MJ WILL LIVE FOREVER

In loving memory of Michael Joseph Jackson.
King of Pop
August 29, 1958 – June 25, 2009

Michael Jackson's music is something that I grew up listening.
The King of Pop really got me with BAD.
Those were rebellious times, and suddenly with MJ being BAD, bad was...good.
Michael Jackson did to music what Mahatma Gandhi did to us indians.
It freed our minds and it united our hearts. Can you even make a list of MJ's best songs?
I cant. For me such a list would be endless.
There are just way too many... MJ has come alive after his death.
The world has suddenly been reintroduced to the legend and his music.
And with the accolades has come the mud slinging too.
For everything that MJ is criticised and condemned for, nothing takes away from his music.
I dont care why he got those surgeries done. I dont care if he broke his nose, or burnt his hair, or if he wanted to be white.
I love him for his musical genius.
The only allegations which are serious enough for me to raise an eyebrow were the child molestation allegations and since he was acquitted I'm going to give him the benefit of doubt.
Simply because Michael never displayed any signs that would show him as a sexual deviant.
So lets just remember him for his music.
Lets give the man his due, and pay homage to his talent.
The star with the most charities against his name... who was childlike and yet a rock and roll hall of famer.
Lets remember the time when he thrilled us, when he made us wanna be bad.
Lets not pick on his color and skin and appearance cos Michael didnt wanna spend his life 'being a color'.
Michael belongs to all of us, he is a man who had a message for world peace, for the environment, against racism and hate. And against police brutality.
Michael Jackson, the King of Pop will live forever, in our hearts.

I am not cool, so I'm Dead

Why are smiles so short lived?
why do tears taste like eternity?
In the drama of 3 lives,
the third is always the tragic one.

So tell me,
why does the moon cast a shadow on the mighty sun?
why is sunlight blinded by dark clouds?

If I was the Sea I would break mountains,
if I was the Ocean I would move continents,
but I am a trivial human consciousness.

I am blinded by emotion,
I am dumbed by logic.

A new world

My heart yearns for a new world
a world where the sky is'nt red,
where I can swim in blood
and be one with the dead.

A world without the living,
for the living reek of death.

There is no place for a soul in my body
its too full of tissue
and muscle and bone and piss and shit.

I have no God
no afterlife,
I am a fundamentalist without a cause,
there is no altar for my sacrifice.

How time flies...

This was a year ago..




And this is now..



How my boy is growing...and I thought passing time- age, was a bad thing.
Guess not.

17 months and a genius already, my emu has won an award

check it out here:-

emaan chopra- the winner!

I gave politics the finger

U can only point a finger, if its inked.
Vote.

And i sing through the tears

I sing and I smile,
but today I cry
and so I sing
I sing through the tears

I sing as I see the moon inch closer to my window
the man in the moon calls to me
ready to step onto my balcony riding his pearly white stallion,
the great big orb will consume me, soon and then I will be one with the stars.

My name is already written amidst the stars
sprinkled with dream-dust
it sparkles and glitters,
as tears bounce off its edges, glittering in the moonlight like uncut diamonds.

And so I'm lost,
but my soul is found, You found me
and I found salvation, love, purpose, existence, life, dreams, nightmares, pain, pleasure, beginning, end, love, lust, hate, anger, wrath, smiles, tears, cries, melody, song, i found rhyme, poetry, I found the sun, moon and the stars
and everything else in between.

And for that I thank thee,
and for that I cry as I sing, for its the song of happiness.

In the house of Silence

I live in the house of silence,
a three-storeyed tomb where the dead walk
pretending to be alive.

Going about the meaningless business of their lives,
faces painted in bright vibrant colours
to hide the white pale face of death.
Covering their rotting skin with levis and Armanis.
Underneath fine french perfumes,
sleeps the odour of decay.

And so I walk upto them
and slit their throats,
one by one,leaving them
drowning in their stinking black blood.
Choking, the bodies thrash and struggle,
but only for a while.

Nails going white, clawing at the floor tiles
dig into the edges, get stuck
and break.
Opening fresh wounds for the blood to rush out of,
like convicts from a prison break.

Finally I slit my throat
and lie in a tub,
blood mixing with water,
runs down the drain.

A lone bubble swims to the surface,
and pops.