Friday, June 3, 2011

#Bad A** Life

Life, made to run the length of a football field
a badass clown to start with, a victory to yield
Its got a weird beginning, it says that you'll be the best
some may say it so, but you ll never win this test
It's a test? Well it certainly is one,
if not, you must be some Warren Buffet's grandson.

You don't know shite, weird people you ll bang into
A tackle will take you down, next thing, there will be another two
Ah! the sweet taste of mud, the pain, the hurt, washed away in rain.

they say:
get hit and thrown about, but never frown
cuz until the end, it ll be that way, you re on your own
I say:
give me a reason to do this then, what will I get from this in the very end?

I grow old, that's when I'm given the football,
you should see the 7 footers who lunge at me with brute force
quick feet and you ll escape, else bye bye sonny, you ll never see any worse

You are a footballer, get up son,
now get this game running and win us some
Bam Bam! Your arse is hurt,
they say:
He cant do nothing, he's left eating dirt

I realised the meaning of life that day
It's to get back on the field
I came back with raw determination, and beat the hell outta them dumb folks
they came saying:
you re the man now, kid, you are the golden child

The game goes on, I'm the better player now, I beat up kids
they show up like lost clowns, my men take them down to deep pits
I don't see that once upon a time I was that badass clown
having to see big 7 footers fall down on me from heaven

Life, made to run the length of a football field
now at the other end, worn with time
It's got a weird end, It says that your job is done
I try and figure, what did i gain up front?

Excuse me Life, what was all that about?
Where am I? Who am I? Why the heck am I, I?
Am I tricked? Am I clowned? Am I even getting anything for my efforts?
Hello?
Hello?

Monday, March 21, 2011

Take Me Away, Freedom



 Take Me Away, Freedom

Everyone needs that someone, that someone to hold on to,
every soul thrives for some love, some affection, that something to relate to,
and I am, but still on my own,
with the fear of being so all life long..

I have myself to blame for,
what I gave I receive for,
revel in the joy of the pain I caused,
today I feel that pain, when all is lost..

A lonely life, some love i plead,
none of them now gave me heed,
for the disgrace I've been, this is what i reap,
drowned in misery, hurt running sore and deep.

Take me away, freedom,
away from this world, into thy kingdom,
where there aint no hate and deceit, where love is pure and holy,
take me away, freedom,
away from this world, into thy kingdom,
for them,
who for now and for evermore, suffer my acts of vainglory..



Saturday, March 5, 2011

We Are All Mad People!

There are times when you are mentally unstable. Then there are times when a bunch of people sit together and act mentally unstable. One sees Tweety birds flyin low, round and round, over his head, One laughs an Hyena and abruptly stops and drools.
The following is a product of one such period. Unedited. Raw. Wrote it in one stretch of wild imagination.


We Are All Mad People!

One whined for a bite of white chocolate
nother wailed for the joy of recreation
Quite content with the pointless wait
our mouth's hang open in fascination

Taking in Oxygen and breathing out Carbon Dioxide
we bathe in sunlight, in its aggrandized glory
On unicorns and dragons we comrades ride
onto battle, unto death, we unleash our fury

We run across fields, chasing them stars
when we hardly made hay when the Sun shined
Lost in the beauty, the lost Pluto, endearing Mars
on cheese cakes and pouring wine, one nother dined

To indulge in such poetry as is thine silence
the trees of Apple, Pine and Maple
Divine, we rhyme on Pinocchio's violence
cause now, but for evermore, we are all mad people!


Thursday, February 3, 2011

His Canvas, His Clay

(The Crank and his muse)

His Canvas, His Clay
 
Art, as you say, is Love
Love, as I know thou art.
We are only beings of His making
splashed, spattered, cross hatched.

Love, pours forth in bright red
our sins etched in flowing blood;
Tones of Grey, splashes of Blue,
spaces of White, hurt and Hue.

Formed with a burst of light
Light, we all come from.
A mold, spinning fast on a wheel
cut through in shapes by his fingers.

We become flowers of many patterns
God and Goddesses, of fear and love;
Basked in the Sunlight, baked in Earth,
our lifeless expressions of a million joy's worth.


::Vibin Issac::