Sunday, January 07, 2007

A Reflection on Life...

Strange are the ways of life
Love one moment, the next, strife
Is it the fruit, or is it the knife?

Thoughts, oh thoughts, in my mind galore
Is a thought more than a bitchy whore
Which exists in endless store?

All is illusion, it is all a lie
Shackles that do nothing but tie
Would it not be better to die?

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Toota hua dil...

Tumse na thi mujhe yeh ummeed
Arre bewafa, tune yeh kya kiya
Ek hi pal mein mere sapno ko
Chaknachur kar ke chodd diya...
Mujhe na pata tha ki tum hoge kathor
Meri dosti mein thi kya khot
Aisa kaun sa gunah kiya tha maine
Jo tumne pahuchai mere dil ko chot...
Paththar ya insaan, jo bhi ho tum
Aaj se itna jaan lo
Meri tarah kisi aur ka dil
Na todna, itna tthan lo...
Tumne hume dosti ke kabil na samjha
Par hum to hain ab bhi tumhare yaar
Kitne bhi sitam kar lo tum
Mere dil se na jayega tumhara pyaar...
Jab tak hai yeh zindagi apni
Tumhe apna dost manenge hum
Hume yeh pata hai hamare marne par
Tumko na hoga ek katra ghum...
Par itna sun lo mere dost
Kabhi na kabhi ayegi meri yaad
Tab rone ka fayda na hoga kyonki
Shayad yeh ho mere marne ke baad...

Monday, November 06, 2006

The Ocean Bed

Barren desert
He said he was,
A mirage of love.
Now that I think
What am I, then
I get an answer
The Ocean Bed.
Colourful life,
All around me.
Beautiful fishes and trees
Sometimes an adventurer,
A marine predator,
That's what I see.
See I do, and nothing else
Passive spectator
I can be called.
No role to play
I do have
Except to watch them all.
No rays of light
Ever reach me
Forever dark am I
That's why perhaps
I am so sad
Anyone would, if his
Very existence looks bad.
Surrounded by the beauties of nature
I know many
For whom I'm a necessity
But not a companion
Nor a friend
Can I ever be.
What a miserable thing I am
The Ocean Bed indeed.
No one to reach me
But sunken ships
No use am I
But to house the dead
And be cursed for it.
I'd rather be a desert
Out in the light
Than be in the dark, dark waters.
Water can bring
Desert's spring
But who can bring me salvation?
No, I'm not happy
As many do think
I am a depressed soul...
Lonely and morbid,
With no one to love,
Not even the Devil foul!

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Permit me...

Permit feel what I once felt before...
Permit shake myself to the core...
Permit live my life as I please...
Permit forget my dreams with ease...
Permit let my philophobia accrue...
Permit give my guilt its due...
Permit return what I did borrow...
Permit drown myself in my sorrow...
Permit indulge in my philandering trysts...
Permit go and slit my wrists...

Monday, September 04, 2006


Denial is a powerful thing
Not just a river in Egypt
I wonder why they so sing
Not simply, but encrypt!
Conscious or not
But what you deny
Will get real hot
And in will fly!
Jay, Jay, you've gone mad
Sad, sad; that's so, so sad!

Sunday, September 03, 2006

I'm the jaywalking Jay

Watch where you're going, they say
And I reply - nay, nay, nay
I'm the jaywalking Jay
I make my own way
Foolish, you are, at me they bray
Yes, indeed, you are a jay
You do nothing but waste your day
Work not at all and only play
Doesn't matter, I make my hay
Yeah, I do, come what may
For, I'm the jaywalking Jay
I make my own way
A/N: This is what the thing's supposed to look like, but I can't manage to format the thing...
I do not know why I am doing this. I do not want to know why I am doing this. I do not want to think about it anymore. I have given enough thought to the matter, turned it over in my mind again and again, but I have not been able to derive a convincing reason for my action. Yet, I must do it. I simply must. I do not have a choice. I know that I may not live long enough to finish what I start, yet I feel the compulsion to write. Maybe I do not want to be remembered as the cause of her downfall when I am actually innocent of the crime I am held guilty for. I shall probably soon depart from the world of the living. Forever. And the one person who could have saved me lies in a coma, no one knowing when she will wake up. How strange that the person who should be the one to have hated me the most is actually the only one who can save me! Perhaps she will awake after my death; the other, as can be seen from the introduction, does not care a fig. She will write the epilogue when she awakes. And if she does not wake up, the truth shall never come out. Maybe I am being stupid, but I really do not care anymore. And this is probably all I'm going to say about myself for quite some time, if not forever.