Unblue Monday

The author is writing about his monday, the day of blues and over powering urges to sleep in class. The author started his monday on a worried note, and a frown upon his brow. He had not completed his project as of yet, and he was due to hand in, but as we all know (if u do not know, then please refer to previous posts) the author had made a pledge unto himself to tell the truth about his work to his teachers,(oddly, telling the truth got him into less trouble).Since the author had not his project with him, he was allowed to leave early, though he still had a class later that day, the author decided to skip the last class(Note - the author is notorious for bunking classes). Then the author decided to meet up with a good friend and spend the rest of his "college time", in another college, relaxing with his friend. Though it took a lot of time(and considerable sum of money)to get to his friends college, he finally made it there. Once there, he was yet again lost for a bit, while trying to find his friend. Once though he had met her, they went and sat down in the corridor of the recording rooms(Yes they sat on the floor, No the did not do recording). Now as it was supposed to be according to plan, they were to watch a movie. But, suddenly, out of the blue, the author had this mad urge to make an angel. So he quickly took out his notepad(No he did not have a sketchbook with him!)and began to draw, first came the wings and then the rest of the body(No he is not describing child birth : ). Overall the author has to say that he was quite pleased with himself(as even though he had an active imagination, he sucked at drawing).
Later he is happy to say, he had a great time with his friend and they chatted till pretty late.
All in all, the author had a suprisingly good monday.


*The author would like to take this oppurtunity to thank Princess Fatimah Tariq for hanging out with him.

Angels

The author has copied this post from his previous blog, in memory of old friends =)





Hi!! and a good mornin to most of u ppl. My first serious topical post is on angels, infact special types or breeds of angels.A few months back i recieved a sms from my frend back home from india, and it read " Angels exist but sometimes as not all of them have wings they are called FRIENDS" . Yea u gussed it this post is goin out to my angelic frenz, if not for some of em, i dont noe where or wat i would be doin now. When i was in india(i noe my indian frenz arent readin this but im compelled to rite em down)i had a awesome bunch of 6 frenz. We were like the 7 musketeers, always together,helpin each other out.Sadly things driffted appart and i was left with only of my frenz from our group. Then secondary skl saw me makin some really true frenz, who im glad to say are still my frenz. I noe none of u care who they were but for my own sake i write down thier names- Osama, Rajat and Anjishnu. Even though anji went away after a while to Vancouver i never will forget him.
Then i came here to Singapore and i thought that my frend life was done, but by gods grace i have found friends here i really never expected too. In my secondary skl i found a guy named gaurav and i swear if he isnt an angel then no one is.He's got me outta tight spots so much that i v truly lost all count. Even now after i have finished my sec skl we still keep in touch and he's still helpin me out.Infact im meetin him today.
I.T.E life has also delivered to me some awesome frenz, to name em Vanessa,Belle,Naz,Dom and Sim and so onn......... These guys are pretty good fun frenz and thanx to these guys im well becomin relatively more comfy in singapore(thnx belle).Also dom thnx for helpin me to learn the drums for free and thnx vanessa for well..........bein my friend same to naz and sim.Other than these guyz i have another couple of i.t.e frenz namely Kezia,Jerms(Jeremy) and well the rst of the bunch .thnx to jerms and kez im kinda well more open round people and stuff(sry guyz i really cant describe how i feel).Also other than i.t.e friendster and s.i. helped me find this friend Princess(also her sis whose pretty cool i have to say though i dont noe her much yet) ! and i would like to specially thank her for bein there u noe, also im sry i noe i bug u a lot.(actually sry to all of u i v bugged u all a lot).Guyz i request you remain who you are Angels!! ill never forget u all!!

The Force

The author is writing this because he is restless, he has this force running through him. A power pure and true, he looks at his blog skin and he feels like the howl escaping the wolf's mouth, fighting around the branches of the trees, jumping through them in joy, using a relentless power. He feels like the beam of moonlight, shooting down the shaft, flitting through the wind with pleasure unknown. He feels his mind on the brink of opening, even though his body is wracked with tiredness, his mind holds the power to thrust out such jolts of pure imagination to actually create substance. I f god ever built anything, he built it with this power. The author feels confident enough to jump down the building and somehow convinces himself that the power of the force will save him, its the pleasure of being invulnerable. He feels the scream of unbounded joy tear at his lungs to be let out, to shake the world, and the author shuts his eyes tight and flies through the air at speeds unheard of, his body unmoving, but his soul covering bounds in seconds, going to places unknown. This be the joy, the feeling a person feels when he has a imaginative mind{note - the author is NOT praising himself!!}.
*The author wishes that someday all of you feel the power of the force flitting through your souls.
To infinity and beyond we go!!

Interesting uninterestingness

Another of the authors hapless posts. So do feel free to read and get bored. The author is writing this because he is extremely sleepy, but doesnt really want to fall asleep. Today the author's silent little dog, his ever watching companion fell sick, causing pandemonium in the household. Though the author loves his pets, he was not really affected by this sudden onslaught of sickness, infact he had already made his "diagnosis". None the less, the praying mother and the worried father, screamed their lungs out at him to take the dog to the vet, to get him all checked out. With super slowness and dragging feet, he somehow reached the vet. There he found that his dog was sick, a cold he had bereft. So with boredom on his face and some "polite"thoughts swirling in his head, he headed back to his "sanctuary", where he was met with the still shouting mother and a brainless brother, who bugged him till he was lost. Shouting his way through the mayhem the author somehow managed to reach back to his room, emotionally and physically unharmed. Thus passed another eventful afternoon in the life of the author.

*feel free to kill the author for boring the life out of you.

Life

passionate dispassionateness,
loving hate.
unsophisticated sophistications,
darkened light.

swiveling shards of broken dreams,
and shallow breaths of pain.
little reveries of memories,
and endless nights of rain.

sounds of crunching glass,
and silent gasps of pain.
firmly shut, closed eyes,
and articulately colored dreams.

revolving thoughts in the head,
incoherent words in vain.
red splotches on the carpet,
blood running from the insane.

quiet stories in the dark,
truly learnt, well and sharp.
unanswered questions by the dawn,
unbroken silent on the lawn.

a sleight of hand, decisive toss,
a twisted path of game.
silent players in the light,
to be played by life.

A Dance Of The Past With The Present

The author is writing this while he's lying on his bed, thoughts flitting through his mind and making sense in an odd sense of way. He pens this down as more for himself than for you, 'the reader'. Since his last post a couple of hours ago, the author had the fortune of spending time with his family, and as is the rule of family meetings, things of the past have to crop up, in the form of half forgotten memories. Some painful, some full of fun, some remembering those long gone and some in honor of each other. Today the author had the fortune of getting to know more about his past, something that has ebbed away from him, the tales of his childhood and those of his parents and their thinking at his age reminded the author as to how alike he was to his parents. It was pleasant for the author to know about times gone by, and to understand the meanings of things left unexplained and to know what mistakes his parents had made and to understand why they had made those mistakes and also why he must not make them. Today the author would like to present this entry as a tribute to his beloved (if sometimes obnoxious and insufferable ) parents.

*The author is feeling content at the moment and wishes all the readers (if any at all :|) to have a pleasant day(or night).

The Children Of Boredom

The sole reason for the author to make this post is that the author is supremely bored. He has had the 'pleasure' of spending an entire day in his house like an animal in a locked cage. His ready reprieve to boredom, his every trusty knight, the ever so faithful internet, went through a change of heart and fled my service during my hour of need. When the defaced knight came back to reclaim his post, the others had already left it unmanned. Thus leaving the author with an afternoon filled with nothing but boredom and sleepiness. Thankfully for the author, sleep crept over him and he slipped into unknown lands looking for adventure. But it was not to be, his boredom followed him into his lands of dreams and left him with empty blank spaces, making for an uneventful sleep. When the author awoke, he found that he had overshot his target by a couple of hours, and that his guardians had thought that he be left to sleep in his own 'BEST INTERESTS'.
Thus yet again, an uneventful day in the life of the author passed by, as uneventfully as possible.



*The author hopes he bored you enough, that boredom finds you a much boring host and leaves the author alone and comes after you.

**Slow evil laughter.

A Silent Observer

The reason the author is riting this is because he is extremely bred sitting in his c# programming class, hez reflecting on all the things that led him here. Itz a regret fr sure, he wanted to go into aeronautics for his dad, for his families sake. But he knows that if he had made it there, there too he would have been unhappy. He wasnt made to do serious things, he was made with a spirit to spread joy, not with one that was boring and dull and alone, like how it had become now. The author greatly craves for his old soul, but it has been away for him for so long now that he knows its not coming back to him. He knows he is going to spend the rest of his life, working in the company his father set up, taking over the reigns of a regime which could only survive if the man running it was ready to sacrifice his personal life, to leave all that he was setting the regime up for. The author cherishes these days of joys and pains like a dying man, though he himself is not dying, but a part of him is already on its death bed, and soon will be no more. The author rites his in tribute to that soul, the same which had the courage to put mice into his principles office, the one who would make you laugh, the one who had the light of life and joy in his eyes, the kid whoz mind would think of the nicest of fantasies, a mind untarnished by laws or enforced reality and the one who shall be no more. A few months left for him to fade away, and a new part shall take his place, the one with no joy and tired lifeless eyes, the ne who would fake his laugh and forever cry, the one who craves for love, alas, this be the one that shall live.
so take out some time and bow your head and offer a silent prayer for the dying,
and pray a second longer for the dead that shall be now the living.
*a tear glistens at the edge of the authors eye, and he gently wipes it away and bows in head in silence awaiting the storm that shall come to be his life.

The Names

This post i made keeping in mind 2 things, the first being that the blogger is extremely bored and has nothing at all to do, than to rite on a blog which no one reads(Yes u no comment posting readers.......ur all qualified as no readers!). The second being that the blogger was struck with this thought of his ever changing names and identities during the ever so satisfyingly interesting boredom of his, the enlightening thought was that no one has ever realized the true reason he chooses his nicknames. He thus has decided, to spare some time out of his ever so busy lifestyle to clarify the reason for his nick names. The first thing to remember is that the author of this blog loves the concept of death and is extremely fascinated by it, Thus his names are always revolving around the concept of death. The first nickname the author adopted was "Walkin Death"this "oh so jolly!" nick came from the fact that, when the nick was chosen the author was not in the right emotional state and considered himself emotionally dead(Though obviously he wasnt, and some enlightened individuals would call it a "phase"). The nick name coupled with some interesting pictures of the grim reaper and the bloggers ever lasting love of death, gained him the reputation of being a dark knight(No i do not mean that the author became a masked crusader). Though as time went on (Which is a very irritating habit of time), the authors life took yet another exciting turn, to say little, the author found people who he cared for, and those who cared for him(The author is not starved for love!!.......I repeat - The author is NOT starved for love!!) . Now out of his love for one of those whom he cared for(Which was surprisingly a huge number of gentle souls), He yet again decided to change his identity, he changed his name(Also curiosity did play a huge role in that decision ), To "Azaan Nisar Khan". Which he still uses many a times, and personally likes it(People dont mispronounce this one at least !!). But lately, he has yet again changed his name, to "Le Chameleon" which in simple english(For those brainy and high and mighty people who may want it translated for them, even though im sure they OBVIOUSLY understand it) means "The Chameleon" which does NOT mean that he is becoming a lizard, but means that he is indeed an ever changing character, and may lie or tell the truth as and when it pleases him. (Obviously this could be a lie too)
have a nice day or dont, dont really care ;)

Eternal Fate

Darkened red, seamless clouds,
Filled with blood, guardians of the sky.
Black be the day sky,
Darker yet when he dies.


A single moon and pale white light,
Waiting for the howls.
Straight tall trees and twisted limbs,
Ransacked huts and broken pots.


The lack of breath means more than death,
there be no wails or broken cries.
The men are dead, cut right through,
The rest are ashes, burnt all the way too.


I walk the now, empty streets,
Those beloved lawns and now broken doors.
Their disembodied heads and chopped up limbs,
The eyes to forever be shocked.

I reach the open fields,
On grassless ground lies their leader.
His features scream his royal lineage,
The bloodied sword through his heart, Its end.


I look at him, the sorrow, it flows through me,
Mistaken love and everlasting sorrow.
I reach down and pull up his soul,
It smiles and comes with me, Tmrw shall be the same.




I rote this in math class...........its different...........i like it..........

Another hapless post - The role model

I chat and i chat and i chat, i laugh and make jokes and laugh and laugh a bit more................and then i suddenly see myself standing in a corner of my mind watching as an image of me goes on chatting and laughing.................dispassionate to life now........that part of me keeps watching as i go through things in life and it comes and saves me everytime im down there................its coldness washing over and numbing the pain.............its rational mind waking me up from my reveries......and sometimes.........i myself....not the images ...not him.......but me.........the orignal one...........i look at him standing in a corner.......waiting fr the next time........noeing its going to come...........and i wonder if i could become him forever..............effortlessly destroying all emotions.......devoid of the feeling of pain or joy........a silent calculating survival machine..........
to just come and go and be never known.............
my role model..............the other part of me..............

To Forget

Im riting this cuz i felt like.....People keep telling me that im a good poet and things, but if u ever think of it, things like poems and art are not just talent, they r born from your emotions.....the way you rite tells what kind of person you are, your strokes tell how aggressive you can be. I write when im sad, or when im happy or just when things fill up inside me. The hate that rises in me comes out in the form of the poems which have killing in them, the pain in the descriptive ones, the love in those of broken hearts and self hate in those which kill myself, and people think its a joke to write, and only nerds can do something like that. These people use their hate to hurt, not like us who keep it in to let others happy.........i noe i sound like an obnoxious bastard..........but thts how it is.......people ask me to write poems for them, just to be entertained...............do i look like or behave like i am some kind of poem riting software or machine?..............naa.....men have lost feelings nowdayz...........and those who still have it...............we;l get lost in the crowd.........






ps - i rote this hinking about all the times i had ritten poems.......

Twists and turns of Life

There can only be 2 reasonz fr me to be riting this.........its either im too bored or im getting paid fr it.....which i am not.Also things in the past have started to weigh on me,stress buster u may call this or just pointless trash.Lately life has displayed yet again its everlasting twisting qualities, just when i thought things might start to look up, the whole thing crashes around me.... leaving me to stand around and pretend like nothings happened, to say that its alrite, tht im alrite......and they believe me......even though i tell them all that i lie more than anything else, they take my word and go away like nothings happened. And i stand there, with the rubble of my dreams, my hopes and i think how easy it was fr life to take that turn, swerving off the happy tracks just when they began.People keep telling me that someday i'm going to get a lot of happiness i say thts bullshit, if u believe that, u must be a really lucky person. I think of all the things i could have done, how easily i could have made their life's, hell. But no, even though i be Lucifer, there still is a "saint " before it. They tell you that your worthwhile, that you mean something to people, Openly you agree, but you noe as ever they say so that you may shut up.I tell them i wont live long, and i noe i wont, and they tell you not to talk like that. You look for someone to tell things to, But then when you think you have found them, they just show you how crafty the brain of man can be. You tell them your hurting and yet they go on about how their lifes are messed up and how hard their work is, or how bad their mums will screw them, and you hear all that and think its better to just hear them talk and let them feel better.All anyone will say is life is tough, learn to face it. Frankly answer me, how many fuckers out there noe what it is to live like i have to, None do.....cuz u can never be in my place. I live in dignity, i find it HURTING MY PRIDE, to stoop before anyone. Yet i'l do it if it helps someone, im not praising anyone, heck!.....im worth being to sent to hell for all eternity. But, they way i see things....... i would rather be in hell, than in heaven with people like them.I amnt talking about anyone person in general, it's just how people have been for the better part of this year.Heck.....i wish all the times i tried to die, just once, only once i actually manage it......




ps - i noe, no one will read this post......but im riting anyway.