My Metal Dreams

I drift in ionic sub matter, into an abyss of darkness and enduring mist. I fall through viscous maladies, which through its multitudes of derisions have created lacerations on my soul, bleeding profusely till the cesspools around me turned to resin. I dry up inside. Obdurate as I am, I have run helter-skelter since the time immemorial, calloused fingers tell enough of what I have been through my entire life. Ameliorated? No I have never been a belligerent to what I had been given, just kept floating upon the brim like the remnants of the ashen world all around my constructed realities. And like my pomegranate spacemen, I disintegrated with a poof. Like a wisp of smoke, I was gone. People grabbed thin air, only to catch a shadow of my old and ornery self. And what did you do? You were there in the mob, fastidious and full of cowardice. When my soul blasted into smithereens, you ducked away into shadows, fearing the blood thirsty crowds, looking to keep all the ambrosia for yo...

Pacific Rim- There is a reason why I absolutely revere the beautiful unpredictability of movie business. Sometimes you predict something and the inevitability of uncertainty ensures that you in the end are only left confounded, wondering how the usual play safe Hollywood mentality sometimes goes all the way to produce something so risky. First there was Inception and now there is Pacific Rim, both being multimillion tentpole sci-fi features they are, and most importantly they are completely original properties. Dabbing into history, Inception went on to gross more than 800 million USD, but what is it we can expect out of Pacific Rim? In strict terms, this is not exactly an original idea, but more of homage to all the guilty pleasures a spoiled adventure loving kid has ever had in life. Referring to a Variety article I read earlier this month, this is Transformers minus the crass Michael Bay mentality plus the playfulness, the cutesy dumb action and the human sensibilities omn...

What happens when someone tries to blindly replicate something without even thinking how loosely the formula gels, given the situation it has been applied to? You get Man of Steel, a flawed vision marred not only due to the utter discontinuities in the pace of how the action unfolds on screen, but also by its absolute reverence towards the Nolan's Batman trilogy. Essentially in reference to the aforementioned discontinuities, the film can essentially be separated into two parts, the one before the kryptonians decide to wreak havoc on earth and the one after it, oddly enough with an absence of any comprehendible third act, partly because of Snyder's-'Always start off the action at 11 and never know when to slow down' attitude. The movie starts off on a very vividly imagined krypton facing a military coup with Jor-El(Russel Crowe) and Lara, Superman’s biological parents trying to resist it, ultimately culminating into utter wastage of time and effort as krypton i...

Forgo all your discourses, They are all made up, Your mind's fabric is all torn, And you diss out mere farces Pretentious and vain, I lynch thee outlaws Those who sit in reveries,self proclaimed visionaries Keeking,sitting atop a mighty pedestal, And the birds,perch upon the eerie jigsaws Spewing angry words,at their own distitude, Savage oracies,an epitome of loss, In these times of gratuitous dispositions A guillotine falls, breaking the lassitude

Dreams of leaving, Lingering echoes of voices All surreal ecstasies wane, Masked by a penchant for healing Our slashed minds,set ablaze deriding the crazy worlds,we left behind Walked through flames ,down to the isle Did we traverse alone, the maze? Eons have now come and gone, Edges have turned to dust, Passing days,slipping,receding to nigh Acrostic mess,what life had become Looking back at the deeds I'd done I only realize, how foolish I had been to have run (For how I had fallen back every time I'd walked There always was a safe home to have, a place I revered)

It is only natural for a man of my state to lie, to himself. It soon sticks and feels all the very natural, I know. Fuckin' brain. It is a mighty clockwork deriding the vestigial organs on their worthless state of existence. Blietzkreig raging on to the children that were once protected by the shadows. I had to protect the shadows instead. Tattoed onto my sulcuses, these dragons had to vanish. The shadows were a bit too dreary even for the lies I cared for. And i had to choose what the crypts meant. This had to vanish. The loss was too much the pain had to cease. I slept. The convertible was too good to resist. Fuck the world was what my brain last spat out, it went awry after that. I was covered in blood. Dripping the red lines on the already red tapestery of the room I was in. She lay in my arms with holes for eyes and wooden sticks for limbs. Mindfuck. How was she not bleeding when I was covered head to toes in blood. And then she spoke, ' fuck...

The "windowpane" is as silent as a dying moth in its isolated "closure", so when "in my time of need", the disillusioned "weakness" of your heart keeps us away, the tiny remnants (if any) of "hope leaves". The "ending credits" deserve a lucid passage, maybe the same null space where "death whispered a lullaby". But it's not enough my friend, "to rid the disease", it's not enough