Vanilla Skies …

I have turned out to be a photo-poem churning out machine now on my blog. Somehow I have lost connect in speaking to people who reads my blog. Reasons will be job related (I was so engrossed in my job that I didn’t have time to think about anything else), fatigue not of body but of mind – didn’t want to discuss or engender thought processes which would probably take up time and space … However I am at ease right now. The other day I was reading other’s blogs and chanced upon a friend’s blog wherein he wrote about a very happy incident. He was present when one of his friend proposed to his girl friend and she agreed to marry him. A smile beamed on the corners of my eyes and then faded away leaving behind hints of moisture …..

I remembered those withered years and try to touch them with fervent hope … I can’t touch but only see … yes only see and it’s soon becoming dusty and hazy…. I wrote Vanilla Sky for someone else … a God-sent couple and I guarded this poem from everyone … but then the skies bled and never saw the light …. But now I am happy for my friend and dedicate this to his friend who is getting married soon… I know marriage is not the culmination of true love …. let true love reign in many different shades …..

Cogent, crisp, clear everything should be
Closure and coherence are enchantingly desirable
Permanence is linked with certainty
Is this what sweet dreams are meant to be?

Hope floats where love floats
A strange mixture of follies, pleasure, ghosts and vices

A frission of ecstasy shot through me
When i walked in those clouds
Always had i known
The clouds are not permanent
They shift along with the tides of time
Leaving me hanging between two realms – hopelessness and anticipation

Yet I always wonder
Rather realised
When love floats – everything else just founders
For a second or a lifetime
It doesn’t matter
The vanilla sky and the clouds remain forever

Treacle par excellence?

Earth splits …
The skies bleed …
I die every moment …
And my soul’s not freed ..

All my Love

I have all the time and all my world for you …
Keep me going …
Keep me strong …
I trust you’d never go wrong …
Don’t be around …
But send your fragrance through a whiff of wind …
I’ll welcome it with wide open arms
and kiss the ground.

Quirk of fate

 

Tumbling down in a quite bright light

Supporting myself with past of the night

Clamorous Truth

 

Probing in the shadows of Truth

Embracing the mirth of the ruth

Tenacious Spirit

 

Fading soul and haggard Spirit

The wretched tree has borne seeds

Ludicrous End

~ Ashok P. Bania

 

I am the Lizard King and I can do anything!

Raise high your pretty faces … I hear dreams … I can hear you clear my beautiful friend .. Live your dreams .. Every strand of your hair should scintillate with electrifying spams …

Art, science, philosophy are all fucking shit man … who are you to tell me what they are and why do I need to nod? Who are you to judge and why do I have to listen?

I can hear dreams like soft dew drops trickling from one leaf to another in a fresh winter morning. Morning …. huh! Mourning! Don’t mourn my pretty child … every drop of your tear is precious … saturated with the history of your sadness .. getting saltier by the minute and heavier by the hour .. Don’t mourn my pretty child …

Beeeetraaaayaaaaaallllll with a fuckin’ slice of poison, a dash of good memories, a pinch of lost love, a tea spoon of …….. fuckk!!! It’s a fuckin’ lame concept … Haven’t u betrayed ur mother when you smoke whilst you promised her that you won’t? Haven’t you betrayed your father, when you told him that you are more weaker than he is? Lame .. it’s lame …

It’s democracy ain’t it … It’s free will AIN’T it … It’s a fucking revolution……………. heheheheheh!

YOU are the Lizard King and YOU can do anything ….

P.S. –> My apologies to Late James Douglas Morrison

Release

I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend
You could cut ties with all the lies
That you’ve been living in
And if you do not want to see me again
I would understand

Proud sermons and concepts, germane to life … became useless now …

with a sad eye cast a shadow on it …

no more tears … no more visits …

no more waits … no more replacements ..

no more rainbow … only blood ..

R. I. P

The angry boy, a bit too insane
Icing over a secret pain 

This post is not a mere display of abstract thoughts … And I won’t call it poetry either .. it is just strings of thoughts racing past my inebriated state of mind … Rest in Peace!!! And I am off to sleep … ZzzzzZZzzz

Fresh

Drops of indemnifying tears
Fills the chalice of grief
Overflowing it

I wasn’t so bad after all … after all that I was made to feel ..
No I wasn’t

I get a mouthful of fresh air
Filling my lungs with freedom
You are free and so am I

But ……

I wasn’t so bad after all ….

Technicolor Dreams

I am tired
Just tired
To dream in black in white

Who made the rules
These jejune rules
Was it me?

Always have I related my apocryphal dreams
To every one who passes by my life’s stream

For once I pine …
Pine to shine …
In my techicolor dreams …

The poster for download — Click here!

My Favorite Mistake

To begin the New Year, I have resolved not to have any resolutions. Some mistakes are favourites you see …

 

Slow dance ….
Slow romance …
Stars aren’t favoring it,
Spasmodic nostalgia
Is inciting it?

Slow sunset ….
Slow subset ….
Of emotions,
Harbored in the safe corner
Finding a leakage vent ….

Slow stasis ….
Slow pain …..
Of limbs
Bones
And nerves,
Giving way ….
…………………….
To my favorite mistake ….

To Pinky

Just Once

Just once
That’s it!

Struggling with riddles
That are crafted by ghosts
Fighting it out
Precocious mind, I thought

Like an open book
I let out the wind
They complained it was chilly!

Living a lie
Lying a life
Obsequious sincerity is the end?

Complaisant without complaints
Love without malice
Favor without returns
Emotions without fear

Finish the chapters
Close the book
Remove all fear
Have the last look

For just once
That’s it!

Died with a sweet memory of yours

I see you as a bad omen now
You follow me everywhere I go..
Says your ghost, “Will let you live no more” …

Every nook and corner I shift to in fear…
I see you looking with your piercing eye…
And a bad memory touches by …

I can feel you breathing and whispering…
Comical whimsical atypical
Coward laggard haggard

I see numbers and patterns and there you are
What kind of game you are playing?
Calculating in concinnity and conspiring ….

Let me die if you don’t want to leave
And if that’s so….
Then let me go
With a sweet memory of yours…
Of yore, life and galore

#Comments from old blog#

the vagabond said…

when i was a kid and still in school, our teacher was explaning a poem when soeone asked,”sir, did he write this poem after death?”

i politely borrow his line and ask you the same question.

9:37 PM

Crazyfoetus said…

@ the vagabond: Yes he died metaphorically …

1:43 PM

She

She should be as dreamy as I am … even more…
She should love music as passionately as I do …. even more…
She should be honest… as honest as I could ever be … even more ….
She should be as simple as I am … even more …
She should be as passionate as life could be … even more ..
She must love me as much as I love her … not more ..

#Comments from old blog#

 

 

IssacMJ said…

Nice!
But as a concept, I dont there’s a thing as I love you more than you or vice versa.
Either you do or you dont!

3:21 PM

Smoochy said…

She.. sounds too good to be true!
Good luck with ur quest, buddy

6:00 PM

Till death do us apart!

If I knew there is life after death
wud it be so attractive?

If I knew there is no pain in death
Would it be so adventurous?

If I knew I am not missed
Would it be worthwhile?

There is no solution
with death
with life
and its fret

What I know now is real
And all the elegies are drivel
The song I am singing
will soon be a part of the past
And all that I remember
Will remain unto the last

She died….

Glug glug glug
And she died …

Once she had a kid named Bonnie
Who went out searching for his pony
Pony got naughty and went crazy jolly
She hopped and popped and searched for mollie
Mollie who?
Oh! Mollie the pony…
Mollie went to the whisky milli
Milli what?
Oh! Milli the vinery
Pony went crazy and got little dizzy
Hopped and hopped fell on the machinery
She went to rescue him and jump on the machinery
Pony went squirty
She fell on whiskey

glug Glug Glug

Did She die?

To life ….

What did u think
when u started it?
That there will be an end?

Are u responsible with feelings?
Was this an adventure-
You would like to call “your own”?

Breaking a heart is so easy
It’s like smashing a beer bottle
- the bottle you drank with gusto
Have your tried mending one?

Have you believed in something that’s alive?
Have you tried burying someone dead?

Have you breathed free for a day -
without guilt, regret and shame?

Regret your life everyday
Or just live your life once

A choice you have made
A life you want to live
A question you’ll never ask yourself
Even though it lingers in the air -
you breathe, sing, dance, work and make love

Why did you meet me?
Why did you show me -
the unwritten story of yours
Why did you haunt me
With fervent hope of unbearable elation

This is a half written log of ur life
Which is twined with mine
In small knots of moments
when I felt you were not half as dead
As I thought you would be

Where do I start and where do I end
It will always be half written
Coz for once I realised
I knew you half as I thought I would

#Comments from old blog#

kihba said…

hey bania…nice poem man…:)
howz HT treating you these days ??

10:31 PM

Crazyfoetus said…

@ kihba .. thanx a lot man .. HT is cool man .. they shifted me to Virgin Radio .. now working for launch in Delhi

10:45 PM

Lips … Slips…

Somewhere in time
There was a child
Sneering and seething at the moon
With tear drops running through his rosy cheeks
Brooding over an unknown ruin

Somewhere in time
There was a father
Crying for his son
Consumed by complicity:
Had no other excuses for mourn

Somewhere in time
There was a mother
Singing to her baby
Oblivious of the hate:
That she is nurturing

Somewhere in time
There was a brother
Hungry for love
Who is wont to the fact that
He never really exists

The Moon died,
The son never woke up
The baby took his revenge
The brother never saw his reflection

Life turned to still life
In Black and white
The Canvas didn’t speak
The paint brush didn’t retort
And…… One day
Time screamed at them:
“There’s many a cup ‘twixt the lip and the slip”

Exhaustion

You can’t ask the sun to be more brighter;
You can’t ask the wind to blow south;
Somethings are meant to be in dark corners;
Never wake them up and make them shout.

Listen to clues

Of late I have observed a lot of people who have so much to say but can’t speak … also I have observed many a times people have a lot to offer – through words, actions and mannerisms … so much things to tell .. yet most of us remain blind to those clues … the world I live in is fraught with superficiality … very attractive because it is quite comfortable to live with superficiality … I don’t give a damn if they say “Hey how can u expect me to sit and think and ponder … blah blah … I don’t have time” … it is just that people are happy to live in their own chrysallis with numb comfortableness …

I feel bad for those who miss out the clues and I also feel bad about the state of forced aphasia the people have to go through … they just keep shut when they are not heard …

Aphasia

The trees rustle
Even the sea roars
Clouds retaliate with thunders
Boiling water seethes with steam
Hot iron hisses with pain if put in water
Nuts and bolts creak with age overpowering them

They all want to be heard
Have you ever heard the moon wailing?