Cal' Trippin...

Tomorrow by this time I will be home and all this will be yesterday. To me yesterdays are always nicer. When I want to be sad I had more reason to be – yesterday, when I am happy I was always happier yesterday. I guess we are changing with every yesterday.
The future is not important, it will come – eventually and then it will cease to be. But yesterday can never die. Yesterday will always survive.
The present is more important because it shapes the yesterdays to come and creates situations for more yesterdays.
Actually now is the only time I have control – but I don’t like to be in control so I just let it drift away and form this undistinguished yesterday around which I can build all my fantasises. I like creating fantasises. I don’t dream about the future but create images of the past.

the sun has gone away, to the other side but I am not in darkness. I am living in the shadow of the light. I am cool and calculated – thinking in the shadows – rationally balancing between dark light and burning skies
the window bars are my jail. I can see I can strive but I know I cannot go beyond. they are the limit allowing the occasional foray. but the bars are thick – they will never let me escape away..

How are thoughts born without thinking? Only after a thought is born can u think about it. It must be some unconscious mechanism that makes you realize a thought has been conceived. Then you can start to think or at least try to…
Lightening strikes, like an unwanted child
the thoughts are born
Sometimes streaming – nameless and naked
I feel ashamed to think of them
Sometimes they are fairy children
dressed like angels
but that is rare
Sometimes they trickle
Sometimes they flow
mostly they stand still
not caring to grow
Thoughts sometimes unconnected
evil and wicked
otherwise good children in every way
Most of all my thoughts are of things
which most people wouldn’t even care….


Green fields, hot sun, Dhanoli station
we are just steaming along
another station another bridge
we just keep moving on
‘Life’s a journey not a destination’
Moving towards a goal we do not know
Searching for something we can never show
We plough through the future
heading back to the past
where we will stop, when we will slow
noone will ever know.

flying through the day
I am back where I began
I never left my cage
Perched – I preached I screeched
they didn’t even turn to see
Nightingale voice crying of the pain
Echoes resonate
But they would not listen
for I am locked out
and cannot participate
As I watch the world fly by
I realize I am safe in my cage
See the circus, never participate
Jailed behind the bars of my mind I will survive