comatosed, perennially

[preview: read so many mishaps in the paper---Irene being the latest---somehow the glum in the day made me recollect the disasters--so expressed in my own way!]


the gloom around forces me sad
robs me off the peace i had!
drains me out of fuel all,
tired fatigue slowly does crawl.
seeping in some pressure high,
breaths are gone, left are sigh.
drowning in the sea of hope:
bleakness in hand, nothing to grope.
the tunnel appears to run for long
blossom dead, pricks the prong.
winter falls, white and cold.
bright and sunny days are sold.
hurricanes and storms lash so hard
line is long, escape is barred.
metal rod hits the brain,
down now pours the bloody rain.
slowly. mildly the bell has gone
rumble merry---lost, forlorn.
lying covered in the ashes' heap:
stifled cry, and silenced weep.
my world is on its way to end.....
bad moon shone as a white crescent!
how i wish it be a nightmare
arms stretched in wild despair.
but alas! the house crashes down.
my body lies bloodstained brown.
under the debris, i rot to hell:
slowly loud, i hear the death bell!

Adulterated!

in the dark hours, i cry
i breathe hard as i lie
     naked, on the floor!
the flesh pole hitting me hard
plunging deeper, completely offguard
     with blood oozing more!
i shouted, i screamed out loud:
i even managed to pull a crowd
     to fetch me a drape ----
they gathered, watched so hushed
i bled, and yet none rushed
     lest they miss the rape!
pain grew strong and i grew weak,
i was drenched in blood vein's leak,
     turned into a mock for all:
carcass i had turned into then,
snatched, smothered, wildly bitten;
     yet tears failed to fall.

days came and passed by
it was then people came and made a try
     to help me get over:
but the nightmare haunts me still,
the grasp, the bite and the drill
     have slurred the inside, forever!

COLORS OF LIFE!

Roy lay on his bed and a white envelope on the bedside table. Sleep generally came easy but the content of the letter forced him insomniac. Roy had lost his job. All kudos went to some unscrupulous hero who screwed the financial statements of a particular company, the global economy and most importantly Roy’s life. Roy smirked at the individual’s heroic feats---boy, he surely had some talent! But the bottom line was that Roy was rendered jobless. For the first time, he failed to comprehend his feelings. Perplexed? Angry? Broken? ---- What was he?

He could lie no more. He needed to vent out, shout out his dejection. Roy required an outlet. His hands reached out for his paint brushes. Painting had been a passion for him. But passion was definitely not on the palate that moment. He was frustrated. (Oh! How he hated to use that word). With bold strokes he painted the whole canvas black. Might be, he thought his life to be so---dark, opaque, uncertain. The strokes were slapdash, haphazard. He dipped the brush in red and started blotting the blackened canvas. Spots of red paint splattered the canvas---as if his inner self was torn apart and he bled himself dry. He took his duster and smudged the red splotches. His hand quivered---he was shivering with anger. His soul bellowed in utter bewilderment---What lay ahead? What would he do?

In his mind, Roy deduced himself to be a failure. He justified by saying, “I could not even hold on to my job!” He felt envious of that entire bunch of lucky butts that glued to their seats in the air-conditioned office room.  The painting, by then, had lines of green on it. His office desk was stationed at the far end of the room, near the window overlooking the entire city. The concrete jungle looked pleasant from the 19^th floor of his office building. The realization that his seat would be occupied by some anonymous trainee, with a badge dangling round his neck, was unbearable. Roy had spent 4 long years in that office. He put his brush in color bottles randomly and started squirting on the canvas, just like hurling insults into thin air. Color marks—yellow, orange, purple, white slurred the picture. He found himself sobbing. He buried his face in his hands and wept. The canvas was all littered.

Roy did not know when he had dozed off. When he woke up, he found sunlight filtering into his room. Dragging himself to the window, he pulled open the curtains. The morn seemed indifferent to the previous night’s torment. It was on its own roll. Roy turned around and what caught his eyes was unbelievable. The canvas stood where it had been but where was the picture he drew? Where were the black smudges, the callous brush lines, and the color blots? What lay was stoically different. The ruffled tint and the hasty brush pats had resulted in a rainbow---unknowingly bright, bold and beautiful. Amazed, awestruck Roy stood static. He caught his reflection in the mirror that hung in front. The image had a black line running wide down the cheeks, but what reflected wider was a smile---so full, so true. What he had thought to be bleak, the end was actually a new hope, a fresh start. Roy continued smiling as the first rays from the golden ball beamed on the canvas, brighter!