The Road

Going down a road trampled underfoot,

confirming to the safe haven of precedent,

barelling down a path to an unchanging end,

facing such blatantly bland boredom,

a man takes a stop..sits down.....& lights up.

A drag of smoke for the drag that is life,

a puff of peace with enlightenment for free,

a doobie shunned and frowned on by the road freaks,

with a calm so blissfully ignorant of the road itself.

An attack on the freak's right to comatose idiots,

a lollipop enticing you off the road,

a freak's worst nightmare,

realised into a most threatening scenario.

That a man may think it a possibility,

to let it all go for an experience in the alternate,

burst free of the shackles of uniformity,

and fight of the mind numbing idiocy of the road.

In this fight of being on or off the road,

between reassuring conformity & peaceful wavering,

Gifted is he who blazes away,

peacefuly wavering to reassuring conformity.

The first puff in the morning glory,

A first sighting in a throng,

The excitement of letting it go,

A conversation for the ages,

The feeling of owning the world through your fingers,

A chance taken on a chemical reaction of stupefying proportions,

The squinting of eyes to see through the smoke,

A deep introspection in reference to her,

The glowing ember of a satiated flame,

A period of bliss unparalleled,

The agony of getting over with it,

A heartbreak worthy of mention,

The cruel beauty of a cigarette,

A punishing passion for a lady.

BLOCK

I am facing a BLOCK in my life. This has been by far the most serious BLOCK of my life, short as it yet is. What is this BLOCK you ask. 

Imagine sitting at table, and right in front of you, on that very table, is a glass of your favourite drink. You wanna drink it, you have drunk it before and hence you know the taste, and that makes you thirst for it even more. Your mouth goes dry and you can already taste it, the smell engulfs you and the only thing left to do is drink it.

This is where the BLOCK strikes. Now imagine, you cant get that drink, try as you might you just cannot hold that glass and drink that sweet elixir. That is because of the cursed BLOCK, the single thing between you and bliss. 

This is the daunting enemy that I face today. I had heard of writer's BLOCK, seen people go through a music BLOCK, but not once ever thought myself to be in any danger from this BLOCK. But a day came, with it the BLOCK, and when it did everything went out in the torturing agonizing pace of a final stubbing of an after lunch smoke. I first became aware of this fiend one very fine day when I was incidentally quite happy. It was a day that had begun well and being a holiday in the middle of the holidays, there was not a thing that could bother me. On this day, I thought to myself, what better time to write, the best of a person's creative expression comes when he is truly at peace, i said to myself. But I was not aware of the tragic irony that was about to unfold before me. I sat at the computer, opened word, filtered my hands over the keyboard........., and stopped. I was facing the dreaded BLOCK. No matter how much I concentrated, randomized, listened to music, smoked, anything.....I just could not write.

Pretty soon it spread to my guitar and then I couldn't even think of which song to play. It was a scary time for me when I realized that now I had only Movies, TV and studies (in that order, last being...occasional) to make a pathetic attempt at stirring up my mind. The BLOCK had conquered my life.

I started this blog a month ago and after the initial try I couldn't write three lines before erasing it all off (first try was an entire para!!!!). The BLOCK is a dangerous thing and it deserves to be respected. However, I am glad to say I fought back and today finally I have crossed the BLOCK to once again get drunk!!