After Life

Paradiso by Gustave Doré

Oh, the day had come, the one of judgment.

I wasn’t prepared, I hadn’t believed.
Some said there was one and others many;
Now I depart this world, I still wouldn’t believe.

So I set on the journey, to meet 'em at the pearly.
It wasn’t long, there was no wait.
I wondered how and about the rituals we make.
But there were no cues, no queues, suppose I needn’t wait.

There was no man though, to greet me, or punish.
I stood there, confounded, for a voice, a sign.
Do I enter, would I transgress, what difference doth it make?
Never for one was I, before today, to believe in a voice or a sign.

So I set forth in my quest, my destiny, I would self make
A voice yonder, perhaps many, command(s) me, “Stop, there, son.
Life awaits, but you are not ready yet. You've wandered many years.
So tell me now, did you like purgatory young one?” 

P.S: After a long hiatus, I'll try to write more often. 

Book to read: Divine Comedy.

Self Inflicted

Perched high on a mountain top, you are screaming-
at times commanding, and some pleading.
You hear a thousand echo what you said.

The grave injustice, that you are handed out,
imprisoned by the world around;
you crave freedom from the invisible shackle and chain.

You speak now, the voice of a many people;
The suffering they had to endure!
You are concerned for their future and today.

Standing tall in your moment, you announce a sacrifice.
The one of self, for your cause, to take the dive, to open eyes.
You take the plunge for what you believe is right.

The descent now, barely took a moment.
In that moment you see your life, pass and fleet-
from your grip, makes you smile and then a cry.

There you hear a baby laugh, born free, a long time by,
There you hear a young boy’s heart, daring to dream,
There you hear a young man’s soul hard at toil, you smile.

There you hear all the freedom you had;
no quill on paper, no master’s whip could hold you back.
Yet now bound in the hands of death, you cry.

As you open your eyes, for one last look at the peak,
you see another imbecile mounting your perch.
Singing your tunes to no audience, pleased with his own echo.

The Pursuit Of Happiness

Happiness is like a wheel.
You keep moving ahead with glossy dreams of a destination.
As you get closer, more desperate you are to reach it.
And more tired as well, with all the distance you have covered.
Chances are, you are too worn out to enjoy your accomplishment.

Happiness is like a wheel.
There are spokes that meet at the center, yet following each other.
You keep trying to catch up with the next spoke.
But by the time you reach there, that spoke has moved on, and you follow.
Chances are, you never looked back to see the spoke trying to catch up with you.

Happiness is like a wheel.
You rotate round and around, hoping it leads you somewhere.
You keep kissing tarmac, and then assure yourself that you’ve seen the worst.
For every rash you feel, you are stronger and move ahead with hope.
Chances are, you’ll hit tarmac again and yet you keep moving and hoping.

Happiness is like a wheel.
You stop at times to take rest, but you still have a destination in mind.
You are meant for momentum and you dread wasting precious time for rest.
You never truly rest, do you; physically you might, but mentally you are still in motion.
Chances are, you’ll never enjoy your leisure, forever thinking of your pursuit.

Happiness is like a wheel.
An axle drives you, and controls you, and defines your existence.
You are not of any use without it, and you still aspire to break free.
Your ideologies and dreams apart, you succumb to the power of the shaft and follow its command.
Chances are, you will follow orders forever and forever dream of independence.

Happiness is like a wheel.
Sometimes you move backwards, to reminisce, to retrieve your steps in a route past.
You now think of those times as happier ones and wonder why you moved ahead at all.
You are distraught now, and torn by the different worlds you are in.
Chances are, you will one day not be able to retrace your steps and those times will be long forgot.

Happiness is like a wheel.
But a wheel is only a wheel if it is shaped as one.
It is still an object that can take any shape the sculptor pleases.
You can turn it into a statue to admire or wind in circles trying to find more happiness ahead.
Chances are, you will never appreciate this fact and keep moving, unhappy in a pursuit of happiness.

Beautiful

Have you seen a beauty queen
pageant, unmindful of the world around?
There is more to her life than parading
for gawkers, would you realize?

Many hold her on a pedestal,
imitate her every move in vain.
There is something ethereal about her
yet a mere mortal that would wither with age.

Some love talking about her,
the columns flood with her flaws.
But when she walks those majestic strides
pens bleed her glory and jaws just drop.

Her beauty might draw her attention,
but rarely do they all really know her.
Unfazed, for she’ll stay anonymous
to the ignorant who care not for her.

Much like her is another one
though, her beauty not as apparent.
She doesn’t need the gloss and light
to shine, she has her beautiful mind.

Beauty, of the skin and mind
both alike in many ways.
They stand you out in a crowd
and you stand out far away from them.

Crash

And then there stood the mighty one,
Looking down on those he had vanquished
With a vengeance had he laid down his sword
On those who dared to get by and rose to defy

Now deep in thought stood he
By the carnage of rotting carcass
The sweet taste he wished of victory
Was drowned by the foul smell of loneliness

He had made a mark indeed
But at what cost had he foreseen
All those lives which lay on his path
And the humanity that is lost from his black heart

Could he care any less now
That the whole world lay open for him
To take what is left of it
And to do as he wished to please

And the thought of being invincible
Drove him to the insanity that killed him
As nothing else was left but he
Defiant to the celebration of victory

A world won with an iron fist
Turned into a graveyard
Where the conquered and their conqueror lay
With no one left to drop a tear their way

And what more can be expected
When we fight to rule the earth
Whilst a kind heart and an innocent smile
Would suffice to win the world over and everything on it.

The Sentinel

Wild as the winds, that blow and fall
in wretched terrains, high and small.
Forsaking that belong not
and which belong, belong to all.

Wakes to mourn and celebrate.
Enlightened of all between, yet perturbed.
Anxious of what know none.
Serenity, in thoughts disturbed.

Oblivious of the ticks and talks
strides majestic, rugged pathways walk.
Uncolored lens, without prejudice see
mortal divisions, ignorance blinded perceive.

A question looms, in your skin
art thy, the man living within?
Answered aye; pure blood, black heart,
neither Lucifer, not the Lord’s Son.

Fight today, not for glory, not to die
Martyrs they, heavens vie.
Fight today, all fights to end
by Shield of Achilles, beside brethren lie.

The Damsel In Despair

Riding down the highway
I see her standing in all her pride.
From a distance i notice her majestic stride.
Attracted by her, towards her I ride.

Getting closer the apparition dawns,
Standing ahead is a distraught damsel torn.
Her shambles tell a story forelorn
of times good and bad she's borne.

I look in her eyes, those beautifull brown delight;
Would have commanded once, an army without respite.
Now she hides them with shame and despise.
She looks here and there with humbling spite.

That scarless face in its majesty she beholds
Standing the test of time it beckons me towards;
With pity and compassion i approach her, hands cold
to offer alms and a prayer of solicitude.

She looks up, her pride unmistaken.
Smiles and refuses that i had given.
And utters to my surprise the cuckoo voice-
"Not alms I beg for, nor I seek your prayer,
My condition lay be, for its caused by my own vice."

To this i stood wondering
How can something as beautifull come to err
She shows me the box and unravels the mystery
Ahead stood Pandora, regretting the mistake she dint foresee.

She blamed herself for the misery,
For all the ills, Of human deviance and indulgence,
And the unseen that ought to bereave man of peace and humanity.

Unsure of what to say, i utter a word or two of solace
"With all evils released the box still holds hope within;
In spite of all the ills we still have hope to live with.
If not, there would be no reason for us to exist."

Hazel Eyes

Hazel eyes

I love the color
In your eyes
They make me wonder
And I find myself lost in you.

Hazel Eyes

At times brown
like sweet chocolate
ofttimes green
emeralds shining
And they hold in them all that dew.

You can see
World's true beauty
Days and nights
with splendid twilights
And I will spend my life with you.

Hazel eyes
I see confusion
In your eyes
see my reflection
And I tell you my love is true.

(3-5-3-5-8)

The Spade

If I were to call a spade just that

I would probably have far less friends than I do
If I were to insult their intelligence
I would surely end up with none at all.

The Spade

If I were to call a spade just that
I would probably have to watch my back all the time
If I were to showcase my superiority
I would surely have a spade in my back.

If I were to call a spade just that
I would probably be castigated
If I were to make an enemy of the world
I would surely be alienated for life

If I were to call a spade just that
I would probably be truthful to myself
If I were to lack the discretion (hypocrisy)
I would surely defile my own self.

If I were to call a spade just that
I would probably not know the beauty of words
If I were to be brash in my opinion
I would surely disregard the worth of sarcasm.

If I were to call a spade just that
I would probably never have things to hide
If I were to be such an open book
I would surely have nothing to mystify.

Ode To Friends

When I was brought into this world,
I held the finger of a woman,
I called her my friend
and the ones she called family.

I was introduced to a man
whom I held in reverence all my life.
He knew everyone in the world
and the people he knew were my friends.

A few years older, and I was sent to school
I met people my size, little, shy and afraid.
Most were busy with their toys
and some enjoyed my company.

When we grew tired of toys, when we were being educated,
the ways of the world were learnt staggeringly quick.
The clicks were important, and I was left out of most
a best friend stood by, amidst the nod and hi-s.

As a well bodied lad, sport domineered over company.
I played, the games my only friends.
I enjoyed the glory and rued the fall.
Sport was a true friend for seasons all.

I sought a friend, when the daze subsided;
different from the friends of past
the hormones blazed, it wasn’t platonic
a relationship, a form of friendship like never before.

Soon goals and ambitions were a vital part.
They took me places, they took me far.
I viewed them as fellows who led me.
They were friends nonetheless in my journey.

Life took me to foreign lands;
and not for the first time, had I been so alone.
I made my peace with it,
called loneliness my friend.

It’s a long way to go before the end.
I’m sure I’ll encounter many such friends.
They need not be human, or material or worth my network.
As long as they keep my company and be my friend.

Blurred Reflections

The antique stood in the suburb alley, numb
the colors of the street, as vivid as its sounds
failed to impress the old blind deaf and dumb.

The unforgiving winter sent a chill down his spine
it enticed him with a feeling of life within him
now he craved for a piece of bread and wine.

A hand in his pocket picked change and counted
the other brandishing a cane that found his way
drawn by the smell from a peddler’s shop, chest mounted.

Some noodle and soup, a bowl of Sake served
the transaction made, a few yen short off the trembling hands
with heavier pockets and a trade to ply; on, the lad moved.

Sick and tired, the only life he would ever know
his hands busy making grub to feed the world
his legs bearing the weight of a shop in tow.

Between serving his customers and counting his pay
his grumbling stomach and aching back knew no pain
he was alive and staying so, mannequin-like in his ways.

He walked the colorful streets of sights and sounds, numb
lost dreams and hopes, darkness filled plight in his eyes
the young lad with his senses alive, yet felt, so blind deaf and dumb.

The Story

On a late summer morning,
they sat out under the li’l tree.
The ol’ geezer speaking,
of all of life’s mystery.

The young ones were so restless,
they craved for some fun and glee.
“A long time ago,
in a land across the sea..”

Their attention captured
by the wise man’s yarn wound late
“a young couple had to part,
for they sought different fate.”

“Well gram’pa,
that is such a shame”
“Hush li’l one, hear me out
‘fore your judgments came.”

“The lad head round the world
in search of fool’s gold and knowledge untold.
The lady, content with her life
stayed back to her chores of old.”

The tale moved, over a decade
through all their miseries and ecstasies, in severance.
The tale moved, the li’l ones to tears
as they laughed and wept, in pittance.

“Then came the day of reunion
they were now not what they had been.
They only had memories
of a different lovely life they had seen.”

“They embraced each other,
not willing to let go.
The decade’s longing,
this moment they showed.”

“Sigh, ‘Happy Ending’.
Oh Gram’pa, I find that very boring.”
“Well Son, in Life you’ll see
you’d crave for such, but they’d rarely be.”