Afterglow

The guy is gone, the lights are on, the bed is made, and now she stands in the doorway; as the realization hits her. She is once again alone, in the silent house, with nothing but the memories that seem too unreal. She slowly slides to the floor as she stares at the bed. She hugs her knees to her chest and runs her fingers through her still ruffled hair. The feeling of freedom and passion is already long gone; and all that’s left is this loneliness, and this emptiness. Why do I feel this way? She thinks. This isn’t how it’s supposed to feel. I should be…. What? Fulfilled? Exhilarated? Happy? She feels the dread creeping into her heart. She can feel the ache begin to rise in her chest; and the pit in her stomach was gradually growing deeper. The first tear swelled from her eye as she whispered “Oh God, What did I do?” the tears continue to come at a faster pace. She just wraps her arms around herself and cries. There was no going back. No, changing it. No controlling what happens next. No way of knowing if he’ll stick around or just disappear. This ’afterglow’ that I always hear people talking about, it sucks. Simple as that; it sucks. She thinks. She only hopes that the afterglow will finally burn out.

Saturday, August 22nd, 2009

I've always heard that necessity is the mother of invention. Well, what about necessity being the mother of laws? When it becomes evident that a society lacks the adequate means to prevent violent crimes from occurring and adequately chastising those committing violent crimes, certain steps must be taken.

Here is a little story. One day, 13-year-old Tiffany Moore is sitting on a mailbox, chatting with her friends when suddenly, she falls to the ground, shot three times by a passing motorist. Later that day she dies. It turns out that she was mistaken for someone else. The assailant is another teenager with illegally purchased handguns. What probably happens to him? Oh, a few years in jail, then parole, then probation, then he's right back on the streets, scot-free. And what happens to Tiffany Moore? Oh, she's been through a funeral , her's. She's been through a burial ,hers. Now she lays in the cold, uninviting ground, wondering where she went wrong, wondering what she could have done to prevent this tragedy. The answers? Nowhere! Nothing! She had no control over this. Now she has no control over her own life, or lack thereof. It's a true story; something which actually happens everyday.

Something must be done. How brilliant. How observant. Perhaps these politicians would care to suggest a solution? "Oh, lets ban certain guns," says one. "No, let's just make the waiting period longer," says another. What happens? Nothing! Oh, excuse me , foreign assault rifles have been banned. Wow. Yeah. Break out that champagne. At least our deaths will benefit domestic gun makers, and not foreign ones. Banning certain guns, making it harder to buy guns, these aren't solutions! You can be killed just as easily by a .22 as you can with a.357!

What we need is a twofold solution. First, we need stricter enforcement. Check on gun dealers , make sure they go through the background checks on potential customers. Make sure they wait the mandatory two week waiting period.

But this is only one part. There should be a stronger deterrent. We need the death penalty back. Not just for murderers of police officers; there is nothing special which puts cops in their own category. We need the death penalty for all murderers. Period. No if-and-or-buts about it. No plea bargaining. Make it really simple. So simple, in fact, that we all understand. If you go out and murder someone, there'll be a nice little surprise waiting for you when you get caught. Only it won't be a surprise. You'll know about it. Maybe then you won't do it. Maybe the fear of your own death will restrain you from causing someone else's. It's sort of an eye-for-an-eye, a tooth-for-a-tooth.

The one regret I have is that these criminals won't feel the pain which they caused their victims. With the death penalty, murderers wonder what they could have done to prevent their own death, they'll know. When they wonder where they went wrong, they'll know , something which their victims never did know, and something they never will.

Do you agree? Comment on what you think about re-instating the death penalty.

Tuesday, July 28th, 2009

A few weeks ago, I promised myself that I wouldn't go on Facebook this entire summer. I knew that the probability of not breaking the promise were wiry to fictional. Over the past few years, Facebook has become an imperative part of my life. On an average, I maybe spend about 14 hrs on Facebook weekly. I couldn't go a single day without logging on to Facebook and 'wall-ing' someone. I was an addict.

What made my ordeal even more challenging was the fact that I was stuck at home with absolutely nothing to do. On days like those, the first thing I did every morning was log onto to Facebook. I didn't think I would even last 2 days. However, I did. Infact, I lasted TEN whole days. But on the 11th day I finally succumbed.

It was great being back on Facebook. Looking at my mini-feed, for the first time in ten days made me realise how much I really missed Facebook. Facebook is my link to the world outside the walls of my home and im glad we have something like Facebook. Facebook is AWESOME!

P.S: Facebook is also a speck bit wicked [for reasons only Tasneem knows ;] ]

Ugly? Yea, That's Me.

The door opened, and everyone looked, as they always did when someone came late. The only difference between this and all the other times was that no one looked away. As the new arrival approached the teacher, he seemed to ignore the curiosity on everyone’s faces. He walked quickly, placing one heavy foot in front of the other. On his feet, which were way too large for his body, he wore really heavy shoes, their thick leather straps wrapped tightly around a pair of dense woolen socks.

The new kid’s body seemed to move in segments. First, his legs would swing outward, as if unable to bend at the knee, then his jean shorts would crease awkwardly. His torso, which was highlighted by a yellow Yellowstone National Park T-shirt, seemed to struggle relentlessly against the painful weight of a camouflage backpack on his shoulders.

The silence continued, and the teacher’s mouth hung open as much as everyone else’s as he verified the boy’s attendance. The teacher returned the schedule, trying not to make eye contact, and pointed to an empty seat … next to me! I gulped as the strange newcomer made his way down the aisle with long, loud strides. His shoes squeaked loudly, even on the classroom carpet. He completely ignored my open-mouthed stare as he fell into the chair that creaked in objection.

His bottom lip was puffed out as if he were about to cry, and just as the teacher was about to return to his lecture, he let out a loud sniffle that made everyone glance at him. Was he going to cry?

After a few seconds, the teacher turned to the board and began talking again. I tried to pay attention but was overwhelmed by an unbelievable smell. It reminded me of rotten eggs, almost sulfurous. As I looked around me, I realized others had begun to smell it too.

I decided to take another look at the culprit. He was concentrating on the lecture with his lips pressed against his intertwined, hairy hands. Short brown hair crowned his head and uncannily matched the unshaven hair between his upper lip and nose. White foam had gathered at the corners of his mouth, as if he had forgotten to wipe it after he brushed his teeth.

After staring for a few seconds, I noticed something incredibly troubling: He was staring at me! His eyes bore into mine with such confidence that I was forced to lower my gaze. I tried to turn back to the board, but I heard a small, low laugh. I glanced over and saw that he was looking at me and laughing! I slanted my eyebrows in offense and whispered, “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he whispered in a low voice that carried through the room. Everyone looked back at us. "It's just that, you're nose is kinda crooked."

An Interview

10 Questions to ask Death:

Q) Why is black the symbol of death? Why don’t you wear some other color?

A) Originally, I wanted to wear my favorite color, Blue. But blood stains you know! In the end, I decided that black was just more practical. Just imagine how tacky it would be to wear blood stained clothes whenever I go out to lunch with the Boogeyman or Santa Clause!

Q) Why are you portrayed as a skeleton?

A) Once you see flesh die, you don’t really have the desire to eat meat anymore. The only thing that grows in the underworld are vegetables like carrots and beets. As a kid, I didn’t eat my vegetables. So, I only eat when I really must. So, to be frank, I’m just a slightly skinnier version of Mary-Kate Olsen.

Q) Do you enjoy your job?

A) Who wants to bring death to people? It’s like being a garbage man, you don’t want to, but someone has to, and people depend on you to. Now imagine the job of the garbage man being a million times more rare… now imagine how good my pay is!

Q) Why do you always dress in rags to do your bidding?

A) No offense, but I don’t want your dead human remains on me. When I’m not at work though, I dress pretty spiffy. I’ve been known to whip out an impressively extravagant suit whenever the Tooth Fairy is present…

Q) Why do you carry a scythe? Why not a sledgehammer or something?

A) First off, you have to admit that my scythe is pretty snazzy. To be honest though, originally I wanted to use the bat I have that’s signed by Shane Watson. But in the end, I decided that scythes are better fit for the job. The bat is now reserved only for giving comas.

Q) Have you ever accidently killed the wrong person?

A) To be honest, yes I have. But when I do, it’s not my fault. You have to blame the buisness. It’s like when you book a flight. Sometimes it’s delayed or canceled, or sometimes you take an earlier flight. You’ll get on the plane eventually, because you always end up going where you’re meant to be.

Q) How do you know which person to kill?

A) It’s all through email. I carry one of those nice phones that recieve emails. Everytime it’s someones time, my phone will beep and an address or location will show up. Then I go to that area and do my bidding. Once again, if its the wrong address, blame the buisness…

Q) How do you have time to kill all these people? Are you in two places at once?

A) Are you insane? You can’t be in two places at once! That’s nonsense talk! The underworld runs on different time than your world. In your years im billions of years old. In my years, I’m just in my mid 20's.

Q) Well, even still, how do you get to each place so quickly? You can’t possibly get from New York to Hawaii fast enough!

A) Believe it or not, the undergroud society isn’t quite as crowded as yours. We can move much faster undergroud without running into people. We’ve created systems of underground tracks that are about as fast as your modern day planes. Because of the time difference, it works out fine. Although, sometimes I do have really busy days. For days like those, I borrow the remote control that’s used on the set of Click, the Adam Sandler movie. But I only need those in times of desperate measures. Like during wars.

Q) What will happen once you do eventually die? Who will be death?

A) If things with the Tooth Fairy don’t go as planned, they’ll have to hire someone new. My job has been in the family for years. And if things go my way, a child with beautiful teeth will be the next Death.

Q) Death, any last words?

A) Yes, thank you. I just wanted to thank you for reading. And I hope you now have a higher appreciation for my job. Don’t fear death, but don’t go looking for it either. See you in the future.

-Death.

"Real" Music?

Real” music. What is it? Is “real” music good lyrics, a good tune, good vocals, or putting ’soul’ into it? I’m Classic rock lover, and if I’m gonna be dead honest, I can’t stand pop, hip-hop, blues, or (god forbid) country. AT ALL. So shoot me if you don’t agree, but in my world pop music is just a bunch of cookie-cutter wannabes jumping around on stage in front of a crowd of squealing little girls WISHING they were real rock stars. Now, before you open fire, I’ve been told (many more times that I care to count) that this isn’t exactly true. To some people pop music is just a more carefree, fun-loving kind of dancing music. And to those people rock, alternative rock, emo and (god forbid them) metal music are all just a bunch of depressed guys screaming in a microphone, trying WAY too hard to be edgy, WISHING they were the people up on stage in front of millions of fans. And hey, how should I know? But the point is, I think MY music is the “real” music, and every other person in the world probably thinks that THEIR music is the “real” music. So what, dare I ask, is the “fake” music? The young pop stars? The emo rockers? And if we all disagree, does that make everyone right, or everyone wrong? Someone’s taste in music is like catching a glimpse into their soul: they might be fun and bubbly, or dark and deep, or maybe even quirky and old-fashioned. But for crying out loud people, who really cares! I have had person after person tell me that my favorite band is nothing but a band of posers trying to be all moody and deep. Well maybe I love bands like that for all you know! Shouldn’t the fact that we all love music in the first place be able to create some sort of, I don’t know, bond? So it’s not about what music is “real” or “fake”, it’s how the music is brought to life in your mind. It becomes a part of you, however big or small that part is, and from that day forth you will share a sliver of a connection with every other person who felt the emotion that you did in that song. Becuase in the end, it’s music. No catagories, no stereotypes, no seperations. Just music, pure and simple

The Time Will Come.

One day we’ll all be dancing on graves. One day we’ll be beating each other to death over fried cheese. In the year 2045 school will no longer be required, and short people will fly. Cars will not emit exhaust because they will run on Mountain Dew. Nobody will have middle fingers or baby toes. Everyone will smile and chuckle. Gangsters will have dual identities as kick-a** attorneys. iPods won’t work due to intense radiation.

Sheboygan won’t appear on the map or to the naked eye. San Francisco will become overrun with sardines. The capital of the United States will be Walt Disney Land. A highway will exist across the Atlantic Ocean. The elderly will live on the moon. Mars will be used as a daycare center and Pluto will be called a planet again.

Talking aloud will be forbidden. Every household will have AIM. Text messaging will be acceptable everywhere. Telephones will not exist. Cell phones will self destruct if a call is placed to voice mail. Purses will be bottomless like in “Mary Poppins.” Planes will only carry 20 passengers at once. Africa will find a cure for AIDS. China will take over Asia, and Europe will be conquered by Australia. Tourists will be shot for wearing white tennis shoes and holding a map. Hawaii will float away, and Alaska will leave the U.S. for Canada.

The ozone layer will implode. People will wear body suits. It’ll be warm and sunny year round. Snow will only fall when the weather man says it should. Studying abroad will mean outside the Milky Way. Calculators will have color screens. The breaking news will feature live rhinos. More people will vote during “American Idol” season 45 than in the election of 2048.

F**k will no longer be considered a swear word. Hugs will become mandatory in all greetings. G will no longer be a rating for movies. Makeup will be outlawed, and Elvis will be reincarnated. Cancer will be cured, and chronic hat hair will kill half the population. Spiders will become extinct and I will have a pet koala bear named Fuzz. Flowers will bloom, and weeds will perish.

One day I’ll no longer be here, and the future for me will end. But on and on it will go … without stopping.

Snowstruck

When we were younger, I remember sitting on the monkey bars in the snow. We took of our hats and scarves, one at a time, to see who was the strongest, the bravest. I always won because you'd freak out when your hands stuck to the metal - you were afraid they would never come off. I'd call you a little girl and you would throw your hat at me.

The snow would fall and we would talk about kid stuff, and i'd wonder why I liked you so much. We would talk about things that we thought were so important: Pokemon and Digimon, and all of the other 'mon' type things that I can't even remember anymore; you were always better at them than me.

The snow fell and the soft glow of the streetlights made each flake seem like a fallen firefly, a lightning bug processional that I could never tear my eyes from, except to look at you. Our breath would hold the light as well. You would put two fingers to your lips and pull them away, exhaling and pretending that you were smoking a cigarette. I was afraid to do that because my mom smoked and I knew it was only for grownups.

Now it’s snowing again, and we’re sitting outside on the hood of your white compact car. It’s dark – three in the morning. The only light comes from your headlights and sends a dull pain through my eyes. I like the darkness.

Well, that’s not true. The second light comes from a small orange ember between your fingers, between your thin lips. Now your breath mingles with real smoke, creating a ballet of young and old, of mature and immature, of ignorant and just plain stupid. My legs are crossed and I watch you, wondering when exactly we grew up, or if you ever really grew up at all. Am I sick of the burning of secondhand smoke in my throat, the smell it leaves on me … or does it only intrigue me more?

You smile at me, your ball cap flattening your hair into your brown eyes. Your free hand grasps mine comfortingly. I inhale deeply and cast my eyes down, knowing that I was never going to be strong enough to remove the particular layer that led to nicotine. Or perhaps it’s the other way around, and I’m the winner again.

The Lady in Red

She walks with the flowing grace of God,
Wearing ever piece of jewellery she owns,
A moth eaten dress from the 40's or maybe even the 50's,
Long brittle nails, that can tear open your skin.

She talks as if tommorow was never to come,
using words i've never even heard of before.
A tone she speaks naturally, so elegant and fragile,
But it's the sweetness that draws you to her being.

She is the middle aged lady in a frizzy red dress,
That sits in her window,
Everyday and ever night.
Reading books that aren't even sold in bookstores,
With a wine glass half filled with sparkling water.

She is out-casted, But a part of her own community,
Going to picnics - Sitting at the back with her pretty hat,
Relaxing, laying in the sun to tan her pale white skin.
Closing her eyes, still being The Lady in Red.

Murderer

The mountain of truth,
Shadowed by the mountain of lies.
Hear the sorrow,
The screams and the painful cries,
Those of the haunted,
And those of the dead,
Are no competition,
To those we all dread.
Those that murder,
And those that kill,
Those that with every death,
Get an exiting thrill.
Once those criminals have had that taste,
There's no keeping track.
They come back for more,
And there's no turning back.

Unsure

Once again, I've come to a junction,
the end of a path,
the aftermath of a journey, alone,
And im rowing in a two man boat,
the currents are strong,
my arms feel so weak,
yet im rowing along,
dedicated to futility,
I'm just not THAT strong.

There's no force, no spirit that drives me,
no name whispered,
no sweet words etched at the back of my mind,
yet for once, I wish there was,
an outstretched hand,
or a smiling face,
beckoning me to a warmer place.

A heart can jolt, can stumble, can shatter,
can bend, can break, yet it's never mattered.
For mine's unscathed.
Do the damage and make me feel.
MAKE me feel.

I've dreamt through the days,
I've slept through the nights,
I walk the world, anonymous.

I want to dedicate my words,
purpose; abstract
definition; unsure
Give me a reason to row to the shore.

Vampire of the Night

Faster than the speed of light
Can leap higher than the tallest building
Disappears within the closure of the trees
His sentence was advanced into killing

Blood lust destroys all concentration
Searching for what can satisfy this crave
Looking everywhere the scent could possibly be
Refusing to let this go to his unused grave

Taking in thoughts of the souls in range
Sensing one is within the slightest touch
Spotting this beauty, how he loathes her
Never found more delightful than this, as such

Creeping in closer, commanding attention
Seducing her with his angel-like appearance
She falls under his trance, baring herself
Being prepared for his gracious endurance

Caressing her neck in an innocent way
Revealing his pearl teeth, sinking them in
Taking her blood and replacing with his own
Extracting his deadly venom into her skin

The burning begins as it seeps through her body
Writhing in pain, she screams aloud
The room is closed off to all outside
He has no intention of drawing a crowd

Watching her as she twists and turns
Her blood-curdling screams in ear-piercing range
Her skin turning pale white, her eyes turning crimson
Her soul disappears, and in comes the change

Few days have passed, as she starts to wake
Standing over her with vengeance in his eyes
Holding her close, whispers in her ear
"I have found you," is drowning out her cries

Immortality has taken over her long lost heart
"Thou shall always seek what is right
"Never again will she sleep nor breathe
To this day, she will be a vampire of the night

The Happy Poem.

I love your smile
I love your laugh
I love you the way you are

You make me smile
You make me laugh
You love me for who I am

I wouldn't change you for the world
You're great beyond compare
There's no other like you
You're unique in every way

You're a goofball and a dork
you're can be so dumb at times
but you're still so smart and caring
We both like saying stupid things that make us laugh and laugh

I guess the thing I'm saying
is that your great the way you are
never change or try to
because without you
I wouldn't know what to do
I love you
and Im glad to have you.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To Anusha : see, i totally can write happy poems. But i have to admit, it was so much more difficult than writing about the 'd' word..

What Happens When You Die?

What happens when you die?
Do you wander among the clouds,
watching the lives below mourning your loss?
Or are you simply gone,
your shadow missing from the shade.

Pondering these thoughts
gives you some time.
Time to wander the hills,
escaping this lonely world.
Do you hold onto a heavenly hand,
or do you silently cry aloud?

What would happen if I died?
Would I be terribly missed,
bringing fresh tears to dry eyes?
Or would I just be buried,
only to be remembred by a grave stone.

What would happen if you died?

Death

Surrounded by statues and graves
This is the fate of the brave
Death and darkness creeping in
Be ready to defend

This becomes a test of fate
Fight to return or enter death's gate
Death comes with a vengeful hunger
Ready to drag you into an eternal slumber

Death begins dragging you down
Burring you deep within the ground
Feel the hands of death grip you tight
Now is the time to fight

Nails of death cutting into your skin
Blood dripping from the open wounds, find the strength within
This isn't a fate to be confined to
Fight death to break through

Music

Music is a very very VERY important part of my life and cant really imagine my life without it. Here are some of my all time favourite songs:

Back In Black - AC/DC - Classic rock & roll. First release with Brian Jones as the singer - it was an instant classic.

Love Hurts - Nazareth - I can't say much about the band as I don't know of any other song that they've done but THIS song is excellent!

Kashmir - Led Zepplin - Physical Graffitti is, in my opinion, one of the greatest rock and roll albums of all time.

Whole Lotta Love - Led Zeppellin - LZ was a pivotal band for me. What a sexy song!

Dirty Deeds - AC/DC - I am a huge fan of this band. This song is what turned me on to heavy metal and I've never looked back.

Photograph - Def Leppard - Fun music, I still grin when I hear any of their hits - Pour Some Sugar On Me, Foolin', Armageddon It, Let's Get Rocked - good old fashioned rock and roll.

I Love Rock and Roll - Joan Jett - Who knew women could rock?

Paranoid - Black Sabbath - Ozzy and Sabbath - the first heavy metal band (its either them or Judas Priest) of its kind - they started a revolution.

Run To The Hills - Iron Maiden - Nice song. Blood Brother, Aces High, Wickerman and a few others are my favourite songs from this band. (Hopefully I get to meet them this February =) )

Last Child - Aerosmith - If you're looking for pure vintage American Metal - this song and this band is it. Raw, shocking evocative - I've been an Aerosmith fan ever since.

Crazy Train - Ozzy Osbourne - It's Ozzy, what can I say?