Night Time Diaries Part 2

Blink blink blink goes the cursor. What an enigmatic existence I lead after the lights out :D Music blasts through my ears at full volume and I subtly continue to bob my head along to the beat. Once I start writing, it's hard to stop. Its an addictive drug.

Nerd glasses?

-Check

Comfy pillow?

-Check

Covers to keep me toasty

-Check

Well, it looks like we're all set. Lets delve into the mystic world of black and grey shall we?

Sometimes soltitude in silence is not enough. Sometimes I feel the need to escape further from the noisy noisy world.

Which is why this time, instead of a ramble, I shall write a poem.

Now, I'm just gonna wing it, so I warn you, it may not make much sense :D

But read on any ways... Tap tappity tap tap

Purple moonlight and silvery grey stars

The wind beneath my sails,

A whisper from Mars

Sweet and sublime, an ocean of dreams

No boundaries no limits

As vast as it seems

Curiouser and curiouser, Alice's world down the hole

Birds soar the azure

Monkeys swing from the pole

We dance in the rain, we walk to the light

We revel in the glow

Of velvet so bright

We search and we seek, our purpose on earth

Why are we here?

On Gaia our hearth

The pale blue ocean and the swell of the seas

The misty grey sky

Atomic green trees

God has a plan, a plan for us all

Are we just pawns

Waiting for a call?

Or are we the masters of free will enchained

Purple moonlight and grey

Plus silver maintained

So there you have it! :D

I'm done.

Sooo my question is,

What is our purpose here on Earth?

God Complex

On the first day there was silence

The second day, there was God

The third day came the humans

But by the fourth, we forgot.

On the fifth day came the Holy Ones

We crucified Adam and Eve

The first born son on the sixth

We buried our prestige

Deities came and went, and on the seventh we remained

We erected the temples

Our bibles maintained

We worshiped the wind

We worshiped ourselves

We worshiped outsiders

Wrote books for the shelves

We forged our own chains

We dug our own graves

Locked the sheep in their cages

We were the slaves

God.

The Almighty One.

It is comforting, is it not, to believe that someone else is in-charge of your destiny? That a mystic force up there can wave a magic wand and miraculously make it all right?

God is dead, said Nietzsche. God remains dead, and we have killed him.

Weren't we the ones who created God in the first place? Hasn't the concept God since time immemorial always been to comfort our own selves that we could rely on something bigger than our puny bodies?

We are specks of light in this dark abyss and sometimes, hope falters. The weak ones need a cushion for their broken dreams and a comforter for their desires when their efforts weren't enough. We are too full of ourselves to even CONSIDER taking full blame for out actions.

"It was luck. It was ill-fated. Maybe GOD meant it to be"

What sort of a God would let his son be crucified on the cross?

Yes, faith shatters. After all, wasn't Christ the biggest scapegoat in existence?

What sort of a God would take away your loved ones?

Where was God during the Tsunami? Where was God during the destruction of Japan?

Did he feel that perhaps his children were being too naughty, so they had to be rebuked?

What kind of a God deems it fit for child molesters and rapists to breathe the same air as the innocents?

God is in the T.V. God, is in our head. We created him, we appease him, and we killed him. It is the end of times, grab your prayer books everybody because you're in for a rough ride. Narcissistic and broke, our mirror images become reflecting deities. Subconsciously, we loathe our hedonistic traits, since slavery was a trait drilled into our heads.

So we punish ourselves, and dear old Dad in heaven gets the blame.

How many of us can truly confess to seeking God WITHOUT some demand in mind?

How many of us can honestly say that the last time we prayed, it was unselfishly?

As humans, most of us are flimsy excuses for mankind. Devoid of emotion and empathy, clutching rosaries made of the skin and bone of others toil.

The true believers are the ones so deluded in their search for this higher Power that they isolate themselves from us doubters.

And of course we have the preachers, the propagators, who make God their business, making a pretty penny while manufacturing brainwashed sheep at this factory of fanaticism.

God is a crutch for the weak. A beggar, who comes up to your car, will always ask for a donation in "God's name" He doesn't care for the blessings of your "God", all he wants is some money.

So, do I believe in God?

No.

But I am not opposed to the idea of a true force that unites us all, coz after all, I am only Human, and Hypocrisy is injected in my blood. I admit, the idea of being all alone in this vast universe, is terrifying. So I seek answers, so I question and offend people. All in the hope; that maybe someday, I may be able to answer the questions that keep me awake at night.

But then, it is never polite to shove religion down the throats of unwilling masses is it?

Original Individual - A Poem

Originality, in my view, should be a religion in itself. The religion of the free thinkers, where everyone is a star. Why do we allow ourselves to be labelled and put in boxes?

Are we soup cans?

We have the potential to reach for the stars we look up to, hell, even BECOME those very stars, emulated by millions.

It's all about recognizing yourself and finding your true potential. Be what you wanna be, the only opinion that matters is your own. Don't disgrace yourself in your own eyes in a futile effort to be something you aren't.

We're all fallen angels, molded by the hands of our Father.

Anyways, on to the poem -

I see the beautiful clones

Their rusted hands

The landscape is all but one

Blank and grey, everything's the same

I scream at the sheep

Grab the masses by the throat

Original, individual, I say

Give me something new

Let the spectrum shine through this washed out palette

Break free of your bonds of uniformity

Conform, but only to yourself

Show some color, ignite the spark

Of your overworked soul

Give me a diamond, in a mountain of stones

Original individual, be yourself forever

Narcissus awake from your enraptured slumber

See how unique you really are

Unlock your potential with a skeleton key

Of Moonshine and Goodwill

Original individual, starstruck now or never

Till next time,

Ciao,

Taksh

Love - A poem and a short ramble

Cracked faces

Burnt places

Crooked smiles

On crocodiles

A spectrum, one sided

A fate, undecided

And we look for love thats lost

Stone cold water

A drowning daughter

A broken heart

That's played its part

A maiden forlorn

A young lad who's gone

And their story forever covered in frost

When cupid had lost its faith

Then shall appear a potent wraith

Freeing love

Nurturing the dove

With a crooked smile

Like a crocodile

And alive will be their faust

Love. What a fickle emotion. It comes and goes, and on the rare occasion that our heart DOES settle for someone, disaster seems inevitable. Keeping a relationship alive and breathing takes WORK and cupid is never there with his handy arrow when needed.

Love is an emotion which stands tall on the delicate porcelain base of trust. All in all, it is a poorly balanced equation, leaving me wondering as to how it has stood the test of time and is still standing.

How do people not see through the rosy facade?

Fairytales don't always come true. Most of the times, Beauty is met by an actual beast and she becomes a grisly reminder of how easy trust cracks.

But still, Love is an amazing idea that I never tire obsessing over =D

By the way, "faust" is Latin for Luck

Till next time

Ciao

Taksh

My Music

This is an original composition, kinda dark, but i like it! I wrote parts of this song a night before my S.St exam. Go figure. (P.S. I still don't have a title for it yet.)

[Verse 1]

Facing the night alone, the race has just begun

You want the fame, the money, you're not the only one

Your life's gonna come down crashing, crashing around your ears

Its just so fragile, the web is spun with tears

You can run all you want, know the music won't stop

Solitary confinement, its lonely at the top

Even for all the lights, the darkness stares at me, so cold

But I want the money, the fame, the glitter, the gold

The silence screaming at me, I cant hear it, no soul

Its lonely at the top, ain't got no one to hold

This is the price that's paid for the spot, the flashing lights

The beautiful people breathe, the party comes to life!!

[Chorus]

The boombox beats

All my candy treats, all my sugar sweets

Coming through the front door, getting on the dance floor

When the disco ball sets the room on fire, its a ghastly attire

Candy paint on these witches

Its for the fame, the money, the rehab, the riches!!

[Verse 2]

The blood is dripping down your mascara covered eyes

The images will shatter, the world was only lies

Lip-gloss on face, Tattoos down your spine

Stardom and reality, a very fine line

Music bumping on that track its loud and clear

Your face is turning blue now you're fighting for air

Its like a fairytale, follow the crumbs back home

The witch is gonna eat you, your coffin will be chrome

The gold will lose its shine when your heartbeat stops

Solitary confinement, its lonely at the top

The girls in the club dancing around

Why do you give a damn, you're six feet underground!!

[Chorus]

The boombox beats

All my candy treats, all my sugar sweets

Coming through the front door, getting on the dance floor

Where the disco ball sets the room on fire, its a ghastly attire

Candy paint on these witches

Its for the fame, the money, the rehab, the riches!!

[Bridge]

Lights get dimmer and your throat closes up

A little more can't hurt, drink one more cup

Adrenaline through your system, body puts up a fight

One shot, two shots, three- now kill the lights!!

The boombox beats!!

When we hit the streets, the Queen's in her seat, Its fresh meat

People jumping up and down

There's a circus, look, the clowns

And the voyeurs admire

So close, now don't tire

At the funeral, wall to wall

Witches in their best gowns

Screaming, And you they surround

Sayin - You're dead, thats all.

There Is Something Under The Bed

THERE IS SOMETHING UNDER THE BED

Every night at bedtime,

My heart is heavy with dread;

‘cause there’s something under the bed,

Oozing and spewing forth slime.

Underneath my bed it’s lurking,

Eating bunnies, rabbits, does and deer

Made of dust;

And eating more and more for it, is a must.

At night after its meal,

Under my bed it’s skulking;

I can hear the sounds of

Slurping,

Jerking,

Snoring,

I try to imagine how it would look,

With round eyes and a pointy nose,

Its tail rather curly and redder than a rose;

Yes! It would look like something out of a storybook.

I know when it eats up my under the bed-land bare,

It will take the authority, it will dare;

To try and eat me up

And finish the meal with a burp.

But I shall be armed well

With forks, knives, and a victory bell;

Finally when the battle is won,

I defeat the monster and emerge victorious,

To celebrate this moment glorious,

I spear the creature with immense pleasure and joy,

Which I now realize with grief

Is my sister’s stuffed toy.

A Hug...

Isn't a hug one of the best mood lifters??? This was a poem I wrote after a unanimous request from everyone that I write on a slightly softer topic than usual. So, onto the poem....

A Hug

A Hug…

Is better than a mug full of Chocolate Sundae;

A Hug…

Is better than no school on a Monday.

A Hug…

Is better than Cartoon network or Pogo;

A Hug…

Is an ‘I Love You’ sign, a mark, and a logo.

A Hug…

Is better than a room full of toys;

A Hug…

From the one you love, brings you indescribable joys.

A Hug…

Given in the times of greatest grief;

A Hug…

It will bring you joy, though it may be brief.

A Hug…

Helps you forget your worries, pain and sorrow.

A Hug…

Reminds you-“If not today; there’s always tomorrow”

Andy The Ant

This was one of my earlier poems, a slightly humorous poem with an equally just twist at the end. The poem was mostly written in the form of first person, as a narrative. Anyway, read on...

Andy The Ant

"I am the finest thing to have around

I have the best looks ever found.

Having a party? Call me to the ground,

I have the greatest moves and sounds.

I am, Andy the Ant, yes I am

Cool as ice, fast as a tram.

Andy the Ant, you might've heard the name

I am the greatest player in the game.

I'd rule the colony, If it weren't for the King

'Cause I can dance, I can write, I can even sing!

All the ant's try to put me to rest,

They're all jealous, cause I'm the best

I'm the most adventurous ant, put me to test.

Roller coasters, Tea coasters, I've tried them all

I dare the humans to make an exterminator call.

I took on the enemies, single handedly, I did

One look at me, they all turned to kids.

Ladies can't keep their hands off me, I'm great

I get fan mail by the truckload, boxes and crates."

While praising himself, the ant failed to notice that,

A little kid was watching, he lifted a bat.

In a moment, a strike, and the great Andy was squashed-

FLAT!!!

Introduction

Hey Everyone!
This is Taksh, writng again. This is my second blog and this time around, I sincerely intend to keep it up and not drop out like last time (Akshat bhaiya... u know what I'm talking about!). Basically, this blog will contain whatever's on my mind when I'm typing-Poems, Stories, Small snatchez of school life etc. etc. I'll try to keep y'all posted up as frequently as possible, whenever I have free time.
So, keep reading.
Ciao,
Taksh