Hallowed

Loved.
Heard.
No Joy in being feared.

Malice.
Distrust.
He dare defy us.

Clink…Clink…
30!
Deception.

Keeping in the Shadows,
One Brave,
Some Scared.

Captured.
Shunned.
No need to run.

Questioned.
Answered.
Willing to be martyred.

Thrashed.
Lashed.
For breath he gasped.

Innocent yet Accountable.
Burdened.
Immense will he summoned.

Stoned.
Jeered.
Still no fear.

Nailed.
Stabbed.
It was all planned.

Revenge.
Wrath.
They deserved what they got.

Resurrection.
Light.
They had seen his might.

Peace.
Serenity.
Averseness turned to Affinity.

Amen.

Douceur

I remember seeing this poster in V.V. once… It had the signs for MAN and WOMAN (the same as you would usually find on public bathroom doors) with a heart on the Woman’s left hand side of the chest, and another heart on the Man’s loins. The caption read, “The Simple Truth”. To quite an extent, I often find that to be true.

Gaurav Panday

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I love the sweet smell of perfume on a Friday night. The way it wafts up your nostrils and has a tendency to stir the sort of emotions that only something sweet can. Sweet! The word itself has so many connotations. Hmm... Nice to touch, taste and smell. However, sweet on Friday nights, for me, has only one possible explanation. Nice body, the type that grinds and gyrates itself into oblivion and has a tendency to wrap its legs around you at a moments notice.

No, I’m not sexually deprived. I’m just another man trying to establish his point of view. You see, when man reaches puberty the only thing stirring his mind (which happens to be in his loins) is the idea of Sweet.

“Dude, what are we doing tonight?”

“Not what, you idiot, but who?”

Random ass conversation succeeded by liberal doses of alcohol and hopefully a night of illicit sex. Man has no purpose in life but to breed or feign the same act and give himself pleasure. Reach a club, drink, scope, make eye contact, and feel good. Drink some more, dance to weird music and try to get closer. Touch, talk and then smell. If Sweet, the night could be interesting. If not, see you later. There’s nothing like sweetness.

Fortunately, I’ve met a few Sweet girls. And I’m willing to say that my life is pretty sorted. I tend to get this way when the mercury dips below a certain level and a blanket is not good enough. Enough has transpired in my life to make me feel otherwise.

X&Y. Two seldom used letters of the alphabet. Till about 7^th grade the only thing that I knew the letter X stood for was Xylophone. But, when it meets with Y it still plays a lot of music, if you know what I mean. Fornication not copulation. That’s what we should stand for (literally).

We could be happy doing anything, Substance or not. It’s just that genetically we feel that we have an obligation, hence the tendency to pounce on someone with half a brain but with 34-36(B, C, D).

I don’t intend to speak on behalf of the entire species, but, I feel that it’s much warranted in these trying times, especially if you happen to live north of the equator.