Eternally Bored

X and Y meet at a sidewalk. They talk.


X: I can well anticipate things a split second before they happen.
Y: So, you do know it's going to rain right now?
X: Er, no. But, I......
Y: Oh, leave it! Can you at all guess that that crow(pointing at a crow) is going to drop it on you?

A crow leaves it's token upon X.
 
X: Oh, listen to me. I had a feeling........
Y: Enough! I've had enough. Goodbye.

Y leaves,

X(still talking to Y): ....But, I had a feeling that you were here to contradict me.


It rains.


X: I'm so bored.

The Scene

A room where every illogical statement made was technologically MUTED.
A man was toiling hard for quite a while to make his speech SOUND but absolutely without any avail. He was being constantly laughed at for not having any VOICE(of reason). Disgusted, agitated, humiliated he would devise one last SPEECH for his fellow room-mates . He said:

"Illogically speaking just for the sake of satisfaction, you guys SUCK."

And that SOUNDED.

Man 1: If I were in the company of X, you'd know how X I am. You guys are so Z.

Z-men- We are X-men, if you want.

And that is how diversity died. :(

Just discovered in Utopia: A transformer converting speech to images produced hollow "tin-cans" as output for all inspiring quotes as input. :D

Merry-go-round

We are heroes, heroes of our time,

Assassins innocent, for we are our own enterprise.

Our blood is noble, our blood is pure,

hopelessly shed from a core unsure.

True souls looking for respite to be hatched by missionaries,
Blue souls breeding destiny like blind visionaries.

The Mutes

The Mutes

All of them were present,
the atmosphere was mute,
each face undeniably cute,
a register never so beaut.

Brothers and sisters, living transistors,
kept pin-drop quiet,
for the attendance, this time,
was not on diet.

"Such a bright day!", exclaimed the speaker taking a glance outside.
But nobody did, in agreement or disagreement, speak
as if somebody had taped each beak,
Speaker says, "Never, in my life, have I seen a day so bleak!"

Quietism prevailed for record duration,
discreetly brewing dangerous intervention.

Suddenly, a pair of hands turned into daggers,
and a heart wished suicide,
without a second of delay,
the suicide embraced homicide.


While the happy furore was on,
a voice ascended like the sun of dawn,
and said, "He is gone, now you may speak.
Good or bad,
let it pertain to the dead lad.
However, before everything, let our humanity speak,
A minute more of silence we can happily add,
for a soul that met, a fate so sad."

Untitled

They made the child fat, they thought, 'Let him be cute' ,
then no matter of dispute,
he was taller than all his age-mates, laterally, of course,
had a crown on his head, virtual, of course.
the child was happy, his parents too, without refute.

Time grew older,
high would reach his shoulder,
he won't fit anymore in that folder,
Each moment he learned he was in no land of wonder,
childhood:jolly, adolescence:sombre.

He was forlorn,
thick man in a thin company,
thick thick thick, oh, so sick!
He pleaded,
"Make me thin, free from sin."

That perpetually dejected creature would now turn to his creators,
and ask, "What now? What more could I have achieved? I'm the earth's tumor,"
And they said, " Stand tall, look bright, son. Couldn't you use it for humor!"

Randomness

When you know that your knowledge isn't at the right place to become known, you know everything.

Record Number: Zero

But, you knew that knowing is drowning,
So, know more and drown,
The glass shows a clown,
No matter how much you frown,
Data does not bring a crown.

Therefore, release, if you please,
Release, if you might,
Art, unintended, is the most arty sight.

Decoration is adulteration,
Dilution of creation.
However, if accepted, lauded, positively nodded,
Criticism sneaks out of comprehension.

Whatever you gathered, whatever ran through those pages,
if you could taste,
you'd know it's the air you breathe in,
And, breath out, without tasting, in haste.

Aador'e Baandor.

It all started with a small argument between him and his parents which lingered on to take ugly dimensions. Poor parents had done nothing but turned the mirror towards his self, to show him what he was actually up to. Out of combined action of rage and despair, Jeet, would storm out of his house and would not return until the lapse of quite a few hours and collective strength of his friends. Hours of persuasion and request from us would find no avail, whatsoever, on his then delusional being. Eventually, he had to be hustled into our house at 2'O clock in the midnight by great means of collective physicality. Splashes of water, sweet reassuring words from my mother and edibles in form of biscuits and more would calm his jittery nerves down and lull him deep into slumber. There, on my bed, he lay flat, to achieve emotional, physical, and mental respite until he was taken away at 7 in the morning by his mother. Such a theatrical performance, Jeet.

Legendary

God help the child.

You be truthful. You be honest. You be obedient. You don't steal goods. You play it fair. You stick to your fucking principle. You plan and do things. You sort your things out. You decide today that what you're going to do 5 years later. You do what you want to be good at. You practice 18 hours a day. You don't want your father to fuck off when he doesn't give you the bucks. You don't smoke. You don't booze. You freaking pray to GOD and you ask for nothing. You don't want your friend to f eel shorter than you. You forgive the ones who sin against you. You be Jesus. What if any of this don't stop Karma?

Salt is peculiar.
And,not at all salty.

On an ordinary(0/365) day, when mommy, somehow, pictures the four walls of her kitchen to be no less than those ultra-thick, royally painted, superfluous walls of "The Grand Hotel", she does not miss adding salt to the food. Food is good. And, it has a taste(remember,not salty) which daddy expects it to have. However, on abnormal days, when mommy skips adding salt to the food. Then, what? Nothing. It's tasteless. You've got to add a tinge of it, yourself, and shoot those balls in. Now, what? How do those balls feel like? SALTY! Bloody salt. Bitch!

 

Newbie!

As you already know,I'm new in this joint. So please stand me even if I blog about how my bathroom(where I do everything except bathing) looks like, with the minutest details(subject to proper imagination).

Zero Adulteration

You can't just run naked about this earth. If you can,then I believe,you're the sexiest person on this planet(don't mind if I see a cunt in place of a dick or vice versa,then). For there are times when you have to use a fork when you actually want to gobble the food up with your hands. And,why a fork,at all? Does the fork take it to a heavenly place in your stomach? Oh,no. It's because you're in a place where you gotta behave like robots. Robots with codes. Codes,if not followed,would cause nothing. A few days time and sheer self- humiliation would end up designing another robot with no distinction(or distance) between it's waist and butt and and the copyright of each pair of their feet belonging to one man. Chuck Taylor. Yet, these robots are flexible enough. They socialise, they do music, they read magazines, they watch tv. All of them having their individual codes. Codes,if not followed,would not keep them alive. Talk about getting naked and cleaning themselves up,they'd never. Because it's so cold(or cool?) out there. I'm one such robot. And it feels nice enough save for a few moments of inner conflicts which gives rise to posts like these. Anyway,my robot is asleep now. And,I'm wide awake. I wish I could decode my encoded mates. Wish I was a robot now.

I don't know if you can make a cloth out of them,but they surely can hide the obvious holes in your cloth.

I see two friends shaking hands,one holding the matchbox and the other,the sticks.
I see two enemies smiling back at each other. Are they trying to reconcile? Oh,please! Stop them. They're the purest creatures now.

So the experiment began. First,the stuff from the brain was deleted and then the stuff from the stomach was deleted. But the stuff from both the locations were preserved into the recycle bin.

A whole plate of cow-dung brought forth. He devoured them like hell,like it was the best food he had ever had.

Now,the stuff of his brain was restored into his system from the recycle bin. But the stomach was emptied once again.

Again a plate of dung brought forth. Man scoffs and frets saying,"Fuck you! I don't need a shithole. I need food."

Why can't I make my own proverbs and use them if they make sense?

Why can't the whore worship her profession if that earns her money?

So it's either of the the two when you've created something new. To them it's either god's grace or you did the job unknowingly. I know what you're thinking,that do you even exist!

I always keep having this feeling,that someone from the above is always watching us. What we're going through or doing is but a joke to him.

If you're ugly,you're beautiful. Keep doing your beautiful work.

The inverse too works fine.

That man had a lot of things to say to the world. He is used to make quotes by himself. But who is so nuts to go through the quotes of such a person? He found a way out. He started dancing. He danced and danced and danced and danced and danced! He mastered dancing! He made fans millions of fans. He stopped dancing. He got back to the quotes.

No not about solving problems this time. The drunken jerk sees the booze-bottle as a bottle of art. Is that a problem,anyway?

I'm dying of cold. Give me my jacket. The one that says "SARCASM" in it's print.

Gaga about Gaga

Once there was a school which had only one class and only one single row in that class. The front part of the row comprised of good guys,the first-bencher being the best. The rear half of the row,obviously,had bad people,the last one being the worst. As we move towards the middle we see the degree of goodness gradually goes on decreasing,same is the case with the degree of badness. In other words,we only find indifferent people on the midway.

During the off-periods,the good people would engage themselves into creative things such as writing,singing,drawing etc. On the other hand,the bad people would play "truth and dare".And there dares would have no limits. No matter what they did to carry out their dares,the good people would always end up being the victims. This would often lead to brawls which would not end until the teacher showed up.


Feeling the desperate need of peace and harmony in the class,the teacher came up with a plan. She split the row into two halves. The rear half was asked to make a new row beside the,newly made,good row. So,the one who was at the last bench would be at the first bench,the 2nd last would be the 2nd and so on. Finally,she made the first-benchers of each row,the representatives of their respective rows. The ones who were at the middle had no function in the class.

Moral of the story:

"I'd rather be hated or loved,than remain unnoticed. Indifference is scary."-Lady Gaga.