A Bed-time Story

Boredom + A friend who could not sleep = Random Bed-time story Once there was a boy in a house And he played with a mouse The house was big and round And within it the boy was found Playing with his mouse and louse Because the long ago there was a fire he didn't douse The louse wasn't much company But he could do spectacular stunts,only on a minute scale though,if any And once day the circus came to town Whose ring master was a clown with a frown But it was turned upsiside down When he found the first of the trio on his crown Doing the most minute acrobatics And tiny antics The louse was seen While the clown his rainbow hair did clean He questioned the louse on where he learned it all And the louse explained the story of the boy and mouse and the tragedies that did befall and so the clown took them in And now they travel in a bus of tin


I know it doesn't make sense, but it's a bedtime story - they rarely do.

The Journal

A bone.
A breath.
The dust wavered and played along its breadth.
The journal of dreams he had kept.
Memories of visions and visitations of beings of this world and the next.
Once at the back of his mind,
Now held between his fingers again.

Recollections of vivid dreams of frolic and grandeur,
Of fright and fear.
Memories of pen on paper,
Etching a fading picture of subconscious conscious.
Where foe and friend and family,
All equally malleable.
Liquid and flowing,
Through new scenarios and variations,
The tides of his day at night did play,
In his theatre of dreams.
Regrets and remorse,
Alongside fantasy and fancy
But he wished to recollect them no more.

A sigh.
A sound.
The book was returned to where it belonged,
The light played along the face of its owner.
He turns and leaves as the door closes behind him.
Only a skeleton of his humanity remained in reality.
No longer between his hands,
His dreams now returned to the dark, deserted back of his mind.

Sad Bob

Unbidden, the ashen hand rose out the ground

Its crumbling crusty flesh cracking

Revealing bone and dust and hollow holes

Where once were muscle and blood

The reanimated corpse   pushed itself up

Rising at its own pace

 It had nothing to do

Nowhere to go

And no life to lose

So it waited patiently

Inch by inch dug itself out

Once above ground he viewed his body

It had changed a lot since he last saw it 

Though he remembered not how long ago that was

He looked around to find that he was alone

In the grave yard

It seems that destiny only wished for one deathless minion

 For those whose souls had been buried in the ground

Were nowhere to be seen,

Nor any efforts to follow him to the world of the living

The air to him was no longer sweet

The breeze stale and raspy

The ground, a muddy brown with patches of dirty green

Puddles of brown scattered from the rain the night before

Nothing had remained as when he had died

Seeing nothing of value or of worth

Bob returned to his grave

Poetry :D

So happy news I found my notepad but in retrospect I find my poem boring so I shan't post it :D
I'm gonna have my Sociology exam tomorrow and then my Politics exam on Monday and then i'll finally be free of my board exams :D
Anyways I'm too lazy to actually write down all my thoughts which I had prepared to write, so I leave you with a poem that got in the top ten of a national competition :D

Thank you.

What is this thought but a material thing?
This line written
This idea framed
Given existence from the shallow abyss of my mind
Put in shape by a pen
Through my sight, my sense and my body as a whole
Kept in form by your sight
In form by your acknowledgement of its reality
The reality of interpretation, of perspective and understanding
By your existence does this exist
By your acceptance does it survive
For what are lost thoughts
But a fire never sparked
Sights never seen on the road to eternity
The silence of a voice that called out for none to hear
This idea-this thought
I cherish
And for letting it live
I thank you.

Happy Trails~

*Insert Title*

So I was writing this poem for this here space but then I, um, misplaced it :D.And so now I have nothing to post here other than the fact that I lost it and that really annoys me cause I had the thing right next to me while I was playing/on facebook/doing whatever, and the only reason i didn't was cause I thought I can just do it later.
Now you may think I got what I deserved for being lazy/procrastinating, but I'm sure you've done the same and you've felt this feeling too, it's like 'Oh My God, why didn't i just do it then'.

But then I realise that it doesn't really matter, sure I really really delayed my next blog post and annoyed myself and plenty of other feeling that I get every other day for the variety of other such stupid things I do because from my memory that poem wasn't all that different from everything else I write but I felt it would've been a good introduction of my poetic side (which of course sucks :D).

In other news I'm hungry cause I'm home alone and right now I'm not feeling motivated enough to go make something to eat seeing as I ran out of my stock of more or less 'ready-made' food.It reminds me of a time when I didn't really think about hunger and one day I was at school and I felt my stomach hurt and I couldn't figure out why cause I didn't remember eating anything bad but then I ate something and realised it was cause I'm hungry.Yep, real first world problems.

Also be wary of other bloggers such as my cousin Joe who started her blog at http://theawkwardmomentat.blogspot.in/. Yea don't let her drag you in with her witty narrative and commentary of her life and events. >.>

Perception

So everyday we go online, we chat, we comment, update statuses and so on and so forth, and everyday we do this using the same 'style' of typing and language whether it be in English or our native tongue.The way we present ourselves online through our style of typing is similar to our speech in real life, how we phrase our sentences or choose to approach a subject or matter, how much we care about what is being listened to by others, how much care we take in our pronunciation and structuring of sentences, these are all important factors  when we use virtual media.People just as in reality may favour slang or formal vocabulary and may or may not abbreviate their words to make it easier.The choice of words and presence of numbers or symbols or use of 'sms language' all act as an accent would in real life, it creates a feel of your individual identity, despite the narrow boundaries of text-based conversation each individual has their own style.The use of abbreviated words or substitution of numbers for sounds of words may not represent a lack interest in conversation or a lack of intelligence, it could mean just an acceptance of a form of talk that is the norm at the moment, English as a language has evolved over the generations to not only have the meanings of several of its words changed from its original usage and intent but also to include words from other languages and also to accept abbreviated words, so why not accept that which is popular and use it in daily life now?.

But as in most cases there is also the flip side, that is you, the reader, the receiver.We may view this text and think about what is seen differently, for example, I know people who absolutely can not stand any form of 'sms language' and are really annoyed by it, but at the same time are completely fine with abbreviations and such.I, like most of you out there, don't mind how people type as long as it makes some sort of sense.

So now I've wasted a lot of your time reading stuff that was completely obvious to you in the first place.I swear I was building it up to something really kickass that would've blown your mind but then i lost my train of thought, one of the many problems of typing up stuff on the computer, don't you just hate when that happens?
Someone might've been on the verge of discovering something so amazing that it would make jaws drop and by a simple flicker of his brain cells, it's gone, never to the light of day again.Even when we try our best to remember what it was that was so amazing about the original idea we just can't remember it BUT we can remember that it was amazing.Now isn't that just mean? Sort of like all the time you'll never get back for reading a bunch of random text that neither entertained nor enlightened. :D

A Stuttering Stumbling Entry into the Blogosphere

So today I saw a blog written by one of my juniors,it was quite interesting to read cause it really revealed a lot in the thought process, views and expression capacity of the person.I read it and found several spelling and grammatical mistakes and being the grammar nazi that I am and wondered to myself about how a proper blog should be.Of course, I'm not the first to enter into the interwebs or the Blogosphere and some of my friends have also started their own which I follow regularly for the obvious reasons.The question of "How well thought out a blog should be? or "How formal an approach we should take to it?" was that which I thought of first: Isn't a blog an expression of who we are a public statement declaring our opinion or views on a subject.A medium through which we can share our stories,narratives,poems and so forth.A podium from which perhaps a handful would listen or perhaps a few thousand would hear, to maybe provoke thought or propagate a cause.

Should we do our best to make our blog look as though we would in our Facebook profile pictures edited out with our best side showing making sure everything is perfect, with what we believe to be how people should see us at first glance?, or should it be a free flowing form of expression one that is a continuous conversation with oneself about the issues in everyday life to be extended to the public for discussion? Maybe a diary of events that happen that are less than ordinary that would interest a reader such as you or I?

Well I'm not sure what my writing would come as but nevertheless this will be my first post as a blogger, possibly one of the most mediocre ones you'll ever read but your time,your loss :D.