Showing posts with label tripping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tripping. Show all posts

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Howling at the Moon

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Bridges shall burn, tall towers fall
Through dirt and grime and filth, you'll crawl
Red River runs, weeps through this desolate land
There be no saving grace for thee, no brave last stand

Who you are and who you've been
Memory shall be your greatest sin..
Lucid dreams that leave you weeping
Disbelief and torment is all you'll be keeping

Things gone right and things gone wrong
Shall dance along to an evanescent song
The truth lies buried in graves of the undead
Trapped in words you never said.

You wanted some, you had it all
And we are laughing even as we fall
The world will be yours, and yours alone
Every last hollow bleeding stone..
.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Everything/Nothing

It's all about schisms.

How do you sail across nothingness?
You make me calm the way curling smoke does.
From the inside.

Is the war over?
It's the Aftermath that's hard to live with.

How do you stop time?
We can't get clean again.

Where would you go to if you could go wherever it is that you want to go to?
How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

Blow my house down.
I'm gone,
gone,
gone.
Where did you go?

I want to implode
But I have no pockets.

The insides of my mind are crumbling, melting, twisting.
Sweet November.

Where would you go?
The chains were never really there, but I'm too weary to fly.
And how do you escape the sky?

I'm so much younger than that now.
Will I remember how to fly?

Some dreams are worth staying in.
Some realities deserve escaping.
Some habits are impossible to break.

Why?
Just.

God doesn't forsake any of his children.

Is the world the wrong way up or is it just me?

I was only a reflection.
Catch me if you can?

I looked through the looking glass and I don't want to go back.
I like the Other side.
And why would I climb when I know how to fly?
How long will I slide?

Nothing can be explained.
Say it isn't so.
But it is and all the highways in the world are to hell.

I don't leave footsteps, I leave skid-marks.
Burn me a tattoo on my soul, darling?
'cause I am the highway...

Where did you go?
As much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood.

Oh. Must be just me, then.

JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Changing Constants; The Liars!

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The constant flickering glow, she said. I didn't hear her, but she came to my window at midnight, whispering the same echoing words. They're still reverberating inside my head. A constant flickering echo.

Why?
Because it fits in times of absolute nothingness.

Absolute is an extreme term.
So is life.

Stories can only have happy endings if you know when to stop telling them. I hate second chances. Too many expectations.
And we live to disappoint.

I want you to know, but only after there's nothing you can do about it. Information is power and I would never let anyone have that kind of control over me.
Unless I was promised certain destruction?
(I still won't believe you)

Electric chair, two years. Rings a bell.
Bad joke or good joke in bad taste?

It's hard to tell sometimes...
especially if it's your own darkness you're humoring.
That's dark, but self-demeaning isn't defaming. You need a third party. Outside your head.
Tsk.
Retarded clauses.

Things and reasons and seasons change.
Why can't I?
There's no point in knocking on locked doors.
Especially when you're the one who lost the keys.

I don't know which way to pick
and the sun will always be in my eyes
I want to fly.
But I don't want you to wait to catch me, because I think I may remember how to.
And then what would you do?

Echoes fade and memories die
Autumn frosts have slain July...

Are you afraid?
No.
You should be...

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Friday, July 24, 2009

$ - II

As long as we don't forget
the reason we set out to sail
The shore will come into sight
An almost holy sort of grail

But who really remembers who he was
in that lifetime lifetimes ago
And the pretty picture on the postcard
has long gone up in smoke

Won't you speak up, dear darling
I want to drink up your every thought
and remember each word you say
will it replace each one I forgot?

Ah, but Apologies and Bitterness
have no place here at sea
Every beautiful thing is flitting by
I know it can't be just me

So hold my hand, my friend
As we go down with this sinking ship
The world is coming to an end
And we're at the end of our last maiden trip.
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Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Good Morning. Good Night.

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It wasn’t until an hour had passed since I walked into the house that I remembered the hash in my pocket. This would not be a problem if I was wearing the jeans with the said pocket. But I wasn’t. Running out of the room in a mild state of panic probably wasn’t the best idea, but vivid mental images of the shocked expressions of my poor traumatized parents as the ‘drugs’ fell out of my pocket messed with the otherwise-calm-zen-like-state of being I liked to stay in. Of course, I ran head first into my father who stared at me quizzically as I let my freshly created bangs fall over my blank, kohl-trapped eyes, hiding me behind a fragile curtain of nicotine reeking hair. I grinned at him as sanely as I could manage and darted into the small room.

Too many people. Fuck. Couldn’t risk it now. Not when I’d come this far. Hiding behind the tall translucent brown-gold curtains, I studied my family. Great. An intriguing movie. This was perfect. I could transfer the hash to a safer place when my curious parents were fast asleep. It was too dangerous at the moment. I couldn’t blow my cover now. Not when there was only so much longer to freedom. I would have to bide my time. Like a fox, waiting for the hounds to leave before I jumped out of the hollow log and ran home. Like a squirrel, waiting for a snake to slither away from the acorns he’s hidden for winter. There would have to be patience. I would have to wait.

...

But, suddenly, dawn was breaking. My brother, who I hadn’t been able to find all night, was still missing. Along with my dog. Logic told me they would be inside the house, except logic was getting fucked over with every room I peeked into. And now, as the room was slowly filling up with early morning light, I remembered the pocket. Somewhere in the middle of ice candies, colors and drugged out conversations, I had forgotten all about the hash. Fuck.

This time I ran through the connecting room. I had to get there and get the stuff out before the family woke up. This was necessary. This was ultimate. I locked myself in and threw open the cupboard, only to realize that everything smelled of stale smoke. Oh. Damn.

I pulled out the blue jeans and retrieved the hash. The next few steps were complicated and messed up as I struggled with the suitcase that had decided to get stuck between the bed and the wall. The fear was back. I couldn’t be found awake at this time. There would be too many questions. I spared a glance at the mirror. No, this had to be done now!

A few painful moments later, the hash had been stored safely, the cigarettes were in place. I could breathe again. I turned to leave the room and my eyes fell on my nicotine flavored clothes. Sigh. I sniffed at the clothes cautiously. The shirt wasn’t that bad. I could leave it on the bathroom floor and wash it later. The jeans, on the other hand, had to go. For a moment, I considered flinging them out the window. Or stuffing them in the bottom of some trunk. But then, I calmed down. So the jeans ended up rolled up and stashed away at the corner of the cupboard. Temporary, but it would have to do. Rechecking everything, I turned off the light and walked into my room, hoping the younger half of my family had magically reappeared. They hadn’t. Of course.

A new journey? Ah, well...


EPILOGUE:

A new journey? Well, I am calm now. I know they’ll be back. I probably missed a room or something. And I really really need to sleep. I just wish I’d get that and pass out already. Anyhow, it’s been an interesting six hours. A little more taxing than usual, but in a good way. Now, before the world awakens, I need to find a place to hide. Good morning and good night.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Paharganj - I

“Delhi’s den of Debauchery”
Not only does it sound cool, it fits. I must thank Sir Loon for the name. And while I’m at it, for the entire trip. I wanted to write this sooner, when everything was still fresh in my rapidly-degenerating mind, but I haven’t gotten around to being sober much. Why am I writing this today? Because today I’m exhausted, awake and clean. More or less anyhow.

Paharganj happened last Saturday. After a successful con, I got dropped off at the Metro Station at CP. My mother bought some KFC stuff for my brother and then left, albeit reluctantly, leaving Sir Loon and me to wait for the 6 other people that were supposed to show up. It’s true; lies don’t even ruffle your conscience after a point.

Anyhow, before taking the Subway, we wandered into the giant geometrical park. Actually, “wandered into” isn’t honestly what we did. We ran about crossing roads and climbing stairs until we found the deserted park. Why was it deserted? Because it was now Noon. This meant that the bright summer Sun was a straight nuke-powered arrow away from the top of our respective heads. (And it can do that because it’s the sun. Really huge, millions of miles away, etc). And we’re talking Delhi June here. For the fortunate and blissful ignorant, that means that the temperature calmly crosses 40 degrees Celsius whenever it feels like. In short, you’d have to be fucking insane to be wandering about in a park at Noon. Or in real need of a safe place to smoke some marijuana.

Once slightly stoned, we were prepared to take the next step. “The CP metro station is always crowded”, Sir Loon said, with the air of a co-conspirator, as we walked down the clean shiny slope that marked the entrance to the underground station. “That’s ‘cause it’s a main junction and every line passes through here.” How Crowded?, was all I could think of, as I told myself over and over that I had done this before. And I had quite loved the whole subway trip. But that was from another vaguely remembered life…

At first, it didn’t seem all that bad. But then, as the “train” got nearer, all these strange people materialized out of thin air. And we were carried into the shiny silver box along with the busy, harassed looking janta. Yes, I liked the whole experience better the first time around. But that’s probably only because there weren’t so many people back then. Using the Metro, I mean. Still, the journey was uneventful and quick, and next thing I knew, we were at the station with the… holy sounding name (that will be found out and mentioned. Sorry.)


To Be Continued...
That’s all for now. Part 2 (and 3?) shall take a recorded form of existence sometime later. I’m tired and sober, remember? I have to fix that. At least half of it. Later gators. :P

.

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Now playing: Emotional Attyachar (Rock Version) - ApnaMela.Com -

via FoxyTunes

Friday, April 3, 2009

A Foolish Alternate World OR The Stairway People

Imagine this:

In an alternate world, there are no stairs. There have never been any stairs. Many many years ago, while this world was still growing and changing, man-kind had just learned how to walk. There are no such things as natural stairs(and since this is true in our world and this alternate place is based on Earth, it makes sense). Humans only had slope-y hills and mountains. When they started building steps (not stairs mind you, just steps), some people got the hang of it pretty quickly, while others struggled. It became even worse when the stairways came into being. People would get stuck halfway and refuse to move in either direction, which would mean hours of screaming, cajoling, dirty laundry and, well, you get what I mean. It was awful. Society as a whole was affected. The neighbors, the friends and especially the poor disappointed ashamed parents.

Soon enough, stairs were banned. It started with one kingdom doing so on the grounds of "public safety" and "right to life". It sounded nice enough a reason, and the people who had stairs were too busy climbing higher and higher to read the news or fight for the right to use such an obvious and simple pleasure. Handy stairs.

Other kingdoms soon followed the same path. First, specific kinds of stairs were banned, which did make some sense because these were rickety and dangerous and a kingdom must protect its subjects. But then the rulers went loco. And believe it or not, there came a time in this world's history when almost all countries had banned all kinds of stairs. The pro-stairwayo people were confused. Why would their stairs be "a menace to society". The round tables even came up with reports from some royal sycophantic pretty physician who would make a grand speech that no one understood. The gist being: Don't climb stairs. They're bad.

"Bad for who?" asked the dizzily confused pro-stairwayos (they had just run down a flight of stairs. They would be fine in a while.)
"F you," said the royal sycophantic pretty physician, with disgust "and for society"
"How?" they asked, still confused, though a few of them started to look doubtful.
"Because they're bad for your knees."
"Why?" they persisted
"Because I'm a royal physician and I said so!" he declared royally.
"Ummm... how is it bad for society, sir?" asked a young boy. "I mean, they are our knees, are they not?"
"Foolish ungrateful wretch!" he roared, "Your parents worked so hard to raise you and you send you to physician school or into a trader society and you go throw it away for some heights???"

The boy felt something the stairway people didn't very often. Not back then. It was like a little pin had stabbed him somewhere inside. It made him gasp for air, and he remembered the stairs. So, it was decided. Stairs were banned. There were a few liberal kingdoms that allowed the practice. Both of building and climbing. But they had rules. Still, it was a much fairer society.

The people who loved those stairs and climbing them too much to care about some order by some guy they had never met and couldn't care less about laughed and continued. They were hunted, found, imprisoned, punished. Sometimes, they were even executed.

Meanwhile, the rest of the world continued using slopes to reach heights. It took longer and they were tired the next morning. Their heads hurt, but it was the only way. The new world order was aiming for a flat world, but realizing that many people still wanted to see higher ground once in a while, they allowed slopes. Once again, there were rules about the inclinations and angles. which is fine because by now, cars had been invented, and you didn't want one rolling all the way down crashing and burning into a hundred different cars.

So, slopes stayed. And the stairway people had no idea why they were discriminated against. They liked watching the new sun rise over a sleeping world. They liked looking at the snaky winding river miles below. They liked being closer to the clouds.

The slopes were okay for some heights, but higher ones become dangerous. The stair people were now divided too. There were the usual "complete freedom" supporters, the ones willing to reach a compromise and of course, there were the rickety bridge people. They were bad for the stairway people's image because these kids would leave home to go live entire lives on those bridges. They hardly ever came down. And it was usually only when they wanted wood to patch up the falling dying groaning bridge. Naturally people who had never used stairs were sceptical of all stairs.

The almost-natural stairway people were not trusted either. Even the people who agreed that they were much safer than slopes thought that once someone fell in love with the art of climbing, he would want to try different stairways. And this would eventually lead him to the rickety and narrow bridges, whre lives were wasted.

The normal stairway people protested - peacefully of course - and held concerts on elevated land that had more stairs leading to it than slopes and everyone was happy. But they were slowly pushed away by society's collective guilt and fear, till all stairway members had to live in secrecy.

Most of them had underground basements that had stairs, or had collected stepping stones to climb over gates in the school. College had the most of these hidden stairs. The teachers knew they existed, especially the ones who had studied there. But being responsible, calm, brain washed grown ups, they ignored it completely. If stairs were ever found, there was hell. Extreme consequences would follow. And once again the ashamed disappointed parents would send those little pin pokes inside.

So, almost all people either lied to the ones they loved completely or at least partially ("Yes mum, I do like looking at the clouds once in a while, but chill, I'm under control. I never go too high and I only use slopes"). A lesser number would just get tired of it all and go live in lands full of stairways. Where nothing was flat and there were a million new horizons to discover. But the pins went with them. Everywhere.


Now you tell me. The Stairway people, what did they do wrong? Why was it bad? Don't people have a right to their own bodies? I know no one was promised complete freedom, but if you don't own yourself, what do you own?
They're discriminated against, looked down upon, hated and despised. They're pitied... Which is worse, because they're the ones who've seen that sun rise and they could tell you so much if you just took the time to listen. If you just stopped wasting every day trying to flatten out the world. What would you do with flat land? You'd be able to see for miles and miles, but how would you take winding roads without being able to see where you will land up?

Where would you go?

The stairs will always exist. As long as man-kind does. Banning them just makes them a little more dangerous because people have to rely on shady dealers for wood and other material. Plus they can't trust the Watchers so if someone is ever sick, they'll think twice before trying to save his life. Because they could get caught, imprisoned, fined and maybe even executed. And no one wants that.

Imagine this world. Isn't it such a foolish one? Thank God we don't live in such a world. How could we? We have democracy.