Friday, October 19, 2012


steal the whisper on my lips
every curve of nail on my fingertips
pulling at my very bearing
leaving me at my dear worst
turn the tide of time and momentum
anger and questioning could be a curse
disillusionment, living my days
before you, I could see them come
now all I do, is simply think of you
living makes no meaning, without you

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Precursory Warning

Yes, I've personalized my blog. This is as close as it gets to the real thing.

My dear readers, please understand that every word that is written here first starts from the traditional pen and paper. I'm a writer and pretty damn good at it if you allow me. I've always preferred the good old fashioned sitting at the cafe drinking espresso and writing my pieces. It also allows me the chance to edit the rushes of inspiration as I type it up.

But gone are the days of old fashioned rituals, publications, typewriters and notepads whilst listening to vinyl or tape decks. Sometimes I used to stick a photograph to make a memory or turn it to a journal entry. Old fashioned film, waiting for a week for it to process. Man, I miss those days. I've evolved through them all. This is my pride and privilege.

However electronic be the world today, I still maintain a shade of the old school. Old habits die hard.

I use only fountain pens, or calligraphy stylus and ink pots

My Titles are always in Black Ink.

The rest in Green.

And the pages are usually yellowed parchment/ handmade recycled paper bound in leather.

Pretentious douche that I am, I sit wearing a suit at the cafe. Black tie, hands stained in ink. Yes, I keep the ink pot close for refills. It's also mesmerizing to simply dip the pen in the ink and keep writing. The entire get up helps me write better and for more.

Once I'm done or my patronage has outlived the cafe's closing hours (the management has always been kind to extend an extra hour for my benefit), I keep my ink stained hands in the pocket and satchel the rest and walk back home to my dreams.

These days have been good to me. I'm almost on the verge of ad-venting a novella and a twin script. New additions to my stack of 150 poems, 12 sketches and the novel I've spent my life on. All still unpublished and awaiting encourage with hope.

Keep on Walking.


Did I say...

Oh, how I miss your voice;
a lonely silver sweet lullaby,
The serene expression of your eynes
Satisfied, making love to the hour
Entwined fingers, dreamy doe eyes

Crooning words of wisdom and worry
laughing dazed and whispering lies
at each of my startled inquiry
One that came, one undone
Where did it go, where do I hide?



The days, counting them go by
In the blur of everyday life
Countless lives hanging on
Mine alone, standing strong
Never more, never more
I feel myself turning stone
Corrupted and sadistic,
Eating into my very existence
I couldn't be loved enough
Cannot hold on to my words
or promises thereafter
Something has to go wrong,
As I try to justify my life
Turning to play another song.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Don't put your foot on the Futon!

Here's a drill,
here's my head,
Ker- Splat!

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Thought of the Day

It ill becomes you to assail one who cannot defend himself.
Miguel de Cervantes (1547-1616)

If you meet me...

Ask me for 5 stories (premises/ loglines) from the top of my head. :D

Friday, October 5, 2012

Shout out!

To whom it may concern,

I don't think there are many of you reading this estranged particle of the world wide network, however please feel free to comment (I hate those who do it anonymously) and tell me what you think. Thank you and above all,


Quote of the Day

He who throws away a friend is as bad as he who throws away his life.
Sophocles (496 BC-406 BC)

P.S - I better remember this one!

Social Network

So its been almost about a year since I've been on facebook. Its not much to brag about really, and if I say I don't sign in at all; that would be an utter lie. I delete the account before I log out. Ninja mode. And to count, I've done it thrice over the span of a year.

However, I do save bragging rights for a few other applications. For instance, every other evening when I'm out with friends and I see one of the buggers borrow a laptop or a phone and check their page I practically breathe a sigh of relief. That is 15 minutes of my life well saved. Almost everyday.

I prefer keeping my life personal and meeting the people I know in person.

Physical reality is the dream!

But it also means I'm socially ostracized now. I don't know where a party is. I wasn't lucky enough to crash the dutch teenagers coming of age ball like the many thousands who caught it on the site. I don't know where the functions and job market really is. I don't get any updates. Besides, these days that very personnel check happens on the very site. So better watch out for the pictures you upload, and what you write or for that matter all that write up on you. Its like a draft that has turned the entire world into high school students.

Speaking of which and if I remember well, I was actually picked on for having my nose stuck to the computer screen. That's was the dork in me writing out my material of one liners, limericks, stories and poetry all the while looking forward to my next beating!

Maybe its the paranoid schizoid in me acting up. I can't go on my entire life filling up that emptiness with a virtual hype. Who is dating who? Who is working what? Where has "that" person been. Photo's photos and oh this is what I looked like as a kid. There was a time people needed detectives to dig up dirt on others. Now all it takes is a pair of anti glare goggles and a night on the computer on that freaking site.

Yes, I have a right to be worried. Because its killing certain aspects of life dear to me. For instance, art. People can put up their poems for everyone to read instead of chancing on a recitation. Oh, films are being made where the Director individually approaches everyone on chat and pitches his script. Each time a different vision rather reserving a table and asking everyone to join in for a pitcher of beer. I always ended wondering who was telling the story in the first place.

Yet again, I wonder why did I go and make my life difficult. I have poems and stories to publish, books to write, art to sell and hopefully a film to make. But is resorting to facebook really the answer to inching closer to those dreams?