A letter to Death.

Death almighty,

Loner's deity,

Show me pity,

Seek this city,

Find my home,

And like an ugly gnome,

Ascend the stairway into my room

Where I lay sleeping in my bed's womb,

To wake me up and call my name

From a list you carry like your money or fame.

Keep one eye on the bedside table,

Where lay that deadly juice of Sable,

Both sweet and bitter, and bittersweet,

A carrier to worlds with silver streets

And golden footpaths. Please take my hands

And make them empty in into my glands.

As body dances with passionate stranger,

O Death, please lead me towards a danger.

The subtle sultry seductress - Sable,

Like a half remembered childhood fable,

Shall lull me into a trusting state

And you can guide me by my hand to a Golden gate,

And stop as I drop into an unseen cavity,

My death, pushed by you, and pulled by gravity.

Janie's Blue Rock

Janie kept a blue rock beside her bed,

Coz her mamma had warned her

Of red snakes that may visit at night.

Janie wore a red bandana on her head

Coz her daddy always told her

How wonderful she looked with it shining bright.

Janie met a junkie in a cheap theater

And they hit it off and stood one night

In a cheap motel, on a creaky li’l bed.

Janie wed a rich man in a deep blue sweater

A man with power and money and might,

Who outwards was charming and inwards was dead.

Janie on her death-bed, on a Christmas night,

Was touring her memories inside her head

Till the weather turned stormy and wetter.

Janie had stumbled, maybe through a wrong right,

Into the time in her childhood. She was on her bed

When the snake did visit and start to wet her,

Janie, with his hypnotizing gaze. He bred

A charming dread that did get her

To forget the blue stone that she’d kept for the fight.

Janie lay and wondered, on her death-bed,

Maybe life would be better,

If she’d not killed it that night.

P.S.: Just wanted to sort of point out that the rhyming pattern goes a full circle in cyclic shifts: ABC-ABC, BCA-BCA, CAB-CAB, and ABC-ABC.

My first song! Song-ette more like.

Renaissance’s Golden Light

All you people heading to the centre

Have you ever really roamed the sides?

All you people taking sides with the winners

Have you ever really joined a fight?

All you people taking quick decisions

Have you ever really looked around?

All you people with your big processions,

Have you ever really heard how you sound?

If everyone took a step down, and then one more,

Every person in the world we live in.

I can bet you my life that the Earth will shine

With renaissance’s golden light.

Everybody who’s been thinking ‘bout the future,

Do you really care for any but yours?

Everybody who’s been thinking ‘bout God,

Do you really need to go down on fours?

Everybody who’s been thinking ‘bout profit,

Does it really even make you glad?

Everybody who’s been thinking ‘bout the taboo,

If you’re honest, is it really that bad?

If everyone took look around, and then one more,

Every person in the world we live in.

I can bet you my life that the Earth will shine

With renaissance’s golden light.

The premature elegy of the wind-bent reed.

I was born a white diamond in the world all around me.

I was a bright little kid with dirt on his trousers.

I was curious, and an asker of fundamental questions.

I was a hero, genius, and parents’ true fancy.

I was a lover of reason and player of challenge.

I was one thousand reasons that point to the best life.

I had fallen in love; I had shot deep inside me.

I had doubts and rejections, with things in myself.

I did see the beauty, rewarded for courage.

I did see the heights that a human could go to.

I did dream of me, as Leonardo da Vinci.

I uttered a cry when a nightmare awoke me.

I forgot its lesson, when failure did shake me.

I was tricked into failing by politicians around me.

I was broken inside by love that had failed me.

I was torn by the waves of sadness and sorrow.

I was held by strong hands, whose trust I had broken.

I kept strong and fell weak, as the days dragged me over.

I made a woman cry, a woman who loved me.

I died the death of a Romeo, who couldn’t satisfy his Juliet.

I lived the life of a warrior returning defeated.

I met strangers who shocked me, and looked at a mirror.

I gave room in my heart, to good hope and sunshine.

I’m going to jump, to dive into dirt now.

I’m going to look the real world in the eye.

I’m going to shake off all heart-warming fancy.

I’m taking the remote into my hands now.

I’ve waited enough for eagles to guide me.

I’ve waited in vain for beauty to find me.

I’ll die the death of a martyr unneeded.

I’ll be buried in a heath, burnt and unvisited.

Remembered by none, and loved by some.

The failure's farewell.

If the boy who wanted to cross the street

Was not run over, and

If the rose that was left on my table

Was not wilted, and

If the man who wanted to embrace the world

Was not buried, and

If the milk on the breast for the newborn baby

Was not bitter,

Then this world of mine would be for me to live in.

But alas, the boy is dead, run over,

And the wilted rose turned black overnight,

And the man held the baby as he went underground.

So today it is decided, as the day of love draws close,

That the boy shall look to newer streets

That lead to fields of roses

Where love and beauty embraces souls,

Or deadly doses of poisoned venom

That killed before contact.

The boy once played in his backyard,

With friends and fancies juvenile,

But too many creeping thoughts have haunted him,

And too many sleeping joys have denied him,

And too many of his expectant hopes have been doused;

He looks now through eyes that have forgotten

To see such things.

As he'd grown up, many a rose had landed

On his doorsteps in his dreams,

But he spent his time until full-grown

Without any in his woken hands.

The man he became didn't forget the child

And reared up with his stock of fuel,

To tell the world what he believed,

And give to it something to be cherished,

Alas again, the man was buried,

Under the rocks of power, in a circus

Where the ringmasters didn't like him.

And while dying he had remembered,

How once as a baby he had held

His mother's breast against his mouth

As his hungry heart led him to that

One pure source of eternal manna,

But discovered that the milk that came out

Was brown and bitter, and caustic to his gums.

Iron-smith

Sixty horsemen rode to town

Through dusty forests greenly brown

To bear the news of their invasions

Plundering lands and wasting nations

Sixty horsemen went around

Killing men and making sound

To spread the word to every one

That terror comes to block the sun.

Only one brave iron-smith

Who iron had been working with,

To build his king a fatal sword,

Ten feet long and thickly broad,

Did look them in the eye,

Sword in hand and head up high.

He killed a score, and then one more,

Slaughtering men and mounts, before,

A well-judged pitching of a pike

Did cause the point to break his skin,

Leaving blood to bathe the spike

That went on further, deep within.

Fare thee well, freebird.

Skip to the trees and sing to the breeze,

And shout to the wide blue seas,

Thy lover has cometh, on thy golden carriage,

To take thee away from me.

Go thee away on thy heavenly trip

And wave me a turned goodbye,

And give me happiness within my being

When I stare into your joyful eye.

Let winds feel warm, as you grow wings

To soar atop their gentle streams;

Directed by him towards a place

Once visited in your dreams.

Be the disappearing speck, afar,

Half hiding in clouds,

Till with a final glint you go

Leaving no slightest scar.

Let stars above shine bright to you,

Let maoons of Earth and Heaven dance,

Let suns from all the universe

Rain light on you as you advance

To realms beyond what I have seen.

Let love and passion bestow themselves

On two of you, both passionate lovers,

And make your time as fair as elves,

Reminding you of childhood dreams,

You once put away on dirty shelves.

So, with my dreams, my love, Goodbye,

Till we again, under sea or sky,

Two wandering souls, one quenched, one thirsting,

To sounds of thousand dams a-bursting,

Find our searching souls, and laughing eyes.

Us and high: Part 3 (me)

People in their houses, please awake and wander out,

The mountains are walking to the sea.

Fall to your knees, oh, fall to your knees.

The mountains are moving with vigour unexpected

To the borders of its land.

It has contemplated jeopardy, to leap ever so gracefully,

And dance with the sun, for the flames held no heat

For his saddened rocky shell,

Before falling into the swirling arms, that, to receive him,

Were held out by the sea, to be drowned without agony,

Visiting her very depths, trying to spy

THe deepest secrets in her sunless beds, but spotting only tombs

Half lit to warn the forward marcher

Of demands that most could never satisfy.

The mountains did dream of reaching deep within

To search for that hidden cave inside,

Whose entrance was bound,

By rocks old and sound,

When as a child, an earthquake had stolen his dreams.

But presently older, and very much bolder,

They protect and follow their dream,

To proclaim to the world, in their bouldery voice,

Their choice.

He heads to the shore with steps that shook

The universe around him.

He looks to the sea, his eyes stinging as she threw

The sun's rays at him with a glint in her skin.

He prepares to leap as shore approaches,

To dance, as planned, with the sun up high,

When a question freezes him in mid-action:

A question thrown from deep within him,

That said, but I have not learnt to swim.

A little college brilliance!

The following is an actual question given on a University chemistry final exam.

The answer by one student was so “profound” that the professor shared it with colleagues via the Internet, which is why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well.

Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle’s Law that gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed or some variant.

One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let’s look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that, if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell.

Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell. Because Boyle’s Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay constant, the volume of Hell must expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Sandra during my freshman year, that “it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,” and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number 2 must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is endothermic and has already frozen over.

The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is extinct…leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being - which explains why, last night, Sandra kept shouting “Oh God!”

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED THE ONLY “A”.