...esrever ni dlot yrots A - OiRAZoR

Judge for yourself: I needn't explain much on this one. This is a love story: A love story in reverse. A sad love story in not just reverse but a two-way love story to be precise. It makes sense both ways, and quite well that too. Interpretations would reveal what plot unfolds in either direction, but I show to you only a part of my poem, because it's not everyday you see such a poem shape up. I could have done a different plot, but it would become too complex and for the time being, this is my version of ROZARIO... A later version would probably cover something grotesque and fit for contemporary consideration :P

---OiRAZoR---

His anatomy subject to churn

Gladness’d have his spirit shook

At the slightest sign of a return

To his hundred thousandth look

He had never read the book

A tyro’s guide to good romance

What if his hand she took?

What if he had a real chance?!

Thoughtful, but in no trance

Flooded full was his mind

Prompting his wits to dance

Of all splendour did she remind

Thankful that he wasn’t blind

Devout, she had him convert

The female of the fourth kind

Made explosive, a person inert

*MARTYR*

*MARTYR*

The militant closed his eyes,

Set his courage on board,

Little strength did he hoard,

A skeleton in the cupboard;

Busting down the door,

The vanquisher of vice,

No reluctance to sacrifice,

His hesitation in disguise;

One look at the locket:

Devoted sister,

Prodigious son,

Mother, smiling serene;

A kiss from his wife,

The love of his life,

Soothing shoulder to lean;

Flashed on the split-screen…

Shining dark sheen…

Locker opens,

Coupled guns fire,

Expression of incompatible ire;

Taking the shot to the

Middle of his head,

The Martyr drops dead…

Father fate has had

his share of fun,

His double deed for

the day was done,

Patriotism was his sin,

As was his religion!

It’s not that their

faith is a lie;

Above the tragedy,

hovers an irony

that Martyrs

are meant to die…

No use was the flash on the screen…

Especially when it shone

Nothing more than dark sheen!

Even when the

locker opened,

And coupled guns fired,

Mutual deaths they never desired;

Nor does the bullet know

Whom it’s gonna kill,

Whose blood it’s gonna spill…

No righteous end

does this signify!

Above this malady

is outrageous mockery

that Martyrs

are meant to die…

Why should they die?

The heavenly dove,

Of brotherly love,

Was it sold with nothing to buy?

Martyrs…

Are they meant to die…?

One soul asked another,

“Why did this happen, brother?

Why did we have to die?”

“Will the worldly weather,

Allow us to be together?”

was the gentle reply…

Martyrs…

They prefer to die…

WEEP NOT, CHILD...

I haven't even read Ngugi's work to comment which is more poignant. And yes, Weep not, child is a novel written by the man, and I didn't strip him off his tale I'm damn sure. My best poem ever: A solid 360 lines. It stirs me every time I read, and yeah I hope you enjoy its...

I'm giving you only its start. The end is quite intricate :)

Hope you have fun

WEEP NOT, CHILD...

“No need to father man,

Not denying we can!

There’s zilch a boy can’t do;

We’ve walked on the moon,

And we’ve flown a balloon,

A lot more we’ve grown into!

Heard women protest,

They absolutely detest,

Their use, by a man as his toy;”

He said with a smile,

“At least for a while,

I dare them to live as a boy!”

“Panthers in a cage,

With the world to enrage,

Care to loosen us a tad?

Oh, you have no power,

To cross the blocking tower,

Oh yes, I speak of my Dad!

Three times as old,

Fits me in his mould,

Fads upon me does he thrust;

No chance for any tryst,

He keeps me in his fist,

Saying trust him, I must;”

THE APOCALYPSE...

This is what I call my ultimate epic. Possibly my longest story-poem ever and I doubt even DEATH AND THE MAIDEN (Again, one of mine!) will cross half its length, but let's not make any predictions!!! What I flash here is not even a part of a poem: It's an introduction and I am extremely happy to say that this time, I have crossed 400 lines of my poem THE APOCALYPSE which is soon to be followed by THE REDEMPTION that are part of a story called THE AVENGER: RISE AND NO FALL... I expect it to hit 1000 lines. Not gonna be a record, but it sure is a personal feat all the same! And I promise this is nothing like I have ever written. In fact, it's my first venture into being abstract, and as surreal as the classics...

THE AVENGER: RISE AND NO FALL

INTRODUCTION

A sheet out of sardonic Nostradamus:

One with its vacancy unmarred;

Empty entendres that escaped no tongue,

Domains of documents unscarred;

Flamboyant is this fantasy flux,

Cruising across an insignificant locale;

An Abyss loaded further with voids,

As entire as ailments of the hale;

But standpoints sure need mention,

Where assessments should be made;

For shudder needn’t, the good shovel,

To pronounce a spade a spade;

Not obligatory, not diffidently though,

A novel narrator do we employ;

A bit of a creative dreamer than ever,

In earthly lexis, we term him a boy…

DIEGO!

This is what I consider to be my fastest poem ever: 85 lines in 35 minutes of time: Spanning from 8:15 to 8:50 AM on the sixth of December and this feat: This thing was inspired by just one little happening. The coming of the greatest footballer ever to one town that's completely offbeat to him. Well, city actually (Kolkata!) and it was basically one photograph. The photograph that you see, that made me write it. It rhymes (Basically it's the rhyme of my poem that makes me look childish and I know that. Maybe people ought to develop their vocabulary a little more before they speak but I don't care!). And yeah, that's it. This is just the last part of the poem, the part concerning his Indian visit. There are more inspiring lines before it, but I just thought I'd include those related to the photograph posted.

And as a result of the photograph and a string of other factors like the simultaneous broadcast of Nenjukkul Peidhidum (Vaaranam Aayiram) among other songs in the time, I ended up becoming more teary than Diego himself. Well anyway, what is a common boy's tears compared to a celebrity's? That's the world, and hope you have an interesting read...

DIEGO!

And now stands the man at this ‘place’,

One he’s never been to in his days;

On top of his allotted cab he stood,

Making himself look as tall as he could;

He looks around only to lose count,

Even the heavens did the trekkers mount;

A hundred-thousand-plus gyrating his name,

People who loved the man more than his game;

They couldn’t control the crowd, he his emotion,

Confounded crazy was he by this commotion,

The levitation of twin arms did then follow,

Scream the crowd did, forgetting to swallow;

In such a shining moment they didn’t really care,

Hearing the lion roar, right inside his lair!

Except that he couldn’t now, choked was he,

The only one to surface the celebrity sea!

That boys don’t cry, the man did know,

To hide his eye-water, a smile did he show!

Broader than the Amazon, of the land he hailed

From, one that will forever be nailed,

In the hearts of all who showed up to see,

Possibly the greatest star of the century;

He didn’t float; he didn’t sting like a bee,

He just continued being what he is usually;

If timeless be the fame of Lisa and Mona,

Even enduring is that of DIEGO MARADONA…

So miraculously magical is was to see him cry,

One that would last forever, letting time die…

I walk out of the show as I solemnly dream,

That I too am winning such a ream!

‘Well that’s not even as real as it may seem!’

Say I to me, when I rebelliously beam:

“WHY NOT?!!”

YOU ARE MY STAR!

This is a tribute both to myself and Mayer; yes it's John Mayer, the ultimate Guitar Man you can ever see in the past, present and the future. While I personally consider him as a reincarnation of... Nobody. He's unique: No one's thought like him before. No one's gonna think like him ever again (Well is that so?!) Yes and this conflict in me is the reason behind this little poem/song, and this could also be my answer to my Dad's comments (It's usually he, or someone else who inspires me to write anything at all!) who defended my sister's love for Miley Cyrus (Yuck!) citing that even I had a John Mayer - New Deep wallpaper on my desktop. I don't deny it. But this is Mayer we're talking about... This is me, that we're talking about. And you can never discount me as the usual fan everyone else is... And this is precisely, why I say so:

YOU"RE MY STAR!!!

Dude, you’re my star!

You dazzle,

You shine,

You overwhelm,

Every little time

you strum your guitar!

But brother,

Let me tell you something

And don’t ask why;

You’re getting nowhere

near me,

However hard you may try!!!

‘Cause buddy,

I AM A GALAXY!!!

And you,

You are a STAR in me…

XOXOXOXO

ROMEO MUST DIE...

Didn't actually take me so long to conceptualize this thing, seeing that I never did it! Yes, I didn't conceptualize anything in this poem, except for the fact that it has to be about Romeo dying or Romeo living or Romeo being immortal. And here the poem (Or a song: I was thinking seriously this time about a Guns & Roses or a Green Day song with the voices of their lead singers echoing in my head!) is, fully formed, 149 lines long, with a refrain of "Romeo" and "die" with must or mustn't or shan't or shall or whatever forming the lines (If you look carefully you'll know I forgot my grammar!!!) Anyway, ROMEO MUST DIE is a poem, again, that I enjoyed pretty much though I hate to draw comparisons with MY OTHER WORKS whatelse?!! This is, and I can promise it is, another really original work of mine, that boasts of brands old whiskey, in a rejuvenating cocktail... :) BTW! This is just a part of the poem (song) and for the rest... Well I need to display my other posts here too shouldn't I? And I need space for that!!!

ROMEO MUST DIE

“Love, you didn’t catch up,

I had to use some Ketchup,

To distract,

at my very sight;

And I did it right!”

“I caught no bullet,

Quite good is my gullet!

I told death,

‘Not tonight’;

And I was quite right!”

“But you are wrong, love,

Sweet was your song, love,

Wipe your tears,

Before they dry;

Romeo will not die!”

A castle in Spain;

Just felt that he heard,

That she said every word,

But nothing did he gain!

There it came again!

The thought that she spoke,

That her lips did poke,

Prickled on his pain!

“Romeo, my good man,

Live long you should, man!

For the flag,

of our love to fly;

Romeo must not die…”

Wore a smile of chagrin,

Showing his sword his grin,

To his love,

he chose not to lie;

“Now, Romeo will die…!”

A great goodbye he bade,

Sticking to the blade,

Through to his

back did it slide!

His devotion personified!

“HAD ROMEO DIED?”

DEATH AND THE MAIDEN - INTRODUCTION...

Finally! A short poem from me!!! It's not really a complete poem: It's part of a poem saga I planned to write, and that saga is something I've never ventured into. Something that's quite explicit to be going about with. I would say it is for you to judge, and it is upto me to do the writing... :) Enjoy

PROLOGUE - THE INTRODUCTION…

Owt odd is there about towns?

Owt odd can there be?

Naught about towns that overflow

Out of mediocre sea…

But the force’s occupancies do exist,

Those crafted and not evolved;

Not insane it is to forebode then,

That the fraternity could very well be odd…

One of that kind we investigate now,

Not because choose we want to;

For the town chose us and not we it,

So comply we do, without thought two.

No inkling of ill will, for honoured we are,

To know of that forlorn town;

One that brims with out-of-the-way tales,

To rejoice our devout drown.

Arise do arteries out of its ripe heart,

Ordained to reach beyond yonder;

Serenades of blood and worldly memoirs,

On cruise to make minds all wander.

Browsing from chasms to the endless void,

Every little grain of life’s expanse;

Not to mention the never-ending nap,

Leaving the multitude in total trance.

But corporeal are chronicles, they do age,

Stale and out-dated they become;

For today’s decree is history tomorrow,

Fleeting is the fizz of French Rum.

But flourish or fail, the machinery might,

Endure will one sole tale do;

Not because it’s special (All tales are!)

But because this one’s too good to be true!!!

DEATH AND THE MAIDEN - MY SATIRE

DEATH AND THE MAIDEN – A SATIRE :)

This isn’t a satire of Roman Polanski’s incredible 1996 movie starring Sigourney Weaver and Ben Kingsley, but it’s something personal: A satire rather of writing styles. I personally believe that writing has got to be in such a way that people reading it will actually be able to READ it and not try to DECIPHER it. It’s not a code: It’s just an assortment of words strung together to make music sound better :)

So in this notion, I write this ‘spoof’ on what I actually am writing simultaneously, a serious story which is as mischievous as it is a revelation. Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce you, to what is certainly NOT going to be my very own, DEATH AND THE MAIDEN…

“The Cross – That deitified emblem upon which one of the noblest of mortals, and immortals together had been issued a termination from his post of worldliness. And mutiny though he did, or continue though his existence in the ages passed, the moments on the verge of becoming history and the ages yet to be rolled out the red carpet, mortalisation is still as prickly as the unearthly is blissful. But venture or venture not, the worldly mundane, the forces of universal integrity do happen to shove pioneers and gist-breakers up through dusty cracks on this blue planet, to set first foot on roads seldom ventured into. And if exploration of the inevitable could be considered as brilliant as it is insane, then these pieces of a quadrupled cerebrum would very well be the daredevils of a generation yet to surface…

They could very well be the next big thing…

And that precisely, was what they desired

The Cross – That was how the tetrad rested their parts of personal invisibility on four comfortably engineered pieces of teak, their heads enclosing an obvious void at the very supposed origin of all warmth and humanity sustaining chasms of good beneath expanses of red, green and black. And this notion of axial emptiness is never intended to be metaphorical, that people essentially are heartless, but rather a cacophony directed at the ignorance of the common when interpretation and the urge to perceive obstructed all access to that other sense that had been installed by mandate in every hominid mind the mortal are cursed to be oblivious about. A laugh as exhilaratingly gleeful, probably, as that of Mozart when musically abuse he did, his formers, contemporaries, friends and fellow foes: A mark of overconfidence with a steroidal dash of mischief, circumscribing it all…”

Anyway, I guess a satire doesn’t get any better than this: Don't you think???

-THE END-