Feb 28, 2015

28th February 2015 - Was Is Will Be Lost.

The dyslexic confines of reality,
Seeming too easy to let go.
Oh sweet babe, carry me now.
Into the next chamber now will you.

This pot of boiling could be
A manchow soup gone wrong
Or a wrong man set right.
Who knows?
Im not in it. Lets move on.

This world of being.
People chasing; running barefoot.
To a palace which serves
If youve put on shoes.

The abode of what is,
Intrigues me enough to peek.
But not enough to look.
Why shy away now?

You may ask.

In the midst of what is,
What could be, could've been
Ive seen enough to know.
Everything can be polarised.
But,
Do I know enough to see yet?

Im afraid, thats where I'm all lost.

Feb 4, 2015

4th February 2015 - Free Speech

How to censor our mind?
The vile; the filth it breeds.
Do you pray for relief?
Or commit crimes nonetheless.
Worst yet, are you apart?
A part so teflon.
Nonstick wouldnt be a word.
"Just my lifestyle."
You secretly kid,
Hope for change.
Youre told bend the rules,
Break them, You get broken too.
Things could end ugly
We're forewarned.
But this in politics
Police and Thugs alike
The man behind the khaki white
What have we done?
To isolate power so centrally,
And fame, here!
Let it comfort your bum.
While we poll the next census
And hope to beat China to No 1.

Dec 18, 2014

Two people and a corpse.

In a sudden turn of events,
He found his life twisted,
Misshapen and hopelessly bent.

She liked the guy and loved the other.
With no hints seemingly clear.
He told "Know that you are dear."

"Dear me now. Whats wrong?" she asked.
You're getting married and thats not right.
Not gonna leave, without a fight.

This happens in the movies.
And now, with me; she thought.
The two faces; her mind distraught.

He looked at her; smirking.
You never could handle a situation.
You ought to know - im just joking.

She hit him on the head.
You got me there, phew.
He smiled to himself.

I really wish that were true.

Nov 17, 2014

The triverse of travesty. 17-Nov-2014

Self destruct. Implode.
With no WiFi
No food even when you implore.

Heat is rare.
Winds naked and free.
Dust in your eyes. Cannot see.

The final wall.
Bare bricked and fragile.
Shall stand testament to mankind's fall.

Deem me not.
To be a pessimist.
I am the moving glacier forewarning.

Time shall fly.
Kids shall flock on.
The space for each limited.

With no means left.
And no way absolutely right.
Survival is a question of class.

Of true strife unknown.
Science led the way to comfort.
Leading to a gratuitous pitfall.

The bowl is gone.
How will you eat?
You never could replicate what you really need.

Sleep my friend as thoughts are unreal.
Till we have these grace years to ponder
While others graciously take me along.
To the great destruction we are building towards.

17 November 2014 - Greed lead me home.

As the world snores
You cannot help
But think of a better way.
Than filling the void
With breath of fire.
Winds of devastating speeds.
And an ocean swelling
So large and wide open.
Nature's gluttony knows
no perceivable bounds.
Natures Generousity begets mans greed.
Greed shall leave you humbled indeed.
For the imbalance shall be set right by the forces you deem to be meek.

Oct 14, 2014

Hum dum di dum - 14th October 2014

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again.

Cause,
Effect;
Reaction,
Eulogy.

Lionel Messi had the ball,
Pepe tackled him from afar;
Jumped above the pitch so high,
Messi yelped 'Why oh why'.

~

What is written can be deleted;
what is deleted can be rewritten,
but in those moments of flurry,
Always remember: Undo=Ctrl+Z.

~

Grammar vexes me,
Caught unabashedly in its glorification.
I can't but foresee my own fallacy.
Little snippets of torture,
for the game loving.
Unwarranted and unchecked:
Errors by the uncaring.
If man wishes to communicate,
He does so as he pleases;
Be it a classy mistress 
or a skank-y ho.
Ultimately what pleases men,
is the English lady they know.
~

When the sunshine creeps
slyly over my back;
The wind lays siege to my senses.
and grumpily I sigh
"Should have worn a sweater."

~
GBK






Oct 7, 2014

7th October 2014 - Hutton - I and He

I planned on writing often..
I plan on writing often..
I am writing often.

~

Deep within the cobwebs of his mind, there lay a remnant memory of someone writing to him.
'Yellow postcards. Black pen. Cursive writing. Yes, what was it she had asked him to do?'

The elaborate plan to kidnap the last surviving member of the Hutton family had failed, the police were on the lookout for him and there he was, lying down on a sack of produce discarded behind the Supermarket at the intersection of Jeeves and Patrick St.

The large gunshot wound to his calf meant that his walk had gotten him not very far from the Hutton family mansion. He was in pain and the delirium had just started to creep in; every passing moment was of anguish and he daren't scream for help.

The man sighed. Breathing in heavily. Something wasn't right, he had gone wrong somewhere.

He had entered the house slyly; he'd memorized every entrance and exit there was to that goddamned building, but he never expected to get out with a wooden peg promised for the future.

As he lay down, he thought about the beautiful writing on that postcard.

'Find the last Hutton and bring him to me. You shall be rewarded.'

The correspondence was crude and rudimentary but worth the pay - The usual $20,000 for the kidnapping. The gory deeds paid more but he'd had enough.

He lay there, thinking to himself - 'I've known that woman. I've known her all along'; but the silent night gave no hints of assertion. By morning, he had passed. Lying in the pool of his own blood with a smile on his face.

Police were called. Autopsy reports confirmed that Mr Hutton had died due to massive blood loss. The gun was an ancient heirloom of the family: a Remington rifle. In the search for evidence, police found a postcard - written crudely to resemble a lady's handwriting.

The gun had prints of one man. Mr Hutton. The police were on the lookout for a killer. 
Unknown to them, hanging by a thread to the frayed ends of his sanity - Hutton had again beaten them.

They would never find the killer. If they did. They'd probably kill him. 

Good thing I'm dying then.

He smiled as his consciousness faded away into the darkness after a young lady whispered to him 'You're not a monster anymore Hutton.'


-
Gbk.