Words...

                      You hear it only in silence,
                                                                they say.
            Lifts your heart and gives you wings,
                                                          they say.
Did I get my wings?
                              No! Not really!! Nay!!!

May be guy was right.

They’ll put away the signs,
When you won't read them anyway.
God won’t show up at the same bar everyday.
(Or may be he's sobered up! Yai!!)

Or may be it’s a thing gone bad.

Words, words, words…
Bitter, cruel, steely words…

           Words, words, words…
           Scheming, annoying, buy by the dozen words…

                     Words, words, words…
                     Useless, faceless, loveless words…

                      Words are very nice
                      Words are deep
                      Words get you nowhere
                      Words you cannot keep.

What happens to the guy that cannot live
With the one thing that he ever had?

Bobby

I’ve just finished watching Bobby, the movie on the assassination of Senator Robert F. Kennedy. The movie had been lying around in my room for weeks; I thought it would be just another political thriller. The only thing I knew about RFK is that he walked in the shadows of his famous elder brother for the most part and later met with the same tragic ending. The movie wouldn’t change that much if it hadn’t been for the actual footages and speeches, especially his speech on Mindless Menace Of Violence. I am pasting it below. This and his other speeches can be found at http://www.angelfire.com/pa4/kennedy/speech.html

I also kinda liked this article - http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/blogs/mlasalle/detail?blogid=38&entry_id=10973

City Club of Cleveland, Cleveland, Ohio April 5, 1968

Mr Chairmen, Ladies And Gentlemen,

This is a time of shame and sorrow. It is not a day for politics. I have saved this one opportunity, my only event of today, to speak briefly to you about the mindless menace of violence in America which again stains our land and every one of our lives.

It is not the concern of any one race. The victims of the violence are black and white, rich and poor, young and old, famous and unknown. They are, most important of all, human beings whom other human beings loved and needed. No one - no matter where he lives or what he does - can be certain who will suffer from some senseless act of bloodshed. And yet it goes on and on and on in this country of ours.

Why? What has violence ever accomplished? What has it ever created? No martyr's cause has ever been stilled by an assassin's bullet.

No wrongs have ever been righted by riots and civil disorders. A sniper is only a coward, not a hero; and an uncontrolled, uncontrollable mob is only the voice of madness, not the voice of reason.

Whenever any American's life is taken by another American unnecessarily - whether it is done in the name of the law or in the defiance of the law, by one man or a gang, in cold blood or in passion, in an attack of violence or in response to violence - whenever we tear at the fabric of the life which another man has painfully and clumsily woven for himself and his children, the whole nation is degraded.

"Among free men," said Abraham Lincoln, "there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet; and those who take such appeal are sure to lost their cause and pay the costs."

Yet we seemingly tolerate a rising level of violence that ignores our common humanity and our claims to civilization alike. We calmly accept newspaper reports of civilian slaughter in far-off lands. We glorify killing on movie and television screens and call it entertainment. We make it easy for men of all shades of sanity to acquire whatever weapons and ammunition they desire.

Too often we honor swagger and bluster and wielders of force; too often we excuse those who are willing to build their own lives on the shattered dreams of others. Some Americans who preach non-violence abroad fail to practice it here at home. Some who accuse others of inciting riots have by their own conduct invited them.
Some look for scapegoats, others look for conspiracies, but this much is clear: violence breeds violence, repression brings retaliation, and only a cleansing of our whole society can remove this sickness from our soul.

For there is another kind of violence, slower but just as deadly destructive as the shot or the bomb in the night. This is the violence of institutions; indifference and inaction and slow decay. This is the violence that afflicts the poor, that poisons relations between men because their skin has different colors. This is the slow destruction of a child by hunger, and schools without books and homes without heat in the winter.

This is the breaking of a man's spirit by denying him the chance to stand as a father and as a man among other men. And this too afflicts us all.

I have not come here to propose a set of specific remedies nor is there a single set. For a broad and adequate outline we know what must be done. When you teach a man to hate and fear his brother, when you teach that he is a lesser man because of his color or his beliefs or the policies he pursues, when you teach that those who differ from you threaten your freedom or your job or your family, then you also learn to confront others not as fellow citizens but as enemies, to be met not with cooperation but with conquest; to be subjugated and mastered.

We learn, at the last, to look at our brothers as aliens, men with whom we share a city, but not a community; men bound to us in common dwelling, but not in common effort. We learn to share only a common fear, only a common desire to retreat from each other, only a common impulse to meet disagreement with force. For all this, there are no final answers.

Yet we know what we must do. It is to achieve true justice among our fellow citizens. The question is not what programs we should seek to enact. The question is whether we can find in our own midst and in our own hearts that leadership of humane purpose that will recognize the terrible truths of our existence.

We must admit the vanity of our false distinctions among men and learn to find our own advancement in the search for the advancement of others. We must admit in ourselves that our own children's future cannot be built on the misfortunes of others. We must recognize that this short life can neither be ennobled or enriched by hatred or revenge.

Our lives on this planet are too short and the work to be done too great to let this spirit flourish any longer in our land. Of course we cannot vanquish it with a program, nor with a resolution.

But we can perhaps remember, if only for a time, that those who live with us are our brothers, that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek, as do we, nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and in happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can.

Surely, this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something. Surely, we can learn, at least, to look at those around us as fellow men, and surely we can begin to work a little harder to bind up the wounds among us and to become in our own hearts brothers and countrymen once again.

Simon & Garfunkel – The Sound of Silence

Not your fault

[Found this in the trash. Might as well keep it since theres nothing better]

It is not your fault my dear.
It is I who knock that door.
Cant seem to resist – the world of make belief
There I become what I hate.
There I stay, I flip, I forget,
That when the night’s run, everybody’s left
Theres nothing there, not even regret.

It is not your fault my dear.
You are not to blame.
It is I who ask for madness, play that silly game.
But what am I to do my dear? Must hide the tear
Got no place else to go.
It’s the ride down hills, gives me the chills,
Must go down below.

You have left and so have they
The rock, the river, the trees.
They’ve driven off far and left me a car,
But taken the car keys.

I know my dear, you don’t want me here
For it cannot be.
But I beg you dear, do sit near
When I tell you I love thee.
I’ll crawl back my dear, have no fear,
To the hole that I belong.
And there I’ll stay, day after day,
Till they’ll play our song.

The Mind of Absolute Trust

Yet another amazing thing I found in goatman’s blog. This one explains it all -

http://www.yakrider.com/Buddha/Zen/SengTsan.htm

ParkeHarrisons

Reclamation (2003) Robert & Shana ParkeHarrison

Came across an amazing picture by the ParkeHarrisons at Dorian Gray’s blog. Browsed a little to find more pictures by the artist couple. Here are some links –

http://www.parkeharrison.com/
http://www.edelmangallery.com/parke-bio.htm
http://www.artphotogallery.org/02/artphotogallery/photographers/parkeharrison_01.html

The 5 stages of grief

http://mt.essortment.com/stagesofgri_rvkg.htm

Anybody got any idea how many times one can loop in these for one reason and for how long?

bad show

“House is the best TV show ever!”
“No beating Desperate House Wives”
“Desperate House Wives eh?”
“Yeah that’s what I said.”
“kheks”
“You got something in your mind?”
“Oh not really…am just wondering…”
“What??”
“That’s a lot of estrogen”
“What???”
“You know…estrogen….chick hormone…theres must be a lot of that in your system”
“Huh?”
“One has to be at least half a chick to like that show”
“So I’m a chick??”
“lets just say you are very much in touch with your ‘feminine side’”

HAHAHA lets take a picture of this. HAHAHAHA …you guys crack us up! Lets have another round. Cheers!

“Whats wrong with the show?”
"Nothing is very well made”
“Then what are you babbling on about?”
“You wouldn’t get it”
“No, no, do tell me….Mr Sooo Masculine, enlighten me.”
“Kheks. Chill…I just don’t like the show and I wanted to put one over you. Let it go.”
“No, tell me, what makes you such a MAN?”

Hey guys, guys, cut it out! What the hell are you doing?? Lets just enjoy the drink!

“How about we walk out of here and I smash your head? Would you get it then?”
“You smash my head?? OOO! I'm soo scared!”
“That’s right. I smash yours. You are the bigger one, I get it. But I probably had more practice.”
[stands up and walks out]
“Yeah walkout dumb ass. What else can you do?"

What the hell guys! Shut up already! Go get him.

“okay…I’m shutting up.”
“Yeah! Shhhhh!”
“Did you just shush me??”
“Shhhh”
“YOU DIDN’T FUCKIN SHUSH ME. DID YOU?? CAUSE IF YOU DID THAT THAT’D B BAD! REAL BAD”
“I wasn’t talking to you”
“I DON’T FUCKN CARE WHO YOU WERE TALKING TO YOU. YOU CAN NOT FUCKN SHUSH ME! IF SOMEBODY CAN SHUSH ME THAT SOMEBODY AINT FUCKN YOU! YOU GET IT? DO YOU GET IT ASSHOLE?”

THE HELL WITH YOU GUYS! SHUT THE FUCK UP! WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?? YOU GO AT IT LIKE THIS…I’M GOING THROUH A DEVORCE…I’M STILL SMILING…AND I DON’T SHOW YOU ANY OF IT…ANY OF WHAT I’M GOING THROUGH….

YOU PUT ON A SHOW LIKE THAT…OVER SILLY SILLY THINGS…YOU GOT ANY IDEA WHAT REAL PROBLEMS ARE LIKE??? YOU ARE THE ONLY FRIENDS I’VE GOT …WHY CANT YOU JUST GET ALONG??

Life is starting to feel like a badly made TV show. Only trouble is…the shit in it is a bit too real and you cant switch channels if you don’t like the way they play out.

Numbers catching up

Watched the red tail light of Masum’s bike go out the gate and disappear around the bend. The last time I will ever see it. Gonna miss that damned ride, if not the son of a bitch that drove it. Reality check - “Was he the last one?”

Shahed in New York
Romel in London
Rudra in Melbourne
Locha in Toronto
Masum left for Melbourne today.

Where was I?
Was busy with work but that’s not it.
Been attending society parties and drinking a bit but that’s not it either.

Whats been happening the last couple of weeks?
Been out of town.
Visited two dying grannies. (One died last Wednesday)
A cousin had a baby. (Good-looking baby boy. Ma, Pa and the baby are all doing well)
Noticed that my uncles and their wives don’t look middle aged anymore. (They look ‘old’)
Noticed that li’l cousins have grown bigger.
Turned 28. (Cousins found a gray hair)

Even with the electricity, the village still goes to sleep pretty early. Went for a walk along the highway at 2 am at night, hoping to find a tea stall open. Got jumped by some stuff I didn’t want to think about. Thought about all that stuff I thought I got figured out and how they seem to fit everything; life, love, God and the rest. Then thought about the 7 year old kid that died on that very highway some 10-15 years back. They’d just made the road; a real nice job too. The kid was tired on his way back from a fair and decided to use the side for a pillow. Wasn’t really the driver’s fault but he still paid the family 7k for their loss. Everybody cried a lot but they also appreciated the new CI sheet roof above their heads. Then I got back to thinking about the stuff that I thought I had figured and found out I had absolutely no idea what they were. I figured I should give ‘em a rest and just concentrate on not walking into the crap, muddy puddles and heavy vehicles on the way. Guess that’s the thing to do.

No matter how well you figure something out after a while you start doubting everything. You don’t bet on the voices in your head, the screams in your heart or whispers in the air, you only bet on numbers – figures and facts that you can see and touch and count. You start wondering if your made all that up – the signs, the Gods, the magic. May be the universe is just playing out the numbers and that’s that.

I thought I hit one of those spells when I don’t really feel anything. I’ve been feeling things all right and they’ve been scaring the shit out of me. So much so I woke up screaming in that morning. The numbers are catching up.

zombie walk

Doing the zombie walk again. Going to the office in the morning, coming back at night, going to society thingies on the weekend and sleeping away all the private time watching Scrubs. Think they aren’t as fun as they used to be but heck, they keep you hooked till 3 am in the morn and after that you feel pretty exhausted to think, feel or dream about anything else. That’s right. I decided to give myself a break and not think about anything for a change. Don’t really care what I’m trying to hide from.

Anyhow, things aren’t as depressing as the above paragraph make ‘em sound. The other day the boys and I came home around 11 and found Imran’s motor bike sitting there all alone in front of the stairs. The bike was locked of course but that’s just an insignificant detail that we chose to ignore. I guess Imran wheeled his bike in again easily enough. A lot easier than carrying it outside for sure. Still, think about parking your bike, locking it, going away for just 10 minutes and then when you come back its not there anymore and then you find it parked on the street outside the gate. You’d probably be very surprised, then you’d try to find out if the lock was broken, then you’d get all confused and try to remember where you had parked it in the first place. May be for a second you’d make yourself believe that that’s where you parked it when you came in cause you were in such a rush but wait a minute, YOU NEVER PARK IT ON THE ROAD! You’d probably look around a little, but there is nobody around. Spookeey!!!

So long brother…

Sudhi shokol shune hoben boro prito
Purush manush du prokar – jibito, bibahito

[Ladies and gentleman you’d be glad to hear it said
(that) There are two kinds of men – the living and the wed]

~ folk wisdom

The guy I grew up with died (got hitched) this weekend. The smartest, most decent kid in the bunch. He is the silent type; you’ve got to know him well to know how witty he is. Wish I could be more like him. Gonna miss him a lot.


Proton and Rini

“Hey! Aren’t you the older one?”
“Errmm…yep!”
“Hmm…well…hang in there. You’ll find someone [sympathetic tone]”

How many times did the above conversation take place? Lost count after the second millionth time. (Sheesh! Like loosing a brother wasn’t bad enough!)

Had to take it out on somebody. Bad thing about being the elder brother in a wedding is that you have to act your age; can’t pull anything silly. Or can you? ;)


The Plan


The hit
[message reads: Shala (brother in law) No. 1 - I feel so pretty :$]


The impact


The truce

says it all

Click on the picture to see the original. It is NOT just a picture!

So what do you think it says?

Natural Highs

Was supposed to blog about Pan’s Labyrinth. Couldn’t get into it. Saw Nowal’s Natural Hight list and thought about making my own.

1. Good breakfast, tea and the first smoke – doesn’t happen too often
2. Solving a puzzle you’ve been going at for a while – So I’m a geek. You are reading blogs yourself :p
3. The wet wind on your face
4. Dark clouds looming on the horizon
5. The Rain
6. Water
7. Splashing into the water
8. Swimming
9. Watching her eyes getting drunk
10 Kisses!
11. Feel her breathing getting heavier as you kiss
12. Her head on your chest
13. When she tells you she loves you – yes even when you know she is lying
14. Dipping you nose in her hair – easy to lose yourself in there...sighh
15. Talking with dead poets
16. Talking to God – he’s more available than you think
17. Reading fairy tales – yes they are all true
18. Good jokes – miss the ones with ZB, RB and BB
19. Good fights – been a while
20. Being sincere
21. Books that slap you hard, give you a good shake, leave you breathless, transport you to another time and place or just make you laugh your ass off
22. Running out of smokes in the middle of the night and then finding a couple in an old pack
23. Making a difficult shot and knowing you can make 10 more like that
24. Reading old letters
25. Reading old journal entries
26. Right song at the right moment
27. Doing a good one and resisting the temptation to bank on it
28. The pen writing by itself
29. Good talks – managing to cut the crap and say it right
30. Good food - burrrp!!
31. Getting to know a beautiful mind
32. Van Gogh’s paintings – Road with Cypresses and Star
33. Blackouts on moonlight nights
34. Family get togethers – with all 14 kids
35. Movies that leave you spell bound for the rest of the night
36. Watching animals
37. Saying “don’t give a fuck” - and meaning it too

This is ridiculous! The list will go on and on and on! And to think we are always complain life doesn't throw enough good stuff on our way!

Road with Cypresses and Star ~ Vincent Van Gogh

wet crows

It rained all day today. Started out for work (late as usual) and then I couldn’t get a taxi cause the roads were all flooded. Wasn’t too sad about it. Came home and didn’t know what to do. Went online for a bit, wrote a li’l rhyme for a kitty kat and then watched the rain. When it simmered down a little the crows were all over the place trying to regroup or whatever. Looked like they had a rough ride. Watched two baby crows on the sunset for a bit. (Lookes just like other crows only smaller :p) Poor things were all messed up. Guess they didn’t find the rain very romantic.

Went out in the evening with some friends and got all wet on the way back. It was a good shower. Its amazing how much you can still enjoy it if you can forget about the wallet, cell phone, flash drive and cegerettes in your pocket. It was a good walk.

On the way back, decided to ‘cry in the rain’ a li’l. Did all sorts - the baby wail, the girlie whine, the teenage sob, the heartbreak whimper, the oldie weep, the godfather howl, all of it! Was quite a performance I must say; spooked a lot many passers by along the way. Had a lot of laughs.

Speaking of laughs, I remember we had some during the showers last year as well. We had to go to a clinic to pick up somebody’s medical report. By the time we got there we were soaking wet. Walked up to the information desk with water dripping from my hair, nose, cloths, everywhere. My shoes made a squishing noise at every step and I left a trail of water on my way. Long story short, I was all wet and it was rather obvious what happenned to me. I asked the young lady at the desk about the reports I went for. The receiptionist took a good look at me, put on a sweet sweet smile and asked, - “Is it raining outside?”

“No! I just went for a dip in the lake on my way up here.”
What else could you say anyway?

reading

Been reading The Alchemist. Can really relate to the story; feels like I’ve known it all along.

“when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it” – says in the book. Dunno if its true, but sure sounds nice.

Was flipping through the love poems of Rumi before hitting the sack; the book opened at this page

I am life itself

You have been a prisoner
of a little pond
I am the ocean
an its turbulent flood
Come merge with me
Leave this world of ignorance

Be with me
I will open
the gate to your love

Whiskey in the jar

[Was listening to it all day]

As I was goin' over the Cork and Kerry mountains
I saw Captain Farrell and his money he was countin'
I first produced my pistol and then produced my rapier
I said stand and deliver or the devil he may take ya

Musha ring dum a doo dum a da
Whack for my daddy-o
Whack for my daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar-o

I took all of his money and it was a pretty penny
I took all of his money and I brought it home to Molly
She swore that she'd love me, never would she leave me
But the devil take that woman for you know she treat me easy

Musha ring dum a doo dum a da
Whack for my daddy-o
Whack for my daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar-o

Being drunk and weary I went to Molly's chamber
Takin' my money with me and I never knew the danger
For about six or maybe seven in walked Captain Farrell
I jumped up, fired off my pistols and I shot him with both barrels

Musha ring dum a doo dum a da
Whack for my daddy-o
Whack for my daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar-o

Now some men like the fishin' and some men like the fowlin'
And some men like ta hear a cannon ball a roarin'
Me I like sleepin' specially in my Molly's chamber
But here I am in prison, here I am with a ball and chain yeah

Musha ring dum a doo dum a da
Whack for my daddy-o
Whack for my daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar-o

~ An Irish folk song by U2

Monday morning

Monday morning. Was up all night watching movies. At 5 am went to the bus depot to pick up ma’s fruit basket. Found it easily enough. Brought it home and then threw half the stuff in the trash can. At 6 went out again for breakfast. The sky was dark, cloudy and dreamy. The wind was wet and felt good on the skin. The storm caught up when we were half way down. The road was swamped with paper, paper bags, leaves and leaflets. They were flying around everywhere, dancing about with the wind, whirling mad. It was like dusk, only better. The mad citizens weren’t crowding the streets. No obnoxious noises of silly giggles, macho bullshit or disco cars. The trees looked greener, the sky was a dark blue gray. And against them picture the red Krishnochura’s dancing down on the street, creating a flowery red carpet. Felt like jumping about, felt fantastic. Started telling my bro how lovely I thought everything was. Figured soon enough that my talk was spoiling the moment and shut up.

By the time we reached the restaurant it was raining mad. They still hadn’t opened so we waited in the landing smoking. Loved everything I set my eyes on. The occasional rickshows (even with their ugly banglalink curtains), the green vegetable van, the morning walker in white sweat shirt, the lady with the up side down umbrella, the blush that followed the incident and the subsequent good humored smile.

I wondered about all the things I’d seen in those couple of hours and thought if I’d be able to write about them. Like, painting a picture that’d show ‘em all. I knew that I couldn’t. But it didn’t get me down at all. Was happy to be back home, under a roof, watching the rain outside, smoking the last one in the pack, feeling the eyelids getting heavy. Slept like a baby after a long time.

Feels just like those days

It was hot. The electricity went out to make us more ‘comfy’. A baby in the next building started crying. Sounded a lot like a wailing cat. I joined in without thinking. Guess the baby got quite a shock and stopped crying. May be it’s a good thing. Or may be it’d be a bad memory s/he will carry around forever. Sorry li’l fella. Dint mean to be a prick. Don’t take it to heart. Gonna meet a lot many insentive morons like these in the years to come.

Feels just like those days
A good 10 years back,
Smoked a hell lot less back then
Much less than a pack.

The world’d seem so big.
Had lotsa holes to dig.
All those years ago
When I wasn’t such a pig.

As I was saying
It was a long time ago.
Then may be not that long
Just 10 years back or so…

Had just given up a shell,
Was coming back from hell,
Brought some stories back
Was damned eager to sell.

A crazy time it was,
Many years ago,
They’d hand me a colored glass
Every place I’d go.

Everybody was there
Except for the muse.
May be she was there too,
I was just too damned confused.

Some’d beck and call.
“Lets dance!” – they'd say.
“Heck, you do it on your own.”
“I aint gonna play”.

They’d telll me to go ‘n fake it,
To claim what isnt mine,
I’d tell ‘em to go fuck it.
Cheap thrills suit me fine!

Feels just like those days
When the roads were many and wide.
Heck, think I’m gonna do it.
Gonna enjoy this ride! =D

it is written

Had my palm read for the first time in my life. During a smoke break at work (I take a lot of ‘em), Liton mama came up to me and asked me if I’d like to have my palm read. Why not! He looked at it for about 5 minutes and this is what he found out –

1. I’m gonna have a natural death. No bullet in the head. (told ya! Hah!)
2. Will have to go to the doctors once in a while; with nothing major though. (So there…no reason to cut down on smokes)
3. Gonna be happily married. (didn’t say how many times though)
4. Gonna have okay money.
5. Will eventually move abroad and spend a long time there. But the first attempts to move are going to fail. (sighhh…)
6. “You feel God very deeply!”. (At this point he looks at me with a puzzled look and it seemed he expected an explanation.)
7. I am a philosopher! (Lol! Okay, okay hold your gutts in people. More on the way.)
8. “Unusually romantic!” (:$)
9. Got a mean temper. Say rash thing at the heat of the moment. Good thing is simmer down quickly enough and try to see the other side of thing.
10. If a small thing helps somebody, I’ll go on and do it. (aww…aint I nice! ;)
11. Gonna do my life’s work after 40. (ahh….that gives me some time! =D)
12. My religious beliefs are going to change drastically. Will become a proper muslim later in life. (This is the one he repeated and underlined)

Seems Mama, the happiest guy at work, has been analyzing me for a while. No wonder it makes me a li’l uneasy when he asks me how I’m doing. He actually wants to know. (only fair since I’ve been doing with everybody since forever.) I have a feeling that number 12 is the actual message he was trying to deliver. But never the less, all of it was nice. In fact, wouldn’t mind one bit if the writings on my hands turn out to be true. Wont mind that at all.

The reason they forbid you to find out about your future, is that you’d take it all for granted and stop trying. Does that mean I will have to cut down on the smokes after all? Shucks! Its not fun anymore somehow!

from YouTube

Fun mails are actually funny at times! =D

Le petit bonhomme en mousse

I hate

I hate.
I hate all of it.
I hate the red lampshades, pretty and dim,
Hate the bunch sitting in the corner,
looking serious and self assured,
being just as confused as the rest of them the whole time.
Hate the kids sitting next,
The boys trying to be men
And the girls, polishing their neils to rip their hearts out.

Hate the fat fuck up front who thinks he’s gotten away with it.
who is trying to believe that he is somehow better than the rest.
And his fat girlfriend should really give it a rest;
All that sexy moves on that body – positively vulger.

Hate the traffic outside the window
Slow, noisy, stuck and mad.
Trying to get ahead anyway they can,
Making a bigger mess for themselves
and everybody else.

Hate the people of the town, gone mad,
Possed by cell phones.
Just as noisy and menacing as the traffic,
And just as pathetic.

Hate my cell phone.
Ringing all the time, messing up my life,
Taking away my peace and pissing me off.
And then not ringing at all.

I hate Me.
The schmuck, stuck in the mud
And can not get out.
The looser who thinks he can figure it out,
That he must catch a glimpse of the moon on the water.
Only to find himself tongue tied, - The fool!
Trying to hide behind words – vague, meaningles, deceitful.
The no good bimbo should really give it a rest
And accept the fact that math wins everytime
And all the rest is crap.

I hate to believe;
Hate not being able to believe

I hate me, for turning like the rest of them
- bitter, noisy and unfeeling.

I hate you
When you decide to fall from grace
And become one of us.

I hate! I hate!!