Some men try to fit into concepts and Some are concepts, who try to fit in as men.

And as it crosses my mind
capitalism is a science fit only to be practiced by the most perfect
and socialism an art to save against the imperfect.

Ok Computer!

There are no differences between the day & nights
The early morning is only as refreshing as the dead of the night
I don’t even see the thin line between the two

I sleep beside the mobile handset
Kept under my pillow like an ancient totem
And in constant gaze of my laptop

Day or Night isn’t rolling by the hands of clock
But by the assignments in the way
Only the completion of one lets me into the next hour

I don’t switch off my lights
And don’t look at the sun in the morning sky
neither the stars in night, Only my lit screen

Twitter is so digital, was it the birds who invented it?
Life might not have a background score
But there is always an MP3

There is a rush of information to my head
And I carry several times my ancestors had
My last decade is irrelevant
as I gasp for the memoirs of yesteryears

There is so much cold outside
But I live in another microcosm
The doors closed, windows shut
Does my neighbor next door feels the same

Only as the words come to rescue
The thoughts abandon and confuse
I survive by the gibber that’s not lost between the two

You wish you had a tail of flame

I know you cant sit still
I know the moment will
lose you soon
You wish you had a tail
With flame at its trail
You wish you’d enlighten the world
with the flame
and run around with the spark
igniting new routes in dark
Running around like you held
the freedom from captivity
of a million souls
I know you wish you could
and pay up for the cost it hold
As you rub yourself into the infeasibility
You wish you had another hour of this infinity

Drop and the ocean

Ensconced in my bed, what do I think
Against the wall of my cubicle, How do I break.
Is this the ego of the drop against the ocean
How should I feel?

Only if this cold was a furnace

Only if this cold was a furnace
We would mint gold in the hills
But don’t run away with the mines
For this is the season of Drawing lines
on the face of ice and frost
For we go for the diamonds next

Love me like I do.

"Only if you could love me then we'll have a nice time together because we both would be doing the same thing then"

PS:As I found out later the sarcasm I intended in the above lines isn't evident enough!

More or less

There always comes one moment
in the life of a genius
that is worth more than
the worthlessness of his entire life

Is it more, the worth
Or too less, the moment.

! Headspark

Give me a sparkplug!
I want to put it into my head
There is some unused fuel in there

A dream I left at your Doorsteps

I awoke to a strange dream today
With no background score in play
And not in the cast, you were
neither it was nightmare in genre
I’ve too much pride in me
to let you cause that to me

I remember no memoirs of you so stark
no times I spent with you so dark
that a flavor so bitter it felt
Left a strange taste in my mind as I slept
But from where came those questions
and those dream time interrogations
Who were the people who spoke
about you and kept me on hook
It was unexpected to ask me that
And declare it an open fact
You mayn’t believe in some ideas
As you turn them down, amused even I was
But for me it wasn’t even a question. I thought
so insignificant that an explanation you’d sought
I wonder what to do of the dream reel
And it gives a cold & strange feel

I would like to sleep again
Dream and imagine something else sane
and So in appreciation of your contempt
true respect, here in me I’ve always kept
for all your methods and ways I’ve known
But this is a dream that I don’t wish to own
it’s a dream I leave at your doorsteps.
A dream I left at your doorsteps.

Infinite Randomness

Infinite randomness stares at me
I neither fail nor fully succeed to see
The meaning and the pattern behind
It just tickles all the time, my mind

What is the purpose and the algorithm
of this confusion with all of them
in the boiling cauldron of thoughts
And what if it boils down to nought

What is the sense and meaning
in this expanse of randomness
What is that differentiates this
from that which is apart the randomness
Is it difficult to make sense
or more difficult to make nothing at all.

An apple a day!

An apple a day,
Keeps mediocrity away

A whacky idea each morning,
Keeps the spirit flowing

Rejecting many, embracing few,
Keeps the love in life anew

My religion is redefined in you
And my prayers rise for you.

The Chase

Time runs out
that has been its habit
I keep following its tyre treads
I continue
because that has been my promise
It is generally quicker than me
for it has practiced its art since long
I’m just a new guy on the block
I try to run with as many ideas
As I can carry
For I have no idea which one will last the race
Hoping one will
But it slows me down
The burden or bliss of too many
Only time should tell
Which is why it’s important to keep running
Keep tugging
Too intense a fire inside
sometimes burns a part of me
I sometimes wonder
In this pursuit
If it’s too early to tell
Or I’m too slow
The ideas too much of a burden
Or the way wrong altogether
In middle of heated, dusted path
Wild, unconventional and arrogant
Where things don’t look the best around
Its difficult to accept it as the verdict
much more it feels like giving up .
The only way out it seems
is to keep running with my bag close to heart
and feet near the ground
Chasing it down
Let only the ‘will to continue’ decide.

Impromptu

Posting from comments :)

A said ...
A thought i chose to recall
wherin lies the will of the wall?
in him who chose to make it?
or in him who chose to break it?

Ysh said ...
A genre of mass behavior, Will of the wall
is a thought pristine & entrenched in all
those who fail to look beyond the wall
And its their numbers that it stands tall

A Connection in disconnect

There is a connection in disconnect
between us and our places
Lost in a million faces
Apart these distances
Tangled in the city buildings somewhere
And confused in the city lanes and square
And waiting for the traffic to clear
And waiting for you dear
There is this,a connection in disconnect

Will of the walls

There are some who poke holes in the fort walls
Hoping it to crumble
Indifferent to the unpractical a thought it might be.
A dream I’ve seen every morning since I started
But I’m waiting for the brick that decides
My fate and that of the fort
As I hole another brick out of the wall
Hammering against the will of the walls
let it not put a limit
and definition to what things can be

No song can save me tonight

No song can save me tonight
neither the music can lift me out
mess it is not but a challenge
impossible maybe not but damn too tough
May be just beyond the farthest hill I can climb
Tragic it isn’t but ironic
I’m not counting on the dope of music
or the consolation of the song
fact it is not but a feeling
that even as I like it, Love it
Time I don’t have to listen you
Reason it is not but a hunch
History it is not but a Deja-vu

I fall still to the conviction of the song
Love it as it plays to
the dance-floor in my heart
Song it is not but an energy
Listening to you
I find tough to resist
Listening it is not but an act of feeling
The moment of joy that you give
and your bursts of hope in the midnight
song you are not but an inspiration
As I try to ignore you now
resistance it is not but a reflection
of the grave challenges ahead
Even as in me still resonates
the song that cannot save me tonight.

catch and release

so hard to hold
hard to let go
miles apart
just a stone throw

breathe it in
and spit it out
i am so sure
so full of doubt

grasp tight
and empty fist
lose sight
in clearing mist

do you see?
what i mean
really sober
creatin' a scene

read into it?
a bit of tease
the disconnect
catch and release