I have been tormented many a times, waking up in the middle of the night with wild dreams crazed with hallucinations I madly pen down all that I may recall. I have realized this much that there is something that is bothering me. Being the introvert, I am prone to suppressing myself but as the old saying goes the more you keep it in the faster and bigger it comes out. I choose the only peaceful channel known to me which will suffice as an outlet. I bring some humor into my outlandish outbreaks so that I may keep myself sane. I think that I have racked my brains so much that I have lost myself within myself. All I can do now is just keep indulging myself. All I want now is to break the indulgence and do something and break free and make sense.

There is something in my brain,
That I cannot explain,
A worm eating me up,
Leaving nothing but a stump,
What is this forsaken parasite,
Taking my will, taking my might,
Driving me mad, close to insane,
I take to paper, try and explain,
Something inside that is eating me alive,
Could it be called foresight,
Bad trauma from a dream,
Negligible nuances neither,
Feel it on every nerve of mine,
Choose to ponder and question,
Divine salvation accosted, never wanted,
Still the burning continues,
An urge, a will the pang to do,
To strike, to make something right,
What has gone wrong through the night,
That I might take some delight,
In putting all this right!

Heave back from the exertion,
Tired not broken,
Still many lights alit,
In the gone gardens of my paradise,
Picturesque and plentiful,
The overtures of my individuality,
Dip down in them once more,
Draw up another canvas,
Blot it with the paint of me,
Derive some from throwing it out,
Sit back and huddle, watch it flee,
Bungle and jumble the wilderness

Wahooosh! And it comes swinging,
The ball back to attack its master,
The part dealt with a part left,
Not more to potray then the part it is,
The part after all, a part of us all!

The way it ought to be,
The way it should be put back again,
The picture, the couch, the carpet,
Forget all those good for nothing movers,
Those chainsaw toting cowboys,
These malice weilding magistrates!

I want to snag a fish,
By hook or by crook,
In these sunny waters that flow,
Besides this stricken land of mine,
I'll do my best and my worst,
I want MY fish!
Join the fisherman or the mascarader,
Use stick or harpoon,
Persevere or plunder,
Question or belittle,
I will have MY FISH!

There is more meaning to us then we care to imagine however that is all the meaning that is there to us. Over thinking and over analyzing separates the body from the mind. We live in our own reality and have been linked to the other one through a concept I barely understand. But we need only existence of the other world not its proof. We are masters of our own liberty In essence we are the gods of our space however limited that might be. In our own ways we are untouchables but there is layering in this complex tapestry that we weave and that is beyond our grasp to understand.

You are not the sum of your emotions,
You are not the product of your reason,
What you forgo in this frequency,
Is your salvation in the real domain,
The transform among dimensions is not known,
Your expression does have multiple forms,
You are not linear, neither do you scale thus,
You integrated over yourself have no constant,
You cannot be differentiated, you have discontinuities,
The system that defines you is NP hard in nature,
There exists for all of you one moment such that you are you,
Your complex conjugate is you,
There is not more to you than you.

I accept children are naive. They are born that way. It is the natural system to go through the whole process and then learn about the ghastliness of what man has achieved and left on the wayside. There are people who learn their lesson and then graduate while others stick to the old curriculum and refuse to enter college. It is these people who have been gaining on us. They have made for themselves a niche in our society slowly eating away at our foundation. There will be a time when none of us shall be left. However the consolation remains that we were living in a reality that has many holes in the script. There is an oppurtunity for every actor to stray and have to question his actions no matter how boss fearing or timid he may be. No one can build up a role in which they are not led to the gates of knowledge by some accident or will.

Speak your words out loud,
Hear them echo in the empty halls,
Dont lose your temper quite right now,
The fervor of the crowd has not yet died down,
They yell and yearn to envelope you whole,
Take you down, make you one of their own,
Sober you must stay, to stand and fight,
Use your might, guide them to what is right,
The anger will not help, for all that is felt,
For these sorry morons, falls short by long,
Not better than sheep in a farm,
Guided by day, at night kept cosy and warm,
Kept inside and guarded hidden from all,
But they day will come, the farmer shall folly,
They will stray and see the outside,
Curl up and explode, hate their sight.

We abuse too much a person that has show the flightest flaw in himself. The flaw is there in all of us. Time is our saviour and executioner. It is the one that brings the axe down upon one head while blessing the other. We will all be ridiculed and judged and spit upon because we did something that at the time seemed right but now has been proven or noticed to be different or wrong in one's own opinion. There is sweet felt jubilation and painful ecstacy knowing that one has fallen and will not likely to fall again for some time. It is a battle of wits out there and one must attack or be attacked. We must banish or be banished to abomination and then brought back again so that we may banish another. Therefore it is good tidings for someone to have the axe come down upon them.

That kind of pain, that kind of insinuation,
Seething seeking missles of exploting joy,
Jamming during moonlit days of sunshine,
Sickness streaming through the window,
Silence fell deathly doing deadly,
Brought me here on an errand, left me to die,
But hey Im still living doing grand,
Speakers burst not handling the music,
Silly advertisments violating my drama,
The middle I want, a plot on the moon,
Investing evermore, turn your ears here,
Money thrown down, to live or die,
Let you go will you ever return,
Copying documents in your soberity,
For the time when you lose it,
Take his coat and tie, his aura,
What does he do? What is his hand?
Tear his clothes, take them off,
I do think you misunderstand,
What do you want to make the moon!
This will not be advancement,
In end just another replacement,
For the frolick, the plays we must play,
So that we may live to see another day.

Love is something we all crave even though we may run away from it. It is the emotion that can make us both weak and strong. We rejoice in it and watch it take us down into oblivion. There is such a thing as true love. There will be a time when people will fall for someone who is their true kindred spirit. But others will fake it just live life. There can be no guarantees that is the way life is. But even those who do find the truth or the fallacy will eventually end up knowing the truth. Two things are not meant to be stable in this world. It is the inconveniece gifted to us. We will remain in progress seeking the end of the path that is expanding alongside us leading us on.

Mortalized in your soothing gaze,
In your dreamy eyes, by your smiling face,
By your timid grace, by your wholesome embrace,
In your pastel gays, by your distate for grays,
Undone by your slighting way,
Brought down from upon a mast,
Saved by a familiar embrace,
Garden growths in plastic boqued,
Thank God it was you who escaped,
A breathtaking soar, a refreshing change,
Im still standing, hardly believing,
I am going now to join the parade,
Mortified by your malignant charade!

The contemporary period brought with it the fervor to get things done hastily. It also brought with it tools to do so. Yet it sacrificed the means for the end. There is time for leisure now. We are all cocooned in our worlds interacting through mediums that have emotion. And in all this we try to comprehend that is diammetrically opposed to the very concept of concreteness. However we can hope to see beyond ourselves is a mystery. But then what is wrong with all this. It is keeping us busy. The olden times had their problems also. People were getting too involved with 'essence' of it all. Sciences are one gift from God that keep man pacified. Give him something that follows his command and twist to his whim. These theories and laws are perhaps the only consolation man has that he is the highest being in all this mud.

You look so wired, in that neat suit so attired,
Why you want to fight, playing outside broke the light,
Thought you were blessed, hell bent on clearing the mess,
Dont rot there come to my room, loose the broom,
Do some real damage, kill Babbage,
Mother Fucker, that bloody inventor,
Gone are my heroes, the world reduced to zeros,
My body drained all this information in me engrained,
The heart cut open and bleeding, this mind always more it is needing,
My passion, where is my intuition,
My soul, lost down some hole,
The darkness, the night, this terrifying fright,
You brought on the night, broke my fucking light,
Fix it now put it right, give me back my fucking light!

I think drugs are helping me see but they are actualling constricting me giving me the illusion that I have some sort of a third eye. I gave them up and was sober but I am addicted and as I took the first tiny step back the whole emotional wagon came rushing back and hit me full on. I never recovered. It was not possible for any human to withstand that kind of force. The drug is stronger than me. I may abuse it and call it bad but I am weaker than it and more ugly than it. I am the one who abuses it. I have no will. The drug has more of a right to yell all those expletives at me. The drugs are this world, this constant quest for knowledge, to explain that which surrounds us. We are here in a state and the best way to deal with it is deal with the present and not leave in some dream world where this world has no consequence. Maybe this world has reason maybe it does not. What should concern us is that this world is here and how are we to go about it? It is staring us in the face. We are not to leave questions unanswered but focus on questions you can hope to answer before you goto questions that talk of things you can only dream of.

My eyes are opening, my gates are closing,
Buttercups blooming on the field, my petals are thrashing down,
Rain is pouring hard making me live, sprout and die,
Weedkillers saving my robe, keeping my grace,
Weedkillers putting me down, things inside me they are sticking,

Fools are coming, storms that will blow by,
Striking me down, making me see,
Then I hear the ring again,
The telephone calls by its side,
Shun away the habit now,
Won't you even try,

Insomaniac, sick little psycopath,
Convovluted, leeching icky piece,
WOrn down, abused foul ham,
Gutter stricken filthy street bum,
Why you even want to try me?
Get close to you before you even take your step,
See your wind and pace yours steps,
Bring you down before you look my way,

Hasty feelings deep inside,
Nasty peels on the outside,
Drum it out once more,
Sorry little piece of trash,
Hate your guts even more now

The best of philosophers will agree that the art that is philosophy is nothing more than thinking. It takes you to the edge of yuor mind and then forces you to think. You indulge yourselves in questions that may amaze the untrained mind. They are the most basic and root questions one can think of. But then philosophy has been around for ages. Why have not we come up with any answers? Where is our enlightenment. THere is no way to understand. This is frustrating. Maybe the best solution is to go in a corner and be yourself or just to hell with all of it and implode on yourselves. Do whatever you want for the hell if anyone cares here. There is no theme no guidlines. There is no hope nor any answers. The questions will be raised over and over again. The only way is to avoid them.

Absolution I seek in another quarter,
Far from my home of misery and confusion,
Through winds of time unchanged,
The same challenge flowing through my veins,
Why I never stop to see a point of view,
Charging ahead neglecting all but mine,
Here to stand another day, salvage another drop,
I confuse my symphony for your utter chaos,
Leave me now, let me go towards the abyss,
The bottomless pit of an abode that serves me now

Infatuation is sometimes compared to love. But then why would they be separate words? There is a linguistic theory that languages have two words with separate meanings because the nuances of the meanings are different. One expresses the same thing in a subtly different manner. In common day use these subtle differences are not noticed but merely engrained into instict. Infatuation is a lesser degree of love. Love is an all powerful overwhelming emotion that seeks out and completely enevelopes a person. Infatuation on the other hand is the bunch of butterflies in your stomach when you look upon a new face or even a old face from a different perspective. Many have fallen for the deep precipice that surrounds the pit of love and borders infatuation. To be infatuated is to have fun, to fall in love is to decide to grow up and leave for fun for a more worthwhile and testing emotion. Love needs work whereas infatuation is a silly man's paradise.

Hello come yonder to the hills of green grass where the sweet melody flows,
Where harmony sings its tune and the trees bow down it too,
Strong and pleasant you are feeling now roaming these forgotten realms,
Everything needs no reason, look all around gay is the season of your dream,
The lines read no words, you are free from your fate in this place of chances,
Take the chance peeking you in the face, follow the maidens calling you beyond,
Maybe the next season shall tell, a story of a diamond, a star in the sky,
That left the earth and took to the sky, a satellite of our fortune,
But mostly undone we all stand high above our little visions,
And while we laugh and frolick on and on goes our little indulgence,
Fly away so that we may return to the home we call our world,
Breed and eat, share our thoughts and confusions,
Oh sweet memory we shall never forget you, the bane that you were,
Took us up and down on this ride of never ending enjoyment,
This roller coaster we now call emotion.

The attempt to understand the concept of God is a laughing matter for me. There is no way we can comprehend or even get close. All our futile attempts are able to do is humour our limited intellect. A jogging exercise shall we call it. It is not bad for the mind to have some exercise once in a while. But to make a complete science out of it is utter foolishness. There will never be any answers. We have tried logic, abstract thinking, mathematical equations. But all lead to a point where our mind has to take a guess, a random fluke as to an assumption after which logic can readily deduce God. Every man makes a different assumption thus to every man his own God. The arguement that God is not important is a weak one. The arguement is that since we are the ones physically present and verifiable thus we are God and the essence we deem to be God is merely an idea. In my mind not all things are verifiable. We are the creations of something thus in a way limited from understanding something that is above our existence. This can be easily shown in our failed attempts to create even simple forms of artificial intelligence.

The language that flows through my nails,
Fails to keep you a hold, bold and courageous,
A cage full of sonnets, bars of gilded poetry,
Linen cloth of silken threads draped in gold,
The cover devised to keep you in,
Mists of harmony, petals of romance dipped in moonshine,
Your escape still not impeded, stopped nor struck down,
The mask of elliptic contradictions the last stand,
Broken down before the guards had their chance,
The bird of the fifth world needs no stand,
In my land the bird is gone dull, insipid and bland,
There is no way to see the bird in my land.