Said it is, that grief can turn a stone into a poet, am I a testimony to that fact?
War of Words
Sitting in the vehicle of logic,
fuelled by audacity, powered by rudeness,
i ended up creating nothing but obstacles
and did everything I could,
to prevent me from reaching the pinnacle.
Wasted my life, my time,
winning fights, while losing battles
breaking the respect cords,
destorying myself, in what I call
the war of words.
No reason, they say
exists to reason it out,
every time in life,
because the end defines the means
and not the other way round.
Retarded I think, I am
emotionally or socially,
i couldn't decide,
the fact that I wrote these line,
allows me to guess i am emotionally fine.
Times there are,
when cursed I feel,
for certain parts of me to exist,
oh! I wish, I had rested them,
or rested myself to peace.
God grant me the tolerance and courage
to tolerate a bit, and change the rest,
but please grant me wisdom enough,
to know the difference.
time taken was epic,
and yet I am forced to think,
if I have learned it to the brink.
a decade down, i realize,
it ain't no good, to criticize,
and didn't the wise man said himself,
that leave the world, first change yourself.
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8 comments:
hmmmmmmmm....so my lil bro has turned into big poet...welll the expressions were superbly articulated and flow impeccable that only leaves one wanting for more ...but i m also left wondering what triggered this :-|
hey,Well written i must say.properly punctuated with ur own angst and insights...!
when windows 98se comes out fresh of the over it has only 16 colours...till you load the display drivers that is....i used to live in red hat land ..till i was booted out for being incompatible, i now live my years in exile on a xp SP2 machine waiting for my ticket to Mac heaven .....i know some programming but null and void are also term that i use as a C.A.
you can count me in for the f1 blog....though racing seasons is still 4 bloody months away....what do you make of the tyre supplier changes...?? and what abt the joke that is A1 gp?
My oh my! What have we here? . First of all I stumble on your blog to find the author engaged in a soliloquy about life and death.Then the lover of Russian literature, the actor par excellence turns out to be as bitter and ruthless a poet as well. Quite unexpected.Would you accept the compliments of someone who's as inexperienced in poetry as a Tenth class student of your school?(Your low opinion of the two batches just after yours is known).
now that you've unveiled the screen that kept a part of my identity, only one question comes to mind...how did you know?(its baffling i must say)
the post, i must say vintage MIS type...nostalgic in every bit of the sense and ruining all chances not taken as well as those missed :)
see you around..
Abstract...yey haunting..
beautiful yet melancholic
strange yet twisted
a journey of self discovery..elevating ones self from the realms of confines..
nice stuff:)
tc
@carleon: go ahead sir, this poem is a ruthless and in your face one and precisely the opposite of what ars poetica expects a poem to be.
i ain't even aware of the rhyme and meter, but would really nice of you to express your thoughts on it
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