Man or Machine–Its true

I rise at 8 to the sound of my phone, thus begins my work day,

I don’t eat my break-fast; I must rush, so I walk away,

Ebbing my way through morning traffic, dust and smoke dim the ray,

Blaring horns and classic rock – a fabulous fusion, I dare say!

Flash my id at the sentry, enter the sweatshop of madness,

“Where should I park today?”, only adds to my early-morning stress,

As I close the door of my car and walk into the building,

Within the depths of my head, I hear a silent ringing…

Do you really want to go in?

Ignore it today, I say to myself, just like every other day.

I meander across the creepy corridors, travel to my bay,

Plastic smiles and hollow handshakes are omens of the workplace,

Stone cold cynicism and small-talk, straight to my face…

Its 11, I warm my chair and commence my work, pending from yesterday,

But Wait – let me login to facebook, I want to know what she had to say,

An hour well spent, I rejoice, silently, but in glee,

Till my supervisor walks in with a ton of work and puts me to sea…

I struggle with a plethora of dots, slashes, green, red and blue on white,

12 45 PM – It’s already lunchtime, right?

So I gather my comrades, and run to the elevator,

With silent prayers, that the food today, will definitely taste better…

Alas, my hopes are crushed, stone hard rotis I must gulp,

Beat my steely potatoes down to pulp,

Crib about all things there are to crib about,

My supervisor, the focus of dialogue, without a doubt…

The rest of my day, well-spent in meetings,

Quite a few, but I sleep through many,

Detailed slides and Pointless discussions: Cups of coffees emptied, and cold steel trays,

Throbbing Headaches, and nauseated nods, betray, an eagerness to get away…

1800, its time to leave, so say goodbye to mates at work,

Surely and soundly, I trod the grass; reach my car before its dark,

But the phone suddenly beeps, an email – “Critical Situation, Report to bay! “,

A false alarm, to the lord I pray….

2300, Teary but defiant, I stare at my monitor,

The voice buzzes again - It’s almost over, just a few minutes longer,

A click here, a scroll there, draw my fullest attention,

I scream with joy, “It’s over !” – Tomorrow I shall get a mention….

On the cold dark road, where lovers pass me by, I hurry back home.

To find my dearest daughter, sleeping all alone,

A timid glance at my phone through the corner of my eye,

“I missed her birthday, Oh Dear, Oh My!“

There is no place for love, no room for rest, nor time for celebration,

In the mesh of work, the logic of reasons, at a race pace,

The routine is rotten, but money begotten, thus the cycle prevails,

So Wonder “Am I man or machine? “, and fill in the details…

The mention never comes …

Funny !

Pulp Fiction version:
"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who in the name of charity and goodwill shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee."

Lolcat version:
"Den Sam Jackson said: Teh walkies of the Ceiling Cat beliefer iz fightins an stuff by lotza unfair gredy aholes an George Boosh. Mani cheeborgrz 2 teh beliefer cat cuz of bein nice n stuff 2 helpin kitties thru teh scary plaice. He gud beliefer cat and finden losted kitties an such. Ceiling cat gonna pwn demz who fuk wit my budz. U kno mai name iz Ceiling Cat whe I'z scartchin yo ize out n such. (dere be sum despurting bout dis line, but dis as gud as any Ceiling Cat seeds, so et stayin)"

 

Lucid Dreams

Tired after a long day's work, I sank into my couch without taking my shoes off as soon as I reached home. I took out my cellphone, the windows phone 7

A silent serenade

Why do I feel alone? Why do I feel I am the only one left on this planet at certain times of night, and that no matter how loudly I scream, no one will ever hear me? Is this how everyone feels, or is it just the way I feel? These questions mar my thoughts, as I lay on my couch and watch the Germans beat the soccerroos 4-0 at the World Cup finals in South Africa.
I feel like writing a poem. But I don’t know what I should write about. Here goes –

Silence is the music for my deaf soul,
Quiet and Peace take their toll,
I want to be amidst a crowd,
Hear voices, merry and loud…

Many a mistakes I have made over time,
My feelings are worth no more than a dime,
I hurt someone, stabbed her hard,
I look back and swallow a shard…

Lust and Greed led me to doom,
I sit cold, within the walls of my room,
Morose feelings and heartache are the norm,
But deep within, rages a storm…

I must and will undo the evils of past,
Throughout my life, the guilt must not last,
Give love a chance, is what I pray,
But the words “ I love you”, I dare not say…


Now I will stop and lay my head to rest,
And stubbornly put my puny heart to test,
Thank you for all the care and concern, love and affection,
God bless my conscience as it withers on the road to perdition…

The Aftermath

Night descends upon the azure fading horizon,
Yet no crickets dare to sing their friendly song,
Every vein within my body has been undone,
Neither friends nor stars to move us along…

Only rhythmic tunes of a shooting gun,
Forcing the victims to a place they don’t belong,
A world where blood and scars bury once beating hearts,
A place where timeless love must depart…

Barbed wired fences chain our helpless souls,
Tender sounds of women as their innocence dried,
Children dying from the life that they stole,
A young man covering the corpse of his bride…

White haunting eyes reveal their lost control,
All their thriving life has now been denied,
Listen carefully and you can hear the Earth cry,
As the smell of lost hope carpets the sky…

The death of Man

Seeking a home, where I am welcome…
O great world of opportunities, where are thou?
I am waiting on a barren island alone,
Where no one can hear out no matter how loud I call…

This is the time, for the clamor to strengthen,
O friends, where are thou, my so called, brethren?
Finding solace in a trite contrast, in untrue love which stabs my heart,
Stark raving mad… ha ha , a cruel laugh, I am he who laughs…

Fury, Bitter and Mellow both wrapped around a thin dying frame…
Twisting and Twirling around, locked in a swamp of furtive feelings..
Mother have you not seen your sepulchral son,
As he wakes up and wails… at dawn…

I wait to live my new life to the brim…
When shall it arrive, or do I just love to dream??
And till then.. Shall I submerge myself slowly into this abyss of darkness
Of Brazen feelings that built mankind, preacher of the black rites thy harbor….

The blessings of God weigh on me,
Dream of things and they may come to you…
Things I never could imagine have now come true,
The last beacon was far away, a waste of this life, one more day…

I am a subliminal surfer on this stormy sea,
Riding upon waves of morbid tunes and the growling thunder of grave decay...

There is a bright white light that comes from within, it rescues me,
At dawn HE comes and pardons me…
I kneel in prayer and further, I shall now atone my sins,
O Lord of Life, the blood of glorious good still runs in me…

I am a crying child, born again,
Alleviate me, O Great God of my perpetual pain…
I want to learn each joy u gave, And each gift you shower I vow to accept,
Endow me with bliss, Enable me to be, Let me feel…

May the preordained pattern within, this world of infinite dimensions,
Be visible to me, in all its magnificence,
To my eyes, half cleansed, half closed…
Unlock and Open to me, The doors of perception….

A Poem that is an allegory.... for us miserable souls caught in this traumatic life...

We never ever find time to do what we want...do we?