tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23283913696267972782024-02-20T17:15:43.298-08:00infinite wanderingsRajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-86616883893827404432012-11-06T20:43:00.003-08:002015-11-30T03:35:38.970-08:00It’s all the game…<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Take it too seriously and you will fuck up again and again
and again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This I think is the lesson I learnt today. It doesn’t sum
up to something great, however, it makes life simpler for me.<br />
This part here is
the fork in the road. It is part where I start a discourse or shut up because
the point has been made. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I choose the latter. </div>
</div>
Rajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-16069562861356217352012-08-27T02:41:00.000-07:002012-08-27T02:41:15.567-07:00I want!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">There are those who tell me they seek
adventure and there are others who demand peace. I’ve been both these people
and neither side feels like a breeze. Just for the record, as of today I seek
peace. I think I have understood why we, or at least I keep chasing that elusive
something. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">We are the TV generation, we, how much ever
we hate to admit it, lack imagination. Most of my definition of a good life was
based on sitcoms. Sitting in <b><i>Central Perk, </i></b>or working in that
high paid corporate where I make money that doesn’t ever get taxed, living it
large without bothering about rent or maintenance, obviously there would be
none of those nasty bills for electricity, phone, broadband and whatever else I
need to be fantastic. The food would be ready just as I wake up, or there’s
always that restaurant on the way, of course there was none of that trans-fats.
So no matter what I did, life would be <b><i>FANTASTIC!<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Life has an odd little habit, she likes to
take your delusions and shatter them, hard. So, in time I got that job, yes it
paid well, but it didn’t seem enough. There was no after work life, there were
no BFFs made in the work place and there was always the matter of bills,
responsibilities and taxes. Being upset became the norm. Life isn’t fair I thought,
I don’t have what I want. Everyone else does. She is not as old as I, she’s
married, she’s got a better job, better yet everyone loves her, not to mention
the iPhone/iPad/MacBook or all of the above! Now these are different hers and
sometimes the same. These are just hypothetical targets that my mind would be
happy to bash up on request. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">A mind, if bestowed with some rationality,
questions. Mine did, and am I glad it did. The question was very simple, <b><i>“what
the hell is up here?” </i></b>Inclined to answer, a mental journey was embarked
upon. The journey was long and laboured and didn’t really get anywhere. It just
came back to several blanks before I heard the <b><i>F.R.I.E.N.D.S</i></b> sound track
and I struck gold! I wanted what they told me I should have. I wanted the shiny
sitcom life. I wanted to have the million dollar body, the zillion dollar job, friends
who would be loyal and affectionate and pick me up from every mess I make.
Alas, I wanted the whole nine yards. Unfortunately, everyone I knew also wanted
the same things.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">When this understanding dawned, I wanted to
ban TV and the million sitcoms. I wanted to yell atop roofs or at least tweet
about what this damned idiot box had done to me. Then I realised, I was hooked to
the hope of someone rescuing me. There shone brilliantly yet another symptom of
the sitcom infested mind, nothing was ever my fault, I was the do-gooder victim
again. No more, I vowed. Entertainment was escape, but escape isn’t life. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">My pace is slower now, I don't really want all those things, they do start a little stir, I confess. However, now I can walk past them. Life isn't all that bad, just a little more real than that on TV.</span></div>
</div>
Rajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-54805092231064276612012-08-14T02:52:00.000-07:002012-08-14T02:52:21.927-07:00I am infiniti<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am opinionated, this is a fact that I openly admit today.
However, there was a time when I couldn’t. I thought it to be wrong, selfish
and worst of all, I thought it was necessary to fit in! I agreed, I nodded at
the right times, I gave in because it quite simply avoided conflict. But over
time (and I am glad that it was a short period) I realized I hate it. All it
did was keep me cocooned and safe, but there wasn’t any life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This lack of life, rather lack of me took me onto a path of self-immolation.
There was no me, just parts of me that were scathed, burnt, chaffed and scabbed
with the many versions of what I thought others wanted to see. This meant that
there was a best friend me, putting up with all the underhanded BS that was
labeled just for fun, there was the good student me who studied what she was
expected to rather than what she wanted to, there was the daughter me who yes
mumed and yes daded till kingdom come. There was the metal chick me, who head-banged
to every death double base beat that ever was. There was also the girlfriend me
who agreed and adjusted till it hurt. What does it really get me? A big fat
nothing!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
People who are at the happy end of this adjustment, the
people who receive, who are adjusted for don’t know that it is being done. There
is no blaming them; it was I who wanted to fit in. This is just a fair warning
to all those who chose to be like someone else, please someone else and fit in. Pretense just works for so long
before it begins to hurt. Today I speak freely, dress in my own hobo way, I pair
floaters with formals and add ketchup to everything. I do this because of only
one very simple reason, I want to. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This I want to bit has its own cons though. No one can be
blamed for who I am, no one to take the fall for the stupid decision made, no
one to imitate without a conscious thought, life is back on full manual, no
more auto focus, no more pre-destined arrangements. But then I am okay with it,
at least, it is my life. </div>
<br /></div>
Rajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-81329379053486731572012-07-04T03:06:00.003-07:002012-07-04T03:06:41.615-07:00Life is difficult.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
That is it. That is the key to all there is; was and ever
will be. Accept it and living automatically becomes simple. Most of my life was
spent thinking, ‘it will get better’, ‘things will change’, and every other
form of placebo I was willing to give myself and be happy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No one really told me that making life easy is not just
difficult, it is impossible. Life gets tougher with each moment that passes.
Just like a game, the next level is tougher, you plough on, you get through and
another level is right there waiting for you. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So yes, the money is never going to be enough, the friends
won’t ever be as cool as you want them to be, your mother will never understand
you. Your great idea will get rejected again and again; the diligent budgeting will
eventually die a terrible death when an emergency or a want takes precedence. There
will be those who seem to have everything and others who seem forever lost. I feel
both and at times I feel both at the same instant. But that is just me, just
who I am, unique just like everyone else suffering the human condition. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today my eyes were stuck open, today I believe I see a
little more clearly. I see that none of this, nothing at all matters. If I can
go to sleep smiling and wake up with the strength to fight on, I am more
successful that most people I know. The bank balance can be made, the clothes
can be bought, the body can be sculpted provided I really want to. However,
want alone does nothing. Positive thinking only keeps one positive. Living like
there is no tomorrow and acceptance of all there is at least gives a realistic
view of what is. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This view for me today is that life is difficult. I accept it.</div>
</div>Rajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-46065133027216995892011-03-28T00:05:00.001-07:002011-03-28T00:05:59.240-07:00The PlanThe Devil’s got a plan for you…<br />To conquer the world, and own it too!<br />Have everything women, oil and gold <br />A face lift when you get old<br /><br />What a thought! What a wish!<br />You thought you came up with this dish<br />Think again if you can, <br />These seeds were planted by another man!<br /><br />Success you think is a chain of gold <br />A diamond encrusted dream <br />Amass it all that is the way to win<br />Happiness you think, made of things <br /><br />Their opinions matter a voice says <br />Win it and you will get it right <br />You work for it all your life<br />Brush aside your children, your wife<br /><br />Climb the ladder head held down <br />All that matters is how high you get <br />I got it you think… I am above it all <br />I have the money, what more can I want?<br /><br />You look up to grinning that faces mock you <br />The ladder is longer still, there are many above you<br />The irony smites you, there is another ladder to get to <br />There is no rest for the greed in you<br /><br />Clamour, you run to it <br />Climbing it with all your might <br />Devouring everything in your way <br />You are on top again <br /><br />The ground below crumbles away<br />The plan now falls in place<br />You own the world, you have it all <br />Not a word you have to say <br /><br />Empty and rich you burn away <br />Wishing you had your past again<br />But, the Devil has a plan for you<br />Yes you…Rajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-20980101860606503192010-10-20T04:34:00.000-07:002010-10-20T04:35:29.000-07:00Anguish lit!Talking of righteousness <br />Purity they oft preach <br />Perched on high horses<br />Their thoughts in filth seep <br /><br />Why care about another?<br />Feelings matter not<br />Behind by millennia <br />They remain filled with dearth <br /><br />“How can I have his land?”<br />“I want that money to keep”<br />Material thoughts possess these minds<br />Wisdom from holy books they speak <br /><br />“He was born low<br />How dare he fraternise!<br />In the house of this god <br />Only we can make the choice”<br /><br />“She isn’t white enough<br />Who cares for her thoughts?<br />She could be one of us <br />Only if she questions naught”<br /><br />“Of my caste I stand proud <br />I was born pure as milk<br />It’s not thought, nor deed or action <br />It is just this god’s will”<br /><br />Blind they are to reason<br />Blind for choose not to see<br />Why am I to reason?<br />I will just simply be meRajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-69106645081724387482010-06-09T02:48:00.001-07:002010-06-09T02:49:25.973-07:00Insane ramblingsSometimes it is so easy to give up, to fail, <br />to crawl under a rock and pretend to be dead<br /><br />How nice it would be, I wonder when I am gone<br />All my worries, my anxieties will leave me alone<br /><br />Forget the bills; skip the EMIs, no more commitments to bother<br />Fix that light, that leaky pipe, did the fridge stop cooling again?<br /><br />I wish I’d run away, take a different path or pick another way, <br />How should I go? Should I walk, run or simply let my mind stray<br /><br />Should I pretend to be weaker or stupider for someone to care?<br />Should I give up who I am and live a lie that seems to others as fair?<br /><br />It’s amazing how weakness brings out the sympathy!<br />Why anyone ever works is simply beyond me?!<br /><br />Am I fat; am I ugly, should I be more like her?<br />Should I stoop? should I cower? Men seem to prefer a timid girl<br /><br />How did I manage to get this way? Where did that happy child go?<br />How did I turn into this insecure adult when the child in me was so pure?<br /><br />Now my friends too I have to garner with care, <br />it’s not ‘bout me but about those who stare <br /><br />An image apparently I have to maintain<br />a do-gooder girl with no thought train<br /><br />Sadder still the fact remains, I can’t live up to this brilliant fantasy<br />I seem insane, in a pretend-sane world of picket fences and fake grinsRajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-60818987747011524172010-05-31T01:30:00.001-07:002010-07-23T03:07:12.057-07:00By the woodsThe girl sat alone by the wooded realms,<br />Day dreaming, she numbed her senses to rest.<br />She heard slow movements of creatures’ unseen,<br />As she rested her feet on the grass green…<br /><br />Slowly the clouds drifted across the sky,<br />Strange visions they brought to her mind.<br />Far and near her thoughts were set adrift,<br />Oh what a joy was it to simply sit!<br /><br />No worries, no thoughts, naught bothered her now,<br />All that mattered were leaves and swaying boughs…<br />She felt the sun caress her hair,<br />For once, she let go of all that despair…Rajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-73615990792587241012010-03-11T21:43:00.001-08:002010-03-11T22:52:51.709-08:00Horror stories!Vanish behind that curtain,<br />Run up those stairs…<br />It’s the time for scary stories<br />Look, who’s creeping there!<br /><br />Finely woven as threads of silk,<br />These stories are set to amaze.<br />Transport you to another world they do,<br />Your deepest fears they raise!<br /><br />Forget ghosts and haunting poltergeists,<br />Leave the psychotic killers behind.<br />Even animals their farms shan’t leave,<br />Just open up your mind…<br /><br />Let loose those fears of loneliness,<br />Watch your pride take centre stage.<br />Notice your hungry eyes lust upon someone,<br />Don’t bother with the moral parade.<br /><br />What then will happen to that mask of yours?<br />Who’d want to see your face?<br />Find the truth about your crumbling flesh,<br />Awaiting time’s decay…<br /><br />Horror stories aren’t made of evil ghosts,<br />Nor they are of spirits unkind,<br />Horror stories are just a human condition,<br />Escaping the human mind…Rajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-12885347433674298002010-01-15T17:27:00.001-08:002010-01-16T07:25:18.168-08:00Living the dreamWhat is our constant need to live a lie?<br />To live the dream that others seek<br />To cloak our sorrows in a lucid smile<br />To deny ourselves our very lives<br /><br />'He lived the dream' they proudly said<br />Yet they coveted his every breath<br />A happy face he forever portrayed <br />Damning them all to death<br /><br />This man they thought ‘he has it all’<br />They followed his every move<br />A stagger and they brought him down with a thud<br />His life was theirs to bleed<br /><br />'He made his money from lies' they said<br />'He cheated on his wife'<br />'Oh look at his many flaws' they laughed<br />'He was never so perfect indeed'<br /><br />They laughed him off, their ex-hero<br />The spoils were theirs to lavish<br />Another hero will soon ascend <br />It’s all about the better trick<br /><br />Alas, then comes along an honest soul<br />Confused like the few before<br />'This is not my dream' he said<br />'I want not a billion dollars nor bars of gold'<br /><br />He wished to live his life his way<br />To see the world anew<br />To think his own and make his place<br />His terms were disapproved<br /><br />‘Rebel, hunt him down!’ they screamed<br />Yet each his courage sought<br />They wondered how he broke free <br />When all of them could notRajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-87266225188503583682010-01-11T03:59:00.000-08:002010-01-11T04:06:40.924-08:00Hope floatsA destitute past 18 in the train<br />She’s got her wares to sell<br />A few toys and a plastic dream <br />To escape the nightmare in which she dwells<br />She wails and bargains a price<br />While she soothes her baby ill<br /><br />He is all of four with flowing nose<br />No thought for his tattered clothes<br />He bears a perturbing smell<br />His hair’s in curls matted with dirt<br />His nails covered with grime<br />Yet each day he learns a new nursery rhyme <br /><br />To dust my life is shattered <br />The young mother thinks <br />Tough my life is, so be it <br />But I'll never let him sink<br />Her stubborn hope holds her on<br />Her sleeping baby and a rattling soundRajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-39278914887011115732010-01-09T20:59:00.000-08:002010-01-10T07:21:51.758-08:00Kids!Fold a napkin - you’ve got a train<br />A floating cloud - a bunny makes<br />A starry night - a set stage <br />And you’ll never know what else they’ll make!<br /><br />We too were them not so long ago<br />Our wheels did spin and our wings did soar<br />Across the river and above the sky<br />Another dream we all lived by<br /><br />Then one day we thought it cool to grow<br />To hold the brief case and drive to and fro<br />All the money would buy so much<br />We could party, there would be no homework<br /><br />Now grown up, that kid waits alone<br />In a dim lit corner within our soul<br />He rises up with every moon<br />And makes you think, why did I grow up so soon?Rajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-43628595199546827182010-01-05T21:47:00.000-08:002010-01-05T21:49:21.181-08:00An amazing insanityThere is something amazing about the insanity of faith. An insanity about those who follow their heart, their dreams knowing fully well that it will be easier to do what others do, to follow the oft tread path, to simply comply and conform. Yet they go against the tide, work against the grain and simply step out and excel. <br />They don’t run the world and they don’t care who does. They are out of it, apart from it and walk this earth exploring things anew. They don’t set trends for others to follow, neither do they wait on accolades, commendations or prizes. They do what they do only because it is all that they know how to. <br /><br />I stand in awe of them, inspired and overwhelmed. I thank them for who they are, shakti, hozefa and all who are unlike others.Rajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-12679475281844038802009-12-16T18:28:00.000-08:002009-12-24T18:48:08.307-08:00Who am I, really?Of late with work pressures mounting and quality ready for its untimely decline I wonder who am I? Am I fine with letting go of the quality that I've been boasting about for most of my working life - all of 3 years and joining the ranks of corporate conformity - 'Client ko jo chahiye, dedo.' Easier said than done if you are the proud owner of an ego with a conscience to boot. Then there are those times when 'enough' is well past at 6 p.m. and you are still at work past 12 watching a good concept float down the drain... Ah the vagaries of 21st century work! <br /><br />I find myself hunting my phone book, looking out for numbers, for people who I can talk to, people who would have something nice to say. No, not the rant I hate my effing workplace, the point is that everyone does. Just about a good day, a stray dog, a hi I missed you the other day or lets meet up but alas no one would remain awake at this ungodly hour. Just the few weird men at dadar station who despite all their good intentions just seem up to no good past 12 in the a.m. staring at a lone copywriter with her red bag, lost yet awake waiting for the rattling approach of the last train. When did I, a dreamer get here, I will never know. But someday, it would be a different train, a different plane, someday soon.Rajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-82703495394076136802008-12-04T05:02:00.000-08:002008-12-04T05:04:59.339-08:00Wandering thoughts<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CRAJEES%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-GB;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">United we stand, divided we fall…</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Yet another lie to rest us all</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">False pretenses, hidden facades</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Heroes found amongst unknown faces</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Stories live, as the fires burn</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Millions watch unconcerned</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">The press hums to the beat</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">As the unclaimed lay on the street</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Jarred lives, riddled with bullet holes</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Breaking families remain un-consoled</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Homage paid, candles lit</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Forgotten dead, mere graves to dig</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">In fear we all run and hide</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">An effort to avoid that sad demise</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Far from that burning train</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Away from that shady lane
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Sad still remains the fact</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Death always finds its way back</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Still fear they choose over a fight</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">To die as victims not warriors bright</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">
<br /><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> Rajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-84321348931536551302007-12-26T03:27:00.000-08:002007-12-26T03:28:29.210-08:00Thoughts Unbound…A love undying as the green blade of grass…<br />Passion that of the ocean swells<br />Thoughts such as the ever imminent moon<br />Minds with dark visions quell<br /><br />I live 'tween a hermit and a bounty fiend<br />With shifts like the reign of wind<br />Flowing uncharted, unbound and free<br />In search of a reason that feigns to live<br /><br />A scribe, I write, words the life blood replace<br />Growing beyond the sea and shore<br />Visions unbound, oft new realities found<br />My verve strengthened as it grows!<br /><br />Born not of a mighty blood or creed<br />Nor from a warrior who in the battle bled<br />From an unknown past I rise unhindered<br />To an unknown future I flee unheeded<br /><br />The future, a dark dawn I see<br />Built by drones of the human need<br />Feeding off morals that once raised the world<br />Now the demise of humanity<br /><br />The bleak future an oracle shan't predict<br />Nor can this scribe be held true<br />But past remains uncharted, unknown<br />Old mistakes are committed anew!<br /><br />In awe I stand of the human reign…<br />The plush society and the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Champagne</span> glass<br />The opulent lives and the many deeds<br />Yet in dust they may breathe their last!<br /><br />Abound with pathos this mortal meek<br />A being of the carnal lust<br />Yet guises of ethics remain<br />The corrupt soul runs-a-muck<br /><br />Who am I to question or care?<br />How can I a judgment pass?<br />Though in my mind a different thought reflects<br />Yet I am cloaked in the very cast!Rajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328391369626797278.post-17149401252608075502007-12-26T03:21:00.001-08:002007-12-26T03:22:50.004-08:00Avenger<span></span><span></span><span></span>The setting sun, a crimson sky<br />The dusk is born, another day dies…<br />It approaches dark, as the fear sinks in<br /><span>The known is gone, unknown begins!<br /></span><br />Bringer of darkness, a pale moon shines<br />Afraid of the dark, meek creatures whine<br />Out comes <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Kreator</span>, the darkness grows<br />Shrouds the world, another dream sours<br /><br />Visions of shadows, the keepers of Anathema<br />Lost secrets all revived…<br />To the known universe a parallel born<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Claming</span> the skies, his reign prolongs!<br /><br />Spilled blood, dark slivers,<br />Despot monsters night creatures all<br />Defiled living, untamed demons<br />Escape their earthly forms<br /><br />True faces, grotesque smiles…<br />Unraveled by night, earthly masks, they fall!<br />Rituals, rites by night performed,<br />A pyre fostered for the innocuous ones<br /><br />Gashed remains from the pyre dealt<br />A funeral of the innocent held<br />Appeasing the powers that be<br />Another soul into the darkness melts<br /><br />Bring forth the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Kreator</span>, a siren sings<br />Another meal for his ghastly whims<br />Scalding screams, escape, unflattering sounds<br />A scrumptious meal, for a nightly count<br /><br />Another dusk, so begins<br />Souring sights abundant seen<br />Despised, abhorred many fears grow<br />Little ones cower, mothers in tow<br /><br />The reign so prolonged,<br />His oppression out performed,<br />Fear and hate bred his fate<br />As foretold by the sirens song<br /><br />A lonely babe of a land lost,<br />The son of a father slain<br />Bred in treachery and guise<br />He grew to stake the claim<br /><br />Erred not the siren when she the future told…<br />Rose a slayer of the shrouding hand<br />Born of a blood mighty, untamed<br />With wrath, the world proclaimed!<br /><br />Selfish, unsympathetic, a passion dwells<br />In vagrant needs one does not quell<br />Conquer he shall the world he claimed<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Un</span>-flinched, untainted by emotions he remained<br /><br />The dusk deepened, the darkness grew<br />A sharpened sense of verve brewed<br />All beings their days safely kept<br />Away from the watchful eye the warrior crept…<br /><br />Into his domain he walked unseen,<br />Unknown his corruption began<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Kreator</span> breathed easy still<br />The day of his doom was at hand…<br /><br />There lay <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Kreator</span>,<br />Midst of his mighty work<br />Chaos engulfed the once green earth<br />Quelled all in fear and in rage, well ripened for his tasteRajee Srinivasanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13022941262445308886noreply@blogger.com1