Friday, November 20, 2009
Beunos Dias
The shimmer of light, Noise of the birds, opening of stems, a new day for us to see. As the first ray of light descends on our face. All beings BOW DOWN, a beautifull sight.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
The System!!
Walks by the park, staring across the sun. A million minds, a million more brains with thoughts form a system. Everyday happens, it passes by, the cycle is complete. Nothing changes, nothing happens out of the ordinary. No one does a thing about the way things are run and yet everyone has a tendency to complain about the very system they are part of. A strange way of LIFE.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Problems!!
When it does not rain, we have a problem and when it does, we have a BIGGER ONE. What a beautyyy. :P
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Two Different Sides
haha I wrote a story, out of boredom. HAHA
TWO DIFFERENT SIDES
It had been a cold night, disturbance was all over the neighborhood. Another body had been found near the old garage just outside the town. It was the fourth murder incident in the past six months. The residents of “Greenville” had been asking the authorities to do something and find the person behind these killings yet here lay another unrecognized body and there was no sign of the killer. The authorities had lagged behind again.
Meanwhile, Rick had just woken to the sound of the alarm it was 6:15 a.m. He had to get to work at the transport store. Although it was not much of a job but it paid enough to temporarily feed/support him as he had often found himself out of work and that was the major reason’s for separation from his wife (Janice). At 36 Rick was the example of an unsuccessful man.
Rick Taylor, born October 8th 1973 to a mediocre family. As his parents were not that rich, Rick always in his life had less than what he needed. His families’ financial condition led to his parent’s early divorce which led to large periods of depression for Rick and so often he would find himself out of thoughts and at a loss for words. With time his anger had grown and often he was unable to control himself. As the time passed, Rick’s mental condition had deteriorated drastically and he often would find himself in places where he had no memory of going to. One time, he had woken up in the basement of his house and found blood drops all over his shirt which he had no idea about. However there had been a murder earlier that night, a female by the name of Kelly Parker was brutally murdered and her body was found in the garbage near the outskirts of Greenville.
Rick head’s off to work with no memory of where he had been last night. His day was as usual, boring with the same routine. On his way back from work he passes by a street full of cop’s where another murder had taken place. Although having done nothing wrong or having no memory of doing anything wrong Rick had a feeling of guilt and that feeling had been tingling him for the past few weeks. Rick arrives home to find a letter from his wife with the divorce papers attached. He had been dreading this moment ever since his wife had moved away along with his son, his breathing starts to speed up, his temper starts to rise as flashes of all the bad things that had happened to him.
“His mother walking out”
He paces up and down.
“At age 5, when he was bullied”
Starts to smash stuff.
“Him getting beat up”
“His wife walking out”
Rick had lost it, his temper had given rise to a monster. Every now and then when Rick would loose his temper. Along with time he had developed this other side of his which he had no memory of, a case of split personality and lately this other side of Rick Taylor had been brutally killing people and yet he, himself had no idea that he was the person responsible for these murders.
As Rick storms out of the house, his rage and anger had full control. He strolls towards the outskirts of “Greenville” in anger while he approaches an empty street; his gaze falls upon the boy sitting on the bench across the road. The boy was hardly in his mid-teens and he seemed happy with himself and this angered Rick even more. As he approaches him from behind and with one swift movement of his arms lifts the boy and pushes him into the wall and brutally attacking him. The boy seemed to have lost consciousness and had no idea of what was happening. Rick had injured the boy badly and as he picks him to deliver the final blow, he catches a glimpse of the boys face for the first time.
He stops, his whole world drops, and he comes to his senses. He had attacked his own son and he had no idea about it, his vision fades, he stumbles, he falls while crying over the body of his own son
TWO DIFFERENT SIDES
It had been a cold night, disturbance was all over the neighborhood. Another body had been found near the old garage just outside the town. It was the fourth murder incident in the past six months. The residents of “Greenville” had been asking the authorities to do something and find the person behind these killings yet here lay another unrecognized body and there was no sign of the killer. The authorities had lagged behind again.
Meanwhile, Rick had just woken to the sound of the alarm it was 6:15 a.m. He had to get to work at the transport store. Although it was not much of a job but it paid enough to temporarily feed/support him as he had often found himself out of work and that was the major reason’s for separation from his wife (Janice). At 36 Rick was the example of an unsuccessful man.
Rick Taylor, born October 8th 1973 to a mediocre family. As his parents were not that rich, Rick always in his life had less than what he needed. His families’ financial condition led to his parent’s early divorce which led to large periods of depression for Rick and so often he would find himself out of thoughts and at a loss for words. With time his anger had grown and often he was unable to control himself. As the time passed, Rick’s mental condition had deteriorated drastically and he often would find himself in places where he had no memory of going to. One time, he had woken up in the basement of his house and found blood drops all over his shirt which he had no idea about. However there had been a murder earlier that night, a female by the name of Kelly Parker was brutally murdered and her body was found in the garbage near the outskirts of Greenville.
Rick head’s off to work with no memory of where he had been last night. His day was as usual, boring with the same routine. On his way back from work he passes by a street full of cop’s where another murder had taken place. Although having done nothing wrong or having no memory of doing anything wrong Rick had a feeling of guilt and that feeling had been tingling him for the past few weeks. Rick arrives home to find a letter from his wife with the divorce papers attached. He had been dreading this moment ever since his wife had moved away along with his son, his breathing starts to speed up, his temper starts to rise as flashes of all the bad things that had happened to him.
“His mother walking out”
He paces up and down.
“At age 5, when he was bullied”
Starts to smash stuff.
“Him getting beat up”
“His wife walking out”
Rick had lost it, his temper had given rise to a monster. Every now and then when Rick would loose his temper. Along with time he had developed this other side of his which he had no memory of, a case of split personality and lately this other side of Rick Taylor had been brutally killing people and yet he, himself had no idea that he was the person responsible for these murders.
As Rick storms out of the house, his rage and anger had full control. He strolls towards the outskirts of “Greenville” in anger while he approaches an empty street; his gaze falls upon the boy sitting on the bench across the road. The boy was hardly in his mid-teens and he seemed happy with himself and this angered Rick even more. As he approaches him from behind and with one swift movement of his arms lifts the boy and pushes him into the wall and brutally attacking him. The boy seemed to have lost consciousness and had no idea of what was happening. Rick had injured the boy badly and as he picks him to deliver the final blow, he catches a glimpse of the boys face for the first time.
He stops, his whole world drops, and he comes to his senses. He had attacked his own son and he had no idea about it, his vision fades, he stumbles, he falls while crying over the body of his own son
Internet? HUH!!
Although I`m not someone you would listen to but I do have a set of opinions I would like to share. Lately, I`ve been sick of the internet although it has been the essential tool in my life and it still is but I`m not fond of the negative impact it makes. Recently I came across a group of pupil who by not even showing their real names acted so gangster. Does the internet give them an extra set of balls? duh!! NO. Kids. my advice to such people is. Please start living you`re real life because in the end internet is nothing but a tool.
Playground Kid!!
Walk down the road, swagger intact.
Confidence shining as a matter of fact.
No twitches in his walk. All dressed, Boot Strapped.
with some of the usual stuff in his backpack.
For the playground kids, He`s the center of attention
Little wave to his friends, a look around inspection
All clear. Take`s out a smoke.
In the far corner, a kid is about to choke.
He`s all tense, sweat dripping, blood pleasure is low.
He had failed his parents as he had just started to grow.
Only a teenager, failing in school.
"What would his family say?. Would they consider him a fool?"
Gathering these thoughts, He looks around.
See`s this "failure" of a kid. smoking a cigarette.
"Why is he considered cool?". As he tried to figure it.
His things "fall out" and he trips over the "sour" books.
Instead of a helping hand. Laughs and a pitying look.
A tear in the eye and the fear of embarrassment.
But then a hand out of nowhere stretches forward.
It`s the "same kid" looking onward.
Too shocked,confused. Whether to take the help?
Gulping down the doubts. A hand stretched out.
Shy, Fear creeping. So stressed out.
A walk to the gate with a question in mind.
"Why did you help me?"
The answer. A smile.
"I see myself in you. "
Confidence shining as a matter of fact.
No twitches in his walk. All dressed, Boot Strapped.
with some of the usual stuff in his backpack.
For the playground kids, He`s the center of attention
Little wave to his friends, a look around inspection
All clear. Take`s out a smoke.
In the far corner, a kid is about to choke.
He`s all tense, sweat dripping, blood pleasure is low.
He had failed his parents as he had just started to grow.
Only a teenager, failing in school.
"What would his family say?. Would they consider him a fool?"
Gathering these thoughts, He looks around.
See`s this "failure" of a kid. smoking a cigarette.
"Why is he considered cool?". As he tried to figure it.
His things "fall out" and he trips over the "sour" books.
Instead of a helping hand. Laughs and a pitying look.
A tear in the eye and the fear of embarrassment.
But then a hand out of nowhere stretches forward.
It`s the "same kid" looking onward.
Too shocked,confused. Whether to take the help?
Gulping down the doubts. A hand stretched out.
Shy, Fear creeping. So stressed out.
A walk to the gate with a question in mind.
"Why did you help me?"
The answer. A smile.
"I see myself in you. "
Into The Ocean
Above me is shimmering light, beneath is deep blue sea.
I dive right in, going deeper beneath.
Farther and farther I keep on going
Steadily moving through the waters, right down to the floor
So far away from the dry ocean shores.
I experience shivering, yet I stay so this moment is longer
Around me is a different world as my vision get`s stronger.
I touch the moss, I feel the sand.
I stay still and let the water flow through my hands
I`m at ease, I`m content.
I try to capture the images of everything in sight,
To finally swing my arms
and swim to the burning light.
I dive right in, going deeper beneath.
Farther and farther I keep on going
Steadily moving through the waters, right down to the floor
So far away from the dry ocean shores.
I experience shivering, yet I stay so this moment is longer
Around me is a different world as my vision get`s stronger.
I touch the moss, I feel the sand.
I stay still and let the water flow through my hands
I`m at ease, I`m content.
I try to capture the images of everything in sight,
To finally swing my arms
and swim to the burning light.
The Gardener
A small seed and a handful of sand
Burried it deep, with his own hands
Watered that fleabite space, guaranteed it`s fed.
No sleep tonight, A watchful "eye" instead
Sweaty emotions amalgamated with mud
Tireless effort being put in his work
Endless devotion, tiring day`s and night
Determination undittered in spite
A "hopeful" for the fruit to turn
expecting just the "success" in return
The plants, his children, the only significant
and their long walk through life is magnificent
Finally the day of the "dawn"
A green layer of "fruit" through out the lawn
This moment is priceless
though he is "The Gardener".
The Gardener, A story, poem, of a man who is devoted to his work to an extent that the only thing that carries a meaning in his life are his "plants". His work rate is extraordinary yet this man is devoted by heart. He has spent literally his whole life with his "plants", the only significant to him and his love for his work never dies.
Burried it deep, with his own hands
Watered that fleabite space, guaranteed it`s fed.
No sleep tonight, A watchful "eye" instead
Sweaty emotions amalgamated with mud
Tireless effort being put in his work
Endless devotion, tiring day`s and night
Determination undittered in spite
A "hopeful" for the fruit to turn
expecting just the "success" in return
The plants, his children, the only significant
and their long walk through life is magnificent
Finally the day of the "dawn"
A green layer of "fruit" through out the lawn
This moment is priceless
though he is "The Gardener".
The Gardener, A story, poem, of a man who is devoted to his work to an extent that the only thing that carries a meaning in his life are his "plants". His work rate is extraordinary yet this man is devoted by heart. He has spent literally his whole life with his "plants", the only significant to him and his love for his work never dies.
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