"IMAGINOR":Hour Of Magic....

The pungent smell of mud in the air woke him up..... the old peasant...was dreaming of rain... and of golden corns.....how he nurtured.... He woke up from his slumber....It was no dream.... the rain outside was reality.... He took his son to the Piece of land...he owned.... He ploughed all across...till dawn... His fragile hands almost gave up...but the old farmer knew the values... He watched his fertile...harrowed land with his sleep-laced eyes...embracing his son... An old man was lying inert on the field.....the old peasant's.... Thick blood was spilled into the mud....was he shot? The woman was silent...shell shocked..... And the son was crying.... The man,unknown in a silk suit was giving solace to her....was rhetorical... He didn't know the rustic language.... The poor old framer wakes up from his sullen dream....

http://www.youtube.com/watch ?v=onj_ncbdKSs

A sheer joy when I opened the trapdoor in silence,in concealed footsteps. What I saw was a Sunset in a new dimension. A broader sky.A canvas painted by some anonymous. Marvellous. I could not peep through the concrete wall though. I was little. Words insinuated 'cause they forbade me. A 'juvenile delinquent' in their eyes. They scared me of Monsters.But they didn't appear before me. I believe they lied or the Monsters did let me go. I can climb up to the highest part of the roof now. I can feel the whisperings of the wind. Conjuration of the clouds.Nodding tree branches. They say this is a waste of time. But I feel myself cogent. If I was given to fly,I promise,I would get home at dusk with the quarrelling flock of Gulls. And walk on the roads as directed.

Run.Fire.Alarm. Save yourself. Look for the inmates. Save the paintings and the bunch of roses from the hungry flame. The memories captured in frames been charred. Tears has gone dry 'cause of the heat. The thick Holy book no longer exists. Ashes causing coughs. Hold your breath.Run. The bird,was locked in the cage has died. The baby is burnt.The black smoke is rolling up and clasping The House like a serpent. The garden is engulfed into the fire. The wooden cradle have lost its veneer.Still in swing. No sign of pulse.Only the violent breeze and flame. Sensing the damnation. The House is burning. Crumbling down slowly.So the Earth. We never made it,have we? Is it on fire because of Us?

The flying fortresses are hovering round the sky with an eye for a kill. The air is diffused and there is no Sun in the sky. No sign of the romantic moonlight too. The nocturnal rose couldnot hold her head high. Few demented people are screaming,running frantically on the streets.What they want? The police and theives like the cat and mice. The swansong is playing?And time for the change. Change means fight for the sake of communalism,killing of the new borns, killing the creed or so,the history pages are vivid. I washed my face,am I some bullshit! I tasted blood. Whose blood?The slained Muslim's or the raped,strangled Hindu Mother's? The change is being promised. The work-forces and their clandestine agenda will lead us into the void, we have the deadliest weapons to petrify an entire race. Philanthropist says,"Politician's got on his jogging shoes,he must be running for office, got no time to lose". The change is being promised. P.S. :-the title is taken from a ...

The weirdly embellished hair.A fag. The loudness of thousands of guitar. The alchoholic madness. Paying no heed. Dissident.Curses. Different facades. Time flies by. Eye lids don't fall. Day dreams. Facing the sun and the rain drops. No religion. One army.Swarming. No conventions. Unsophisticated.Wasted.Unsung. Just don't want to be another brick in the wall. We need education. The destination is known. The path is treacherous. Amen.

muzzle-load,shoot,bleed,die. I rejoice every moment of it. As I conquer again and again. I take pride killing Gandhi,Lennon,Kennedy. I have witnessed the Independence marchings, Student revolts genocides and the impotent brits killing innocents. I have soaked the History pages with blood. I am made of a lead-core and I am 8mm calibre. I always hit the target when I am being propelled. And then miseries grasp like supersonics.Maelstrom. I exhilarate. I smile when you squabble and fool around. Violence,revenge flowing through your blood. You conspire to kill. And I thrive. Seem like your brains have already been eaten up by Maggots. I am holding life-magic wand of the corroding Hummanity. My hand of power cannot be denied. I will stand alone at the end. muzzle-load,shoot,bleed,die. I am made of a lead-core and I am 8mm calibre.