Dead Dreams

I don't know when they stopped

But it's been years

Since I dreamed last

Nine to five 

Five days a week

Two days off 

The cycle repeats 

A hospital for my disease 

Its something I need 

Blocked 

Ideas committing suicide in my head 

But when I see her face 

The world seems worth it 

Inch by inch I crawl

Ledge by ledge I grab on

And get up whenever she knocks me down

The story of my dead dreams 

Is one with only her in it

She is my common sense 

And what's the difference 

Between that and my decadence?

We will carry on this cycle 

Even when we are dead and gone 

The world we lived in

Will remember the arson we committed 

As around us everything burns 

And on the backs of angels 

We fly

Inspired by Fight Club

The Bilge Master

Untitled- A Guest Post by Debdip Maitra

The poem below is written by my college senior Debdip Maitra. He was from Mechanical Engineering and has written many such poems. I met him at a creative writing competition and we became good friends. Welcome him warmly guys!

The Bilge Master

She was a storm trapped in a bottle...⁣

Her mind, a venerable tempest,⁣

Echoes of voices of the ages, ⁣

Rumbling like thunder,⁣

Threatening to tear all asunder,⁣

Lightning and embers crackling under her skin,⁣

A thousand voices itching to burst forth,⁣

A primal scream, of dreams, and of fury,⁣

Drowning eternity in its wake...⁣

But that never quite frightened me, ⁣

As much as her tender heart did,⁣

That tender, beautiful thing,⁣

Which made it all appear oh so calm,⁣

Like the cherry blossom petal,⁣

Floating softly down to the surface of a pond,⁣

In some noir feel good movie...⁣

I was afraid,⁣

My heart trembling at the thought,⁣

The thought of the day,⁣

When that heart might not be enough to keep it all inside,⁣

When the dam finally breaks,⁣

And I wouldn't be able to stanch the cracks...⁣

⁣

_© Debdip Maitra⁣

⁣

⁣

Delirium

Sweat

Buckets

Pills

Sleep

More sweat

Nightmares

Drunken stupors

From which

I never wake

Whirlwinds

Of wine

Women

And song

What have

I become?

I raise

The bottle

To my

Parched lips

And again

Sweat

In buckets

Pouring onto

The floor

Like a river 

Liqour

Thy name 

Is 

Delirium

The Bilge Master

Today Matters

This is one of those rare prose pieces on the blog. I just read an email from a blogger called Neil Pasricha who is an author and creator of the blog 1000 Awesome Things. 

In the email, Neil says that we have two ways of looking at death. We can be depressed by the fact that one day we all die. This is inevitable, so what's the point? We could also however embrace life as a gift we've been given, never mind how short it is. 

One day we all have to go right? Nobody gets out of here alive - not me, not you, nobody.

Therefore each and every second you have in your possession is very precious because it will never come back to you. Utilize it well. Create. Celebrate. Live. 

Don't waste time being sad. You don't have the luxury of a single negative thought. If you're struggling, speak out and seek help. Put an end to rage and angst. Smile at your friends. Smile at your family. It's important that you do because as Neil very succinctly put it, you have only 30,000 days on this planet and you have no idea where you're going after that.

So are we ready to live? I am. Why not join me?

The Bilge Master

Three and Sixty

He is three and sixty

I am only twenty five

Aches and pains plague him

He still supports his son and wife 

He was and is my best friend 

And the fairest man I've had the good fortune to meet

But he is three and sixty and I am twenty five

He taught me how to drive

Poured me my first drink

Protected me from the monsters under my bed 

Never failed to tell me a bed time story

But Time passes on and people grow old

And one day I will be three and sixty

Wondering if I'm needed anymore 

Like that song that's playing in my head now

Will people send me Valentines

Birthday greetings or a bottle of wine?

The Bilge Master

The Fag End of a Lousy Day

Daylight means a lot of things

From the moment the sun rises in the east

A new day begins 

24 hours, divided between toil and rest

Something so standard and taken for granted 

Can mean different things to different people

Today might be the day Susan got married 

Today might be Harry's last

Today could be the day a student gets into college

Today could be the start of a new job

When the day ends and it's night

The hour of witches becomes nigh

Raven hair and ruby lips

Incantations pouring forth from decimated dreams 

We fear the dark and relish the light 

For we can see in light 

And yet for us nyctophiles, the night is full of potential

And besides, we have artificial light

The night is a time for dreaming 

A child put to bed dreams of being an astronaut 

Of hearalding a mission to an unknown planet

Only to find humans there 

Meanwhile in the morning 

The child gets a standard education

He is told aliens don't exist

But they do

They're in his dreams 

They call to him ceaselessly

He attempts to make sense of mathematics 

While in his head Spaceman Spiff and a stuffed tiger 

Go on adventures together 

Tell me, are we adults by day and children by night?

We go to jobs or school

And yet dare to dream too

Meanwhile we get older and older 

Sometimes wiser 

Sometimes sadder 

Sometimes happier 

And we dream on

For what else do we have 

At the fag end of a lousy day

But dreams, which give us the courage to get out of bed the next morning?

The Bilge Master 

Dead in Different Colours

It's yellow and cylindrical

And belches out green smoke

It's costly and impractical

And causes cancer in your throat

Yet when you get a chance to imbibe it

You can't resist

It's cousin is red and blue 

Like Spiderman without the webs 

She'll trap you in smog instead 

And leave you reeling from a coughing fit

Her best friend is black and white 

But not Asian like the panda 

Her husband likes it brown 

With violet hues in his smoke

And the green smoke sneaks down your throat

Curls up in your lungs

And laughs as you inhale more and more 

Let's face it baby, the joke's on you

Each day you die a little 

Drowning in a motley haze 

Of magical cigarette smoke

The Bilge Master

Conduits of Chaos

There is something magical about chaos

As it consumes lesser things 

Chaos is a challenge 

Because where would we be without it?

Blood has flown in its name 

Like the rivers 

Men have been turned into animals 

Beating weaker people 

Who can't fight back

This country has many conduits of chaos

In positions where that power is misused 

And as hurricanes swirl around us 

We drown in these conduits 

Screaming 

The Bilge Master

To a New Start

"It's a new world 

It's a new start

It's alive with the beating of young hearts

It's a new day

It's a new plan

I've been waiting for you

Here I am!"

Bryan Adams

As 2019 closes the book on another decade and 2020 is ready to take over the reins of this rock made of stardust hurtling through space, this is yours truly looking to pen down a few thoughts in a few words. 

The year up ahead is barely a few hours old and already some changes have started happening. Career priorities have shifted, preparations to become a student again have started and new music has been discovered. There is a lot to look forward to this year. New games, books and movies amd revisiting lost ones and favorite reads or songs. Who knows what lies ahead? Nobody. 

This year I ask for the strength to persevere and achieve a goal that will take me places. I hope I become a better employee, writer and student and take the time to discover myself again. I look forward to new friends and renewing ties with old ones.

I'm looking forward to 2020. Aren't you?

The Bilge Master