Saturday, December 27, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
so here are the thingies.
18th: decadencebegins here
19th: winterbegins here
20th: haha here.
i sorta love my wordpress at the moment xD so i think ill post everything there and post links here because all you bastards never check that blog anyway.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
i will now write you a poem titled 'because',
a poem holding no reasons to negate.
what makes a cave is the wall drawings. what makes
an ocean is the borders, bord- oh no the lack of them. what
makes a bird is bones obsessed with emptiness
and elbowroom. what makes a cave is you standing outside, wondering
what it hides and pushing in an arm whispering you're
beautiful as you sense the dark (take it back
along with your arm).what makes an ocean salt water
and nothing more is the shark circling around a ship, thinking that the
ship is big enough for itself and it needs no more.
i will now stop pretending that i'm still going to
call this because.
what makes a ship is the plimsoll line (ignored)
what breaks a poem is the loose ends let loose.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
I got lost in the sounds...
And suppose I never ever met you
Suppose we never fell in love
All my friends say that of course its gonna get better
Gonna get better
I hear in my mind
And it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my heartAnd it breaks my hearAnd it breaks my heart
ps:so in my mind i am always wearing allstars, am mostly flat chested, though i still have little hair.
EDIT EDIT EDIT:
here you go. SOMEWHAT coloured, i just dont have patience to do more right now.i will colour it in hand later LATER LATER LALALA
Friday, December 12, 2008
i only used so much of it because i dont know how to use it well ihave twenty sticks lying aroundand dunno whattodowiththem.
and yes i KNOW about the finger, just dont point it out. please. i just got too lazy to define it as bent. WHATEVARZ.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Him: Hey mate i need a big favour from you. i need you to search wikipedia for a list of psychoactive herbs and plants, right now. I know this is probably the worst way to begin a phone correspondence but i'll make it up to you someday. I dont know how, but i promise i will.
how'd you plan on doing that now, eh?
i dont know, mate.i could really use some help in maths right about now, yknow.and some weed, ganja baba, you. and our fathers happen to be colleagues too, cool eh? too bad i found out a lil too late.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
although i was an impatient little monkey- i just left out the hair and other bits incomplete
(EDIT) photoshopped 2:
now the thing is, i took the reference from this DEV ID of a deviant on dA, even though she had 92376497498237492798 stock photos in her gallery. and im not very sure if THAT was..er.. allowed :P so i just wont post it there for the time being.
oh be nice and say hello lurkers.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
love is dead so
i must bury you with it before you
metamorphose into ashes and nothing more, nothing
more.im picking words for love like you pick flowers
for the dead and and this is not my poem. if this is an almost madeup
poem, its not mine at all. this
is a postcard of bereavment to myself and each phrase is borrowed
like this sorrow i carry as my only child.
my skin feels like an essay on the Thar, palms like a madman's
prayer, limbs askew from the hunting of leeches,eyes swollen in
wait like the girls in my incomplete drawings,
incomplete because i fear if i carry on, they'll end up with a pool
before them and desert skin from too much semblance
to crazy, lonely postcard writers.my head feels like a snowball
and there seems to be a cardiac pause
whenever im trying to turn the commas in my heart into
semicolons- so that we are closely related independent
clauses and you can walk away but i'd still
mean something, though it never works
without the promise of a longer pause.
when i hear them saying Time makes love pass,
Time is nothing but sinister. but then they tell me
Time heals all wounds, and i try saying them together
and it only means wounds give you a reason to
sometimes im shit scared of not getting
life's metaphors like the wind blowing sorrow
into my hair,sorrow thick and wild, failing to
get my heart back home.sometimes im shit
scared of what my mother might say next
and as she enters the room, she tells me that
it smells like
something just died.
its just writing. seriously.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny
blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny
they are small, and the fountain is in France
where you wrote me that last letter and
I answered and never heard from you again.
you used to write insane poems about
ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper case, and you
knew famous artists and most of them
were your lovers, and I wrote back, it’ all right,
go ahead, enter their lives, I’ not jealous
because we’ never met. we got close once in
New Orleans, one half block, but never met, never
touched. so you went with the famous and wrote
about the famous, and, of course, what you found out
is that the famous are worried about
their fame –– not the beautiful young girl in bed
with them, who gives them that, and then awakens
in the morning to write upper case poems about
ANGELS AND GOD. we know God is dead, they’ told
us, but listening to you I wasn’ sure. maybe
it was the upper case. you were one of the
best female poets and I told the publishers,
editors, “ her, print her, she’ mad but she’
magic. there’ no lie in her fire.” I loved you
like a man loves a woman he never touches, only
writes to, keeps little photographs of. I would have
loved you more if I had sat in a small room rolling a
cigarette and listened to you piss in the bathroom,
but that didn’ happen. your letters got sadder.
your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all
lovers betray. it didn’ help. you said
you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and
the bridge was over a river and you sat on the crying
bench every night and wept for the lovers who had
hurt and forgotten you. I wrote back but never
heard again. a friend wrote me of your suicide
3 or 4 months after it happened. if I had met you
I would probably have been unfair to you or you
to me. it was best like this.
just one of those poems that made me fall in love with bukowski, and now
something about it angers me, something about it makes me break into a hundred interrupted sobs inside my head, something about it tells me, i wish i was made up, just all made up.
i have exams from monday, maths first.
all you lovely people, enjoy my funeral, do.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Friday, October 31, 2008
my ear feels like its chewing on a mountain and is nowhere near digesting the mound or throwing it up anytime soon. yes, I've had a boil, a poisonboilthatblockedtheauditorycanalnearly, and now that the pain is receeding (as is the FESTIVALOFNOISEMANIA), its beginning to sound like a paper churner, my ear. the past week has been eventful in the way that i broke the TV remote (frustration depression aggression oohyeah ) and my cellphone survived what the remote couldn't (heh, i suppose the dart across the room just made up for its lackofuse), and also, the fact that my father has successfully killed the PC. i did manage to get internet installed on the laptop again, but its not helping that i cant work with the pictures and photoshop and whatnot, so i have hardly any distraction from my noisy-ear.
earlier this week, i changed my orkut dp twice. hell the first one was THE sax, I'm told. ONLY because i appeared with sneha's camera in it. :/
something just made me lose the drive to type more.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
this is me using broomsticks instead of
running water.. grime over my lids, pine underneath
this is time and tide leaving me stranded in a pub reeking of
abandon and neglect , in this heat
this is more tideous than having to stare
at apostrophes to tell them apart- what you are and what you own
and what lies in the thiefs' closet
this sorrow eats my tongue and shits over my heart but
it's still watching- still and watching as
this is what it was.
this was suppossed to be a poetry challenge for me- set by LD on friday. because i was/am SO blocked. SO SO fucking blocked. she gave me three words [which are included in the poem i wont tell you which ones nananana guess guess if you guess right i'll know they seem out of place and that im a fucking faliure] and sentence limit, actually.
bah i hate this.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
the girl in the city was one of the various similar unrelated songbirds. the girl in the city had scaldedheavylids a boil on her chin a bigblackbirthmark and scabs on her scalp. the girl was in the city and it was never festive. the girl in the city wanted any of the various similar unrelated songbirds for company.
the girl was in the city oh what pity fucking pity.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
now it's on sneha's farewell diary, look! the very first entry :)
on a different note:
y:is your health better?
x: im not sure i understand my health
y: what do people say?
x: nothing. they just curse.
y:they are sad.
this is a nice conversation. i'd not had one like that in a long time.
i liked that bit the most.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
i can never do justice to the trip with words, and have been unable to capture anything decently in pictures.
i have NEVER been this frustrated at my incapabilities. the pictures just SUCK and i am in MAJOR hate with my slr and will NEVER use it again, because, i clearly cant/havnt learnt to use it well.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
here's a pic of the shit spread around at home. these are the three smallest extracts that i've started, and none of them are even close to complete. the others are WORSE.threatening-er. )
geography excursion. we leave on the 18th. mom worrying her ass off and killing me with the constant nagging.GD ma'am gonna get pissed at me, no work done.this blogpost is making me impatient, almost wanting to cry out of frustration but let me answer/ask a few things.
@shruti- yes i would like the ebook very much, :).
be kind enough to mail it? i hope i get to read soon enough, really.
@soumi- god DID YOU GUYS HAVE TO DO FIVE EXTRACTS TOO?OR IS IT JUST IM? I am gonna be killing her if its the latter.
@others- hello and goodbye. listen to something anything by travis great song waiting for their new album i havnt heard any music in ages my ipod earphones are dead-ish you see? any chance i get i start whining. must stop NOW.
p.s: saason ki zaroorat hai jaise..
ok im overdoing it.
p.p.s: i hate people.bleeding earlobepiercings. LUCKYBOYYOUREMYLUCKYBOY- ria, please shut the fuck up sometimes.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
the sleeping pills know the way to the garage and might
do me in before i begin to protest.
Letter to myself, from a week ago:
before ever attempting suicide:
read poetry or newspapers in the hope
that either will
change your life.try dancing again and fracture a toe/
sprain a ligament/bump into someone to
remind yourself of how it once changed your life.
cry over it,
get over it.be a black bird without mercy,
join a conspiracy,kill a
bitch and say im jealous of you.stop believing in
karma, put it in a tarot card and motion blur
the shit.give up trying to belong to
borrowed walls, know no safer
roofs than accumulated dreams.consider this: every
line drawing grows into a Venn diagram if not
left alone.give yourself 90 minutes in hell for a little
longer than this, and at a stretch.look at the
mirror, say FUCK i have nothing to do with this and
break it.walk in and walk out of being ok and do
it very fast do it like a firefighter against
ocean currents, his training futile,still
wired to fighting for safety.write an email and know that
this is romance. the air you breathe in is a different
country and your face is a safety-pin(up).bless distance and
stretch it like a continent until it gives way to
your seas, bless plate tectonics for
teaching the world freedom.break free and
this is romance.call shayo up and pray she
sings live forever.try saying yes.say, the pins sticking
out of my tongue need safe disposal, yes. say,
Im starved and lonely and I drew your face but
I was really just hoping it was a smoke and I haven't swallowed
yet I'm waiting,yes. I'm the person who'd find you like you
find her but you dont
come around. paint a pebble for one whole day.
paint a pebble for a little longer.
keep painting the pebble till your mother comes and
throws it away and get back to being
the absence of sense and delete the
last blog post and throw away the pills because
they're hers, really, who wants to use her stuff.this
is getting tiring, sleep it
over and forget about it, you can't for the life of you
do it anyway.
This was there like a fishbone stuck in one's throat, but i can
only guess.I don't eat fish, they reek of premature
death and regrets. it was like the first day
of the knowledge of cancer,the last
method of redemption and its lost procedure guide.it
was there like hems around my lungs and i pulled it out,
wrapped up the pills in it, and realized that they didn't
come with my expiry date anyway.
FUCK I WANT A BOMB BLAST HERE RIGHT NOW DYING IN A BOMB BLAST IS SO WHAT I WANT.
i amaze myself and this is not an attempt to make you laugh. its just so i remember.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
there's mommy and aunty again.
it beats me how cute kids can grow up to be such hitlers. the cutest is the hitlerest.:/
Monday, August 18, 2008
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
its got random lyrics from random oasis songs i love and its somewhat small-ish... its around normal birthdaycard size.
which, sneha thinks, is exactly two thousand five hundred and fifty five times better than the oasis one. i think i no did justice, but it looks fucking pretty in print. :D this one's bigger- A4 size and since sneha loved it she got herself one and i have one too. she prints my stuff watte dawling no? :D
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
life tight around my heart-
i thought i had repressed all memories of shoelaces
tight round my wrists.
in the middle of the night when
i wake up to the stinging dark, ceiling fan
sounding like my mother's
bangles -not really sleep walking, coming for me
i feel in my mouth- the gag's
in place it coudntve been a nightmare.i feel between
my legs and i remember sobbing in the toilet.i remember
pieces of me in the backyard.the draining
of everything in the bathtub. drying my eyes into a
solar eclipse and
my empty bed tells me its
just the sound of blades cutting
i was celebrating my forgetfulness when it leaked through
the letters.pity crawling into my life via holes and fault
lines that was me in a red dress being
uncle so-and-so's doll. that was me in his bed that was me
purpled by father that was me shivers running up my
downside that was me rancid, changed.
that was me-
soft toys sick of me eating them
out classmates sick of me in my corner
going off on tangents when asked about the
ink on skin which wasnt really so. i sat on my hands
for days as if it could save my ass and when none of
these helped that was me in hate. sweet love
was always a transferred epithet, and impossible.
my mother is an indian and foolish.she thinks its
the Gods im angering, its the Gods in plural
that take it out on her through my clobbering father
and the failing me.
i show her how tiny my ears are and she says a silent
prayer like indians who know people with tiny ears die
early.my father thinks im too young to have a lover,
and too bruised. he's a happy man.
at 17 and healthy i still sit
in the bathtub all day on national
holiday number 2- that was me making peace
with his body, i think, hiding the SOS sign forever
under my eyelids (this is me recalling a death).
eyes closed, i see it now
in the bathtub, and yell at mother saying- we all have a
lost and found chamber somewhere in our bodies. 'stop being a
scream' , she yells back- and there's a leak again.
that was me not knowing what i had had until a few
months ago that was me with a mirror trying to
look inside me thinking about it, that was me
finding nothing but fluid white
lies that was me being a molested child.
my heart has left to play with the
children and i begged it to never return.i let go of the time
i realized that my mother is more patient
with her sewing machine than with
her child's panic attacks i let go of the
SOS sign only i could see i let
go of the panic attacks.
at 17 and a half this
is me a long-ago adult, spread across red river
with the last red ribbon i've ever had, and
the last letters i'd ever hidden under my
bed beyond all memory under my thighs.
one says 'dear mother i think im leaking
am i going to die?' that was me too young
but oh God, i think its leaking
and its about time.
er. this is me writing on one of those topics i'd usually avoid because i cant do justice, really. but it wasnt forced, even if it seems so in some bits. er. forgive me.
also, this is fiction.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
you make sure there is one. we have our ventricles
folded, faulted and over-thrust, before they cave
in. not letting up until a change
brings us down the same
old relief.we're gunshots
at the firmament, defying gravity we're lovers
at His door like creepers each a
parasite to the other.and then
we're Russian dolls- you inside
me inside you encasing my music, separated
from my own darkness by our burning
skins,I'm in dithers but you
remind me how our scars keep us
fluid with swallows of ourselves we
keep losing into each other.when i have
fear sticking tight behind my knees you bend,toss
a smile,a touch and watch them
dismantle terror as if
they're children taking turns at
blowing a dandelion clock. switching
roles between a museum guide, a highway map, a mugger
you fritter away until i ask you to leave to
run.speed off like a blind guide.I'm
coming for you don't stay
still we aren't fit to
stand another big
bang we run like thieves leaving behind
all but blades and snares and when we trip
i fall, there's a blackout.but that is because
you're pressed underneath me-
transcending topography like the molten insides of
our planet, the magic carpet
of my 6 year old dreams. no final
tremors.there's a blackout and you're
too beautiful for consciousness.
its my first piece of shit in over a month i guess, and it sucks and its a love poem and omg i dont beleive this. :/
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
i feel absolutely uninspired, unmotivated, and other sad depressive things.
was never particularly jumpy about myself and now its getting worse. this being the BOARDYEAR does not help one ounce.
im giving photography(if you will call it so) a rest till i manage to get myself a camera. even if it takes years. enough of borrowing around, its getting very very frustrating, i cant keep pushing my limits.
this is a very random post and im writing it not the way a comeback post is suppossed to be written, cause i dont know what that is suppossed to be like.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
my first shit done on the computer totally. the girl drawed on GIMP [which is a great free software btw, but i havnt used it much :P ] and other stuff on photoshop with textures and brushes used.
randomsketch by ~weevilgirl on deviantART
random sketch, as it says.
touched by ~weevilgirl on deviantART
conceptual, as it says. oh well i thought of it only while i was trying to tweak it in photoshop, not while sketching.
suninhereyes by ~weevilgirl on deviantART
girl of the seas and skies..
she's a goddess in her mind.
was totally random started off as a doodle, and well, ended as one too :P
girl of the seas and skies by ~weevilgirl on deviantART
YES DONE DONE THERE YOU GO!
oh and lastest photomanip is here.
flickr and dA have both been updated with pictures, but nothing much anyway. also, readlastpost if you havnt, cause ilike it. yes im asking you to. yes im like that only whattodo.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
broken when you can still open
your eyes to your nails and find
skin beneath them, body
stretched like a
each bone in place each rib
like a promise your chest still
serving as sailcloth. You’re
home, even if you're obese, even if tired.
you can cry on the floor
in a hotel room and you'll still be obese,
still like hamburgers, still need sleep
and know it. But you have a closet
full of holocaust
victims to return to, a road running into the tummies of
all of Africa, most of the Mediterranean, and losing
its trail in vacuity Mexico isn't an
escape, neither is your house.
Cries of horns, women and
sighs of old men, haggard eyes ricocheting
exhaustion-alarms off your attic, fill the glass
no reason to drink re-fill
the sky, stay up, watch it empty itself
into your lachrymal glands. You stick to music
because you started, because you are
a humming bird with no better
purpose. You know what the postcards
will say and wish you had settled for
blood in the arm they had spared him then
and now you have a
man with a bullet in his back buried
in your backyard as cattle, vegetables
growing on the mound with none but
the dead to feed. When you make up
conversations in your head and save them
up for afternoons to come, hoping
that the earth explodes
before they do. You can’t ask
about your mother or for
photographs of when it was
different, because maybe that equals
never. When you hold his hand
and you're cold when love feels as
stagnating as being convinced, or being
miles from it. The world sets out
to set you free from your peace
of mind, and when you give them
a piece of your mind,
the undoing begins. You let them molest you,
asking to yourself 'will this keep me safe will this
keep me..' and the know-it-betters won’t have
a benchmark answer. You're broken when
you swallow silence every night silence like
a nasty hangover you can’t
shake off. When you have stories
to be thrown up, but no
words are worth a damn, you know
what to do. Break them up,
the puzzle pieces.
Friday, May 23, 2008
edit: around 9:15 p.m.
SO i finally got done with something i'd been grumbling about this morning, over here, so here you go:(fullview, PLEASE)
hitch a ride noncolouredrough by ~weevilgirl on deviantART
so far, so good. but what happens NEXT is that the retard suddenly decides to take a paintbrush, AND paint.. AND, yes just as you were thinking.. THAT very picture up there, and puts them together. in the biginning it was sort of a blue waterwashed sky, so pretty pretty in blue itwas. but then there was the only FLUID poster colour left, how could she not rape the picture with THAT? it was black. BLACK, DOODS! BLACK POSTER COLOUR+THE SKY IN THE DRAWING +A PAINTBRUSH + A PAINT ILLITERATE FUCKTARD = DIS-AS(S)-TER.
oh YES. now SOME people might find it artistic [ oh yes, such unbelievably sdhgfh people DO exist (do something about my vocab, someone) i'd give you an example, but you wouldnt know the person ], but i'll tell you straight out what it really is.
it is my absolute inability to paint.period.
and i thought i'd -ahem- dedicate the painted shit to shruti and arunima, justlikethat. but after this -hangs head in shame-
and oh this is justan old doodle. reddoodle.
and if this looks scary enough or summin, this is for old PK WHO STOLE THE LOWE OF MY LIFE.
p.s.: my phone, dear friends, is still dead. rejoice!
also, please see last post. CD covers or whatever, tell me if you'll buy a cd with looks anything like that i need to SHOW THAT SHIT TO TEH WOMAN WHO TAKES ASSIGNMENTS :/
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
i've been away-ish from this place, cause i've started ANOTHER blog, again without any specific reason. runnyfingers. that one, yes. im a sucker for rant blogs, and thats what all of them end up as. so anyway, updates.
summer vacations are on. ISC results are out and are SCARY AS FUCK. i dont wanna be around this planet this time next year. :S
flickr is great.there's this group i found, called CD COVER MEME.
About CD Cover Meme
Always wanted to be in a rock band?Well, here's your chance...sort of. Make your own CD Cover with the following steps and rocket yourself to mulit-platinum status and start fending off the groupies.
The first article title on the page is the name of your band.
The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.
The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
so i joined today, and made a cover today itself :D
i'd done another cover for my Graphics assignment, which is here:
source photo: taken by me. sneha's camera. my lowely fender. <3
ok so this one's suppossed to be a compilation of guitar pieces by three jazz guitarists, whoever and whoever and whoever. so that.
i havnt done the spine or back cover for either i must imust :P
so thassit for now.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
early morning fart from
father and shot me out of bed
unawake, snatching at residues of
7 a.m. half dreams.
was another hatechain.
i wrote hatepoems inside my head
for someone, a chance break for mother,
(and guess what day it is)
and laughed at his childishness later,
hating myself for smiling about
people i choose to hate.
i discovered a bald patch and
wished all todays would do me a
favour and end,
but not yesterdays nor the idea of tommorows
i lied about God and wrote him
a note saying: "Dear God,
i don't think i would've liked you much if
you did exist."
i washed the heat off
and felt my wet hair drip
on my bare back
for a little longer than
a prostitute can
afford an orgasm.
i didnt nap for i was
afraid i'd cry
pools in my dream i'd
cry pools i thought silly me.
hasn't ended yet
i felt like an old man without his grand-daughter
though I'm still a teenager with
a need for brassieres , and have never wanted
a child of my own.
i realized that i've grown up a little
due to this city with its share
of madwomen at bus stands,
and lack of starlight or clarity.
making sense was never this easy
i didn't fall in love
was an empty box of crayons,
or an empty bowl of soup i
sat picking at the insides of, with nothing but digestive tablets
to indulge in, but after a while
i felt some greys crawl under my nails.
its never truely colour, or complete lack of it
greys always crawl in much closer.
i wished the sky would unhinge itself and
blow me a kiss or blow a spine into me or just simply
i wrote another note
this one said: "Dear God,
i don't think
you would've liked me much if
and hoped he cant read
thought-notes in this language.
i laughed at myself and refused to admit
that this shell is safer than not-quite-rights, for
i just made up stories or spat out strings of hackneyed
words trying to make up for the
waste it was, and look
this wound up as a waste too
is not an end either.
Monday, May 5, 2008
after an hour of embarrassed laughter in my head
about a bra-strap coming undone.
after a tear for humanity, lost after a stream of
blood rising to my brain because im
unimportant after saying to myself that its ok to
hate old people,its ok to
sleep while they leave for
a surgery after having the low down blues after all
my surgery, you gave me back
and i love you already like a girl loves
a man she's never smelt, just read and felt and
built in her mind for centuries after he was dead anyway, though
she's unaware. like an unlettered girl loves a man she steals poetry
off, knowing it as her own.
im a bugger that way, a burglar, but goodness knows
its only been an hour
lets see how, if at all, this changes
from peach flavoured to wine
im sorry i couldnt do any better, but im not getting over him for a lifetime, not for another.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
talking to me like im
here and its then
when i heard you say
but cobwebs dont glisten in the sun.
like im stripping naked boys of
their lies and shame and pride with
words no stories nor facts
just words to cut up their silly
rhythm and i'd like some cake
to go with the fuckyous, thank you.
and d'you know i dream of placating
winds of changing directions
of deranged prisoners and i
get that feeling of walking
summers, streets, snow,
dust crawling through the gaps between my toes
pulling out as sheets of phantom mysteries behind my back.
and i dream of me working in the sun,sweating
sweating like they do outside
like the fluids have an easy outlet
easier than this.
i'd like to get the feeling like you've read me,
fed me, having tasted each morsel before offering me
a sin, but i'd know what's forbidden
but i'd like to forget
though i dont really know anything about this at all.
like ive just glutted on straight lines
that refuse to curve or bend
and get stuck like the swirling
lines of songs i cant remember, coming from
the other end jammed in my throat. glands can be myths
meant to scare, just myths i like to
think up faces staring straight at
reveries i cant fit into.
but you see i dream
of getting the feeling like
i can hear you and feel something
something else anything
at all as long as nothing
doesnt butt in, as long as
i know there are secrets clumped as
cobwebs in my shell
and i can tell you that i'd like it
when the sun dont matter so much.
Friday, April 18, 2008
i think i like goodbyes, i think i play hard for them, hard but fair.
subconsciously. we had two, roughly. glances, both, and brief. maybe somewhere a heartbeat sputtered, but its hard to tell, its more of a fake vintage photograph peeling off my brain. textures, always. like a memory not built entirely, too hard to remember, but impossible to scale. i liked your nose and i never got that litttleboy smile i had saved in my head,the one i stole off pictures of you with strangers and mist.maybe you've killed it don't tell me what it is or maybe you've hidden it away in scripts for dreams to be played on some winter midnight don't ever sound like you did then, please. but its not anymore,i think i've seen snatches of who you could be but who pulled em down?
maybe that's what makes pretending easier maybe that's why you need to pretend at all.
..hide a while inside your smile
and it's going to be spring again..
happiness was never this game, but i played hard for a goodbye for maybe ,
I'm just too used to it.
if you were smoke and music
and two years ago,
those eyes of summer couldn't have
made you fade like the purple of my chamber,
the purple off the walls.
no more my favoured alphabet soup
my swell my beat no only
just six letters and the ceiling sometimes just a floodplain
left when i look away, bare walls of stars smart eyes no more.
peeling candies off the sky, spring seems
long gone but
if we were those two and
one on a branch
if you were more than a draft
i'd wish you into the thick honey evenings
of dreams and sprinkled stardust,
moon at sticky fingertips still
no want of water no wilting moments just
those which settle politely in my lungs and
inhalable and fluid in that lovely way..
if you were smoke and music.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
ill blow myself a few fullmoons..
photomanipulation, by the me.
and i dontremember who from i took the stairsandthechurch stcok, forgibhe me. hence, i didnt put it up on dA, i couldnt've credited proper.
and this is a pic taken a fewmonths back i think, the night when the moon was suppossedly closest to teh earth in (insertcorrectnumber) years. a very crappy cam, 1.3 MP if you wanttoknowthetruth. fullview might make it better.
..how lonely are we tonight?
Like mirrors that lie,hidden inside a woman's past.
p.s: for those who i havnt already bugged into checking out my dA and flickr account lately, please do so.plisplis :D
Saturday, April 5, 2008
egghead. by ~weevilgirl on deviantART
because im an egghead and in case you dont get this, you are one too.
ok so the girl thinks you hate her because of her facial asymmetry.no she dont think that's teh reason you hate her, but THAT is the reason for her thinking so. such people exist, yes.she doesnt, but whatever.and they dont let her fly a kite cuz of that. :[
and she's called asima.
and my life does not exist beyond teh virtual realm, and even that is being curtailed now.
terrific, aint it?
and i havnt learnt to say sorry or thank anyone when one deserves it. so what am i to do now?
Saturday, March 29, 2008
the sin i sought,
modest lust and thought.
my eyes memorising a neon-glow jawline,
collar bone and
there are hollows and ridges i climb up and into
in my sleep,no more
than grains of spacebound tears
music scattered around by those eyes
and gaping nostrils
like the forest breeze in spring,
wild yet soft and the tint.
theres always the tint.
but beyond the grainy hue,
a tide of burning red and the witching
hour gives me
more than thirst or thought.
this aint nothing, ho. and ok yes i posted, go me. even though more than half of teh people i tagged in my lastpost havnt done their tag. sheh shoot me someone.
and bytheway, this:
is me and the new oink. ive had enough of virtual pigs, now this is the real shit :D
Thursday, March 20, 2008
a tag i stole off panu's blog, promised to myself that i'd do it and for the umpteenth time i felt my promise to myself turn into a burden like no other.ok lets chuckit and begin.
all the lifesoandsoyearsagobusiness is approximate, and may stretch 2 to 3 years beforeorafter the specified time.
Life Ten Years Ago : was in the same city when it had a muchmore pleasing[to me] name, and revolved round geekiness, dancing, nicking bensiapencils only to return them unsuspectingly,more dancing, losing milkteeth and getting pictures of gapfulsmiles taken, Miss Anna in school, embarrassing singing exams, leading my group in some reading competition, and winning.
I and some of my schoolfriends used to make transactions in paper, of paper. writing pads, if you were curious. i coaxed shweta to get me writing pads in return of my services (which would consist mainly of me carrying her lunchbox around or suchlike) and rubberbands.or maybe i demanded rubberbands myself, i dont remember, but im sure those were involved. i was always a weird kid, only more of a nuisance at that when younger.
Life Five Years Ago: was in siliguri, was my 5th school and was fun.i had to play house with neighbourkids, with one of the youngest of them forever pretending to go around with daaru ka botal. i think it amused me, and i was always made Dr.Sonia , and could have my favourite thermocol phone all to myself, so i didnt complain all that much.
okno who am i kidding? i HATED that shit.
fell in love with chinkys, mountains and waiwai. dancing continued, singing was discovered as something i can get away with without being egged, and toward the end of that period, i think, i got my first guitar and made my first song. :D
oh also, i still had straight silky shiny dark hair .which would be cut short at regular intervals and whatever of it remains, has changed beyond recognition now. :\
life will be a fucking boon(or not) if it continues with its existence after we get the finalexamresults which are gonna be out in a few hours. so life tommorow, depends heavily on the results.shitshit.
Five Locations I would like to Run Away To:
i would say ANYWHERE ASLONG AS I AM TO RUNFUCKINGAWAY.
1) random Mediterranean island.
3) norway/finland. or both.
5) to a parallel universe,ruled by porcupines and lizards; or just to the JU premises for it felt good.
Five Bad Habits I Have:
swell question.i could go on till blogger disowns me for over usage.just five erm.
1) i cannot behave.the way a normal human being is expected to behave in a society.a family. a group or anything.but again, once you know me, you wouldnt even EXPECT normalcy, so thassok. but it gets on everybody's nerves in all the wrong ways.
2) i procrastinate.
3) overtly blunt, outspoken, and hence taken as rude.
4) i cannot be organised in anything-thoughts, actions, dreams, nothing. im messy, to put it subtly.and clumsy.you wouldnt want me to even begin on that.
5) i'm a little too absent minded for my own good, and careless in every possible way.
(there is another, prime disgusting habit o'mine, i wont tell you about *winks at LD*)
as plainly as i can put it, im not someone likely to be nominated for Miss Congeniality even after 8949892 years of training/grooming.
Five Things I Will Never Wear:
1) anything flashypink. or babypink. or sparkly gitterypink. oh just pink mahn.
2) a navel ring.
3) highheels or tie up sandals.or whatever you call em.
4) pointy brassieres.
5) your *points at you*
yes your knickers.
(and yes i would've heard your hugesighofrelief even if i were in italy or something, LD. but i never said i dont plan to steal em anymore.)
Five Biggest Joys at This Moment :
i just convinced mom to not wear this horribly dull sari to school (we're going to get the report card tralalalala)
heard that IM (my garrulousandoverenthusiastic classteacher) wont be around in school today, so we'll have to collect the report card from the librarian *chakki dance* (dont get ideas)
cant think of anything else. buy me a joy someone, ill pass you a smile.
Something to Achieve By Next Year:
getting decently good with the guitar, and get through ISC without another fitofpukeyness during a board exam. and feel peaceful about decisions i take, if i manage to take any, thatis. AND, if im lucky, getthefuckoutofthishouse.
Something that Impacted Me Last Year:
g.something of a loss. in a good way.
and mostly, meeting people like Shay, D, Say,Rawry,LD and certain others, all thanks to www. :P
and newprinci, in all the worst ways possible. like getting murderous ideas about murdering her into my head, for one. not healthy for a littilgirlhead.
What I Will Miss About 2007 :
whatever little remained of my wit and sense of humour, which, but now, have killed themselves having spent most of the end of that year wallowing in self pity.RIP.
Five Things I Want To Do Before I Die:
would include learning to play certain musicalinstruments aleast decently, and having eaten enough phuchkas to carry its taste over to the afterlife i dont believe in anyway. cant think of much else now.
and since i wasnt tagged by anyone, i aint supposed to really inflict this ..er.. tagbusiness on anyone else, but i still will, evil that i am.
so here i tag shruti, sayan, and LD,JD and keeper of stars [arunima], the only ones who might bother.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
rims my nostrils like
the ghost of moments too blue to be
winnowed out of my being,
the sweet of your fanciful presence too
deep to be counteracted.
Caught a cold trying to nurse scraps of my sanity
zapping it altogether in the process.
Tried scraping impossibilities off my hopeful dreams
and like my fervent childhood attempts to scour
the big black birthmark from my right leg,
it left me exhausted and heavy
with a sense of defeat
and dull, damp lines
This disease gives me a reason to
press against itself, something to push for
And by this fall i will have forgotten how
your words spelt spring,
my fingers will be conditioned to reach for
backspace in case i still type your name
right in the dark.
...And when i have won my soul back from
your chance captivity
in a gamble with fate, i'll throw it at the whore's feet
the better to track it's impending treads; for
the exactness of instinct alone
a) i hate the word sweeetness
b) i need to stop sucking so bad
c) this is a lie.