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Subtle Complexities and Myriad Simplicities by Ashok Subramanian P is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

She'll come! ( She already did, My Niece!)

Like the sun after a rainy night,
Would rise above a winged angel,
Thro' the thickets a beam of light,
A fat vein on a hypodermic needle,
Like the scent of rained upon soil,
Like the sweet sweat of toil,
A glimmer of hope after a fall,
Anticipation of walk after the crawl,
Like a whiff of a freshly mowed lawn,
With high spirits and subtle emotions,
SHE'LL COME!

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

The Pedigree......

Mere fragments of earth than next of kin,
Vagrants of the wily valley of sin,
Solace in death's breasts they find,
Traitors with both eyes gone blind,
Cowards in frilly cowboy suits,
Weeds around humanitarian roots,
The offsprings of a ghastly libido,
Inbreeding of repugnance without much ado,
Well fed on the devil's bosom,
Plague and Malice, they do blossom.

Once upon a time an ambitious king,
Misery and death was all he'd bring,
Smitten by possesions way too earthly,
The blade of his slew millions quietly,
A gilded sword with a crimson hilt,
Tears of bereavement was all it spilt,
And guilt came, it did come on time,
To fill his head with his blasphemous crimes,
And then from him flew the whitest dove,
The lesson was learnt, the tyrant learned to love!

Mouldy Souls and Mouldier Deeds,
Like an unbred mongrel breeds,
And again the gilded sword with a crimson hilt,
Grazes, and the twigs they wilt,
Reminiscent of the deadly twins,
Enough is the thought to make one wince,
Tho' with the earth gyrates the wheel of time,
None will erase the ghastly crime,
But above the oppresser, rose the oppressed,
Just Desserts! And our mind rested!

Powerless except the power of morals,
Waitin' for the moment to get etched in murals,
A gamut and myriad of twisted Coitus,
and its frenzy wrath sets upon us,
Cradling the inner child of fear,
The clock ticks and our time draws near,
Gloom Pain and Grief pervaded the air,
As a billion pair of eyes longed for an heir,
A tide of hope rises and We all cry,
Kneel down and Pray, hands held to the Sky........

Good Mornin'!

Oh! With what glory the sun dost shine,
Ochre-tinted rays on my mornin' face,
All prayers to Him, the pleasure's mine,
The warmth of love, the feel of lace!

Soaked with dew are my feet,
Wafts the fragrance and what bliss!
Ah! This feelin' nothin' can beat,
Jus' her touch's all I miss!

Perseverance

'My heart's ablaze', the kid he says,
and he begins the race, in the horizon, the Impossible,
His muscles tighten, his spirits brighten,
but inside still broken, he affirms it's plausible.

Subdued by pain, he tries in vain,
but until he's slain, he'll flap hard his wings,
He may die tryin', but he ain't cryin',
he still keeps flyin', and see what his fortune brings!

It was his fate, that all his hate,
became his own bait, and into the dark sea, he went,
No doubt he was brave, he took it to his grave,
And my heart does crave, jus' wish he wasn't that bent......

Alternative to the last stanza:

Ah! Look what his fate, did to all the hate,
he stood at heaven's gate, up above the clouds he went,
He was so brave, a thousand lives he did save,
A million hearts they crave, they swear he was God-sent!

Console and Conquer......

Cryin' over the echo of a swansong,
Still ringin' bells deep down inside,
Eyes are numb, It has been so long,
I'm weathered n distraught on the flipside.

Memories of times which seem so far,
The days I miss like none today,
I feel so low, I feel so sour,
Missin' that smile which made my day.

Every single day has atleast a dog,
Is the way we console ourselves,
And till our Satan's day we slog,
Only to be ambushed n taken down ourselves........

Monday, February 11, 2008

The Tribe

Tumultuous turmoil through the tribe,
A speck of light in the grey, gloomy sky,
An airborne foreigner strengthens the vibe,
They know, the Greyer men they sigh!

Till the time of the great king,
No trouble no pain did ever spring,
Now the once-strong men they abide,
Long gone the chatter of their child's chides.

Sigh and lie, then cry and die,
The pattern of Life in sturdy moulds,
The harder they toil, the harder they try,
They'll still be Wisps of smoke above the clouds.