Giving up...

Just like an old man engaged,
in a lonely war against immortality...
When face to face with death,
happily gives in to its shallow brutality.

Hope...

Tyranny without force...
endless flight of stairs...
bullet without a target...
men without the sins...
promises not broken...
leaving without a last wish.

That's Hope.

Life...

Curtains up...
Pain...
Severed cord...
Submissive lord...
Abject addiction...
Servile determination...
Mournful survival...
Pain...
Curtains down.

Morality of Misjudgement...

Welcome to my dream theatre,
to meet your reprobative death...
Hoist the sun of my twilight,
to dismantle its sanity...

Kill me time and again,
in moments of serendipity...
Annihilate the existence of logic,
judging the presence of my soul...

Answers...

Sometimes we wonder what all this means. The purpose, the reason for our existence. Whether we’re just slaves to a master or are we masters for all those things we blame or claim in the name of destiny.

Nature has a strange way of her own. The human mind has a way of its own. But the question is, are we caught in a predicament that these entities cause, or is there a deeper and truer meaning to all this? Are these entities nothing but the lighter, and ironically, as we want them to be, the higher side of an unbalanced see-saw?

The problem in looking for the answers is that we only look for what we want to see. Seeing is believing - and we all want to believe. After all, it is the way of the nature or, I daresay, the way of the mind to demystify everything, whether complex or simple, into, as we would like to believe, simpler parts. But the truth is that most of the greatest inventions and discovery were made by chance, and not some scientific and well-planned studies. And Lady Luck always favours the obsessed.

The obsession far exceeds the academic brilliance or the riches that the world has to offer. It is what keeps us alive. And it is for that obsession that we have to exist.

Loneliness...

Losing out the race for the world on sale,
tears that froze, nolens volens down the face...
The silent cry, the loud scream for you,
Fell like a feather on your blind ears...

Reaching up, out to the stars,
the screaming phantoms hold no bar...
Many deaths died on my route,
to the blurred reflection, so crude...

A Natural High...

Switching on the mescal button,
to be influenced by the moon light...
With no war here, can the peace be marred,
You sat right next to me, and yet so far...

The turntables moved faster
as the time moved on,
the hands, they took me closer,
closer to the stars...