An Indelible encounter

Waiting at the concert gates,
music stuck in his ears
and a video player in his hand,
attracted by a ramones T
he pretentiously walked upto us
and
what started as small talk,
took us into the depths of his life.

an engaging man of sorts,
he loved his music and adored Cliff,
watching three shows of his for a week,
one day he met "the idol".
recalling two encounters of his with Cliff,
subtly taught us a couple of rules of life,
one shouted "kill piracy"
the other screamed "humility".

a man well spent,
another case of "meagre beginnings"
he battled life hard in the face.

merely with a weapon of 'belief',
'punctuality' his armour,
and the 'sharp' mind of a general
he reached the top of his game.

Craig then wafted away into thin air,
but his advice clouds me in thick smoke,
"Believe in yourself,and the world will be yours",he said
but
"when too heavy,
the weight of the world will only be shared by your parents" he smiled

Tide of thoughts

consciousness garners in a tide of thoughts
washing away all the castles of sand
we stand still and watch as it lashes the mind
a sea of the past and future
flooding the present behind

we admire the beautiful waves
dont wanna leave sight
but as soon as the waters recede
reality shows off the oceans might

we build embankments to thwart these thoughts
but they are weaker than sand
a slight peek into reality
and then the waves sweep over the land

we admire the beautiful waves
dont wanna leave sight
but as soon as the waters recede
reality shows off the oceans might

Another Blow-up

another explosion in a twisted mind,
again,blowing up a great feeling,
its almost become second nature,
to come closer to winning,
and yet stumble,
by your own stupid fuck ups.

jimmy described it to be the soul of a clown,
how right today he sounds,
everytime the sun comes out,
you are buried beneath the ground.

for the few people who care for you,
hurt becomes their shadow,
and all they ever wish is,
you were never that callow.

your actions hit like a stone,
words pierce the skin,
you wish you wern't a twisted freak,
but now,the damage is all you moan.

Rolling in life's cradle

he rolled in degenerated senses,
like a child on a soft bed of roses,
seeking answers to his life,
his face showed no pain,no anger,no hate,
all these had long passed him by,
he rolled there resigned to his helpless fate,
made even more helpless by the people walking by,
seemingly unaffected by the daily sights.

long,heavy hair stuck out from his spotted and wrinkled face,
his crumbling body had no pillars to support,
the stilts of life had been chopped to half,
couldn't walk along anymore in life's race.

a ragged cloth covering his chest,
and folded pants showing off the deepest scars,
not a single rupee in his tin can,
and all god's child did was roll.
roll away into oblivion.

and years ago,
rolling still fresh in his mother's womb,
would he have imagined today?