Digging for Meaning

Twist & turning, Clawing, My finger’s burning, Drawing. The last mile, Runs for miles and miles, There’s no end to this. Why am I even trying. It’s all dark here, There’s nowhere to go to. All filled thick with nothingness…. All I feel is meaningless… The only sound’s of my, Fingernails against the ground. Or when I turn around, Someone knocks from underground. Those are the long lost echoes, Of the once who stood where I am, Reliving, Retrieving… Tryin’a snatch my soul. Twisting n’ clawing, Their finger’s burning too…..

wasted! ...waste.... total waste.... waste of time... waste of space.. waste of thots (if any) waste of electricity.... its almost like nirvana. exactly what is wasteology, is a tough question to answer. its like asking what is hinduism, christianity, islamism...its a way of life. its a thought culture. it transcends the mere wasted soul and body. it is the embodiment of, the feeling of....being wasted at the core of this culture, there is a basic tenet, which goes against any notion of 'objective'/'purpose' of doing anything. ask urself.. why r u on orkut.. why do we orkut our days away.. talking to strangers, playing stupid games...b'coz.. deep down below, we all know, that we are.. wasted! [:p] p.s. it has nothing to do with being drunk or high on dope.. a most imp. p.s. :its for ppl. who can laugh at themselves, sarcastically look at themselves.. http://www.orkut.com/Community.aspx?cmm=12604788

after quite some deliberation, as to -should i post it, shouldn't i-..i said 'what the heck' --- this is a song i penned in 15 min. b4 the 'Mr.SVMEC' pageant last year, which by the way i won [:D] where i was supposed to play my synth for the talent round.. but @ the last moment its batteries fucked up.. so i had no choice but to turn innovative. I sang this song in a rockin' tune.. had to refer to the piece of paper time n again [/)].. made the crowd sing along.. not much of a genius.. in the sense of lyrics.. but a good rocking song.. Mr. Daniel bedingfield, move over, here i come.. [:D] Bounce Falling down is quite right, and there's nothing wrong with it. But staying down without a trying fight, is not what we speak of a man, so Bounce, Bounce Bounce-Bounce-Bounce Bounce. so Bounce, Bounce Bounce-Bounce-Bounce Bounce. ASk urself what u wanna be, a rotten beggar on the street 23? Ask urself if u never try, would u, ever be, what u could be. so Bounce, Bo...

This blog is to be a repository of my stories. Here's one, a novella in progress. i hope u dig it. Chapter 1 Boroks had an amusing job. They had to give heed to any signs of new 'births'. They would scout the new births, feed them their first supper and help them to stand on their feet. It was the only thing they knew to do. They had big ears, round eyes, strong and long arms, wide and stodgy feet and no teeth. They had a mouth but only to yawn. They lived off 'work'. The faster they would work, the more energetic they would feel. A borok confined is a borok dead. ___________ Ardin & anksha - the gods, who created this world, had a tiff when they started with the creation of life forms. Anksha had created a million different kinds of them. He let them loose and would watch them serenely. Ardin would rather have uniformity and consistence. He wanted them all to be the best (most agile, efficient and adapting), in other words - the same. Being his usual mercurial,...

I haven't posted much after the above less-than-mediocre post. and i can't even give an excuse of lack of time.. probably, my orkut profile defines me more aptly.. wasted. well.. to keep this rolling, i am digging out the old dirt.. this is one of the early poems i tried to scribble. try to fathom it and let me now, how much u hate it.. Forgive me god, for I've not been worthful. The love u gave in me, I 've not been giving out. The mind u gave birth 2, is still holding itself down. The gifts u hid in me, still lay there unpacked, for I am so polluted, I couldn't see the signs. The thought-machine u fuelled, I steer in wrong directions. It still circumnavigates only around the lone sphere of myself. The sum total of neuron's trains still fight over ambiguous destinations. The me within me is so distant, that I need to remember who I think I am. I keep a mirror on my desk, coz' I cant always remember my face. And I wonder at the mirror of ur creation and what...

strange! i am arguably one of the oldest guys here on blogger, and i hadn't cared to write a profile.. well, i fulfilled the 'karma' now, i guess... neways there was this question while filling up the profile.. were u surprised to c ur toes after removing the shoes for the first time?.... my ans. was mortified! i thought the shoe's failed me.. how could they do this to me.. afterall, i had polished them, nicely weaved their laces...and asked for one thing, to take away my toes.. they couldn't even do that.. worthless shoes.. i thought toes were only to scoop out the sand on a beach. but since we moved inland where it was all 'non scoopable' concrete, i saw no reason to have the toes.. ___ hehe .. :)

There's this lil' thread on orkut to create 3 sentence stories. These were 2 of my scribblings. Give it a read... they won't take much time in any case... 1. and the curtain falls... I never thought, today would be it. It always seemed to loom far away, beyond my reach, or anybody else's. I never thought a blade will change it all. *** 2. day of reckoning was near. The only thing keeping me from getting bald with constant hair splitting was the solace I found in her arms. The least I could do was to hold her hands tight while she delivered our baby to the world. ---- [Its amazing how much strenght and love a woman harbours in that fragile lithe body of their's )