WAR CRY

More jobless days.. brings out the mood of poetry in me.. Time to wax eloquence or at least try,

The warrior stands his ground

The thoughts in his mind abound

What makes him fight, makes him kill

He has no answers, it's all a drill

He looks to the heavens, dawn skies crimson red

Not in prayer, but a smirk that mocks the gods

The battlefield soil red soaked in yesterday's blood

The dust rises as the wind blows across the armies

Seems to muddle his spirit, raises many doubts

What's right, what's wrong

He looks into his soul

But its a gaping hole

His enemies are many, He takes out his sword

It is the keeper of their destinies

He raises high his sword, his men to see

The blade flashes, blinding his enemies and cold steel

The last thing they will all feel

He kisses the blade, its a slayer

Slain by it, You will get no prayer

He lets out a scream, ready, his men follow

Knows victory is on his side

Alas! he's dead inside.

A verse continued..

So the other day i was reading up on my background research for my project in the library. Trying to understand the intricacies of the MPLS architecture(!) and seeking to improve it in my project which needless to say was not achieved. But then, that is research! So hitting a mental block with my project i looked up and saw these lines carved into the desk..

The sun that never sets burns on

new light is the river's dawn.

The blood that runs through me

is not my own

I thought about the guy who wrote it and what he had in his mind when he wrote it and what caused him to digress from his own work. But whatever the reason i decided to honour the verse in the only best way i could, write a few lines of my own. So i wrote..

Look at the way the wind has blown

of all the things gone down.

Why doesn't your blood boil,

How do we repay our ancestors' toil?

I dont know if they make sense together, but the beauty of it to whoever comes upon this desk is that it remains anonymous. Sometimes I hope I return years later, to the same desk to see more verses after mine and a poem still unfinished and still unnamed.

Vending Machine Justice

Well i have always had a kind of love hate relationship with vending machines, since you never know if its going to pop out something it holds or is just going to eat up your money. Although you dont see too many of them in India(which makes me glad, since it means employment for a person), there were far too many I came across in the UK and a far too many ate my money. They are virtually ubiquitous vending everything from chips(crisps for my english friends!) to contraceptives. Anyway back to the story, as I said, many a vending machine had failed me or rather deceived me. So one night, I was really hungry after a few unusually rare hours of study at the library. Deciding to get myself a chocolate, I said a prayer to all the gods of vending and popped in a coin and pushed a button. It started whirring and made some ambient noises of providing me with the promise of a snack. Being already skeptical and prejudiced against vending machines, i pushed the button again. What happened next was not earth shattering by any measure, but it dropped two chocolates, not one and I was sure i put in the price for just one. Needless to say I was thrilled. So I tried the same thing next night with the same result. I took it as redemption for the times i was wronged by these diabolical machines. This led me to conclude that when it comes to vending machines, what goes around, comes around twice.

An Everyday Prayer

You are the hope in my spirit,

You are the courage in my heart,

You are the dagger in my hand,

Let me not falter; Let me not fail.

Questions

Ever since man has walked the earth he has asked himself many questions. He has also asked those around him. Questions. They are important. Important questions like why are we here or what is the purpose of my life? As important as they may seem, they are sometimes rhetorical. Those are kind of questions which can produce more questions. So you might ask yourself, can too many questions be healthy for you. Sure ‘what time is it?’ is also a question. But it is a question without consequence, or so you might think, because what if it is your time? So there’s food for thought.. Some questions bring u answers and some bring you more questions. Like those rhetorical ones I mentioned above, are maybe not meant to be answered, only questioned. Just like some fights are not meant to be won, only sustained. So that brings us to another question, What is the importance of such a question, which has no answer? Well maybe its not the answer that matters, But the pursuit of the answer.
I went through a phase when I was asking ‘why’ for everything people said. I don’t know how it started, but everyone got really annoyed. Because well, it just seems silly sometimes. So now I question things which are only more questionable. Well that’s all I have to say about that. For the record, I wasn’t smoking anything when I wrote this. I don’t need to. I am always high with a question or two.