My New Book

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

The Game Memory Plays...

Memry & My Mnd: Hw do I Rmeber the frgoten & ho I fogt the unfogetn

Zero sum game of my mind reaching out to a globule of my brain to brainpick the hidden brainwaves that have got lost amongst the stockpile of blabber and claptrap that not only is polluting the evirons in the neighbourhood of the soft matter beneath my hard skull but also are making my memory an unmemorable chimera is now down to its slog overs.

Just as I was seeking the lost information, a new plethora of bytes came knocking at the doors of the sentries of my nervous system. Already fuzzy and already overprocessed,the brain`s search engine returned results that would even put the erstwhile MSN to shame. That piece of information demanded by an extended agent is often harassed by the beaureaucracy that`s prevalent in the inner system gets house arrested & often is threatened by the goons of the inertia mafia.Flummoxed,flustered and deeply agitated, the mind puts the checks and balances in place to solve the murder mystery but ends up only getting hold of the good guys, letting the restrainers go free and puts the saviours under the shackles of mind cells Ala gauntamento.
          What I know of the last vow that I took upon? Has that promise been kept? Has that memory stayed in the forefront of my 6/6 vision? Or the moment was just for a moment and my memory just a shifting window that gives the vision of the incoming events and lets the already processed ones go by and rot in the marshes of my decaying mind?
            Right now I cant process whatever’s being said to me,that`s because the query isnt laden with constraints Aka "pin" that pinches the FIFO list of the information index & scourges the thing so solicited by the process. One thing though jumps out shock faced from the dark welled annuls of my ROM memory is that I can’t forget to forget that which is touted as being important.
  The purging of the read emails from my inbox sends them to trash. As new emails crowd the inbox, this process is quintessential to maintain the ACIDity of my memory database. But how come the trash automatically disembowels? Why cant the memory stop behaving like a leaky cauldron & instead have a parallel arrangement to catch the overflowing  viscous fluid ? On the first evidence it allows the froth to be manipulated by too many cooks it seems.
With the cloud computing now a revelation, I have begun to see a cloud clouding my brain too. A cloud of unwanted information, a cloud of unsolicited memories, a cloud of piercing, shrieking and cannibalising spectres of the past that haunt the very soul of other memories and scare them into obscurity. Maybe I need a Gmail account embedded in my memory to have the lost memories unfurled and laid bare to my sore eyes now puffy from the rolling they receive whenever a negative response they get from the brain whenever the Prof asks a question to me.

On second thoughts, I think I will ask Google…..They can do anything now ...maybe...just maybe I will remember what I initially wanted to write here someday ....Amen!!!       
Booming voice of the announcers blares over the imaginary microphone,"The brain in blue shorts, donning white gloves this side"... Cheers follow...hooting from the opposite camp..
"The memory in black shorts donning golden gloves that side"....Cheers follow...some catcalls from the audience...

           Since eternity, the match has been pushed to a no contest, stretched to countless rounds...a bloody affair..
with each player delting and pelting heavy blows to other and also receiving a body shot here and there. A upper left cut  here ...a jab in the ribs there ...a sliced forehand that just missed the eyebrows...a powerful punch to the jaw that seemed it took a splinter with it...a block that sent the shockwaves that hit the  perpetrator with double force..
        Each warrior iron clad….Each opponent bruised and battered...each wearing proudly glory cuts and bruises as if they are the war medals..But the truth is that they are struck in the arena…..They are tied to each other ,hinged to one another ..Otherwise both useless mercenaries.....

My Hand At Poetry ...(1)

Prose’s...verses....sonnets...don’t know what they are called...

1. Beautiful sunrise, awesome sunset;
  The nature played with me in jest;
  Mind rejuvenated after a well deserved rest;
  I could now see the beauty in the birds returning to their nest.

 Dark forces taking over the fortress of love;
 The pure lighted heart now hiding in an alcove;
 Mindless abyss, the world was now in a tow;
 I wondered who the hell started the row;
And then the dark knight comes with more seeds to sow;
I shudder at the prospect of having to show;
The skeletons of my closet now on my brow;
Still the light kindles in the heart, though slow;
I am hopeful that I’ll fight off the foe.

 Just as I was putting the bill through;
Her hands came and threatened to sue;
Our eyes locked as if in a truce;
My heart adding that needed spruce;
Our match finally then ended in a deuce.

My life comes about a complete circle;
It just can’t come up with a manacle;
The changes happening now are so subtle;
That I can’t decipher anything in the din and the clutter;
I might just have developed some jitters;
Alas, if only confidence building was a sitter;
Neways,now as I have joined twitter;
It bodes well for me as I aim to be fitter.

The trees wave their approval, the birds chirp their praise;
  The traveller comes forth again in less sunlight & in haze;
  Hair down, clothes shabby the unshaven body smelly;
  A lot of rest and non-hygiene was quite visible through the belly;

But the sojourn was on the run now;
The journey unabated, shoes hot on the soles, holy cow!!
The atmosphere not virulent, the zephyr bellowing through the heat, the traveller said WOW!!!
Quite an effort that not to succumb;
To the woes and the wombs of time;
But as the future promised, the pain was worth every penny and dime.

 Mind occupied by shenanigans;
 And eyes submerged by water from onions;
I trot away, I jog away, I fly away on my pinions;
To bolster the chances of being true;
I never give honesty a piece of my shoe;
Wonder why the world is in such a fix;
Clearly there’s something horribly wrong with the mix
Of the king and the pauper and of the food and the platter.

 sucked away in the vortex of my own blood;
I came out trying to grasp straws & at best a dud;
Night dawns dousing the fire within, so sad;
Coz I was just beginning to ignite the morning fad.

The poetic justice of hanging a poet dead;
Is always there even if tears are well-shed;
The majestic crooning of prose if properly read;
Can even bring back the mind from the useless field.

The plane takes off from the tarmac;
The Englishman opens up the coniac;
He soon will turn into an unruly maniac;
The air hostess won’t be able to clean the muck;
The cops turn up, putting the handcuff, aloud clunk;
He will rot in the cell for the time of a great chunk.

 I missed the details;
  Of what the beauty entails;
The enchanting show curtails;
The ability of world derails;
The train of thoughts that set sail.


  The last sonnet for today;
 Will describe story of my heyday;
 When I didn’t do work for gainsay;
 Till the point when I last had my say;
 It all happened in the month of May;
When a beautiful maid came my way;
I found on the road, there my heart lay;
I thought her hands smeared in clay;
The smell which I savoured being happy and gay;
Not knowing the imminent night flapping its wings;
What dawned next was a spate of dreams;
Where I was at last in the garden of screams;
The winged angel came with his bow and arrow;
To fill my heart with joy and relieve me of my sorrow;
Now I believe in the feeling called love;
For I have been sent to the heavens, removed from the trove.

 Lonely and unheard, forlorn and invisible;
I came out of shadows, still unbelievable;
The high that one gets in beating the odds;
Is like watching the forest perched atop.
Whatever I target to usurp;
Falls straight into my cusp;
But what I wish to achieve;
Never meet me, hard to believe.

The heat searing, the rays convergent;
The sun with its eyes wide open is a bad sergeant;
The green arms open side, the shadow a life saviour;
The trees provide respite, that’s model behaviour;
Water although in steams, quenches the thirst;
But only those who beat the mirage and reach their first;
Laid in the depths of the fallow land;
Is a diamond,uncut,yet shiny as a light strand;
The nature is both punishing and nurturing;
Follow the water, leave the diamond glittering.

Whenever I will come aboard the bus `ol wise;
I will forget my vices & have my best foot fad to rise;
Cometh the hour,cometh the man us the way they prise;
The confidence and integrity which sadly was in eternal demise.

Random Musings...