Tune your life's chords.

Writing after quite long, had forgotten the tune I put to each song.. Losing interest in everything I do, something pulling me back, like the mouse to it's trapped glued.. Motivation comes and goes like each day, and suddenly I'm this formation which cannot be moved, an old piece of clay.. The beach answers a lot to what should be done next, as life actually stands still, glares and gets set for tomorrow a new quest.. Energy, energy, energy is a requisite, the force behind each story, each doing, each secret chit.. As I watch a few men catching their pinky's and walking along, and a group of footballers playing like they're the kings of the game, their worthy crown.. The sand cold and waiting for the morning tide, those insects embedded in it shall come out then and get washed to another shore with pride.. Couples, lovers, joggers and more, each human, somewhere has something to explore.. Wish I was mentally 5 and could life in a fancy pram, but unfortunately each day brings in a story, a scam.. Everyone's running behind the note which has the Mahatma, in the process we often end up damaging our soul, our atma.. Time to get up and run into the ocean, let's wash that mind away, and let's get back to steaming motion.. There's another pumping apart from your muscle tearing in a gym, there's the adrenaline gushing, running making you DO IT, let's get up with some zing.. These waves want to share a secret with you, they're telling you, you're the reason they come visit the shore, you're the appetizer to their frequency, you're a pearl so true..

You're dying.

UnpreDICKtable life, unknowing tomorrow, clueless you, but a hope lingers, keep aside sorrow.. Short life, it could be my last note, never know what's in store, a substantial note or a bloat.. I play the flute with a tune, I play the game with a purpose, the day I stop playing, I'll be friction less on that surface.. What if I collapse before clicking on the publish button, what if you crash into a bloody coffin, the moment comes by as a lucky charm, what's the safest bet you can place today, life's without relief, or balm.. My mother told me about an incident of a colleague, I'm down writing because it didn't evaporate my greed.. To puke out these emotions on a fucking friday night, as the world brings in the gala weekend, I write to remove an ugly plight.. The broom lies in a corner for it to be used again, but each passing day, it's dying with no pain.. Withering branches, corroded buildings, soon you'll be immune to the touch and tickling.. I survived 3 minutes and I'm about to share this note, just realized death also competes, and the competition is cut throat..

Puke.

Bad phase alert, life driving on that track fogged with dirt.. Each new shirt seems the oldest I wear, tomorrow is something which looks scary, that stare.. Another episode of sleeplessness, another dose of Davai, so not bliss.. Life's events are like a season of football, shocks and glory are entwined like a con call.. Writing after long so that I don't go smoke that sutta, do you feel leashed often, do you feel like a dented kutta? Toxic in the system, toxic outside, we're all polluted more in the head, than in the lungs, scripting a demise.. So not into what I write nowadays, it's just like I stopped buying those chips because the quantity didn't coincide with the price, yes Ruffle Lays.. I should write more and shagg more of what I store, because we're captivated by moments, and it's boss being life, a whore..

I will be back.

Same spot, a year back, but today it feels like something cracked

Walking life’s treadmill and riding on, every destination looks like a unhealthy song

Emotions rush out faster than trains in Mumbai, I’m back to where I belong, sigh!

Like a desktop stores icons with several file names, I feel like I’m being played with, a wicked game

To stand or fall is not an option; it’s a decision which wires your head like question mark in a caption

Life’s solace is often found at the beach, where words peace and calmness chill and preach

They preach a story taking you back to where it began, the solution my friend, lies in your hand

You can only guide someone till finish line, but they’re the ones who have to cross it

As I type the last few words on my keyboard at this Foxy farm, the heart aches, worst than a break up with that bottle of “Jaaam”

The cure to your being lies in your mind man, if you listen to the heart you would be stuck for a life span

No regrets, only thoughts as to why this situation popped up, I hope to see myself back and performing better than my last term

I will be back, I will be back, better than before, I will be back

Let's do this. 

whART of living?

Thursday evening, a rather juvenile vision of what lay ahead, as I ride home to see what's the real thread.. 'Art of Living' by Sri Ravi Shankar, I wonder whether 'Art of Chilling' by fosters could have done wonders? 100 push ups, 25 Suryanamaskars behind me, I walk to a place, where lives only come to seek peace and glee.. As I enter her house, and seat myself down, I see faces smiling, captivated by an internal frown.. Everyone wanted 'Peace of mind', everyone wanted 'Happiness Galore', I shut my eyes and asked myself, was I really here, Bhenchod? Phone off and we breath like we've committed sins, we're told to see within ourselves, to empty our dustbin.. Somehow I couldn't cope up with the pace of 'Guruji', there was a picture of him on the hills, I wanted to ask him if he used grass to seek peace.. 3 hours over and we open our eyes, emotionless I stalled, widening my eye ball.. A good feeling after long, but perhaps not the cure to my sleep, I wonder what's in store today, as I get ready to drive the noiseless jeep.. As I'm told to vomit everything what I feel, what better than another note on Facebook, to remove the thinking peel..

 Off cigarettes, non vegetarian food, masturbation and more, Chalo abhi kya kar sakte hain, two more days till I start practicing my cure..

A UK based Sand Wizard - Simon Smith, World Masters People’s Champion had built a 10X10 Sand Castle in the Courtyard at High Street Phoenix for "World Cancer Day”. Simon Smith, a Cancer survivor himself has taken this initiative in association with Sand Cult – Sand Sculpting Company and Cancer Patients Aid Association (CPAA) to show the importance of this Crucial Cause.

His extraordinary masterpiece was completed on February 4, 2012 – The World Cancer Day and will be exhibited until February 12, 2012.

What a tribute for "World Cancer Day"!

An empty Beach

In times we had each other,

I wrote for a reason with a different vigour

The beach at night as beautiful it looked under the moon,

Doesn't shine anymore, I turned into my own goon

We made new friends on our side each day,

I was stuck in the sand again, chained and I wanted to say,

"Why did you go baby, why did you change so fast,

The time we had has lost its might, its fucking class"

The world outside stayed aloof to what went on,

We met secretly and I keep wanting you more

I'm pushing you away each time you come near,

Understand me, I'm fighting a WAR within, it has become my agonizing fear

Our story should die, die once and for all,

I want you so bad, but I want you away for your souls cure

I'm not the guy you should twist and change your lifes motives,

You say I'd keep you happy, read me again, I'd cage you till eternity

Cannot share you with another man or another one,

I wish I had an option to lift that gun

And go to the beach, the isolated one,

Empty it all and lie under the puddled Blood

Bury me alive for the sins I did,

But remember me someday, You were the one I LOVED with no limit

People work out, people don't,

WE could have, but my head was the weapon why I'll die alone in that cyclone..