tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37479344854144968332024-03-08T09:57:12.410-08:00Jay - The Jaywalking JayJay... I'm not sure when people started calling me that, or in fact, when I became 'Jay' in my own head and started refering to myself as such. I don't know when Jay became a separate, independent personality. Now that is enough introduction. I am letting her take over, now...Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18341796634745470344noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3747934485414496833.post-78106815430720775052007-01-07T23:30:00.000-08:002007-01-07T23:34:08.693-08:00A Reflection on Life...<strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">Strange are the ways of life</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">Love one moment, the next, strife</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">Is it the fruit, or is it the knife?</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;"></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;"></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">Thoughts, oh thoughts, in my mind galore</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">Is a thought more than a bitchy whore</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">Which exists in endless store?</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;"></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;"></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">All is illusion, it is all a lie</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">Shackles that do nothing but tie</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">Would it not be better to die?</span></em></strong>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18341796634745470344noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3747934485414496833.post-52802205459227901992006-11-19T05:10:00.000-08:002006-11-19T05:26:08.206-08:00Toota hua dil...<div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Tumse na thi mujhe yeh ummeed</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Arre bewafa, tune yeh kya kiya</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Ek hi pal mein mere sapno ko</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Chaknachur kar ke chodd diya...</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;"></span></em></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;"></span></em></strong> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong></strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Mujhe na pata tha ki tum hoge kathor</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Meri dosti mein thi kya khot</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Aisa kaun sa gunah kiya tha maine</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Jo tumne pahuchai mere dil ko chot...</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;"></span></em></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;"></span></em></strong> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong></strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Paththar ya insaan, jo bhi ho tum</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Aaj se itna jaan lo</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Meri tarah kisi aur ka dil</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Na todna, itna tthan lo...</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;"></span></em></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;"></span></em></strong> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong></strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Tumne hume dosti ke kabil na samjha</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Par hum to hain ab bhi tumhare yaar</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Kitne bhi sitam kar lo tum</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Mere dil se na jayega tumhara pyaar...</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;"></span></em></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;"></span></em></strong> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong></strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Jab tak hai yeh zindagi apni</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Tumhe apna dost manenge hum</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Hume yeh pata hai hamare marne par</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Tumko na hoga ek katra ghum...</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;"></span></em></strong> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong></strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Par itna sun lo mere dost</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Kabhi na kabhi ayegi meri yaad</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Tab rone ka fayda na hoga kyonki</strong></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#666600;"><strong>Shayad yeh ho mere marne ke baad...</strong></span></em></div>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18341796634745470344noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3747934485414496833.post-8475881795465037312006-11-06T08:32:00.000-08:002006-11-06T08:44:31.109-08:00The Ocean Bed<div align="center"><em>Barren desert</em></div><div align="center"><em>He said he was, </em></div><div align="center"><em>A mirage of love.</em></div><div align="center"><em>Now that I think</em></div><div align="center"><em>What am I, then</em></div><div align="center"><em>I get an answer</em></div><div align="center"><em>The Ocean Bed.</em></div><div align="center"><em>Colourful life,</em></div><div align="center"><em>All around me.</em></div><div align="center"><em>Beautiful fishes and trees</em></div><div align="center"><em>Sometimes an adventurer,</em></div><div align="center"><em>A marine predator,</em></div><div align="center"><em>That's what I see.</em></div><div align="center"><em>See I do, and nothing else</em></div><div align="center"><em>Passive spectator</em></div><div align="center"><em>I can be called.</em></div><div align="center"><em>No role to play</em></div><div align="center"><em>I do have</em></div><div align="center"><em>Except to watch them all.</em></div><div align="center"><em>No rays of light</em></div><div align="center"><em>Ever reach me</em></div><div align="center"><em>Forever dark am I</em></div><div align="center"><em>That's why perhaps</em></div><div align="center"><em>I am so sad</em></div><div align="center"><em>Anyone would, if his</em></div><div align="center"><em>Very existence looks bad.</em></div><div align="center"><em>Surrounded by the beauties of nature</em></div><div align="center"><em>I know many</em></div><div align="center"><em>For whom I'm a necessity</em></div><div align="center"><em>But not a companion</em></div><div align="center"><em>Nor a friend</em></div><div align="center"><em>Can I ever be.</em></div><div align="center"><em>What a miserable thing I am</em></div><div align="center"><em>The Ocean Bed indeed.</em></div><div align="center"><em>No one to reach me</em></div><div align="center"><em>But sunken ships</em></div><div align="center"><em>No use am I</em></div><div align="center"><em>But to house the dead</em></div><div align="center"><em>And be cursed for it.</em></div><div align="center"><em>I'd rather be a desert</em></div><div align="center"><em>Out in the light</em></div><div align="center"><em>Than be in the dark, dark waters.</em></div><div align="center"><em>Water can bring</em></div><div align="center"><em>Desert's spring</em></div><div align="center"><em>But who can bring me salvation?</em></div><div align="center"><em>No, I'm not happy</em></div><div align="center"><em>As many do think</em></div><div align="center"><em>I am a depressed soul...</em></div><div align="center"><em>Lonely and morbid,</em></div><div align="center"><em>With no one to love,</em></div><div align="center"><em>Not even the Devil foul!</em></div>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18341796634745470344noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3747934485414496833.post-66788037043076915322006-09-06T01:14:00.000-07:002006-09-06T01:26:17.915-07:00Permit me...<em><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>Permit me...to feel what I once felt before...</strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>Permit me...to shake myself to the core...</strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>Permit me...to live my life as I please...</strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>Permit me...to forget my dreams with ease...</strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>Permit me...to let my philophobia accrue...</strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>Permit me...to give my guilt its due...</strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>Permit me...to return what I did borrow...</strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>Permit me...to drown myself in my sorrow...</strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>Permit me...to indulge in my philandering trysts...</strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>Permit me...to go and slit my wrists...</strong></span></em>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18341796634745470344noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3747934485414496833.post-17991599607807893042006-09-04T12:01:00.000-07:002006-09-04T12:10:19.897-07:00Denial<div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;">Denial is a powerful thing</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;">Not just a river in Egypt</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;">I wonder why they so sing</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;">Not simply, but encrypt!</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;">Conscious or not </span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;">But what you deny</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;">Will get real hot</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;">And in will fly!</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;">Jay, Jay, you've gone mad</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#666600;">Sad, sad; that's so, so sad!</span></em></strong></div>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18341796634745470344noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3747934485414496833.post-82723565444714198352006-09-03T23:08:00.000-07:002006-09-03T23:11:06.485-07:00I'm the jaywalking Jay<div align="center"><strong><em>Watch where you're going, they say </em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em>And I reply - nay, nay, nay </em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em>I'm the jaywalking Jay </em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em>I make my own way </em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em></em></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><em></em></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><em>Foolish, you are, at me they bray </em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em>Yes, indeed, you are a jay </em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em>You do nothing but waste your day </em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em>Work not at all and only play </em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em></em></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><em></em></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><em>Doesn't matter, I make my hay </em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em>Yeah, I do, come what may </em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em>For, I'm the jaywalking Jay </em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em>I make my own way</em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em></em></strong> </div><div align="justify">A/N: This is what the thing's supposed to look like, but I can't manage to format the thing...</div>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18341796634745470344noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3747934485414496833.post-50939598860079517262006-09-03T07:39:00.000-07:002006-09-03T08:10:33.017-07:00<div align="justify"><span style="color:#33ffff;">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.</span></div>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18341796634745470344noreply@blogger.com0