No Justifications

have you ever wondered why you are here in this moment,

all I ask for the credibility of the senses and those lost sonnets,

If you can feel the numb touch of the time,

you can just stand up commit and accept your crime,

sorrounded by the sounds that lead you to this path,

dignified by the rusted lust for the credence and leftover shard,

take your chances and lead on to the land,

bow down and not out run , dont forget to take a stand,

glittery, shimmery , all wonder it to be like that,

no one ever realises it will turn out to be like and out it goes,

cling on and hold till the end, bond is too strong,

just try not to be feable and march on forward singing the victory song,

the glass is full along with the empty bottle,

dont blow up your chance to fill it again with a full throttle,

life has all the potions you crave for, desire for,

it only matter when you aim for the shots you see through .

Bleached Soul

Jump, hop, slip out from that narrow hole,
those never ending dried up basement vents,
cracks and vents blow the steam out of you,
the drugs help them to widen there horizons.

Lost control to the steering wheel,
eyes were red shot and blood gushed furiously,
the white powder, a gazeless stare, million thought,
endless instincts but the small brain.

Destination is far away, the route is wide,
fuel is full, the tyres are empty, no air,
shaken stirred took on the wheels with a flair,
With the bold step he took he felt a new divide.

High, from life, from the pages he left behind swirling,
embarking upon a new voyage, full of twisted empty barrels,
got many blind and countless stares down the road he took,
but with one mission in his mind all these surplus he clung on to the hook.

With the sun overhead and the screeching of those empty tyres,
made sure he never lost control of the handle,
his mojo was way above the level to wrangle,
his feet touched the ground and leveled the air above his head.

Black Magic

Frozen, fallen from that iceberg
he slipped into the cold blue river,
entering the deep abyss of that mystery,
was the never ending road that lead to the black glory.

He could hear the wolves howling out to the moon,
there weren't no witches around with their old brooms,
it was just the old man watching and sitting ,
with his eyes ever up rolled.

The match sticks were oil slicked,
their lustre was marked with the sparks of past,
and so were lost the silver lining moments,
filled with hollow dignity of that old man.

That old road he followed from a long time,
rusted and burned out that path led to nowhere,
several voices in his head lead him to the days,
days that were filled with the black magic of the woman.

Shifting, riveting and adjusting he mended his ways finally,
people called him a lunatic, but he only knew,
knew that this highway lead him to the antidote,
antidote, erased his longingness towards that magical blackness.............


"People say that love hurts...
love is just a delusional part of their character,
what hurts is their inability to love someone."
-Mohan(21/01/2011)