LIFE... Life.

It is such a fragile thing. So fragile, that in its fragility lies its meaninglessness. For a meaning can only be eternal, but the existence or inexistence of it, itself hangs in balance. Now it may exist. Now it may not.

Then why does one, why do I, look for meaning in it? I know that never shall I find meaning, for the fact that life is meaningless, is a fact eternal. What some might call the everlasting truth.

All things, all my acts, my thoughts, my philosophies, my ignorant preachings, and my self, shall one day cease to exist. Then why do I exist at all?

I envy all those things that never exist at all. For like me, they need not search their existence for meaning. For they are inexistent. If only I was inexistent. Or at least lifeless.

If only I was a stone. It does not even know that it exists.
Hence if one day, it ceases to exist, if it is broken into pieces or crushed, it realizes not, that it has crossed over that line of existence, beyond which lies infinite inexistence. Its days of 'being' are over. Thus it is freed. Freed from a state of existence without knowledge. It has given up the burden that it unknowingly carried. The burden of not having knowledge. The burden of 'being' without knowledge.

I too, I observe, am a 'being' without 'knowledge'. The difference however is that the knowledge the stone lacks is of its existence itself, while the knowledge I lack is of the meaning of my existence.
But the burden of the stone, was unknown to it. 'Twas neither felt nor perceived. So it wasn’t much of a burden so to say.

Yet, despite being lifeless, it unknowingly carried a burden. I call it a burden because, as two existents, I empathize. For how sad would it be if I existed and did not know of my existence! I do not want to be existent lifelessly. I want not to exist at all.

But the only way to not exist, now that I exist, is to cease to exist. And how be that? Death? Is death the line that separates my existence from my inexistence? With death, does my existence cease? Once again, I do not know. I am without knowledge, as regards that.

This 'I' I have been talking about, is Me. But who is me? Who am I? Ah! The question surfaces again.

Is 'I' the person or the thought? For he this ‘I’ is the 'person' then death, the end of this person, might be MY answer.
But what if 'I' is the thought?

My thoughts, they are again, nothing but a search. A search for meaning. The meaning of my existence. Till there is life, I try to find meaning for my life. Them i try to find meaning for my existence.

So, if I am my thought, and my thought is a search, then I am, my existence is, merely a search. A search for meaning. So if meaning I find, my search it ends. My existence it ceases.

That is to say that only finding meaning, the meaning of my life, of my existence, can cause me to cease to exist.

This perchance happens to be the answer to my first and foremost question: Why do I try to find meaning? It is because I yearn, my thoughts yearn, and crave to be inexistent.

To not exist at all.  ¶ 5:41 PM 1 Comments

  SOME MORE OBSERVATIONS SOME MORE OBSERVATIONS....

None is good or none is bad, in life at all the times;
Then who be a good man, who be bad, and Oh! this couplet rhymes.

I for one have placed my faith, in the law of three,
That threefold your acts shall return to you, good or bad they be.

When Herbert found the four-way test, a way had gone amiss;
For the five-way test just add this query: will conscience agree to this.

When reason and logic takes you places, farther from your dreams,
The only way is to try to try and try and try it seems.

When you reach a place so high, to think that All you've won,
Be humble enough to remind yourself, of that day when you were no one.

He who washes off his wrongs, in Denial River,
Shall have all but peace of mind, now today and forever.

Poverty, i give you this, is not at all a shame.
Yet what a shameful act 'tis, being ashamed of the same.

Silver spoons are naught to be, proud of for their glitter;
For then when glitter fades away, all thats left is bitter.

Ah! The poet wants to say something more this time;
But he now stops, says nothing more, he finds nothing to rhyme.  ¶ 5:34 AM 2 Comments

  SUICIDE. SUICIDE.

Alone i stood on the beach that night;
The light-house at the sea was waving its light.
Dazzlingly beautiful, dressed in moonlight,
the sea waved back in sheer delight.


Creations two of nature and one
manmade, were really having fun.
Yet, I from life attempting to run,
stood there alone in the company of none.


Far in the night, a ship sailed on;
like Hope in my life, it would soon be gone.
The ship will be gone, and so will be I,
for I had come here, to let myself die.


A bridge that leaned into the sea,
From there at a distance up north I could see.
The night had set in, the tide was high;
Time for me to go there and die.


I stood at its end, my arms widespread.
And thought of my daughter, and wife, they were dead.
I still felt their pain, my eyes now filled;
For a war between Gita and Quran had them killed.


My precious daughter, my beautiful wife,
To me they were all, my world, my life.
Someones fight and someone lay dead,
Hence this path to death I tread.


Know all ye men by these presents
That a family killed every God resents
So shouting I jumped into the sea, drowned and died.
And thus I committed Suicide.  ¶ 2:30 AM 2 Comments

  A WISH FULFILLED A WISH FULFILLED....

Take me to that land of Imagining I said,
Where sorrows in a graveyard, lay buried and dead.
Where a state of peace and no cares exists,
And no one or nothing, my will where resists,
Not time, not God, not a person or thing,
Take me to my world of Imagining.

Take me to that place where I can sing,
Loudly, my heart out, with none there mocking.
Take me there where I have no inkling,
Of what life is, or any other thing.
Take me to that land of zero worries,
Where my bidding to be done, everyone hurries.

Take me to that place, where I'm happy always
Where everyone for my good, to dear God prays.
Take me away to that distant peak,
Where I am myself, yet my self I may seek.
Thus to my heart, and I think 't understood,
For then when I slept, I dreamt o' childhood.  ¶ 3:39 AM 0 Comments

  OBSERVATIONS ON LIFE OBSERVATIONS ON LIFE...

He that lies and swindles all, and lies to himself too,
Alas! He knoweth not my friends,he swindles himself too.

He to himself who is true, and keeps his conscience clear,
Forever he shall joyous be, and nothing he shall fear.

He who only knows to take, and does not know to give,
He merely lives through his life blasé, not learning to live.

Befriend him not who speaketh foul, and bad about his friends,
For he shall speak but foul of you, once that you are friends.

He that shareth not his joy, shall have no one to share
his pain, for alone he shall be, his loneliness to bear.

He who walks through life selfishly, shall not walk very far;
his greed shall hold him back as if, he walked on wet, black tar.

He who cheats the one who trusts him, shall be on the morrow,
cheated by him whom he trusteth and shall be in sorrow.

He who talks behind your back, shall one day perceive,
That only what he giveth to all, shall he too receive.

So listen you all for I the poet, have observed this,
He who honest, selfless lives, a joyous life is his!  ¶ 3:30 AM 1 Comments

  BEHOLD GOD! Behold God!

Behold God! Doest thou not watch?
Nay? Then watch i seek.
For The supreme form of Life on Earth,
on Earth does havoc wreak.
This place that thou hast lent to them,
but to live in peace,
now divided, assigned it stands
into many a piece.
They forget 'tis but lent to them,
they now call it their own.
And each piece a 'country' or 'nation' is called,
it lives for itself alone.
And now they are not mere 'humans',
for divisions much more have come,
like religions,regions, races and colours,
some are some, some some.
Forgotten have they,they are one 'all',
they now fight for their some.
See to what extreme extents,
their fights for their 'some' has come.
And then there are those foolish few,
who wield the weapon of fear..
Alarmed are you? but it is true
Such beings too exist here.
They've named their 'some' as 'terrorists'
For terror is what they spread.
For reasons none or ones absurd,
they cause many innocent dead.
How does it look from up there God?
'T must have once looked green.
But surely that hast changed, has it not?
It must now look different,I mean.
What questions i ask! i know thy answer,
Its colour now must be red.
For thy earth, I dare mock u God,
is now filled with naught but bloodshed.
'Tis not all, pray listen God,
for much today thou shalt hear,
from me, for i now see that thou,
has left us by ourselves here.
Hast thou a clue, of what thy creation,
'Man' has been doing here?
No? I thought so, so do not shirk,
thy duty pray lend me your ear.
God, let me explain, how it works,
in this changed world of today,
for away thou hast been in thine own worlds,
in cheerful nights and day.
The division called 'religion' surely must
surprise you beyond all,
for its basis is merely what form of you,
they pray worship or call.
And this division is so deep-rooted,
today in your Man's mind,
that blaming this absurd division for all things,
he does solace find.
Thou gathereth not what I just said?
Well, then clearer shall I explain.
For today I want you to know it all,
ergo i shall try again.
I f one has slain one for his 'some',
and he believes in a form of you,
then all who in that form believe,
they blame to have sinned against you.
Thou seems to have been taken aback,
by that word I used, 'slain'?
Behold! I laugh at you mockingly,
for thou art God in vain.
For create thou didst, but controlled not,
thy creation, thou let him free.
Today to thy world, what wound he inflicts,
pray look down upon him and see.
'Tis not all, but wait for suddenly,
I realise its not in my place,
to mock You, laugh at You, and point to You,
the mistakes of Your ways.
For thou art God, God almighty!
Whose will reigns above all.
And each thing I think, say or do,
to You 't belongs all.
Yet may I the inconsequential one,
to You a suggestion give?
'Tis better He dies, and unites in You,
than wit these divisions live.
So call Mother Nature, and ask her to take,
matters in her own hands.
And shake this earth and quake it up,
in all and distant lands.
For He lives not in unity,divided he lives,
then why does he live at all?
End it all and start afresh God,
let Your Man's curtains fall.  ¶ 11:53 PM 1 Comments

  A FEW THOUGHTS AND A HOPE..... A FEW THOUGHTS AND A HOPE.....


When O Life shall thou farewell bid?
When of this world shall I get rid?

When death stares at me, in the eye,
will I be ready to fearlessly die?

Will I be young? Will I be old?
Will I be scared? Will I be bold?

I know not where. I know not when.
But I have decided to live life till then.

For worthless it is to think of tomorrow,
and waste today in grief and sorrow.

No one and nothing shall make me sad;
For tomorrow's sake, today mustn't be bad.

With honesty and courage, today I shall live;
Less I shall gather,more I shall give.

A little poet writes this piece,
Hoping tomorrow, he will rest in peace.  ¶ 5:14 AM 1 Comments

  WISE WORDS FROM AN OLD MAN WISE WORDS FROM AN OLD MAN......


Exploring philosophies and experiences, my mind,
has travelled distances, an answer to find;
To the question, the eternal question of all,
yet the question unanswered: what's Life after all?


Is it but a short, interval of existence?
A break from an infinite state of inexistence.
Does it have a purpose or is it merely myth
that a purpose is what we must be living with?


Nevertheless sometimes we do without thought,
what we have since birth, been profoundly taught.
And since the days of memory I recall,
being taught that in Life, Purpose is All.


And thus my search for Purpose began,
in childhood and till early youth it ran
I began to feel, this search was forever;
And to this an end, there shall be never.


My mind was at unrest, 'twas not used to quitting,
But quitting my search seemed the only thing fitting
Hence my search for Purpose i resolved,
to quit; And yet my mystery is solved


For with wrinkled skin and hair turned gray,
With experience and wisdom on my side, I say,
that living itself is the purpose of Life;
That living itself is the purpose of Life!  ¶ 5:06 AM 0 Comments

  TO MY LAMP.... TO MY LAMP....


Sadness sometimes sweeps me away,
when I think of my heartless act that day.
The incident I am about to relate,
can only be regretted, its late! Too late!


In my school days, when iI was a child,
we had a new teacher, one timid and mild.
He taught us our English-none really cared;
And of his li'l cane we never were scared.


When he came in each day, his textbook in hand
Not one of us, ever bothered to stand
And show him a tiny bit of respect,
not even the class-teacher's pet, I suspect.


Of all our teachers we felt he was,
the blaisest, we all hated his class.
Never was his class, to us any fun;
Except of course, that fateful one.


Looking feverish and tired, that day he came,
but up our sleeve, we had a li'l game.
Planning to put our teacher to shame;
We replaced his chair, with one that was lame.


But for some reason his class was that day, different,
we listened to what he said, with intent.
Somewhere in him, we noticed a change;
A sad yet strong spirit, of fight so strange.


And then we came to realise our wrong,
for he was quite good at his job since long.
Us it was who never would listen;
Alas! Our folly! But too late by then!


For after a stanza of a poem by Blake,
tired from fever, a moment's rest to take,
Wiping his brow and closing his book;
On the crippled chair, his seat he took.


"Crash!" went the chair, he fell to the ground,
with roars of laughter did the class resound.
He was hurt, more than body his heart in pain;
Left that day to never come back again.


In the next few days we were given to know,
that his only son had died a week ago.
And yet duty-bound, to teach he had come;
And we heartless, thoughtless, our acts loathsome!


Today handsfolded, I beg on my knees,
O great teacher, forgive me please!
For in darkness your teachings, to me have shown light,
'tis owing to you that today I write!  ¶ 5:03 AM 0 Comments

  NIGHT-BREEZE..... NIGHT-BREEZE.....


Your stars they shine, with infinite glee,
your moon she smiles, at ocean and sea;
Tell me your secret, reveal it to me,
O! Silent Night yet, why weepeth thee.


My tears are for her, my better half;
For the only one who will make me laugh.
Where hath she gone? O! poet please!
Find her for me, her name is Breeze.


O! Silent Night, how foolish art thee!
Pray forget her , accompany me;
For a thousand stars await thy smile;
With them and the Moon, make merry awhile.


Alas! My friend, what poet art thou!
Who has only heard, not ever known love.
For in love when you miss your beloved one,
merriment and smile there can be none.


On this the Poet said to Night,
"The truth thou hast spake, thou art right."
And prayed to God closing book and pen.
And in rythmic silence, Breeze blew then!  ¶ 5:02 AM 1 Comments

  HER GOD HER GOD.....


Some call me a beggar, some a thief,
O what do they know, of my grief.
Why do I beg, or sometimes steal,
what do I want, and how I feel;
No one perhaps shall ever know.


Clothes ragged and torn, on the pavement I rest,
while they stare at me, like I were a pest.
But home none I have, where may I go?
Yet I must live on, I must live so;
For the sake of myself i must live on.


No purpose I see, to my belittled being,
but thats not an excuse for me to be fleeing.
From realities of life- of hunger and sorrow,
So sometimes I beg, I steal, I borrow;
For the purpose of life is living itself.


I care not for riches, or clothing good,
all I need, is shelter and food.
To keep me alive, two meals a day,
and a corner of this pavement for myself to stay;
And nothing more I ask from this society.


Nothing more I ask this society to give,
You live your life, and mine i will live.
Selfish I am, I live for just me,
But thats how it must be, do not you see;
Why must I help someone for nothing?


So one night on my concrete, bed I lay,
thinking of what to do the next day.
Nothing! I thought, just steal some bread,
and sleep all day, on my hard bed;
A newspaper pillow and a ragged-cloth for blanket.


Just before noon, the next day I woke,
with a stick in my ribs, I felt someone poke.
I looked up to see a policeman stand,
greed in his eyes, and stick in hand;
He hath found his prey for the day.


At my sack in the corner, I saw him look,
he asked me," what's in there, you dirty crook?"
"Nothing," I said, " just scrap from the street,"
" nothing that would be, to your eyes a treat."
"O! shut up and get up and empty your pockets."


I stood up and emptied my pockets for him.
His face was stony, silent and grim.
He took the small change that in my pockets I had,
And warned me,he'll get me if i was bad;
And then he left, leaving me broke.


Later that day I, was caught stealing bread,
And they beat me up, till I was almost dead.
In hunger and pain, I wandered the street,
hoping to find a morsel to eat;
But nothing I got, but contempt and hate.


From house to house, I begged for food,
but the end of the day, and still hungry I stood.
A splitting headache, from hunger and sun,
my eyes too went down, but food there was none;
A body so weak, a mind but weaker.


Thus shoulders drooping, to my home I returned,
only to find my, newspaper-pillow burnt.
So this night i thought, would go without sleep,
with hunger and pain to company keep;
I bent down to pick up the ashes of my pillow.


I sat down there, my hands held my head,
without a pillow, I couldnt use my bed.
More so when you've had, nothing to eat,
For this was no bed, twas but concrete;
And then I saw him come to me.


Some kind of social worker was he,
he gave me a smile and sat beside me.
In no mood I was, for some cleanliness class,
So I asked him here, why he was;
And then he whispered," Are you hungry?"


"Yes" I nodded, and he walked away,
to a vehicle nearby, and came back with a tray.
With food in it, and water to drink,
I grabbed it and ate, not stopping to think;
With me he sat, while I alone ate.


My dinner I finished, in no time at all,
feeling i was,the luckiest of all.
Joy may exist,in this world a lot,
but I was the happiest, right now I thought;
Yet I found myself wrong, when I looked in his eyes.


He was smiling in joy, his eyes shone in glee,
but how could he be, happier than me?
Happy he was, from the joy me he gave,
he smiled as he went off, giving me a wave;
And then I realised, he was my God.


He went away, but his memory remained,
like a little neat spot, on a shirt fully stained.
To me he was God, because he was happy,
solely for reason that, I was happy;
And how happy he was! How happy he was!


An indelible mark, on my mind it made,
to my life of uselessness, farewell I bade
I resolved in my mind, to do something good,
to earn and not to steal my food;
Tomorrow a day, of radical change.


The next day I woke up,and emptied my sack,
hoping to find someway, to earn breakfast snack.
Papers and bottles, books and strings,
O! my sack full of valuable things;
I sold it all, at the corner scrap dealer's.


Now I had money, for three meals the day,
I needn't steal, for today I shall pay.
And from now I shall hardest work,
I thought to myself, with a proud li'l smirk;
I returned to my corner, with a new paper pillow.


But on my way back, I saw this girl,
from the distance I saw her lips curl.
Nearer I went, to ask her why,
she was crying silently, without even a sigh.
For hungry she was, and no food had she.


I took her to a shop, and brought her a bun,
she looked like she, was the happiest one.
She gobbled the bun, and smiled at me,
and strangely I felt, the happier one was me;
And then I realised, I was Her God !  ¶ 4:56 AM 0 Comments

  DEATHBED. DEATHBED....


Alone and awake she lay in her bed,
" If only I died.", to herself she said.
For the pain she had, she could no more take,
"Pray take me away God for heaven's sake!
Give me my end, let my curtains fall.
I wish not to live as a burden to all.
For this body now is, of use to none;
But a desire to die in the arms of my son.


O! My young sons and my sister so dear
Have been looking me after, for over a year.
Each morning and night, me they bathe and dress;
May their souls, every God bless!
For I can but pray and do nothing more
For added to my cancer, I now have bedsore.
And extremely painful, is now each day.
And out of this now, I find no way.


I can barely recall,the things of my past,
and my present from me, slips away fast.
Medicines each day, each morning, each noon;
O! what use are they, I shall find death soon
With each coming moment I now forget,
what I just thought, what I just said.
Thus is my life, a memoriless one;
But a desire to die in the arms of my son."


And thus one morning, she was bathed and fed,
and seated in an armchair beside her bed.
Her son came to her and held her in his arms;
He held her hands and, felt her humid palms.
Blankly at him, he saw her stare,
and he felt like she was saying, "Take care."
And thus with desires unfulfilled none,
she breathed her last, in the arms of her son.  ¶ 4:52 AM 0 Comments

  THE FIRST RAINS... THE FIRST RAINS.....


Killing a summer of humid heat,
giving those lovers a joyful treat,
in joyous torrents the first rains they come,
breaking the virgin wind's swaying hum.


They lash out! They lash out, like whips that sting,
but whips cause pain while these joy bring.
And the sky from fiery to dark grey when turns,
for this simple joy, every heart yearns.


Like sorrow that ceases when washed down by tears,
like tears of joy when good news one hears,
the sorrow is washed down, the summer is dead;
Time to come out of your homes and get wet!


So forget what you're doing, and come outside,
look at the skies and spread your hands wide.
Lay off your troubles and forget your pains!
Get wet! Get wet! in these first rains!  ¶ 4:47 AM 0 Comments

  THE BIRTH OF A POEM THE BIRTH OF A POEM......

Desperation and loneliness haunt me tonight,
when I sit down with book and pen to write,
this poem.This poem from somewhere it comes,
and in my heart, a tune it hums;
An empty tune of infinite grief,
yet much as I can, I ll try to be brief.


But a tune is not to be written but heard,
So for this tune of sorrow, I find not a word.
My mind drifts from persons to places to things,
but my heart this tune it sings and sings.
Trapped thus between Heart and Mind it aches,
and at last it gets out and a shape it takes.


And thus when this formless, bodiless tune,
becomes this poem, my sorrow melts soon.
That reasonless sorrow that inspired me to write,
a tune of sorrow, in words tonight.
For reasons unknown, the sorrow is gone;
And in these timeless moments, a Poem is born.  ¶ 3:31 AM 1 Comments