The Vanity of It All

Gyrate, baby
Shake your body to this song of death
It’s rock music with dance beats
A collaboration you can’t deny
Let the riffs get under your skin
Wailing guitars over hellish vocals
With a groove you can’t ignore
Let your limbs lose control
And let the hair go wild
Look possessed
You were made for this moment;
Everything else is a dirty deception
This is your exorcism
I could be the priest you never asked for,
Or the demon.




 He walks alone on the streets
 Undeterred by rain and frost
 Gaze fixed straight ahead
 His eyes alone can reduce cities to dust
 No establishment is too big for him
 No rules could hold him back
 He walks with a rage unseen
 Following the stars in the sky
 Gods and Kings will collapse
 When the ocean inside his heart pours out
 The emptiness echoes within
 But when he speaks only fire comes out
 Behind his mask tears build up
 Anarchy is for lovers
 This one lost one up
 His palm itches to hold his comrade's
 They are one,in spirit
 But he is alone for now
 Ready with a gun to destroy order
 And release what society most fears,


Thus Spake The Pale Emperor 

Love is not blind 

It is irresponsible 

Because Cupid is not an angel

With a bow and arrow

He is a drunken biker riding a chopper

With a machine gun in his hand 

Most of this Universe is Dark 

It is light that is absence of darkness 

Not the other way around 

Chaos and confusion are just mediums of communication 

There is beauty in death also

It’s silence and serenity cannot be surpassed 

Of all the things in this world, sin is the most sincere

And in con lies supreme confidence 

Going Places 

 It’s cold and I lie down on a bed 
A soft choir plays in the background 
I let loose my limbs
And feel myself sinking into the cushion
The music is played ever so softly
I can just hear the ghost of its melody
With my eyes closed
A pair of soft smooth palms 
Touches my chest
Goosebumps erupt all over
They spread lukewarm oil all over me
So softly, so sensuously
I open my eyes
I find myself on the terrace
Of a skyscraper 
So close to the sky
The heavens let down
A light shower
I close my eyes
It’s pleasantly cool
A slight breeze blows ever so slightly
I open my eyes again 
I am sitting near a lake
On a hot sunny day
I dip my feet into its cold waters
And feel the heat escape
It’s a relief like no other
I let my entire self go
Flowing away…

Life is good…sometimes.


Let’s sit down

Find us a comfortable seat

Get your favorite drink

Get a bag of your favorite chips

Wear the most comfortable clothes

And watch

Let’s watch the world fall apart

Brick by brick

Because the apocalypse 

Doesn’t have to be a physical catastrophe 

It can happen on a mental level too

A subconscious change 

On a global level

You can trigger it

With your words

Your paintings and your music 

 Let your thoughts flow

And watch the world crumble

A Conversation With Myself

Nothing but a dancer in the dark

Shaking my limbs haphazardly 

To a beat that I no longer recognise 

I have become a failed entertainer 

Failed to get attention, or applause

‘But who’s approval did I seek?’

I don’t seem to understand myself

What I want or who

I just want to get away from all the darkness

That pulls me down constantly 

Am I dancing alone? I do hear noise

But I can’t see anyone in the darkness

I try calling out but nobody cares

Panic strikes, it does so often 

Everything seems to fall apart constantly

Broken and bruised,

I feel like a star collapsing into its own core

Losing its shine and its wonder

‘Am I even worth anyone?’

Thoughts just seem like bricks that hit me hard

‘Am I too self absorbed? Or just too self conscious?’

There has to be an end to everything, I think with a smile

I thought I had conquered my emotions

But like everything else

It too is a large accumulation of small defeats…

On Poetry

Poetry is prayer for the Godless

It is communication for the junkies

It is the way of life for hippies

Poetry is where words merge together

Lines have no beginnings and no end

It defies form and sometimes logic

It breaks the rules

Poetry is the language of rebellion 

Portrayal of beauty

A reflection of life

A moment of thought

An exercise of emotion and grammar

Poetry is chaos

Where reality and imaginary have no difference 

A collection of random sentences

That can create perspective or alter it…