Discussions in a Bar

I went to a bar. I sat. I observed.
And I saw the following:

“Nay!” called out the philosopher,
“You are a lie, a conundrum,”
“Just lie in your bed and go to sleep,”
“And the morn will show the truth,”
“Whatever truth may mean”

“Aye!” called out the scientist,
“’tis a mystery, but thee are not,”
“The change of nature; dance of dust,”
“An investigation of the working of man,”
“A religion of objectivity;
A following of subjectivity”

“Ha!” called out the drunk,
“A testament to nature,”
“The commandments of life,”
“You fools! ‘tis a holiday,”
“Go to the barman, get a shot,”
“Come share the fortunes of the dead,
And misfortunes of the livin’.”

28th September, 2020

Eden

The greatness bursts out,
A myriad of colours,
A beautiful explosion of life,
An angry catharsis,
Followed by beautiful Eden,
A time and place of life,
Of plenty, of happiness,
Of wonder, of exploration,
Of greatness.

But plenty is always fatal, and Eden shrinks,
Mindlessness grasps life, the higher handle fails,
Journeys bound out to nowhere, regardless,
Life falls down to substance, depressing,
Stimulants can’t budge life, life is dead,
The fabled creator looks out, and cries fabled tears,
Trying in vain to pacify the fire killing Eden.
The tears of illusion flow everywhere,
Obliterating everything, razing everyone.

A heavy wasteland.
Nothing great, colourless, sour,
The universe cries onto herself,
She curls up into a ball,
Alone, no one to share with,
She falls into herself,
An implosion, and she dies.

But again, death is a metamorphosis of life,
And again, the greatness bursts out,
The colours are back, and so is Eden,
More beautiful, more lovely, wise.

26th March, 2020

Music

Abstract, yet changeable,
Intangible, yet stunningly real,
Vibrations through the air,
Beautiful amalgamations of pitch and strength,
Intensity and frequency,
Free from the material world,
Yet a part of the same,
Beautiful creations of nature,
And the creations of her creations,
Through heart and soul,
The meaning of everything;
Syllable, and tone,
A flowing river, and a stepping stone,
Melody and lyricism,
Beauty and Sublimity,
Joyful, Joyless, and full of sorrow,
Silence, euphony and cacophony;
The joy of the world,
The wonder of the artistry:
Music.

28th March, 2020

Joys of Being Human

The joy of being human,
Living on different worlds,
When ours falls and dies;
Escaping to temporary illusions,
When the reality falls to crumbles;
Basking on the fire far away,
While the very same fire destroys everything;
Fighting over petty things,
Things that are forgotten an instant later;
Coveting over stupid things,
Only to throw them away in solitude;
Sweating over choices,
Choices that, in the end, are insignificant.

22nd March, 2020

Mediocrity

Small transient moments of joy,
Blanketed by the envelopes of sorrow,
With contempt on every crevasse, under every stone.

Live life as thus,
Soldiering ahead,
The Grand Delusion;
A mist of illusion,
Of a life well-lived.

Nothing “special”, nothing “unique”
Everything “special”, Everything “unique”,
The thick flaps of mediocrity overcomes us all,
All of us mere embers in a large fire: meaningless.

Ah, banality,
The joy of an observer,
The curse of a thinker,
The comfort of the subject.
Ah, staleness,
The friend of the mediocre.

I go on, soldier on, survive on, alive, breathing,
On this lonely torturous little place.
Anticipation for rays of joy keep me going,
Through this thick forest of deceptive moments,
And cruel sorrows.

1st March, 2020

Senses

Taste, smell, sight,
The eternal gifts of the Gods,
Touch of the beauty,
Sound of the great,
All of them: our friends;
The lover of human beings.

The universe: open to us,
A cascade of colours,
A burst of the metaphysic,
Truisms of the cosmos,
The world in its purest sense.

But then, the thought awakens,
The absurdity, the façade reveals itself,
The world comes crashing down,
Reality as you know it: a lie.

All senses are but dull, colourless,
Just a beautiful glass,
Telling nothing but lies,
Sensing nothing but sweet fakes.

Just a beautiful glass,
That shatters and collapses,
At the first touch of scrutiny.

And thus is your life,
And thus is every life,
And hence, I will die,
All hope lost, all joys gone.

15th February, 2020

A Titleless Poem #001

I taste reality,
The sour phases of existence,
The dour lives of people,
Bitter and unhappy souls, carrying corpses.

Frustration kills me,
As I go in and out of tune,
The taste was better yesterday,
It was sweet the day before,
And yet, today it is damning.

In and out of lucidity,
I understood the universe yester-year,
I don’t have a clue today,
Today is the day without color,
This is the year of sadness.

I detest existence,
I love life.
I’ve survived through everything,
I’ve had yet to live.

A thousand lives spent,
Mulling over things small and big,
Things of significance,
And those of utter insignificance,
Shallow and superficial,
Deep and profound.

The polar expressions constrict me,
Squeeze me and inject me with venomous deeds,
Apologies everyone!
I am just confused,
As my interests vanish,
My curiosities fade away,
My dear words abandon me.

10th February, 2020

Friend

The world will laugh at you,
The days will swallow you,
Hell will spit at you,
Society will abandon you.

The world will kill you,
The people will rip you apart,
Hell will torture you,
Nights will haunt you.

The very air will suffocate you,
The earth will murder you,
The water will drown you,
The fire will burn you,
The ice will break you.

You are flimsy, a nobody,
Nothing to do, no one to love,
Joyless, tortured,
Falling down an infinite pit.

But persevere,
For even if your time may never come,
For even if you may never succeed,
Even if the world may never know you,
You have a friend in me.

10th December, 2019

Dying Embers

The fire coughs, and dies,
The cold wind whistles,
The last glow illuminates the horrors,
The untamed deadly wild,
The unknown beyond.

Everyone huddles up, afraid,
Darkness surrounds them,
Suffocating and killing their minds.

The dying embers are unassuming,
Are they the tools of light, joy?
Or are they the slow anger of the night?
Are they the solace, peaceful and content?
Are they the tools for mockery and hopelessness?

The embers slowly burn out,
And the remains are red ash,
Desperately hoping for life, for fire,
For anything.
But death, as always swallows them,
And the night reigns, free.

24th November 2019

 

Unchanging

It stands tall, unchanging,
Never lost, never quite there.

The hope of spring,
Can never move its heart,
The heart of cold stone,
Of forgotten dreams.

The harsh words of summer,
Are nothing to its hard shield,
A shield that once shielded,
The madness within.

Autumn brings the cool death,
The façade of warmth kills and corrupts,
It knows, and yet nothing!
Silence in its eternal meditation.

The unending winds of winter,
They strike with fury and passion,
Not a budge, not a scratch,
Not a whimper, not a sigh.

Under a haze of the swirling clouds,
Or under the clear blue mystic sky,
Under the gray fogs of mystery,
Or under the sweltering rays of the sun,
It’s still there, and will always stand tall..

July 07, 2019