The End

Waiting for the world to end,
Because I've realised only then can I start.
Because I'm too afraid, too much of a coward,
I've made my back strong, strong enough to carry the weight of routine,
But crippled it, made it sterile so that wings may never sprout,

I realise now, there are no expectations, no compulsions,
There is only conviction, and in it's absence cowardice.

My excuses have started to fade away inside my own mind,
I can't even deceive myself anymore, just disgust.
Rendered helpless by my own hands, constructing this coagulated existence,
Time flying by me, as I am held back by my own denial,
Denial of time, denial of opportunity, denial of my own deep cravings.

Waiting for the world to end,
Because I've started to lose hope there will be a beginning,
Because atleast then, there will be a reason to my soul's coma,
Atleast then perhaps I'll learn to accept the chains I've tied to my own feet,
Atleast then I will die a humane death,
My dreams no longer screaming out from the pain of submission,
My soul euthanised.

Came on me all of a sudden, urge, craving to write something like this, and it came out as it is, word by word, slowly. I haven't even re-read it, so don't know how it is. Only that I broke my self imposed ban on the blog to post this, because I could not hold back.

Never Happy

Do you hover over us or sit on our head

Since the first day of our lives, helpless and small?

Are you gravity, the weight of the world over us?

Melding us with this earth, holding our necks down,

Making us crawl.

Do you appear just before that moment?

Because you're strangely absent afterwards in the void,

And long before that moment, we only feel your presence for perspective,

While passing judgment on a life lived, faces seen,

Destinies toyed.

Why do you need to pave your way with misery?

Why not just come and go, without regrets, without pain?

Do you feel the need sometimes to feel welcome?

Do you feel the need sometimes to not be cursed at,

To not be despised, not be resented by the sane?

Do you always feel the need to enter a home,

Through the broad roads of despair, not happiness

And it's narrow lane?

Do you like this ambiguity of being the saviour and the villain?

Do you like to see people suffer or do you like to see them enraged?

Do you like to give the illusion of deliverance?

Do you like to stoke the embers of their rage?

Do you like to break down ruthlessly every vestige of defiance?

Do you like the way you release the hurricanes of the human mind,

Uncontrolled, unbridled out of their cage?

Perhaps you know you'll always be despised, always resented,

And so you revel in your excesses, your injustices, sickening.

Perhaps you hate us as much as we do you,

Try and assert your ultimate superiority,

With happiness receding and wills weakening.

As yet you've failed, but perhaps you'll succeed,

But the war can only be won by me,

Because when you succeed, you'll long since have appeared,

And you'll still be despised with all my being,

With a relief and a rage as big as the sea.

Incoherence

I see absurdities and confusion all around me,
But the slapstick of life fails to make me laugh,
All around me people thirst for mercy,
But they don't know where to go, whom to ask,
Because everyone else is waiting for deliverance as well,
So misery pervades, no rain to wash it away,
No sun to dry it off and bask.

Portents of pleasure misguide and humiliate,
They are but sadistic and cruel jokes,
That get played out in this world every moment, Bait
For guilty and innocent alike, deceits and hoax,
Reasoning with the mind that it does not need reason,
That the crutches of delusion and blind faith are enough,
To tide over every hour, every day, every season.

I see people supporting leaders that will destroy them,
Parents praying to a God who is killing their children,
Disasters laughed away as something to balance the world,
Murders overlooked as some perverse test of faith,
Until we all just look away and turn blind, even those who don't believe,
Until the mind is reduced to a memory, a ghost, a wraith.

Why doesn't anyone see? Why can't they hear?
Perhaps reality is blindingly stark and the bedlam of misery too loud,
Perhaps we choose to see and hear what does not hurt us,
Perhaps we choose to be emasculated by ourselves,
Perhaps we choose to take comfort in the history books,
Forgetting the same gutless people live in library shelves.

How do you sympathise with murderers and not innocents?
How do you even try to justify their acts?
Does sharing the same religion alleviate the horror?
Does sharing the same race change any of the facts?
The rot has grown so deep inside your beings you aren't even aware
How red floods of guilt flow out of your cataracts.

We choose the problem though the solution is in reach,
It's pulling us, getting closer to us everyday,
But we push it away, take the mandatory two steps back,
Back to the life we've gotten used to, where we have no say,
Back to being puppets of invisible imaginary strings,
Revelling in our problems, ugly orgies where we surrender and we pray.

Less poem, more ramblings of a mind which is currently a bit disturbed and irritated by the world at large.

When Angry, Type....

As I'm writing this post, I feel angrier than I've been in a long long time and I really do need an outlet now, unless I do something stupid. And I hope after this post I have some idea of what the point of all this is? What is the point of all this? What what WHAT what WHAT WHAT what??? NOTHING. Not one stupid inconsequential retarded thing.

What is the point of obedience and honesty? What exactly is the point when you know it isn't worth anything, when you know you will be accused and questioned at periodical whims of paranoia? Why be good when there's absolutely no appreciation for you being good. Appreciation be damned, I'd be content with silence, just stay quiet and I'll be happy. Why try and provoke a response when everything is going well and as it should be? What is the point?

What is the point in denying your friends when they offer you a puff of cigarette (among other things) or a glass of alcohol? What is the point of respecting a few boundaries, I mean, it's not even like any of my parent's money is being spent on the stuff, it's for bloody free? Why not just say "yes" the next time there's a booze party and all of your friends are there? What is the point of being the only sober person within a 20 metre radius? What is the point?

What is the point of being transparent and truthful when everyone else lies? It would make my life so much easier and there is no human way to catch me lying? Why not just hide the truth like everyone else does? Surely that is to be expected? I am a student, that's what I do, fudge the truth, lie and manipulate. So why don't I? What is the point?

That is all out now and no I'm not really anywhere near as good as I made myself sound, but those three paragraphs and Mr. Tambourine Man have served their purpose and not so angry now, just annoyed, disappointed.

P for Pretentious

This perfection that has pervaded my perversions presently, is putrid and pernicious, but provided by the passive populace, preaching and poaching on my present and my past and the perception that positive participation will protect my person, a priori, paying no heed to my pitiful protests, parting me from my placidity and panache and possibly producing a posse who are party to my perish - patient, pleased and poised

Inspired by the film, V for Vendetta. And I think it does make sense, in some ways...

Haze

I see you through the haze,
Every moment of every eternity,
For everything else my sight fails,
But you grow clearer,
Luminescent, afire, a shower of hails.

You put the fog around you on fire,
Burning, brilliant, scorching the air,
I sit here in dreams and fantasies,
Of dark mornings and dense forests of your hair,
Silent, scared and enraptured, I'm lost,
I should leave, wake up, but I don't dare.

You bring chaos with your presence,
Riots start with every breath you take,
But calmness decorates your forehead, placid,
I'm getting sucked in, no matter how much I fake.

Let me go, release me from the stranglehold
Of your eyes that choke me through the smoke,
Your face clear, every detail lucid, bold,
Drowned in your aura, I'm destitute, I'm broke.

Your visions have become more vivid than reality,
A terrific beautiful hell of pristine destruction and flawless pain,
Tempting me away from my scattered, rotting heaven,
Of occupations and aspirations, overwhelming loss and gain,
Highlighting how bleak, my existence, how odd, how even.

And as the haze descends, I'm helpless in it's embrace,
Demented, senile, tormented by the motions,
That rack my brains, leaving me in a daze,
Petrified, enamoured with you, my devotions,
Where I stand, in despair weeping, my Lady of the Haze.

Almost entirely a result of how mind-numbingly boring I find Signals and Systems classes...