the master plot?

God,A feeling,a sense,
To be seen within,that which
Prompts and pulls and moves,
The being from within,
That which strives to give
Sense to all.If life was just
A being with thought and sense
And the ability to feel,
God is that which makes
All of it real and a sense of superior,
Which motivates the being to move,
And then search its value.

If God is the truth,then it means
To search it,means an means to an end.
If God be life,then it means a calm
To overcome phases of death.
If God means everything,
Then it is a negation of nothing.
And so God be everything,
That which is everything we know
Moves,which prompts us to move,
So that it too,can grow through
And intend its virtue to a few more,
Of cosmic worlds unknown and unseen.

God is a metaphor,
The name,the forms given to the blur,
Which we all see.
The force which makes us think,
The force that makes us seek.
Instinct and knowledge,
Worlds and Wisdom,
Virtue and venerated.

Without a gap,
Without a constant arising
From all,what curve can be right?
Might and brutish strength,
Achievements through veiled plagues,
Yet justice served is infinite
And so it is poetic.
God at a poet’s heart,
Seems to sketch,something,
Consistent and thoughtful
Yet a play with misery and beauty,
Every tone to its worth.

But what can draw,all this?
Unless one explodes at a point
In time,that which forces a rime,
To be made alive and burst
alive ,forces forced to move,
Gravity of it all,new.
Unseen but felt,
We can value it,relative
To our life and what we sell.

Thus all in all God,
Is that which we be
That which causes and
Is the virtue of causation,
Whose effects infuse a
Sense and make us seek
The beginning as the end,
And again the end,
All the while seeking a tangent
To move to a different sense,
Where in elevation is gained by
Meeting another circle and another
Way out,in and out of life and
Virtual into a mental idea and stride
All the while in a world of real illusions.

The God is a metaphor,
Of superior sight,
Of the innate we abide.
Truth is not the end
But means to an end.

mortality is lost when
sense of reality is found.
Man’s work is to break inability
To achieve it or not destiny.

The light shines the brightest

An ancient knowledge,life and survival

January 12, 2009 § 2 Comments

Knowledge from the past-
Clear and still at a sagacious heart.
With nature nurtured thoughts,
In a single need all move to the mast.
In a world of survival, to live,
Dominance of spirit is quintessential.
And such a spirit is one who dares
And wishes to follow the inner will,
To move a pawn,so that it is not a loss
But a  gambit,a gain at an apparent faux pas.
To edge out the miser and the assumed sinner,
So as to create a world peaceful and “better”,
A few culled the apparent weak,
And those in fear and at heart meek,
Tried to cheat and call it witches meat.

Yet the power of life will strive,
For the chain is to reach a height,
So high that life would quail
Not at a challenge but run the circle again,
Till a  suitable tangent is found,
To reinvent a being and strength,
Alive from within,ablaze
With the strength of  the first being,
Nay capricious,but of definite strength,
Of known yet unknown origin and malleability.
Why does the light shine and not be dark?
Why so nature be born white and sight
Not bleed out and blind? 

To become greater is the spirit,
Yet how far is the star,that shimmers,
Within the reach of the eye?
What intuition moves the world,
Why be held with gravity,
When we are potent of greater vivacity?
If the soul be a constant,then expression
of  it,is everything in its legion.
Yet the eye sees and the mouth eats,
A few farther a few,few more,
A stretch in the limits of known
To the extent of a better known,
All the while embedded in an unknown,
A definite finite,something,
Nothing and anything.

In darkness,hours flow, aby
They,the propensity to enhance the way.
To carve a place,in history-
While life is dismally short,
Engraved can be in immortal
That which will last,
As long as  it wishes to be a part.

By selection,of some conceit
Notion,A deeper cognition
In into the motives and aspirations.
The relationship between future
And the past,the present is a state
Of affairs,where in one thins
All the while becoming thicker into many.

An affection,an embrace to evolve,
Lest you be left behind,so unfelt,
So ruthless,weakness is a paranoid
Belt,worn to remind us of the ancient
Way and name.Yet in it a few find
Better,for in it lies an approach,worthier
And more occult ,waiting to be tamed
And used as a step,to climb a level higher,
To make man so much more healthier and better.

Nexus between and insanity in living,
The integrity of a being to abide
By choice to his code,will persist,for
It is the secret knock on a known door-
Opening to a different world,for each,
Thoughts different and differences to teach.

And finally that which shall live be the strongest,
For the light seen  is the brightest.
Truth is not the end
But means to an end.

The light shines the brightest

An award and best of 2008

January 3, 2009 § 14 Comments

Seems like I am stuck in ’08.But after all,it was the year when I moved to wordpress and started YU! .Before I start seeing towards the top left corner,I got another award 🙂 

This one is from Hiphopgmom.

premio-dardos-award

Google translator tells me that it means , ” darts award”.I haven’t played darts in a long time,anyway,I pass this on to,



Chirag:-He uses a lot of bullets in his posts 🙂 

Destination Infinity– You can pass this on to infinite people 🙂 

Lakshmi:-She darts around the country,taking photos and finding out about places.

Kapil:- His blog is called Whispering Shadows :)And  it has turned two,my birthday gift 🙂 

Leafless:- Another blog which not many people are aware of.Poetry and arts 🙂

So now that the awards ceremony is over and you all have applauded ,it is time to find the best of 2008.I mean the best of my poems.

So here is the link to all my poems ,which is your favorite?

And yes also pick your fav cartoon from here and your fav sketch(if you liked any of them) from the page my skecthes 1-5. 🙂 

Or if you didn’t like any of the posts from the above catogories,tell me which was your favorite 🙂 

Thanks for helping me do this,I shall add a new page called best of ’08 🙂 (if all of you take part in it).

Alive and abide

December 28, 2008 § 6 Comments

From mobile photos!

And as the world stood below,
The skies are waiting to be conquered.
As the sunlight fades,
A need to be on top dawns.
The demons of hell shall never take a hand,
And even if death might someday,
Descend from the above,
Today,it is there to be won.
Not of avarice or glutton ,
But for the joy of life,
For living,for being human.

No curse can ever take an hand,
for goodness is innate in man.
Yet so an abyss depth can scare
and make you return to the ground.
Yet the inertial desire can never bind,
And so unlike a bird but like
An angle in your dreams,
You want to soar high,
high,higher than life.

Wont feelings can go away,
From this day,
From this moment on,
There is no wrong,
Except that which
threatens to break
The fundamentals of life.

Freedom is that which you can,
Where you are;Being bound,
is the zealous curse of a virus
Whose strength of life is dead.
Though another one among all,
A dot in a line,endless,
If not for you,everything shall
End.A code, fathomless,
Yet innate,twixt,nexus,
Between an end and beginning
known yet unknown,
For such is the refection,
Surreal in reality,
yet real in immortality.

Many dreams surround,
Myriad dreams make life,
It shall go by,
And all i wish is to reach
Beyond my reach,
Move away from the circles,
Take a leap from the vertex
of a triangle and move along,
the line,my locus shall be within.
Reality is what i perceive
And when i sleep,
The world is lull,
And me with alive
And morals within,I abide by.

 The light shines the brightest

and try to reach,beyond our reach

December 23, 2008 § 6 Comments

Even as hours passed,
in the visage park,
life just crawled across.
A feeling old,
a feeling new,
sometimes life was threw,
sometimes life is new.
Even if a somber might
take the face,
within there is the thrills of the chase.

The soul power-
the fluttering of hours,
is just a moment,
lesser so,
in one of timeless boundaries.
A million circles intersect,
and a tangent to all,
is born in the interment,
on which ,once thoughts
feel the relived spark,
they grow the wings
and decide to fly,
lest we be buried so alive,
in the rituals,
which are too aghast-
it is only for the past.

Even as memories remain,
we need to see across the skies,
who says young or old,
determines profoundity,
or mere grey, serenity?
Yards and yards,
miles and miles,
yet a few spots of colour
is all the remains.
When is today,
a knowledge of the past?
Unless one can see so far
ahead,propelled by some rage
and made to write a new page,
in the works of the world,
because of some wordy hurt.

Neither is a moment,
written, not gullible,
the forces acting along
and across,can always be added to
or something new,
might just push or pull,
the leashes of the circles
and gravity might be seen
and matter might become obsolete.
Nor is it too gullible,
finally everything fuses
and fission is not too loose-
To release a few, might be,
but finally to integrate
and achieve the desired fate,
it churns and predetermines
even as freedom is more
in an element contained,
rather than a world of skies
and will,for in such,
essential is survival
and not living.
Yet without marked points,
a few can still float
and live,
for that is their will.

And such people are those,
to whom,their home,
is a place of solace-
their home within,
the one filled with
dreams and thoughts
and ideas.the universe
may seem dark,
yet there is enough
light,to throw clarity,
on the visage
and put things beyond age.

As the skies are blankets,
and emotions the heat within,
there is a sense of existence,
as something does breath in the shell.
Through it we feel and see,we dwell,
within it and with it move
across this myriad world,
We know and get to know
and many more are relearned
as we flow,flow and flow.

Knowledge is eternal
and truth perennial,
both not the end
but means to an end,
the end being
endless,yet bound
to something which
we cannot comprehend.
Until the day we know,
what is the beyond of the beyond
what lies beyond the eyes’
sight and beyond the feelings
feel,we need to stroke
and poke and revoke
and break and ultimately
make and live our path
among the all,
and try to reach,
beyond our reach,
not in vanity,
but for eternity.

The truth is not the end,
but means to an end.

The light shines the brightest

And so life will kiss

December 20, 2008 § 12 Comments

Yet a curse to be borne,
and even as we parade
through attachments,
we feel the sense of
magic and divine incarnations.
Not a God,it is,but
a sense of belonging
to something bigger,
as wide as the universe
more profound than the curse.
Yet a boon in bane,
there is no need to refrain.
With a panache,
we can move on,
yet so is the earthly mood,
that the universe is not
great enough,for our dreams
to be filled with those illiterate
verses,which are sung,
by a betwixt soul,
in transmission between
a mortal heaven and a mortal hell.

For paradise,we have been thought
and so as to that,we bore a mark,
that sin was to break apart,
by the name of some good God.
Yet no salvation was kindled,
nor a state of rest born,
for a sudden silence was worn
by all,as if it was to mourn
one alive,even as the person,
gasped aloud,in pain.
For that is the cause of attachment
albeit the need you feel,
to return a good thought
to the creatures which stung.

A man cannot not talk to an insect
of immortal(in his eyes) heavens,
but can induce it to move in an
order,only utterly mortal,
that it just seems immoral.
And so too cannot this sense
be thought,to those who
decide not to evolve,even
if by an unconscious moratorium.
And so ignorance stings,
if not the ignorant,
but those who know
the light.For shadow
needs light,to hide,
and ignorance needs knowledge
to say that it has a right.

The night sky,shines with so
many a star,whose energy
is past anything close by.
Yet to us,they seem but a dot,
on a canvas,one to be painted over,
by ignorance,so that in bliss,
we can say that as a majority
we have eliminated the probability
of a greater state
and that this is our fate.
With such a obscure and misfit
proposition,even as our hands
pray to itself to build a better
one,we within,discriminate
the better for the worse,
lest,we feel greater than
what we are.

Yet when the within flickers
and a ubiquitous leap we make,
into the light,the world
throws its darkness onto,
so that it can sleep a bit more.
This is like a winter-stops
growth and delays the next.
But what of the one who
was striped? Bare and
let to face the cold,
life within seems to draw to a close.
And for one who has decided to live,
the world chooses death,
majority are never wrong
and at the mercy of the merciless
throng,almost buried alive,
the light within then grows
alive and makes the universe see
and so the sunshine seeks
to kill the earthy darkness
and let the soul of the ignorance
see that it is belittle
and that greatness is of one,
who punishes not that which can’t see,
though it means taking a worse.

That is the kind which is alive.
The one who will choose death
instead of the ignorant be hurt
so fondly-lest he be woken
from his awakened sleep
earlier than he deemed be.
And so life will kiss
and wish to be blessed
by the divine,who not
one the speck,but the world,
for they belong to themselves
and no other.

the light shines the brightest

Self belief

December 15, 2008 § 11 Comments

A wish,a wish,
just say I will.

Even as the clouds gather
and the sky turns darker,
a sense of belonging,
a pride in living,
creates a prayer.

As a flower blooms on a Monday,
in December,it will never see May,
yet all it has is to hope,
for it is possible for it’s will to elope
the chains,the times’ ropes.

In the song of the world,
every note,is in order,
and the larger picture,
has a balance,
on so gallant and dynamic,
that it ushers everything
from the beyond to the twig,
to its place,in an illusion
of catacombs and many a maze.

And when a note is struck
or when something goes muck,
the song does not die,
but resides down a while-it lies
at the level of each,
as per the need and reach.

At a pace,each of its own it seems,
yet whose hand can paint the tree
or heat the sun,one violent and
the other so piquant a green?

But within each of us,is a note,
in the song of the world,
it is the same spirit,
which makes us the same
as different from others.
And by the strength of being a note,
which together we all wrote
and will write,there is a need
to move,to keep upright
and walk past,those,
who spend their life,
in demeaning the value of the light.

Forgives is not the coveted fruit,
as it is not right to be mute.
Yet squeezed not be too,
as the inner will is greater
than that urge to kill-
except in an bit to protect
the truth from the mystic.

In the tales ever so fond told,
there is always a hero and a lady-
between the mundane there is truth,
which is too stuck,that it seems to escape,
those who either forgave or gape.

As the night takes over the skies,
we known this is a passing.
And even if the world be dark,
there is light in the park,
the azure is always lit,
for even if we were to turn around
a while,the true belief will always
be there alive.

In a question of survival and to live,
it is not possible to keep things still.
And so as the world moves,
in circles,we too run around
the bushes and make and create
and destroy walls ,
which satisfy our inner call.

yet all that matters is you
and life is truly lived by the few,
who know,though the earth
seems a trap,that they may
be bound a while,
if they sing as they should
into the night,
the world will revive,
their highs and thus
they can fly high
and far away from the sonorous
melee of earth and the myopic kind.

So be ready to be lit,
and see your self,where you fit.
The true strength of life-the grit
to walk the last mile,
the trust in your self,
that you are right,
comes from the voice,
so sing aloud,
you are not one in the crowd.

To everyone,each is special
and things seem all too well,
until,illusions take over
and turn the voices into
something which shoves,
and make them the harbinger
of a brutish drawl.Yet that too
is nature and once we see it,
we can make it better-
by searching the right tune,
by making us immune,
to the ways of the infidel,
who has no belief,
not in God or other such,
but in himself.

Truth is not the end,
but means to an end.
Illusion hurt-
the world may seem curt,
yet what matters,
is yourself
and what you do and
where you dwell.
So forget,not forgive,
those folly handed
fools,who claim
that something else rules.
The world is of lazies faire,
and forces might dare,
but as long as you care,
don’t let them mar
your life,you kind,
which is the way of divine.

the light shines the brightest

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