Just stray into my veins,
Like a worm to the hungry beak,
Be discreet, beware the force
of the love that cometh to hurl you,
Amidst it enthralling depths,
Finding the passion in danger
The thirst for fulfillment.
A haunt for the deepest desires
and smoking into the fog
Holding close every frenzy
The starting trouble
As I try to milk my pen
For words of wisdom
The tremendous opening scene,
To catch you unaware
To take your breath away,
To reveal the veiled
To bring the dawn,
Until it came
Only, on me,
Rather than milk the pen,
Hold your soul
And ink your heart!
Enticing colour-sticks-frozen ice
The sweet tingy icyness,
Like a child in wonder
At his most precious dreams,
Suckling onto the carefree air,
Like the little sheep un-anxious.
Today I am that child
In wonder at the ice-lollies.
After reading Chetan Bhagat’s “The Three Mistakes of my Life”, I updated my Facebook status thus–’Done with The Three Mistakes of my Life. Now proceeding to the fourth one.’ (The fourth one was Five Point Someone) Ok. Its wasn’t exactly that dramatic, but it disappointed. Individually the book can be read pleasurable at the most a couple of times, but otherwise, people like me who have read other works of the author may probably feel the repitition of the tone and narrative style. If it were an autobiography, with a bit of reworking the book would have been wonderful. On the other side, Chetan Bhagat is certainly not a boring read, and on that front, yes, do try reading it.
The poisonous fangs of seduction takes me down
To the untold depths of nothingness,
Where the stakes are high, life is a senseless drumbeat,
Breathing brazen, the primitive soul taking a plunge
Defacing the man, adorning the shroud
When all the world feels deserving, for lying, and impersonating
the imagined colours of civilization.
Our walls have b’come tall,
Our vision short.
We think high,
At the Present. Is it there?
The abundance of non-existence?