Reminiscence #OdetoNITT #batch2011

If you enter the land of the bullshit and the cows,

you need to know the whats, the wheres and the hows.

The doors of  Thuvax opening is quite the gethmax.

Bringing up smells form the nearby batturas and double kalakki,

spiced up with the NH47 dust along with a moo-symphony.

The admin clock tower dawns from above ominously,

measuring the time, the horror and the life you’re about to see.

See beyond the initial grandeur for a clean CLC,

clean because here students hardly go class to study.

An agate lies on the shores of a blue coral reef.

Time well spent in the good first years of college glory.

Wait for the peril in beryll, you become jaded thieves,

of all that pamara stores and your class topper’s photocopies.

In between all those powercuts and weekend leaves,

you’re sure to have a phantasmagoric trip.

Lost in the wild inception of September’s dreams,

some might say , “Wake me up when Festember ends”,

others might prefer the live faction of college enthu

and start wondering , “How far that Opal girl will be”,

while waiting in dark library corners with lipton puffs.

He would be going coconuts ,while she would she sipping tender coconuts.

After some gyan from the February Pragyan,

all you would want to know is which department you represent.

A frenzy begins with every NITT-fest cacophony.

All students regardless of talent registering for each and every event.

As time flies and when the acads and the accoms get to you,

You either end up in the pirate ship of fools searching for unknown pearls

in the deep Ganges while leaving signatures of whiskey deep

or in the lit up wings of Lapis terror,

where whether L.I.F.E goes on with or without P.S,

you’re always together in this heap.

As ruby shines independently , the toppers of topaz

and the stoners of sapphire work in seperate worlds.

Oh ,

The starry quiet of the terrace nights.

The million treats for the stomach and the eyes.

The cigarette smoke and the friendly fights.

The life in progressive senti and of  immaculate vetti

represents a sea of reminiscence , to you NIT-T.

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Whiskey Shebang Erotics #OdetoJim

The dawn of devils cry to heaven

spreading across a reptilian desert

to rewind years ago, sixty seven

and a life seemingly so infinite.

In the mystic river of Rock n Roll

A lizard was the king of the shoal.

It is time to bring Jim to the fore.

It was time for him to swim ashore.

He slithered ,swam in a deep river alcoholic

too shallow were the wines of human tastes.

For he was a profound child, diabolic

and dangerous , oh dangerously insane.

Laughing out of sadness sad,

a crystal soul perpetually pristine.

Crying out of happiness mad,

untarnished by fangs, feminine.

There he was the shaman rock poet,

dancing with life , a deadly duet.

stripping women while they heavily sighed

he had nothing to lose and nothing to hide.

As clouds and doctors called upon his life,

a beard grew along with premature wisdom.

An insecure muse , the poet’s wife

swam along with him, the sake of love dumb.

Drank to life until the beautiful end,

his best friend, called upon from whiskey deep.

He swam horizons from tide to tide,

Broke on through to the other side.

P.S: Words sometime gather up and get drunk in a local bar , when they leave what happened in the bar is called Poetry.

Hoping to see.

A thirsty traveller challenged himself to see,

dared anything that can be visioned, anything that can be.

He had hope as his mirage and mirages as his hope,

for his thirst was vast,like the dreams he wished to see.

He closed his eyes wide for his thirst,wanderlust,

to see his world, his dreams galore and his future’s first.

He saw his smile spreading across the farthest mile,

until he opened his eyes to see,

what he had dared to vision, what he had always wanted to be.

Vision paralyzed, unparalleled, he was yet another damned visionary.

Speechless was he,at his thirst, an unknown infinity.

He fought for his breath, his thirst came back,

it was just another mirage , you see.

Rip Van Winkle’s dream.

Once naked, now only heavy sweaters,

for the global warmth of human climate.

No more ammo for the weak.

No more emo for the convoluted.

Need to escape.

 

Everything seems elastic.

Nothing viscous anymore.

Surviving in an infantry,plastic.

Fighting to hide more and more.

Need to run and hide.

 

Reading more than just lines ,

Rhyming songs ,watching films and making lies.

Juicy philosophy ,indulging poetry.

An adultery of sacred matrimony.

Need to sing.

 

Getting lost in used beds.

Perpetually horny, we are ,

one of  Her many mistresses.

Tempted when she tongues your ears,

simultaneously stripping your fears.

Need to fuck.

 

When was the last time you ran downhill?

When was the last time you kissed a stranger?

Who is she?

 

Need to be awake.

Green Magic and Stoner Logic.

The possible implications of

the facts you are to read about

Could definitely, most certainly

stun you without a doubt

For, the plant in question

is not any ordinary kind

Its the most awesomest, blossomesht buddy

that any person can find

Found on the highest grassy mountains which blend with the clouds

Or found on the blissful seashore

waiting to be plucked from the ground

Its procured from the deepest forests

like a rare exotic herb

or sold by Mary Jane akka

on the Trichy-Thiru curb

Some crushing, mixing and rolling in a jiff

if finely done, deftly done, you’ll have yourself a spliff

Its not just the booming or taxying that gets me all in a flurry

There’s the quite unique marijuana high

that you cannot forget in a hurry

For it is a moment of supreme ecstasy

and superior imagination to bolt.

A sense of utter lightheadedness

leaving you oblivious to a jolt.

And the flood of insane ideas

that storm your depleted brain

that sober heretics around me

look on with disdain.

It betters concentration, amplifies your senses

but leaves you a tad bit clumsy, or arbitly jumping fences

So join this fucking stoned age Give in to green desire,

Release your inhibitions,

Get ready to light a fire

For when life’s just sad

And things seem tragic

Light a joint

Its Fucking Magic!

by- http://www.myspace.com/438365759

Hot Violet.

A man waits.
He perpetually bleeds.
“O Pity , where are you ?”
“Please let me know when you come,” he says.
“Let me be ready for your sharp knife,” he prays.
Smooth grey fill the sulky skies, as Pity creeps in.
Grey gets the mood as she stubbornly hides.
Her momentary stings are with spits of liquid shame,
regardless of name , fame and the rules of the game.
The silence closing in from all around ,
unable to bear.
A hundred knives , magnificent.
A thousand knives lucid.
Pierced ears , deafening.
Clenched teeth, breaking.
But still he says,
“O Pity , you fool,
you make me drool,
both with your beauty and my hunger.
Your knives bend on me “.
He laughs out aloud while he bleeds and becomes dry.
He’s a man with one eye, one leg and an empty heart.
Cheeks red she slowly floats away.
Floats away,along with a sad song
and her own shame she bought along.
The Man grows big with hot blood,
as his shadow too, ominously behind,
his eyes blowing  Hot violet.
It’s blinding heat ,divine.
It’s like he has hundred suns under his throat.
The demons growl along with him.
They were his hidden hunger for human flesh.
He is an animal.
He is a cannibal.
He’s called Anger.
“Ha, Pity , I pity you”

The pinjipona seruppu.

He knew he had been outage for long,
But that didn’t mean he was out of song.
Kuppusuamy was dazed, yet again.
Its not the first time he was filled with disdain.
He didn’t give a fuck about the forest anyways,
the ugly duckling blojums into the swan always,
the fox had always found the grapes sour ,
and the boy who cried Wolf ! before,
Well, he can’t care for him anymore.
The Chinki Stash plan had gone off-route.
The Himalayan Aghoris had made him go mute,
Becoming omnipresent in their new recruit.
He knew he was an old school fool.
But to see the crow act the fool
and drop its vada ,just spoilt his mood.
For, the grapes hadn’t stopped the fox’s drool,
which reminded him of his school.
Kuppu in school was no fundoo,
He was jus a fat, frat gundoo,
In fact , his mom often called him mundoo,
But his dad just said ,”Do what you God-a do.”
One day in class he heard,
“Ken Ai Bee yoar friendu?”
and thats how he met Vengadaraju,
or it could’ve been Vengadarajulu too.
When he was 8 he fell for Sindhu,
later to realise she had fallen for his friendu,
He knew there were things that he can’t undo,
but that doesn’t mean he can’t fall for a hott mellu.
In class he had to cover up his jollu,
that, one day his teacher asked,
“Do you have any doubt kupppu?”
But unable to come out of his mappu,
he asked her a question with kozhuppu,
and that is the story of the pinjipona seruppu.
Of course, later, Rajulu came and asked,
Dude-u! what was that queshtionu?”
Kuppu just said, “Kha ! Thuuuu.”