Blahsphemy

Garbage bags breeding puppies. An antivirus that assures me that I am fully protected. As another year bids goodbye tonight, a slew of resolutions wait eagerly to be nurtured. Life goes on.

I am the last page, there are no more stories to be told.

To let go what's yours The inner you needs to be convinced  That it was never yours

He is clean. His system doesn't have kryptonite. A deafening roar filled his ears as the words flashed across his screen. He was being sucked in to a garbage chute. The system had been coded to reject him. Which means he will be floating lifeless among the galactic flotsam. He has to fight it and his only ray of hope was the message that just flashed on his screen.  

When the bell tolls Is it to remind time to stop Or to startle life again 

Tired words just hung around like lost children. The sentence never made any sense.  It was another lost ship on a dark sea. The writer woke up from his nightmare.  

What does all this mean? The question found its mark. An annoyed brow lifted followed by another. A mouth contorted. A pair of nostrils flared. But no voice emanated. The question remained unanswered.  

The blood red river was silent today. No bones shone through. No neurons jumped up to take air. This is the sleep season, told the brain to his companion as they floated lazily on a cranium. 

There were only 31 left. The rest lay forgotten. Soon these will also give way to the new. A fresh lot will appear and the cycle will repeat. 

A lost memory returned. There were no celebrations for its return. No one hugged it. It just stood there in a corner like an unwanted guest at a party. 

I have been living a lie all these years. As an ideal son. A good student. A reliable friend. A devoted husband. A loving dad. A law abiding citizen. A good neighbor. An ideal employee. Everything was what others wanted to see. Was I any of that, I still don't know. I don't even know if that's me staring back from the mirror. 

I am ready for fame. I am bisexual. Fallen in love. Had a same sex relationship. Fathered a few children. The voice droned off and on at the other end of the confession box. The priest struggled to focus as his aged body sank in to a stupor induced by a heavy lunch and a few glasses of wine. Before his mind slipped away into slumberland he wondered how lord almighty managed to be famous all these years.  

Do you want to write? Asked the paper. The pen didn't know how to react. It was pretty unusual for the paper to make the first move. The pen felt the ink boil inside him. But in the heat of the action he could just spurt out a few nasty ink blobs. The paper felt dejected. It was her first attempt at getting the upper hand and all she had was a few ugly blots to show for it.    

Will one get any richer  Watching life float by like water hyacinths Or become a lonely island?  

The list grew by the day. It was like a hungry serpent which gobbled up anything on its way. The more he fed it, the more it grew. At one point it looked as if it would gobble up his life as well. So he slashed it down mercilessly and fed it to the dustbin. 

Who cries when bubbles burst? Is it the water or the air? Maybe only the bubble cries

Looks like god woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. His lightning curses were accompanied by booming thunder. Then came the sleet and rain. That's when I woke up, just in time to watch my tent being blown away into an abyss. Now don't ask me which side of the bed I woke up on. 

He said: My fear has eight legs. She said: My fear is big and hairy. They said: Our fear slithers and stinks. The stranger: I am yet to see mine. They looked at him as if he was their worst fear. 

Life drained out of my body in spurts. The cut to the vein was surgical. Poor heart didn't know it was being drained. It just went on with its involuntary business till there were no red blood corpuscles ferrying oxygen to its muscles. I had lost consciousness long before these happened. My central nervous system was trying to save me by inducing a blackout. But, soon it also blacked out. In the blackness two words shone like fireflies; the end.

I am a polar bear in a camel's clothing, he screamed. The crowd around him guffawed. Never thought a camel will get a sunstroke, quipped one.  

You are falling ill.  No I am not.  Yes you are falling ill.  No I am fine.  No you are not.  Yes I am. No.  Yes.    

He was happily dreaming doggy dreams when the bone popped into his life. The problem was that the bone was attached to a hairy leg. It happened too fast for him to even realize whether it was a dream or not. The leg with the bone stepped on his tail which was wagging out of joy from the dream. This caused his mouth to clamp on the bone with the leg. What happened next my friends is every dogs tale.  

The world fell off the edge of the universe today. All the media channels were frantically searching for it. As usual they flocked together in front of God's abode. They wanted to know whether he is the one who did it. Or was it someone else who hated mankind who did it? Someone like Satan? So off went another flock to Hell. Both parties were rewarded with ample amounts of information to confuse everyone else in the universe. Time to switch the channel. 

Suddenly! The word appeared out of nowhere. The blinking cursor next to it added the exact amount of drama to the whole setting. The keyboard waited in anticipation. The fingers hovered above them like birds of prey in a horror movie. Then with one deft stroke an exclamation mark appeared. That was it, period.   

I am still grappling with that story. It's as elusive as ever. At times I wake up thinking I have floored it only to realise that it has slipped away from my grasp. Today, I was again triumphant at flooring him. But, as usual I am alone in this A4 ring panting from all the exertion.   

There was no colour in his world. His monochromatic world was filled with black and white. Some radicals of his time used to think that it was the other way around. His whole generation was black and white. They sang songs, danced, painted, cooked, fought, played and died in black and white. Even his dreams were in black and white. Now as he sat there in that dusty attic, he thought in black and white about what will happen to his picture tube which hasn't seen a decent TV show in years. 

After four days of fighting gravity and fatigue he reached the top. Only to be greeted by the ceiling that never seemed to end. Now what, he asked himself? Looks like another fight, a small voice quipped inside his mind. 

Don't look back. You might spot a missed opportunity. You might catch it receding fast in that rearview mirror of yours. But don't take that you turn, it will change the course of things forever. The words had hardly registered in Vladvivar's brain when he slammed the brakes and veered off the rally track.   

The seeds of doubt have sprouted. She is taking good care of them. Yesterday I saw her showering them with gossip. No wonder they are thriving next to the grapevine. I can't wait to see them bloom.   

"Life is strange. You don't need me to tell you this. We as a human race have witnessed it at every twist and turn of our lives." He switched the station with his trademark twitch and slammed hard on the brakes. Little did he realise that there was a two ton truck  tailgating him.    

Being surrounded by the wrong people is the loneliest thing in the world. He looked at the bumper sticker again. That's my life, he sighed. 

He stared at the supernova one last time. Soon his spaceship will be part of the debris that surrounds the dying star. His engines were running out of juice and the gravitational pull was taking its toll. He glanced at his escape pod and the rest of the crew. They were all aware of what lay ahead for them. His craft was loaded with ammunition of every kind. What if I use the ammo to break free from the deathly pull of this planet? What if the explosion kills us all? We will all anyway end up dead so what more can happen? A sudden meteor burst jolted the ship and he balanced himself by inadvertently pressing the FIRE button.    

Toiletries, check. Clothes, check. Mobile, check. Laptop, check. Chargers, check. Watch, check. Paperback, check. Tickets, check. What about the gazillion sperms in the loo mate?  

How do I break it to her, the doctor pondered. She has cancer but the bigger cancer she is suffering from is her husband. How can I tell someone who is beat that the person she holds in high esteem is nothing but a selfish lout? The doctor smiled at the patient and cleared his throat. You are doing good miss, but you should try to nurture positive thoughts. She quietly got up and walked away. Positive thoughts... thought the doctor.    

I was in another man's dream. He met me near the Golden Gate bridge. I never knew it was him. Maybe he knew I was the stranger in his dream. Otherwise why should he greet me like a long lost friend? Looks like he is going to wake up. Quick, let me escape from his dream.

No I won't blame him. Why? I don't know his side of the story yet. Damn. You will never get to know that. He is too conceited for that. I know, but I need to know why. It will be too late when you will get to know. Damn it. Why do you want me to make him feel miserable? Miserable? He is the one who made your life miserable. This is not going anywhere. I know.

There goes the last one to have occupied that corner. It's jinxed, you know?  What?  The corner. People who occupy that corner don't stick around much.  Oh! I am moving there. What?

The blank paper taunted again Your pen won't harm me, dead poet The pen's tears gushed forth   

Old men leering at chicks Young men falling for cougars and money It's truly an animal world   

A familiar name welcomes you Step in and you discover everything's changed  What a shame familiar name

A drop fell and shattered The droplets united to form a river Only to meet the dam.

The river gushed on forever The rock never gave in an inch    That was their unwritten agreement  

Darkness blooms in every corner Only to wilt away in the morning sun    Isn't that enlightening my friends

The bookrack was looming menacingly behind him. He always had a premonition that one day it will crush him to death. Just like the ant he crushed between the yellowing pages of Das Capital. He heard a creak when he replaced a book the other day. He looked at the book he was going to replace, Charles Darwin - The theory of evolution. My evolution might stop right now, that was the thought he had on his mind when rack collapsed.     

That's going to be a problem, he replied. I can't accept a live heart. I never have handled one. I usually get dead ones. Almost dead ones as well. But never a live one like yours. She suppressed her tears and walked away.     

Pain has eaten away his features. He looks like a rock that has endured the raging seas. You can sense the angst in his every move. Even his eyelids sob when they part. This is the story I want to write, thought the android. I have to experience pain like he did. How do I do that is beyond me. For I am just a programmable being whereas he is a mystery. I hate him. I have to destroy him. The android quickly activated the termination sequence. The man never knew what happened. His atoms were dispersed all over space in an instant.  

Minds drifting away like cubes The cold war reaches its peak again Ice melts, so will egos

The pain grew like a banyan tree on steroids. It spread its giant branches without a care. It crushed everything that was in its way. The brain was numbed by this onslaught. It grew weak and frail. Soon pain took over. Like an evil emperor it squashed every other function from the brain. All the brain had was pain and nothing else.  

There is no blood. Shoot him again. Nope, he must have been dead long back. How can that be? Didn't we just see him jumping around? Look there, he is moving again. Shoot!   

I will soon unsubscribe from this life. All my updates, snaps and witty comments will be soon forgotten. There will be a million others who are eager to fill in. This existence is just spam and nothing else.   

Welcome back his conscience boomed. I didn't go anywhere for you to welcome me back, he quipped. Its been a while since we met, whether you went away or not. How is that possible? There he goes again, muttered his conscience. 

What to write? The question hounded him for days. Nights were a different matter. He was always writing. The pen used to fly over the blank sheets like a bomber dropping cluster bombs. He used to feel good. Then all of a sudden his dream will be shattered by the loud fart of his roommate.   

They found him face down in a ditch. He was drifting between consciousness and blackness like a pendulum. He heard them whisper stereo. He thought he heard someone laugh as well. He was the quiet type. He knew he could crank up the party if he wanted. They used to call him Mr. Boom Before he ended up in the ditch he was leading peaceful retired life in an attic. There was no one around to disturb him. But then life has this nasty way of shaking things up. He was spotted by the kid he dreaded the most. He was no longer a kid. He had grown old, developed a serious meth problem and was always on the lookout for trouble. That day in one of his drug induced tantrums he just ran up to the attic and started kicking things around. That's when he spotted the long retired family member. Family or no family, the kid grabbed him and flung him out of the attic window. He fell on top of a passing truck that was jostling down the street. The very same truck moved around town with him precariously...

I just realized that I have forgotten something. I have left out the ending from this story. Or was it the beginning? I am not sure of it either. 

Loneliness welcomed him back like a long lost friend. He detested her company, always. He tried to shake her off at night clubs, stadiums, metro stations, malls and cinema halls. She was always waiting for him whenever he felt lonely. She seemed to enjoy his predicament. He wanted to lose her forever. The moment he was lonely, she was there by his side. Soon he started to like her company. He started to long for her in crowds, meetings and parties. Little did he know that he was becoming her. A loner.      

Once upon a time there was a man with no mind of his own. He always wanted others to do the thinking for him. He was always looking for his mind in the wrong places. One day he was caught peeping up a young lady's skirt for it. He didn't know where he could find his mind. He was frustrated that even though he didn't mind being without his mind the others did mind. So off he went to get a mind of his own. He travelled all around the world and came back to his old town. There one day he realized that his mind was all this while languishing in a prison deep underground. He dug and dug until his fingers bled. Finally he reached an iron handle. He turned it with all his might and the earth caved in. Now he was a man who was in no need for a mind. A dead man. 

The time has come. It surely didn't come on a bike or horseback. It was riding a snail. That too a snail that lost its way a million times. By the time it arrived, it was eons late. There was no one waiting for it. But, then time and tide waits for none. So the feeling was mutual. 

The trap was set. A few days passed until it delivered. One ugly squirming word was found impaled in it. It created such a racket that she was scared to go anywhere near it. Finally the word died. It stared with its blank eyes at the world and lay motionless. She poked it, just to be sure. It was dead for sure. I have to erase it before it starts to stink, she thought. The trap had other plans. It wanted to eat the word one alphabet at a time. It shook the carcass whenever she came near. She just couldn't understand why a dead word refused to go away silently. 

She looked frail. The sunlight was playing with her hair. It was a Sunday afternoon. Damn, my memory is getting mixed up again. Can you please rearrange the lines? 

The music played itself out The needle retired to its familiar corner The song still lingered on  

Four days have slipped by My blog still remains dry as ever Dear muse please come by

Mindless chatter for the soul Endless rides to the fair and back The mind still strays alone

I was always seeking pain But pain never seemed to mind me Now that's my new pain

Was a mirror, lamented shards Was doesn't mean anything now, taunted life It did, replied the stone

The tale had a period The story wheezed its last there They called it the end

The black flags of death. Like noisy feathers nesting on lamp posts  Crowing at life's only reality

I am a long-lost memory  Your past and present rolled into one  Faded by time's incessant ticking  

Your conscience called. It has left a contact number. These mind mapping rascals, he remarked as he hung up on his brain. 

Who is he? An old friend. He doesn't look that old. No he is not old.  But, he is an old friend right?  Yes.

Rain drops and dew drops. She used to drop them on her lovers face. But now as she lay motionless, he dropped a handful of earth on her beautiful face.  

The tallest tree in the forest is as long as a matchstick. The largest boulder is as big as a pebble. The biggest man as big as your thumb. Now that you got the picture, go back to your fairy tale and try being the giant who has washed up on that tiny shore. 

Listen to the penny drop, commanded the inner voice. So she dropped a penny and listened. Idiot not this penny, that one. She stole a glance at the direction her mind was goading her to look. There she was - Penny, in all her glory peeping in to the well. One nudge was all that it took to hear the scream and the splash thereafter. 

A million sperms danced on the tiled floor. Only to be washed away by the hot water from the shower. The drain received them like a metallic ovary with sieves. Farewell my million unborn children cried the porn star from the magazine.    

His fear crouched in the corner waiting to pounce. He could feel its eyes prying on him. His hands frantically searched for the only weapon he could use. Is that it? His brain screamed. Where is that piece of cold steel when you really want it. There it is, ensconced in my trouser pockets, a bit warm from the body heat. His fingers grasped it and pulled it out. He frantically punched in the numbers and he could already feel his fear disappearing. Hello, the voice on the other end was like a gust of fresh air. He looked around and there was nothing to fear in that room. Nothing at all.  

The alarm claimed another beautiful dream. Together they lay there like half eaten carcasses by some vile beast. All scorched by the brutal alarm's ring before they could fill the sleepers brain with happy thoughts and what not. They call this reality, said one dream as it flapped its burnt wings.     

They call this the slaughterhouse, the guide's voice echoed off the empty halls. Slaughter house? Then why is this surgically clean? As if guessing what was going through every visitors mind, the guide continued. This is where great ideas were crucified. That's the podium where E=MC2 died after being stoned with quantum physics. And that my friends is the apple tree where the serpent sold his ideas to Adam and Eve. The very tree that dropped an apple on Newton's head giving him gravity. Isn't it evil? Well, who am I to plant my ideas in your mind, the guide guffawed. The eerie silence that filled the halls was marred by the hushed whispers of the visitors. The are getting ideas, thought the guard. For years he has been doing this and he knew what will happen next. Are you getting any ideas?        

Why do some people hold on to beauty when they have exceeded the limit. Why don't they realize that the beast also needs its share?

There are two ways of looking at this problem, said the wise one. One is to look away from it. The other way is to look deep in to it. But, quipped the idiot, that will leave us with only one way doesn't it?

The world ends here, he said, pointing to the deep abyss. All that we do is come till here and look at the abyss in wonder. The only thing that had ventured beyond that is no more, he added. Everyone looked at him. He was an old man with tattered clothes and a limp. No one knew how he became the curator of the abyss. The visitors were curious. What could've gone beyond the end of the world? What could've dared to jump into that abyss and survived? What on earth was that? The old man cleared his throat once again and muttered under his breath; imagination, without it the world will end.      

I will jump when the bell tolls three, thought she, precariously perched on a window sill 25 floors above the ground. Little did she know that the clock's hour hand was struggling to inch ahead. The battery that powered its movement had drained. She waited and waited until sleep came and embraced her. In her sleep she floated down like a feather. Only to be woken up for a second before her skull smashed to smithereens on the pavement.  

I am scared now. The same story seems to be haunting me. It came to me while I was asleep. It was there as I started keying in this. It was there when I was desperately trying not to remember it. Let me end this story before it comes back again. 

"Looks like life has taken a back seat. Everyday brings in its own load of troubles and dumps it on you. You just waddle in all that shit to stay afloat. Until someone comes and flushes you down." Sounds great isn't it? The writer asked his audience of an empty chair and a scraggy cat. The cat got startled by the sudden outburst. The chair just sat there dazed, like the millions of editors he had assaulted with his manuscripts.   

You have to squeeze it out. It will never come out in its own. The advices were many. Deep in his heart he knew that no amount of squeezing will work. He was pretty sure that none of his advisors have tried it themselves. They were just echoing the stupidity passed down through ages. After all, how can one squeeze his own mind? Is ideation as easy as getting toothpaste out of the tube? Well, why don't you try it? He is waiting.   

 How do you tell someone not to do something you have done? How to tell someone to hold on, when you know everything is going to fall apart? How to tell someone that all is not lost when nothing is left? How to tell someone everything without telling anything? 

Adam and Eve never ate the apple. The  apple missed Newton's head. Steve is allergic to apples. What will the world be, if these were true? 

The sonar beeped again. There was something fast approaching. What can it be, wondered the whale, that beeps inside me? 

Looks like I have grown a dick. RIght in my eye. He said.  She choked. What?  Yes, I seem to have grown a penile organ in my eye. And it wants to poke every woman it sees.  You are going nuts. Nope right now it's flaccid. But watch it when a hot chick passes by. Oh my god. You are driving me also nuts. Talking about nuts, I lost one of mine the other day. You are sick. You are horny. You lost your nut. And your eye masturbates. Exactly. Get lost, I have told you a million times not to try those mind altering substances. Looks like I am the one who needs a fix.    

I buried your brother. I found him rotting under the tree last night. I never liked him. I guess he never liked me too. After last night, I hate him more. He could've died somewhere else. Why did I have to bury him? I am sure he must be happy that he made me go through all that trouble last night. I am also happy that I got to bury him. Hope I could bury the hatred as well.

Someone beat me to it. Now I am all alone on this planet. Gazing at the meteor that's speeding towards me and the world I am in. I have exactly one hundred days to flee. But how? Maybe the meteor will lose its steam and die out in space. Maybe it will miss Earth. Maybe I will find and abandoned escape pod. Maybe a miracle will happen. Maybe...    

I'll be late, he said as he stepped out of the house on to the road where he was run over by a truck that wasn't supposed to be there to make him late forever. 

How will you recognize me? When I am lying there all bloody and disjointed in a heap? Will you look for my eyes? Is it your favourite mole that's going to give me away? Will you run away in disgust? Never to claim me or whatever is left of me?     

Life has a strange way of sorting itself out. But in my case I guess it fumbled a bit. Otherwise why should I be here at this end of the computer keying in this story? Well that's life, you might say. 

No one told me anything. I didn't know. I am sorry. One will never think about it that way. My mistake. I should've asked. Hey! Is that me who is lying on that bed? Why are you staring at me like that? I swear, I had no clue about this. Promise. 

I downloaded a dream. It was there on the cloud. Waiting for me. Uploaded by my conscience. I don't know how long the link will last. These days the neural networks are a bit erratic. The administrators are blaming it on the recent LSD attacks. Or was it the Dopamine virus? I have no  clue. Let me enjoy my dream now. Damn my DreamPlayer seems to be outdated. It's been a long time since I have enjoyed a dream. Now where do I get the latest, DreamPlayer?

The story lay there waiting. Like a maiden waiting for her lover to return. Will the lover come back? Well, that's another story.  

No one believed that the system was without a flaw. There has to be a flaw somewhere. Nothing can be perfect. Then one day one smart Alec found the flaw. He was flabbergasted. So were the others. They huddled around the system and muttered "No we can't be the flaw".    

He looked back. There it was lying by the wayside. Covered with dust and garbage. He wanted to go back and pick it up. That's when he remembered that it was his long lost memory.  

Am I good looking asked the mirror. You are my reflection replied the evil queen. 

The story begins and ends here. 

The sleepy hand found its way to the snooze button. The alarm was silenced before it even began. Sleep refused to let go of the blankets. The brain screamed Monday but the body turned a deaf ear. The pillows greeted the snore. The world shall wait till my feet touch the ground. Then it will spin like out of orbit into chaos. Let me sleep. The story can wait. 

His smile filled the empty room. For me he was a stranger. I was nursing my beer and swaying to the music. He was pretty old to be where I was. Or was it the other way round? I ordered another beer. He had his sandwiches. Our gazes collided again. He still had that smile. I tried to act indifferent and grimaced. I paid up and left. He was still there, waiting for a smile.   

I lost my sight rather unceremoniously. There was no suspense. No background music. Nothing. My trees, my flowers, my sky, my sun... everything faded out slowly. Day by day the blackness grew blacker. My eyes, they never saw anything. Now I see my world with everything else but my eyes. Tell me, am I blind?

Silence filled the pauses between every word that came out of his mouth.  

Some day I am going to smash his skull in.  You swear a lot these days.    Maybe I should just do it than swear. Hmmm  

She committed suicide! Impossible, I just met her on the stairs. Yeah, maybe you are the one who prompted it. Damn! She said she will call you tonight. But didn't you say she committed suicide? Yes, she did. Then how can she call me? Oh! That's because she died only on  FB.

Life rattled the ribcages of time.  Lying neglected like autobiographies of fools. Empty vessels make noise, he thought.  

Will you meet me tomorrow? Yes. Hmmm, so you are confident about cheating death? What? Nothing.

I thought you told me that this was a nudist beach.  Yes it is, you just have to use your imagination.

That's an outrageously blatant lie Said the mind looking at the body What if the mirror lied?

Help that's somebody's palm! Don't worry you are drunk. No that looks like a lady's palm. It even has a diamond ring on it. You must be kidding me. Where? Look it's climbing up the wall behind the bedstead. I will be damned. That's a palm alright. But how can it move on its own? Is a rat or something carrying it? No, it just moved on its own. Hurry call the old man who runs this motel. What did he say. He says it's harmless! What?   

Go easy on the ants my  boy or soon they will be creeping out from your other end. Is that how my granddad died? I saw ants coming out of every orifice? Damn, boy he was roadkill not an eating disaster. Roadkill? You mean he used to kill ants on the road? Nope boy, he got run over by the angry metal boxes on wheels. He was a bit deaf and lacked your speed to have crossed their path. Shut up and have your ants. Don't make aunt Armadillo wait. Ok mom. These low fat red ants taste better than the black ones. Slurrrrrp. Boy, what did I tell you!

Clocks, they always steal time.  Sometimes they make us late.  Sometimes early.  Their hands are at work always.  Crossing each other and measuring our lives.  Clocks, darn clocks.  Hours, minutes, seconds... they are stealing our time and life.  Clocks, there is no escaping them and their disciples.  

Life in a bottle is interesting. You sit safely on a rack behind the glass walls that embrace you. People come look at you, make faces and go. They are so funny. Rumor has it that some day, the destined one will appear and free you from the bottle. But who wants to escape from the bottle? Everything is hermetically sealed and stable. No bacteria, no fungi and no external elements. Isn't it fun? Isn't this life?   

When the moon wanes away. Will the world also shrink with it? Maybe the rabbit knows better. 

The water was rising fast. It's the moon, thought he. Now he could hear it flowing down his cellar steps. I will have to switch to my gills, soon. Something strange was going on. Instead of the usual icy cold water, his feet got scalded. He jumped in pain. The volcano must have burst and the lava would've reached the sea. I will have to get my escape pod now. He grabbed the lever and yanked it with all his might. Something creaked way down. The room shuddered. The floor parted and his escape pod appeared. He jumped in and hit the ignition. Nothing happened. The fuel was frozen. Now all that he had to do was to wait for the scalding water to melt his fuel. But then will his pod start, he never knew. He was floating on his own ocean of uncertainty.        

The puddles grow into oceans The tears pour down like god's premonition  Thus flows the senseless rhyme 

When man slays another man  The clock of evolution is pushed back Far beneath hell and redemption  

When fear keeps you company What will matter more, life or death? Something only time can tell 

The muse never ever returned  The blank pages fluttered away mocking him  The pen cried dry tears

Some pinged, some winked, others poked.  I choked from the unwanted attention. Little did I know, everyone was naked online. Just like me and my conscience.  ajith gopinath http://13ag.blogspot.com

The hole was bleeding ants The corpse just devoured all of them  The game of decay begins ajith gopinath http://13ag.blogspot.com

Surprise! The world is spinning anti clockwise today. Tomorrow will be yesterday. So let's enjoy today. No one knows what yesterday will bring.  

Smiling faces on obituary pages Happy and far from those left behind  Bearing memories happy and sad

Flies mating on the wall Upside down, downside up, sex flies around Ending in a spider's web 

Memories fogged over by time Childhood dreams, tears, fears, love and lust  The fragile menagerie of life   

Wall photos, inane comments, sharing Every hour the frenzied ritual continues unabated Ah the fallacies of life

Once upon a time there was a talented artist. He believed in god and the goodness of people.  As time went by he started chasing materialistic goals. A house there, a fancy car, a swelling bank balance. Little did he knew that in his pursuit to gain more and more he had forgotten his family, friends and god. He wandered away to places far and near. One day as he was sad and lonely in a big desert he looked up at the starlit sky. He realized that he has never gazed up since he was a child. So he looked at the stars blinking back at him from above. He stood there wondering if the stars were telling him something. Something that he always knew - that for those who care, it doesn't matter whether he was rich or poor. They just want him to be happy and not frustrated and far.

The pen coughed black spots The paper was a virgin no more  And so the story begins Little did they know that The story was all about their affair In proper black and white  The paper was a part Of a saga that's never been told About a pen and paper