A thousand worthless words

Sluggishly traversing
the cramped tunnel
in search of light

The blues adorn instead,
a broad expanse
of barren white

Erased, replaced
and mercilessly stricken off
The perpetual yearning
grows ever intense

To rather be a part of
an image, trapped
through the reflex
of a single lens

Situation:
A writer tries to pen down a memory on a sheet of paper and has a certain way with it ;).
And the memory thinks it would be better off if it were photographed by a camera.

The illegal shot

They took it all way. 

The verdict was justified by a quote from a recently created law with an uninteresting name that I purposefully failed to make note of. I was left in the sole company of a dim halogen light source that proved to be the perfect ambience for a quick travel to the recent past. 

 
The cross trainers had gathered enough dirt from the muddy road wet with the recent showers, to provide a perfect icing for the door mat. Every step taken into the house resulted in a sharp pull from the thigh to toe. It was certain that the ruthless hatred in my mind for my inability to succeed had finally turned its course towards a physically painful location. Limbo.

The assistant’s broad, kohl rimmed eyes stopped on a bottle of molasses colored liquid. I assume, it might have had the letters denoting ’some Greek numeral prefix + some hydrocarbon + some other functional group’ adorning its surface.  Imaginary rings of ‘some Greek numeral prefix’ anes danced in front of my frightened eyes as she elegantly pulled out a syringe full from the bottle. Organic chemistry is never a pleasant experience. For it was as hard to accept the compound into my already fragile body as it would have been to draw one on a chemistry answer sheet and give its IUPAC name.  The initial feel was that of fine crystals of gravel being shoved up the nerve. Time passed and the crystals seized to be fine anymore. Some more time. Most coarse gravels. Macabre.

Sitting up straight was a success after three painful attempts. Placing the foot firmly on the floor required more than three. Two steps into the lobby and thousands of honeybees swarmed into and out of my head for an instant. Surprisingly, my hands were unable to shoo them away. The face resembled a perplexed question mark. There was a swirling sensation. One might wonder how the pretty ladies fainting in the movies stay pretty at that particular instant amid such chaos. My assumption of a lady fainting, being cute and painless was thoroughly washed down in pain and confusion. Consciousness gradually crawled back into its rightful place with a sharp sting on the back of the head, the result of its passionate kiss with the floor. A sneeze appeared out of thin air and the hip joint cracked like a pair of lego bricks. Sublime torture.

Words flow 
Assuring that I am sane
“Rest” assured, as well.
Since I moan in pain

Pain unblocks writing inability with such ease. Success tasted heavenly for a brief moment before the organizers of the poetry contest sniffed out traces of steroid from my thoughts. Accusations of illegal performance enhancement followed.
They took it all away. Poetry. Success. And the ever incredible pain. It hurts still.

Muthu: I have finally come to terms with you. Remember our fight regarding a poem of mine couple of years ago?

Cold bladed

The blades are

at work, swiftly 

cutting through ..

sometimes one does it

and often the two

Pain? Vengance?

Or the last words in 

your lost love's elegy?

What is it in your 

eyes that I see ?

The swirling thoughts 

start from within 

and end in your torso

.

.

Over time,

Its gets cold

and unearably so.

The blades 

come to a halt 

And I stand here 

applauding your 

amazing art

Inspired by: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AwzrcS0o7aI

Skeptic

A superfluous
web, the concerned
mind would
cautiously weave
making her
feel cheap,sick
and deceived

And then the
placid heart would
let her liberate,
from the chaotic
web and level
her drooping gait

Only to confound
the forlorn neurons
in her brain
and help her back
into her helpful self,
(which is being)
confused, yet again.

Malady

You aid my
quest to solace
by skillfully
executing that
painless slaughter

of a heart
instructed to
incessantly display
a casual smile off
a crimson crayon

Like
the intsense acidity
born of sulphate
and water

carefully revealing
the the brown ring
of ferrous ions

I stop smiling
that painful smile
and sob at ease
only to see you
disappear in a while.

Brittle

I stand separated
from my only
credible
companion

With a trimmer
entity, they had
planned
my union

An inexplicable
anguish
filled the air

I accept my
fate in deep
despair

and then
my myopic
eyes shone

in contact
with a thin
sheet of concave
silicone.

Lust

I gazed at the
article's engrossing
sheen
while thumbing
through the
waxy pages
of some arbit
magazine
that celebrated a
forced impregnation;
one of the sorts
to emulate
HIS creation

Wondering why,
to such brutality,
mankind bowed

Pitying the victim,
a Cloud.

Haunted

I bring the hexagonal
piece of wood
where they shall
hereafter rest.

"Thou shall remain
here forever" I am
forced to jest.

Just when I think
I have rammed
the final nail in vain,

They jump effortlessly
out of the box to
haunt me, yet again.

Those ghosts called
.
.
.
.
.
Memories !

P.S. For a memory that is gonna haunt me in the years to come :P :P

Moksha

The holy fire
setting my funeral ablaze
Your sacred breath
adding to the craze

I savor the
liberation of my soul
From the extremely
fragile fenced pole

A transformation
occurring in a flash
From merely a cigar
to mighty gray ash

AWESOME TWOSOME

Him, an epitome of
impeccable might
As mesmerizing at night
as he is through
the day and twilight

I, the blood
nourishing his veins.
Like the brook and soil,
I let him breathe
till I drain.

Together,
we give rides,
profound and long
with bonds
deep and strong.

Him, a mighty bike
and I,
the fuel he likes.

Resounding Quiescence

I stand hastily
wrapped around
in a filthy garment.
Perhaps it is
adequate; for I
am dormant.

You hesitate
to tread into
my frontier.
What is it in me
that you fear ?

The ruggedness
of my skin
or the sheer
hopelessness of my
ghastly grin ?

Fear not; I am just
a lonely scare crow.
Neither a friend
nor a foe !

Dark depiction

I decide against the
tints and hues
over speculations of
infinitesimal use.

A sheet of
white with streaks of
black squiggled all over.
There it lies,
the message I intend
to deliver !

Filled with
the aberrant signs
that are strewn,
I end up making
.
.
.
.
A cartoon !

Inspired by: This cartoon

Cartoon courtesy: Srivatsan's blog

The infinite loop

Inspired by a post in a blog that I happened to read today. I suggest you read that for a better understanding of my post.
Read it here

Inspirations are hard to come by these days and I owe one to Krishnamurthy. If you happen to read this, "Thanks a bunch for stimulating my neurons. They had been very very lazy of late."

So here it goes, my sequel to his post.

I believed that human beings are the result of a similar effort, being created out of primitive creatures, eventually evolving into the current state of intelligence. Today human beings are intelligent enough, not only to exhibit features such as natural language processing, logical reasoning and decision making, learning, and much more; but also make intelligent systems of their own.

Some how this theory makes perfect sense to me. (Another proud computer engineer). So I have worked out something to support Krish and here it goes.

A mere neanderthal (a non intelligent computer)

• to a cave man capable of producing and understanding sounds (that is when natural language processing was embedded )

• to the stone and metal age man who was capable of creating scripts and store them (updated to include the magical ingredient for Knowledge Representation)

• to the first set of civilizations (when man first began to look for *reasons* in order to *stay together*)

• to the robust modern age man (adapting to changes in place, culture, food, and needless to say a trillion other things -> MAchiNe learning :P)

It is not insane to assume that contemporary computer engineers are trying to replicate the process in order to make computers intelligent. (Well of course only under restricted conditions; no one wants a Matrix trilogy on Earth! :-o)

The biologist in me is in no mood to nod. Here is what she asked "What if these had happened by an accidental/deliberate manipulation of the creature's inner stuff by the creature itself ?" (Thanks! You could not have been more confusing :D )

The chemist in me came rushing to her rescue. "It could have also been something like the hyper/hypo secretion of an enzyme or a climatic change or the accidental addition of a certain molecule" (Oh please do not tell me a Computer is going to be intelligent if we bury it deep in the arctic snow with a motherboard made of a different material :D )

Eitherways, I dont have an answer. Do you ?

Disclaimer: Pun Intended !

A big thank you to KV for letting me read his bro's blog :D

A Throb

My aorta picks up
blood in accord with
the new beat
and the veins are
glad to take the
loop and repeat.

I stand still
wondering if the
feel was pleasant
or a bummer.
.
.
Hey, are you the drummer?

P.S. Ahem ! :P

A rescue

I watch you
crushing his
helpless throat.
Your vicious eyes
beaming with gloat.

Unruffled, despite
attempting a sin,
you send down
an evil grin.

With his gasps
getting worse
every passing minute,
I couldn't afford to
stand in a mere mute.

I decide to end the row
before you taste his meat.
Sans hesitation, I grab
the keyboard and press
Ctrl+Alt+Delete.


Now that is how I feel every time MS Office 2007 chokes my system x-(

Conflict

HE "Smooth it is" "Spherical in shape" "It is dense. Feel it" "They call it LEAD"

SHE "Yes. Like a seed from the pod" Agrees with a nod Feels and seconds what he said "No, it is PLUMBUM. Haven t you read?"

Inspired by the leadshots that came flying out of my keyboard slider :P

Classic - 3

He strums with
incessant passion;

Magnetism and the ciruit
underneath, provide
perfect amplification

Strum stirs the soul !

The physics of music.
.
.
.
Classic.

P.S. A humble tribute to a powerful instrument: The electric guitar.

A note of contradiction

In reply to a certain comment by muthu

Read the comment here

No matter what

comes down from 

my pen;

an elegy or ode;

of loss, betrayal

or a gentle caress.

This is me

I write for pun.

Nothing more 

and nothing less

It is not pain that

rules this world.

There is irony,

absurdity and a

dozen other notions

less explored

You write of love

and the pain that follows;

I will stay back 

and let my pen present

the deprived with

a deserving halo.

Ah and I know you'll not agree to this. 

But this is what I am and will be.

Blood stain

I had not written anything off late, save reading other blogs and commenting. Been a lifetime since I visited the realm of writing, the Writers Lounge. No excuses for the fault lies with me. I am not completely back to blogosphere yet.

I stare at your 

crimson blood still 

staining my 

guilty palm.

I regret and repent

yet remain in a

ghastly calm.

In a moment or two

I shall wash you

off my hand.

You will fade away

leaving behind  the

blood strand.

I remember you

never had issues

with me

yet I crushed, pounded

and eventually

killed you, Mehendi.

Love you

I hold your hands,

feel your warmth and

long for your smile.

You turn away and remain

unusually silent for a while.

I caress your forehead

and kiss your cheek.

You refuse to come

out of your world,

making me feel meek.

I try again to prove

that my love is true.

Still, you ignore me,

suck your thumb

and say gaa gaa goo goo

P.S. Dedicated to a two year old nephew of mine