The pleasures are all mine.

If Yeats Was Drunk

He'd have written -

"I being poor have only my beers
And I have spread my beers under your feet
Tread softly
Because you tread on my beers..."

PS : Pronounce beers as "Bee-rs" and not as the regular "Bee-yers"

One fine winter solstice, he met his bittersweet end.

Motorcycle Diaries 2: Coorg

Wake alone in the hills
With the wind in your face
It feels good to be proud
And be free and be a race

That is part of a clan
And to live on highlands
And the air that you breathe
So pure and so clean

Six years ago, two carbon-based human life-forms stumbled across an album by a not-so-obscure British rock band. The album, widely believed to be quite mediocre, held a special place in the hearts and the minds of these then high-school kids. There was something about the song. Something that one could not explain. Something. Something special. But how would they know that what they felt was in fact longing? Too young, too immature, too easily influenced. Time stands testimony. Come 2001, Rio de Janeiro would rock to the tune of this song and 250,000 bodies would sway. That's a different story altogether. But these words are a tale of Medieval Scotland.

When alone on the hills
With the wind in your hair
With a longing to feel
Just to be free

Not alone with a dream
Just a want to be free
With a need to belong
I am a clansman...

Soon, the words were forgotten. The Shadows cast their veil and hid these dreams of belonging, of highlands under cobwebs of time. But little do the shadows know that, at times, they can be denied purpose. All it takes is a vacuum cleaner, sometimes even a broom in the loving hands of a housekeeper will suffice.

Freedom... [x4]

As the lead singer said - "This song is about freedom. It should be something familiar to you all, but which sometimes is not."

The sheer genius of this epoch-making statement just inundates the mind when least expected. The time was ripe, like a mango waiting to be plucked from a tree which had all to offer and wanted nothing in return. Then, exactly one week back, fate played a strange game.

And I know what I want
When the timing is right
And I'll take what is mine
I am the clansman

The words and the dream sprung alive!

Freedom... [x4]

Wonder and mountain air are synonymous. Very. Our protagonists, the two carbon-based human life-forms set out on a lone bike on even lonelier roads. Tea at 0530 hours coupled, inexorably, with a king between the index and the middle.

There are those who live.
There are those who love.
And there are also those who drive stakes through their own hearts, not knowing what else to do.

And The Hand That Rocked The Cradle...

And the hand that rocked the cradle
Stood no more in earthshaking faith
Uplifted were not, us downtrodden ones
Without love, we died
Long before we ever reached the cradle.

Lost in the grave of a new world
One of war, and disorder
Twisted were the words of faith
And those lies that they engraved in we.

Surreptitiously blasphemed my existence
And brought nought but my impending demise
Way before my once innocent face
Peeped out of the cradle.

I spewed a few words, and so did you
Where've we gone? Where's everyone lost?
Dilemma in meaning, that little baby never found
And died. Died long fuckin' before it could ever
Reach the cradle of chaos and emotion.

Chaos is meaningful, Yes...
Probably that's why,
While you rot in your macabre world
I'll peacefully exist on the other side.

Trial Room

Have you ever stood between two facing mirrors in a trial room? It's an infinite series of images. So is thought. The trick to escape the neverending loop is to walk out of the trial room.

PS : I've just discovered that Chuth is Anagram of Hutch.

Metaphor

One day her heart will
Melt by the side of a fire.
They told her so,
But believed she never
Cos' that day, she'll wake up
To the love of three words
And a soul in metaphor.

From within and without
Transformed
Cold, dead eyes
Long gone...
A new life begotten
From a horrid moan
Two eyes, so blue and
So new, yet so old...

Many years on
She went by the side
Of a human to break out
I wonder why she
Never before did emote
Cos' that day her
Melted heart, up it woke
To the love of three words
And a metaphored soul.

42
The Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything.

666
The Question to Life, the Universe, and Everything.

Thorn Within

There a beast lurketh
Beneath your conscious

With a longing I was born
And you, I shall scorn

There a feast awaiteth
Within your subconscious

And I shalt drive deeper
The pain into your being
As you have unto mine.