I am inspired

today,i am inspired
i dont want to sit on my butt doing nothing all day
feelin like a complete idiot
at sea with everything

i want to get up and start living
i want to stop shedding these meaningful sighs
everytime i turn towards my work
regretting the time i would have to spend on it

running for that smallest chance or an opportunity
that would arise and take me away
from all this sinister monologue
the walls of my room eating me alive

i was never this introverted
now i stammer when i speak
i hide behind my doors and shut myself in
so even the sun's rays wont see my face

my only relatinship is with the phone
and the internet is keeping me company
friends and foes in the world outside
think my being is a history

see i'm starting to rhyme now
this is my life,my creativity
i would wither and die without producing something
and frankly dats is the reason of my lamenting

dis is it,the time is now
im sick of crying my heart out
what if no one bloody understands a thing i say
im tired of caring for whatever anyone thinks now

i was born for some reason..
to create something new..
not to follow wat some einstein thought
but to b a part of another rennaissance

so im thinkin of pushing myself to my limits
and falling over the edge..to take a look at what lies beyond
i have to..i just have to
its time to wake up..and get going.

A potter's smile

As the wheel rotates b'neath his hands
he creates pottery out of land
it spins with shapes of beautiful kind
that formed apart in his mind

cups n bowls n glasses n pots
he turns around the earthen clods
transforms them into his sweat and blood
his hands caked with sodden mud

burnt brown and fingernails black
those hands go on,they never slack
build wares and burn them in the kiln
and paint on them colourful skin

but of all the pottery made in while
the beauty lies in his pleasured smile
enchanting how hard he works to live
still manages that satisfaction puckering his lips

and we who buy those crafted piece
pay less to b happy but more to please
and lest it crumbles and breaks on the floor
we couldnt care less of the love it holds

of the sweat and the blood of those burnt brown hands
those created figures out of sodden lands
amidst the bowls and craftsmanship
we bought a smile from his lips

Thought of the moment

"Sometimes you make mistakes

and sometimes mistakes make you"

Life goes on..

(To Vikas who made this sketch,and thus gave my mind food for thought..keep drawing pal)




my head rests against the pillow
i lie in a deep sojourn of my mind
the naked darkness envelopes my whole
emnating from the sky

i remember the happenings of my youth
i seek the remnants of some joy
as my present is nothing but numb
an empty shell of a boy

the journey is a thought process
bringing the ghost of christmas past
i'll take u to the summer when
the seeds of this present were cast

i played along happily
along the stream that flowed nearby
then suddenly in slow motion'
rain fell down from the sky

my feet were streaked with the wet earth
the husky effervescence enveloped my mind
i felt the mud moulding beneath my hands
as i created my first figure with thine

enter now:the ghost of christmas present
i lay unknown on this berth
for i was taken straight from childhood
to an unyielding adult

my creativity was lost in the tomb of imitance
as art does not bring food to the table
the boy who once played abandoned
now lies chained to the daily syllablle

i do not wish to see the ghost of the future
as my present subdued my hungry talent
who had felt the need to create
which in this world of material is irrelevant

my tired mind shuts its musings
as i have to get up early tomorrow
to go to work,which i do not love
but life goes on,even with sorrow..