Bye-bye Thruster

Bye-bye Thruster

There was once a time I was crash-landing. 

Hard, I would've hit the landing,

Not sleeping but standing,

For my thruster, crying. 

In that pulse of a moment,

In my mood of lament,

In that moment which I hated,

A thought that could be debated. 

A chute,

I can shoot,

Time to align myself, I can loot.

Then I can land on a sure-foot.

This velocity,

One without parity..

A daredevil's felicity,

One with great ferocity.

What's my chance to launch?

Only if there were someone to signal me with a conch

The right time to launch

My one last shot.

Why wait, Launch one now!

A push of a button,

Failing, I'd be roast mutton,

Push away!

Hoping success,

Sound of gases compress,

My speed regress,

A moment of joy's progress.

A landing of a smoother sort,

Shout at gravity with a great retort,

Stuck on the ground, rocketshat hot,

All this tailed a brilliant thought.

I don't need extra wings,

I don't need thrusters to reach twinklings. 

All that I need chain-links;

Fuel to take me 3 clicks. 

There I have someone dear,

Who experiment on things far and near,

They'll help me back, clean and clear,

An only escape route from here.

Build myself into a thruster,

All my traits I shall muster,

Into one big cluster,

Chains of carbon shall fluster.

Off into space I shall shoot myself,

With haste, like one with no grace,

With a look of confidence and awesomeness on my face,

I'll say, Bye Bye Thruster!

Thunder

Thunder

(Batmanwrites ft. Zepper)

This is an Altoem. Alternating poem, in which every other line is written by another person. 2 people have written the whole poem in alternating turns giving alternate lines

Oh Mighty Thunder!

How you make me wonder,

About thee, disturber of slumber, and

How much it is of a blunder.

Struck by you, were many a stranger.

Some as dumb as Prasad and some as smart as Hermione Granger.

For such people, I see the absence of a ranger.

From love to fear, you had hence changed her.

Thy groan sounds like "Doom".

Similar to the condition of a bride and groom!
Thy moan sounds like a deep "Hoom",

Which hath shook the foundation of my entire room.

Bright is thy flash of light

Which sends a shiver and also a fright,

Against which no other light can fight,

But go as far as the reach of sight.

Can thy friend become slimmer?

And hence find the light of the moonlight glimmer?

The sky, he skews and skimmers, and

The moon creates a problem for all the swimmers.

I can't spot thy motive

But that's the reason for us to live.

You can't power a locomotive,

Unless of course, it's all just figurative.

Ilekosh, The king of Lunaura

Ilekosh, The king of Lunaura

The king of Lunaura, Ilekosh. 

Born to a royal family.

Was set to become king, simply.

The king of Lunaura. Ilekosh.

Royal bringing up,

Soup in a golden cup.

Had a dog named Snup.

The king of Lunaura.

Father, a king,

Mother's all about bling bling. 

Ilekosh was differently twinkling.

Mighty warrior, set to be.

One day he went to war with his father, at a fair age. That day he saw the effects of war. He began to loathe it! He began to pity those who fought. He loved those who loved. Hunk of a personality, an eagle's keenness, an excellent swordsman, ace archer, every trait of a good king. Generous, considerate, patriotic. 

Not long since his birth,

He saw something mirth.

He saw the love of his heart.

The one Moon, shimmery and bright.

The Moon saw him grow,

Pass through all the high and low,

Endure winter's snow,

To Look at her, and bow.

Ilekosh loved to talk to her, however late it was. However cold it was. However hard it was. Somedays, too see that the moon was absent, made him sad, but he knew she would be back. Years and years his love lasted. It seemed as if there was no end to it. As if it was a never-ending fountain perpetually gushing love. It was as if, under her watch, in her presence, he was at his best. Best at war, best at rule, best at archery, best at sword fights, best at horse-riding and everything the king does. Simply the best. 

Generous rule,

Entertained like a fool,

Not cruel,

Waiting for the Moon, he'd drool. 

Lunaura was small. Not that big.

Yet the king would stand tall

Against all assaults,

Inner and outer.

More than fight

He preferred love to show, rather than

Souls to mourn and

Bodies to burn.

Ilekosh never tried conquering other kingdoms. He was content with his small kingdom, called Lunaura which he ruled. Ilekosh, the King of Lunaura.

Tthejen: the grudge-worthy truth

Tthejen: the grudge-worthy truth

One day, that unfortunate day, a wizard of old met Tthejen.

"Ho! anyone there?!" said the wizard in a commanding, rude fashion.

Tthejan, an ignorant lad, said, immitating the wizard, "Ho! someone's there! Who comes here?"

The wizard, more a dark one replied "I am Sersystevice! Wizard from the corner of the kingdom. I'm aware of everyone and everything! No one is aware of me!"

Sersystevice was huge! With height, he had a certain amount of muscle. Though he had no hood, nor a beard, nor a staff with a crystal, one could say he was a wizard! The thing was, he had an uncertain, undetectable, unnoticeable aura around him, which automatically gave him the look of a wizard.
Tthejen, amused at the way Sersystevice said it, replied, "Wow! that's a pretty one liner! What do you want?" in a most arrogant way.
An angry wizard  is never forgiving. This wizard though, had intentions in his mind. He needed someone as lonely as Tthejen, someone who did not know his origins. Swallowing all his anger, "You're one brave kid. Well, my purpose here is simple! I already told you, I am aware of everything. Everything, births, deaths, victories, defeats.. basically, everything you can think of! And I am here to tell you the truth, Tthejen..- Yes, I know your name. The truth of your origins!"
Tthejen, completely shocked, looked at Sersystevice in awe! Tthejen was someone who was ignored wherever he went. No one knew where he came from. Nor did they care to know who he is. 
Uncertain people are most easy to play around with. Uncertain hearts can be tangled with and uncertain minds can be filled with anything.
"But first", said Sersystevice," get me a glass of water. Journeying from the other corner of Lunaura is not something easy. That too on a Corse! Now run and get me something to drink, while I come in and rest!". Sersystevice barged through and sat inside. Tthejen went and fetched some water for the tired wizard.
The confused, dumbstruck, lost Tthejen said, " Okay! So you can tell me, my roots?" Looking at the wizard nod while drinking the water he fetched, he said, "What are you waiting for?! Tell me! What? are you waiting for the perfect Moon to arrive, to tell a tale or are you waiting for death, so that you can tell me my story and weep and for that, i'd give you a proper burial and funeral, just because you have no one else?!" 
These words greatly angered Sersystevice. Not the burial part, but the part of the Moon. Sersystervice hated the Moon. The Moon was one of the many things Sersystevice loathed. Still, "The need is great and losing it would be idiotic!" thought the thirst-quenched wizard. 
"Your father" started the wizard "Was a good warrior. He did not fight for the king. He fought for your family. He was a warrior in that sense. A family in acute poverty. nowhere to go, no one to look to. Completely destitute! And one such day, it so happened that one of the king's men, a close fellow to the king, could be his best friend, stopped to look at your parents. Now this man, the king's friend, his name...uhhhhh.... Ah yes! His name was Nalreden. He needed you parents to work for him. A work involving digging of these clouds for some rare precious substance. Nalreden already had quite a few people and needed more. They began excavation one fine day. And it was all good for quite sometime. The mine was where you were born, if you remember." "WAIT! STOP! WE HAVE A KING?" shrieked Tthejen. The dumbstruck wizard, thinking if Tthejen was serious, said "....Yes....How did you expect everything runs? Wind? We do have a king my dear fellow. Now, no questions till i finish your story" Tthejen shrugged and curled his lips out in amazement. "In the mines, there was one othe....... heavy work. People worked night and day for finding the substance. But to no avail . One day, the rivers of Cumolonim flooded and it passed on to lower clouds. Nalreden had quite many chances to warn the mine-workers. He chose not to! He ignored and let your parents and everyone in the mine wash away like salt scalt from the table. You, my friend, I rescued you. I was passing by and saw you, sitting at a height. Maybe you were 5. I rescued you and left you here, in Haybie with a wren and a hen, that would sustain you. I erased your memory with my spell. I wanted you to grow strong by now. Like a warrior. But I see you are lean as a twig.". Sersystevice looked at Tthejan. He did not look provoked. He did not seem like he would kill Nalreden to avenge his parents' death. The story Sersystevice weaved was not good enough....

Tthejen, The young boy

Tthejen, The young boy

A small boy, 

Lived in Lunaura.

Tthejen his name was,

Always had a fascination for Santa Claus.

Now An orphan maybe,

But before, he was an only baby. 

Lived in one of those smaller clouds.

Clouds, whose name was Haybie.

Since the age of ten,

He grew a Wren

And with it, a hen.

Only means of living then.

Lean like a twig of a tree.

Could run at a speed of 2 times 3.

Someone who did not know how to greet.

Did not know the king or his seat.

Such a tiny person, went on with the hardships of life.  Never married nor had a thought of having a wife. He was, can say, content with what he had, lived in a way he loved, desolate, solitary. His hen gave eggs which he sold for 6 pence. He used to earn around 24 pence. The rest was all thievery. A fast runner, an acrobat. He had no grudges on anyone. Nor did he have someone to care about. But soon, some unfortunate day, some unfortunate morning, a someone would change his life forever. 

Someone aware of everything! 

Memories..

Memories..

All of us, well, have memories. Some awesome, some not so awesome, some absurd, some nice, some bizzare, some downright awkward, some nostalgic, some tearful, some merry. But memories exist. 

I am not talking about the scientific memories. But the philosophical ones. All the memories that bit by bit make our personality. Every memory, like a lego block, building us, the structure. I would happily say that memories are the blocks of material in minecraft and we are the ultimate creation.

Memories, without our knowledge, sub-consciously play a vital part in our life. Memories are a shield, memories are what define your present. 

Some memories may just go dormant. Some really good ones. At the right time, some just burst out. Some pull you down into an abyss of many memories. Some you remember, some you wonder, if it was a dream or a reality.

After months of trying, it happened. I almost forgot, though a part of it was still alive. And it so had to happen that i had to be reminded all that. 10 words not connected to the forgetful object. 10 words to form an arrow, with a blunt edge. An arrow, not to kill me, but to plunge me into that sea. It succeeded. The string of words pushed me into a sea. A sea full of memories. Dormant memories. Pictured and shot. Stills and strings. Snaps and videos. Into that sea I shed a tear. A tear, I did not know what to accompany with. A smile or a smirk? It so happened i did both, smile at some, smirk at others. But on the whole, I did not know what to do. The shards of the arrowhead are still in me, but i have managed to swim out. The shards now, will be a new memory, taking with it another string of memories. Correlation causes casuality...

Where are the customs?

Where are the customs?

I remember, when I was younger, festivals were something to look forward to; something to be enjoyed. The customs followed, new clothes, sweets, festivity, prayers and other things had a certain charm, enthusiasm and enjoyment. 

Over the years, I've seen these customs die. Slowly, gradually die and rot somewhere. Now, even thinking of following these customs seems to be absurd and bizzare to my own self.

On a "festive" morning, there is no more the same cheer. The very enthusiasm is gone. Now-a-days, I just feel like sit in my normal clothes, however big a festival is. It does not seem necessary that i need new clothes. The very practice of making delicious food items is dead. Maybe, a few houses still do it. But what is minority when compared to majority?

Yesterday was one of the important festivals. All i did was sit at home, ooold clothes, laze around and spend time carelessly. 

Even otherwise, other than festivals, I see other customs die out. I see that people no longer care about filling the bottle with sand, before planting the rocket and light it to watch it zooooooooooooooooop away into the sky. And one often wonders why the rocket is following a path, not upwards but a random direction. Many of you, my readers, may wonder and try getting that deeeep rooted memory out, than when you were small, you used to fill bottles with sand before fixing the rocket.

These are but a few customs. I see a lot more. Too many to remember. Too many to state. Tomorrow, I may even forget such a custom lasted.

On a Crash Course

On a Crash Course

I remember the days, i was flying high in outer space. 

A thousand lightyear per second pace.

I had no reason to; it was no race.

It was all your grace, my thruster, my ace.

Somewhere near Venus, I remember, it leaked. I felt the attachment between you and me, thruster, grow weak. I feared the results. Quickly, to earth i began with haste. Somewhere near luna, thruster, your thrust, i lost. I lost you, my thruster, somewhere. Now, i'm on a crash course. I feel the heavy gravity pull me. I feel myself burn. I feel myself breaking. I feel myself hating every single layer i pass, closer to doom, without you, my thruster. And now I have entered earth, I really am burning up and you are not by me as support. Somewhere in space, far from venus, you are wandering. Now, any moment, I may crash. Maybe in some days they'll see you whiplash by earth. I don't want you to lash by. I want you to hit me straight hard. Come and merge, whatever the pain, I will bear, because without you, my ace thruster, I, once a rocketship, now, will just be some rocketshit. A junk waiting to be disposed. So come now, my ace and fly me to the moon for starters. From there, lets plan on which star to greet and which planet to meet.