Kill You, Kill Me

As anybody who has been nutty enough to follow my blog would know, I have weird dreams, often morbid in fact. I think I have surpassed all previous levels of weirdness with this particular poem and strangely - it wasn't under the influence of any inebriating substances. Probably some latent effect of some movie or book I once saw or read. I doubt Lionel Richie would appreciate my adaptation of one of his song titles (interestingly though Say you, say me also references a dream - though naturally a far less morbid one!). I will pull the poetic license card at this point - but please read at your own peril!

Right foot forward - left soon follows

Repeat, repeat - till I turn the corner

There you stand, smiling your smile

You don't know yet you're soon a goner

Right and left bring me close as can be

Bodies connect, cheeks flush and eyes meet

I put one arm around and pull your body in tight

And the knife in the other, slides in so sweet

I watch as the life leaves your lying eyes

Your blood washes over my hand like sweet honey

I showed mercy for I can't cause that much pain

Even after all that you did - now isn't that funny?

Slowly I pull the knife out of your gut

A gurgling sound you make as you fall

With a soft thud, you lie at my feet in blood

I gaze upon you, the red floor and white walls

The walls seem so odd - I think to myself

They need some colour to really fit in

Ever obliging, I smile to myself

A quick slash and they're crimson - I'm finally done in

The Midnight Sun

Black velvet - look where I will 
Never a sliver of light. 
Black got blacker and blacker still 
Life - an endless night 
Memories of sun are vague yet fond. 
When night would pass and day would dawn. 

Black then found a friend in me 
And I - too weak to resist 
Blackened through my life would be 
The sun was always missed. 
It took over slow - one man at a time. 
And I learned then that black was mine. 

Black is my parent, my lover, my life. 
The only one that remains. 
Black is the colour of every knife 
They swung to cause my pains. 
With every stab, some hope would die 
I knew the sun had become a lie. 

Till you burst forth in a brilliant blaze 
Lightness and brightness and happiness is me. 
I feel so blessed - for on the sun I gaze 
I'm laughing and smiling now - can't you see??? 
It's midnight yet now I see the sun! 
Don't take that away - you are the one. 

Schaden'fraud'

Lately I had been feeling consumed by a wave of Schadenfreude and this was unnerving me because it made me feel evil. Besides, it's hard to justify to yourself why u think u would feel good at someone else's failure or misery. On further introspection, I realized that what I was feeling was not actually Schadenfreude but, for some absurd reason, the desire to desire seeing someone's downfall but I just couldn't actually feel that. So I'm a sham, a con, a quack and what have u. Basically a Schaden'fraud' :-P

It consumes - the churning

Tick tock in my head

The shame of the spurning

Would that u were dead

It devours - the yearning

I feel so euphoric

At the thought of the burning

Ah! The rhetoric

It is empty, I'm learning

A killer I'm not

And I do feel the turning

Away from this rot

If it were about earning

I should like to see

You crashing and burning

But no, that's not me.

The Street Corner

You know what I'm talking about... even if you think you don't.

You hear what I hear

You see what I see

You taste what I taste

Who are you? You're me

You stand on a corner

I stand on another

We might be the same

But I'll be some other

The money is right

You flag who you see

I do the same now

But it's not who I'll be

You think I will stay

I don't have a plan

I'm just biding my time

Take the step when I can

What's holding me back?

Part of me is you

I am tearing it out

But till then I will do

what I have been taught

to make it somehow

Passing the days

The time is not now

That moment will come

That day will dawn

You're still on the corner

And me? I am gone.

Bring the pain... And hear me roar

A chill.. In my bones or the air? Who knows.
A shackled neck, and feet - missing toes.
Here come the knives.. & the scarlet flows.
A smirk on my face as the pain only grows.

Thrashing and flailing.. From torture I groan.
But only inside, for outside I am stone.
You may see no grimace, and hear no moan.
Matters not that you're a hundred and me? I'm alone.

You may smash my skull between the wall and door
Or gouge out my eyes and through my thigh, bore.
Come tear off my arm and slice it to four.
Yes, bring the pain and hear me roar.

I Have No Parachute

Those who know me well would know that I have a fixation with dreams, the genesis of which probably lies in the darkness of my own. My dreams have always been rather textbook - chased by monsters, pain & despair, and oh! the classic - a free-fall through infinite space. Falling is one of the most common themes of human dreams the world over. It's amazing how almost all of us can have dreams with the same recurring theme while having completely different life-experiences. In fact, falling dreams often begin in young children with little life experience to speak of. My father, the author, through his protagonist in Paper Boat, expounded an idea that he calls "Dream Chambers". The concept of which is that in our minds, we have 2 distinct dream chambers - the first we are born with and is like a pre-loaded hard disc with all the usual suspects - monsters & mayhem , ghosts & ghouls, falling & flying. The 2nd is unique to each of us and is slowly filled up over time with dreams that are spawned from our experiences and ideas. I think I subscribe to this concept as it does seem like we are pre-programmed with certain fears & fantasies. Which brings me back to Falling. One of the most common dream-themes, it is no surprise that I often am visited by dreams of this nature. And as always, here I pen my falling dream...

Blackened clouds swirling round,
Wind shrieking, pounding past my ears.
Rushing up, I sense, a hard cold ground,
Built on my sorrows, bound by my fears.

Falling faster, but - somehow slow,
Clutching at straws, I try to survive.
But I just can't seem to get a hold
on the fragments left of this so-called life.

Anchors heavy, tied to my feet.
Is it a wonder I'm hurtling down?
The ropes cut in - I start to bleed.
Blood - not scarlet; murky brown.

Look into my soul, you'll see the cause.
There's years of filth & disease in there.
Growing & spreading, sinking its claws,
tainting my blood, enrobing the air.

Closing my eyes, I wait for impact,
thinking of those I surely will miss.
But there is no denying the inevitable fact -
My sense was wrong - this is the abyss.

Of Beer and Bullets

Sometimes, a chilled can of beer (or ten) does much to open your mind, even those pockets that the drudgery of modern life has filled with its crass and mundane chaff.
In those moments, you start to think more deeply about your life - the one that has gone by and the one that is to be. In those moments with just the two of us- myself and deep thought (Nay, Douglas Adams, I don't mean the same), my mind sometimes tends to veer to some semblance of self-pity, self-loathing and maybe self-defense of some sort. (I believe it is a natural human tendency - and one that I'm not inclined to shy away from.) In such times, I find that writing out my absurd, and sometimes downright weird, thoughts to be quite a liberating release. Ergo, came the following:

Could this world be more perfect?
Is there anything I lack?
It seems like I have everything.
I'm awesome - that's a fact!

I live the good life everyday,
My life is like a song.
All I know is happiness,
for nothing can go wrong.

The universe cries out aloud,
but I'm a class apart.
Strife abounds; but none of it
can penetrate my heart.

I am the Ice Princess.
The rest may toil and yet
my life is just so simple;
I want - and I get.

And you might wonder what
has made me the way I am.
I've built a wall around
my heart; I've built a dam.

For I know if I weren't
on the inside so dead,
that I would take a gun and
put a bullet through my head.