TASTING EUPHORIC METALLICA

Watching the masters
Make puppets of us all
Making us yell
Headbang and call
The memories remain
The battery so strong
Should creeping death claim us
Nothing else matters at all
We'll toll that bell
Make that road our bride
Waiting with bated breath
Till enter Sandman
Wherever I may roam
For me the bell shall toll
I'll be off to never never land
And adapt to the unknown
If only metallica
Rides the lightning
Bangalore fade to black once more!

Fading Blueprint

Building a space to protect your soul
Requires some introspection.
Friends, critiques, foes, and events
Are not so much a consolation.
The walls begin to rise
The rigidity high
The structure starts to crumble.
The friendship that grew to support it all
Rotting the core pillars instead.
Replacing trust with deceit
Replacing freedom with boundaries
The structure is built again.
Friends turn foes and foes turn friends
It's most intoxicating.
Security crashes into doubt
Courtesy into chores
It is most excruciating
Solid shiny steel replaced by ferrous molds
Brittle and begin swaying.
The break is imminent
The loss apparent
The cynicism disheartening.
The optimists' smile
Turning sour in mind
Masking a faith so disconcerting.
Protecting the soul
No longer the goal
We expose it to chill n rain.
Till it festers hope
And corrodes plans
And makes you question your gain.

--Shivangi Vyasulu

The Complexity of Learning

Words written in squares

From the mind’s eye

Converted to graphics by the hand

Creativity ebbing and flowing

Like the tide of learning.

The glitches in learning

Fixed by those

Who know the code.

Creative words and graphics

Integrated seamlessly

To create a stunning reflection

Of facts and figures

Wrapped up in pretty templates

Making raw information

Easy to digest

After being analyzed

And critiqued.

We researched it,

Wrote it,

Animated it,

Integrated it,

Checked it,

And delivered it,

And through it all,

We learned just as much!

Escape from Reality

The sounds that escape the lips
Get drowned in the midst of panic
Displaced insecurities reflected
In the mirrors of one's computer screen.

The thoughts that burst forth
Through a maze of understanding
In retrospect
Maybe they were too intimidating.

The wisdom that is imparted
With  years of experience hedging the bet
Ignored for lack of foresight
Suppressed by pride.

The words thrash through the barrage
Placed to segregate bias from success
Reinforced by authoritarian airs
Creating sparks of fire in the environment.

Picture Courtesy: Troubled Times 2, Vaishak Seraphim, Leviathan Customz.

Retrospection is a bitch.
Foresight, her snooty sister.
Ridicule and Presumption, their cruel dopplegangers
Making annual visits to collect their dues.

The course meandered by the words
Having escaped the lips
Encounter Retrospection, Foresight, Ridicule, and Presumption
They crash and burn with a magnificent hue
Blinding light pushes all other thoughts from the mind.

-- Shivangi Vyasulu

Albatross

Acidic asinine albatross are you,
Caustically wandering down the path.
Sardonic smart-alec are you,
Blathering on about your task.
Snarky fountainhead are you,
Wuthering on about the load.
Scathing captain are you,
Corrosive at the helm.
Mordant artless are you,
Dodgy with your words.
Tart insipid and jaded are you,
Oblivious to stochastic innovation.

Wondrous am I,
Astounded at your foppery.
Stupified am I,
Bewildered by your ineptitude.
Tarrying with bated breath am I,
Antsy for the undoing of a vision....

— Shivangi Vyasulu

Fragmented Journey Forward.

Idling on the open road to discovery
I wait for the gunshot
Sending my thoughts rumbling along
Thundering thru the valley.
I'm owed a dream.
I'm owed some stability.
I'm owed a new perspective.
Slide into place oh mighty puzzle,
Engage gears.
Fill up that open road that's echoing
One of my most nagging fears.

Picture courtesy: Priya Krishnan, Great Ocean Road, 2010.

Procrastination tempts me.
I move into neutral once more.
Idling once more.
I turn around and take off in the opposite direction.
Maybe I should pile on the mileage
Before I gun for the finish line.
The fuel gauge reads "Half tank"
I have a long way to go yet.

--Shivangi Vyasulu