Thursday, 2 February 2012

The senior lecturer

The senior lecturer.

Class room set –up. 
A blackboard, not even black, but clean. I wiped it clean, with a duster. 

“I have used three words that people often confuse… Are you effective? Are you achieving an intended result? Live with a purpose, aim to attain solid goals, are they there?” 

The elderly lecturer paces about the front of the class. Producing children’s books that make their way round the class. He stresses a point. He stops for a huge pause, then scribbles onto the board with a piece of white chalk. The bragging begins, with a distinct sense of nostalgia and archaic illustrations painting an ideal past, one that had no flaws. 

“I am established, really I am, blah blah blah” 

Get past this, it’s all in the past, time’s passed and you can-not pass through time with this. He sums up the lecture, then classically concludes like a liberation struggle icon: 


“Stay relevant, my people perish because of the lack of knowledge”

Sunday, 1 January 2012

Became a statistic

Became a statistic
He became a statistic
Over the festivities,
A death to become insignificant - got counted as a road fatality
What was a joyride became tragic
And yet the parents never knew but now they had
Funeral imminent, replacing tears of joy
Now tears of watching the coffin going down for this boy
Said he became a statistic, fatalities that the roads were seeing
Happy over the limits till one was limited
To eating from straws or having food mashed instead
A time of celebration can easily be transformed to a morning
Were the colour is black
And the gathering is mourning
And then we come back to ask what caused it
We forgot to stay alert when it mattered the most and now we hurt
Living for the moment was never flawless
Jumping all the other stages like being sick
One wrong move caused so many deaths
And to us that just became another statistic

Saturday, 31 December 2011

Flying Kites

Is it true-
True happiness comes from pain?

Release the string..,
The gentle breeze will ferry you home




Hold strong...
Flying kites
The path is clear,
Take flight-
Run along!!!



Watch as your kite - Begins to soar
Above all others
And higher a little more

Flying kites
You can take away everything

But Mackina's pen,,,
                                                            Handwritten thoughts..
                                                          Is were i draw my might :-)

A Lost Treasure: The Pauper

The Pauper; On a path of self destruction...

Amazed by the negative energies he had been amassing-
Ridiculed, till he let go of a rich fantasty.

Still trying to find his feet..
He cant give back...

Its true- there are certain things I cant handle...
But this is my pain;

Thats why i stand from a safe distance.
And watch destiny unfold
And watch lovers love turn cold
And watch as your grip on reality lose hold

Perhaps the pauper...
Has lost his only treasure,

Perhaps the pauper...
Has abandoned his dream



Perhaps I am the pauper...

Friday, 6 November 2009

W.T.F. (Welcome to Facebook)

I see these faces with each and everyday
We changing faces, claiming artificial status
I'm representing that part of my life
I claim glamorous
That part I celebrate
I hide all my emotions
I create artificial realities
On these walls you posted
The comments made
Many forced it
A window looks into my eye...
Into the depth of my soul
Only to find a lie
To take note of these notes,I seek notifications
i suggested a comment before my wall got tarnished
I lived In-Boxing as i was booking these faces,
As these books lack faces
I book facing the consequencies of not face book
And so goes the addiction off the hook
Welcome to my world
Welcome to my Face-Book