Unspoken Verses

Look Sharp. All he sees is fog, dense white Diffused light, In the jet black night. Open eyes, And useless sight. Inability to see paths, Wrong from right. He does try, But cannot fight. It's mist after all, Dense yet light. Blinding mist, And useless might. Closed eyes, And there he lies; Waiting for a better time.

So you know what the best time to write or read or really even expand your talents and capabilities is? Exam time. Procrastination is defined as the art of the sudden realisation of the significance of various things which, up until that moment hadn't mattered, at a time when they shouldn't matter. courtesy: Hyperbole and a Half The interesting thing about this realisation is that the profoundness and interest generated by it is inversely proportional to their dullness at any other time and directly proportional to the significance of the issue which infact IS of prime importance at that time i.e. P f = I a / (D e ) P f - Procrastination-factor I a -Importance/Urgency of issue avoided (D e ) -Dullness of issue being entertained But by itself, procrastination is an art. It is important to fool the brain into believing that what you're doing at the moment, would qualify as constructive work, otherwise the brain may consciously realise that its being bull-shi...

So I joined these dance classes. And No, its not gay. Infact I dunno what it is with this word lately. You see there was some marriage talk goin on in the house. And I told my mom, not to ever be forcin marriage or settling down on me. That i'd be livin life on my terms, whatever I choose. And she said alright, just make a good livin, gimme dough, and don't turn gay. And that was exactly when I was like, WTF? But anyway. My ex asked me WHY!!!! would I join dance classes. Then she remembered I was awesome at dance. Now, the kind of dance I do is basically a hip-hop style, with some break dance kinda thing, but havin copied moves off tv, I don't know what it exactly is. What I DO know, is that it does NOT consist of doing hip-rolls, shoulder-rolls, and tip-toe things while wiggling your butt to hey baby hey baby hey, all the boys say.. and hollaback girl, with 50 little class twelfth teenage girls, and 5 class 12th teenage boys. I am certain. What more it does ...

You've seen me nice You've seen my nice But you pushed too hard Now see my vice, Bitch see my knife All covered in ice All ready to come Take away your life My light is white My dark is black Won't make up for the things you lack Bitch no more slack I'm done with that I would've let pass the 8 chances you had But you came back Sayin you love me That we were meant together to be And stupid me cuz I believed In your sweet words And sincerity But look at me Look in my eyes As I put my dagger through your life and your eyes stay shut expecting steel cut And I advance to induce fear Then, just don't care to come any near.

As I stood there waiting I thought I was hating But baby oh Baby, I can't never hate thee Because even when you're not there I can't help but care You're a spastic pain Suffocating rain so far from sane a fucking mistake And I convince you, I'm not there That I don't really care And I'll stay away You won't hear my name Cuz even I'm insane Almost love the pain But you should still know That even though we can't go down that lane I'll always care, even when you're not there.

Sometimes I wear a fa çade Or I think I do But I'm not certain Cuz believe me you If its even there I've worn it forever And over time, it became me. Enmeshed, not allowing me to see the two entities apart. But maybe thats the beauty Maybe thats the art, Maybe the two entities are no longer apart Now, I call them modes of operation. I'm comfortable in both. One is simple, pure, naive, patient. He feels from the heart, The other's far more wise He's been there from the start Comprehending, rational, guiding and then I realise there are still more. The flirt, the comic, the lover, platonic But the one I like lives above them all, He controls, protects, understands each one. And right now, he's at work healing the one that is simple, pure, naive, patient Cuz he's just been hurt. But, my mind still sees elation. Cuz its not a fa çade thats on display. I am many, occupying one space. The flirt, the comic the lover platonic. Enough of me is always there, and so ...

Okay, so when I was a kid, like really small and stupid, whenever someone said happy birthday to me, I used to say same to you. Now, It’s all stupid and shit I know, but my theory is that, my brain interpreted it as an inflow of positive wishes, and I probably wanted to reciprocate those wishes. I know that I suck at receiving compliments. I mean, again they're an inflow of positive wishes, and very often the person who compliments, after passing the compliment waits for the reaction. Usually, I respond with some varied and lame version of same to you. But it doesn't work under all situations. Then again, I may go into an explanation of how its not all to my credit, how other factors had a role in the awesomeness you're complimenting, and try to shift around the credit. except, very often it comes off as superficial and sometimes, if put badly enough, arrogance. I may try to be funny and say stuff like, Thats because I'm freakin AWESOME!!!!!!!!!! But that wears off...

Let Set A = the kind of girls I find physically attractive. (essentially exuded persona, apart from general appeal) and Set B = the kind of girls I find mentally attractive. (essentially ability to have interesting/intelligent/funny conversation or generally smart opinions and insights) Then, the kind of girl I would now like to date = Set (A ∩ B) or maybe set(A ∩ B)=Angelina Jolie?

He stood there. Naked. Head down, arms on the chest. And waited. For those white icicle shards to tear him, as he knew they would. For aeons, hesitant, he stood. Mustering up his will. And he finally turned the knob, anticipating the chill. And it came, almost as if to kill. Long, thin, sharp, cold and white, straight for the chest. And just one single thought dominated his head. When will the freaking geysers start working? *** The other solution, which most people have used is to stop bathing.

So I hate lies. Even fibs. As a result to be able to do what other mortals do with the help of lies(AKA, save their ass), I perfected another art. That of finding technical loop holes. Everything you say is open to my interpretation within the bounds of reasonable assumptions, and everything I say is open to your interpretation. Its not my fault if you do not interpret my thought correctly. The main trick to this lies in being incredibly vague, non-committal, and therefore unaccountable. Here are a few ways in which you can achieve the above: Always keep adding an I guess at the end of every sentence in your conversation... I guess. Thereby it is a clear indication, that what you say is only your interpretation of the scenario, and that you can basically not be held accountable for any of the negative out comes of the mentioned situation. Man created a brilliant escape-device for words and situations. Its greatness lies in 2 things: - its versatility of usage, and its simplicity. Wha...

[I'm watching tv, and mom wants to watch it] Mom: Gimme the remote! Me: Later, I'm watching somethin.. Mom: What're you watchin? Me: ... Mom: Is that Hannah Montana ? Me:... Mom: I have a friend whose 12 yr old daughter is a big fan of her. *smirks and walks out of the room* Me: ... :S

He looked up at the dark sky as the stars shone. He needed some heat to clear the cold in his bones. Those are suns too, he knew. And the moon reflected the sun too. And so he decided to have his spirit renewed- What else could he do? There's not really a God over you. And to couple that spirit with hope, That maybe someday he would swing the rope. [Dear Diary 1]

He has neither the strength to fight Nor the guts to take away his life All he sees is the dark, so black and deep And failure, so stark and steep He holds back but at times he weeps, Cuz his spirit is completely broke He can't take no more Its all far too gore. [Dear Diary 2]

Heylo. So I am kinda not sure if i'm feelin sarcastic enough to do a blog post but I'm gonna give it a try. I realised I haven't enlightened you about the traffic rules guidelines here. Now I know, hailing from Delhi, I dun exactly have the right to be commentin about the traffic here. But incase u didn notice, I did not create that traffic right? I'm not responsible for it. N some of what I'm about to say may even (or may not - I'm not sure which, cuz wel, I'm not sure bout what I'm gonna say. I make it up as I go along. Its my favourite kind. I've already told ya I'm not a planner remember?) apply to Delhi (isn it like buggin when there is so much stuff in the bracketts that you forget what the real issue was?) So yea. We were talkin bout the traffic guidelines . A red light implies, that if u really dun mind stoppin, please do? I mean I know the long road ahead, the roar(or coughin pretty often) of your engine n the black fume sputterin ve...

So i'm generally pretty happy these days n all, like whether its because my days here are comin to an end, or whether because the cat drank my milk-the joy of feedin a hungry animal(and scarin it away when you find out thats happenin- No, not that i'm sure. The cat drank MY MILK. MINE MINE MINE. I dun think thats happy) or what really, i'm not sure. But the point is, i am, content-ish. Maybe its a body thing. It can't be unhappy for too long itself. I'm don't even mind my somewhat creepy friendish house-mates either! (who btw kinda eve teased away the girls livin in the house across the street. I am livin wid leches who walk in groups, n pass comments at girls or if in a more civilized environment, express their fantasies to eachother. Like atleast they used to wid the girls in that house. The steppin out of the femme from shimla was often met wid shouts of "shimla mirch" (capsicum which literally translates as the spice or chillies frm shimla). altho ...

I'm happy today, With the bliss of knowin, Your loved ones are pleasured, And their faces glowin So I talked to a friend who had been low in life, And I'm happy to say she's winnin the strife, Hadn't been in contact for way too long, And her happiness is makin me write a song. She faced her ordeals in silence alone, Even though I was always sittin by the phone, Waitin for a friend who might need my help, But she never called or even slipped a yelp. And the one day she broke down right in front of me, And I told her look round, You will see that we, Are always there for you. She still kept her pain, there was lil i could do, And I tried again & again But the situations were grave. And then one day her voice was back, Chirpy, talkative and suave, And it was nice to hear that. The college to go wasn't yet sure, And the ordeals still lay, But she had found a cure, somethin had renewed her faith. She had won an international run of photography, And written stories to...

So why do we run after glitter Or Bright flashin lights Doesn gold seem but fitter To seek concrete delight I mean it does come from stones N diamonds from black mines But does it matter what makes the tone, When the music is divine? All that glitters is not gold, N often all that is gold does not glitter, Yet we seek the rainbow in the sky Which is essentially just a lie An illusion, a trick of the eye N we forget to look at the dirty swamps on the ground Where you may find lotus growin sound. Even the diamond n the gold in your ear, The ones you flaunt to your peers N talk bout the glam shops they came from, Even they have once adorned, A carbon mine, been an equal to the black coal, Cuz in its soul, Even Diamond is simply complex coal.

So one thing I've learnt recently is, its no fun to call a spade a spade. Its more fun to call it the black card that can capture your soul. That way people listen when you talk. Now, surprising as it may be, that has absolutely nothin to do with what I plan to write further. Although i couldn be too sure. Cuz u see, i don't plan a lot. So needless to say I haven't planned what i'm gonna write. M gonna make it up as I go. ( Ofcourse , I have a feeling thats probably why i'm writing to you from Kota , but the day I'm sure its why, I'll start planning.) So i jus returned from Delhi like a few days back. Ofcourse this trip wasn't planned either. I'd been wallowing in my situation n talked to this friend who was very kind to listen to me n we concluded I needed a break. So I called up my mom, told her i'm coming home tomorrow ( asked her actually, but told sounds cooler - the same not calling a spade that concept - N at this point I owe you...

So i sit with the books open at 12:30 in the night. Quite unable to really bring the subject to light Cuz comprehension seems to be an inaccessible girl. And distractions more than jus abound in my world. And my phone jumps up, glowing on the bed. And a message shows what a friend has jus said. Isn't happiness most important in life? Is givin it up really worth this strife? I ponder a moment and send a reply That seems to claim something very high. But in my mind, i can't even deny, This is misery, n my text a lie. So i convince me, its yin and yang, Live some more and you'll get a hang. Of how life goes, some friends some foes, thorns enshroud a pretty rose. there is good n there is bad, there's happy n jus sad, so don't be mad. Cuz the glass is half full if its half empty. Living, inspite of all remains tempting. And at the end there is always death. The wiping clean of the slate, where you finally escape your fate, your misery, but also leave your love, your fami...