you

the deepest emotions are never spoken
the toughest things are most easily broken.

its easier to answer the call of mortal duty
than survive the waves of your immortal beauty.

its easier to imagine death by chance
than suffer the burn from your unknowing glance.

i wish i could forget and get on my way
your memories are embossed forever to stay.

your talk is sweet, but i know its fake
de rigeur for you, but my life's at stake.

you play it like a game, to amuse yourself
i've seen it before, i've burnt myself.

and yet again i find myself consoling my mind
pushing myself through the same old grind.

speed

As the warmth steadily grows
in the frozen body
And the blood slowly starts to flow.

As the first muscle twitches
regaining consciousness
And the eyes slowly open.

As i escape death, the Killer
while she was high
And the life slowly returns.

As i keep aside my Guitar
with her broken strings
And her sad tune slowly gives way.

As the heart beat quickens
the legs run faster
And strong wind lashes across the face.

As the blood gushes through the veins
accelerating with time
And the thoughts run faster still...

Velocity. the heartbeat.

Transient

Its been a long time since I wrote anything in prose (well, most of the recent posts were attempts at poetry), so here are a few lines of my thoughts.

What prompted me to write this was a nonfunctional shower, which either burned me or froze me, and I would wait endlessly for water of some comfortable temperature.

Looking slightly deeper, I realized that often in life, we wait for things to settle down before we begin serious work. After moving to a new place, we often hear people asking us if we have settled down, and whether routine has been set. Thinking about it, I often see myself giving excuses in the first month after a significant change "I am still settling down, getting used to things".

We are really uncomfortable with transients, not only in heat transfer equations (for which we generally use steady state approximations) but also in real life: physical and mental. Jet lag would be another example (slightly inevitable though) of a transient.

Applying the heat transfer analogy (HT happens to be my favourite subjects at present), if the time frame under consideration is smaller than the characteristic time scale, the steady state approximation holds. So similarly in life, we must build speed. Both of thought and action.

I would attribute success to mastering the art of surviving in transients. Not waiting for things to settle down. As the speed of change has gone up in the recent years, waiting for things to "settle down" looks like a folly. We ought to find some quasi-steady state in between transients. (If that line makes sense).

So I'm presently looking at the best ways of building speed of thoughts in life.

Pastmaster

As the sun climbs down
beyond the quiet town
and a mild breeze
whispers with ease
and as the night grows older
the wind blows colder
and a dark gloom prevails
as the mind derails,
And time moves faster
hailing the pastmaster
while thoughts stay still,
motionless till
melancholy grows
and a figurine shows
a hazy form
with the same old charm,
dissolves in the air;
And with despair
as you stare into space
the heart picks pace
and silence surrounds
as death does rounds;
And sands still steady
the body is ready
to flow with the waves
as the mind still craves
for a moment more;
they wash ashore.

Panic grips the heart,

Mind is full of fear,

The writing's on the wall that the end is near,

The writing's on the wall that the end is near.

More limericks

There was a miser from indore,

Who cribbed that his life was bore;

He lived in with his cooks,

And swore by his books,

And reminisced his glorious days of yore.

From hyderabad a dude was he,

As American an Indian could be;

He hated dal-rice,

And ate burger with fries,

And hopped off to San Fran with glee.

There was a fine lady from Mang,

Who nodded her head as she sang,

She ate pizza with cheese,

And shopped with great ease,

And hung out with her cousins in Bang.

From Kalyan a mallu was he,

As pervert as pervert could be;

He boozed with his folks,

And cracked gay jokes,

And never went home before three.

verbs in the first person singular

(composed a few weeks ago)

i write, I read . . .

i sing, I listen . . .

i dance, I watch . . .

i joke, I laugh . . .

i cook, I eat . . .

i earn, I spend . . .

i achieve, I praise . . .

i cry, I console . . .

i die, I condole.

where are "you"?