The pitcher looks empty
no wonder I can
find poetry in the
curves of a roof top
staring aimlessly
at the face in white .

I was in a dreamland
But those dreams
never find a reality

They will always exist as
illusions and soon would be
forgotten under the tides of time

Unless you make them
Real when sober

There is something called as "True Lies"
16/11/2008

Obama Obama

"Our lives may be singular, but our destiny is the same"

Read Obama-Mania on CJ

P.S- I am currently doing a report on the role of media in the Obama Campaign, so if you have any stuff, article or opinions about it, kindly leave a comment or mail me at aditigupta02@gmail.com

oppss guys Iv corrected my Email ID now.

Jaane Kyuuuuuuuuuuuuu :)

This goes for Boxer and Bhojpuri :P

You were both right, I get it NOW.

Yes I admit I'm dumb :P

P.S - Don't kill me for this, their real names are Alisha and Shreyas :P

:D

Wondering...

Well
I was just wondering,

Why am I read

When I write all I do is send a series of codes out,
with the hope; they would be decoded.

So,
Please lemme know
why do you read that I write.

Brick and eggs are most welcome
:D

Vote!

"Registering to vote means the difference between helping to change or letting the opportunity pass you by. It's the difference between having a voice or watching silently as others make decisions that affect your life and your future" - Michelle Obama

Read some stuff I wrote on CJ if you need more reasons

Stand Up and VOTE

Rubbish Regionalism

For a voters ID register at www.jaagore.com

The winds are blowing,
in the same direction.
The storm is again raging,
the fury of the past was buried,
but this time the levees,
were broken.

Silence was the hiding,
engulfing sorrow and pain.
It looked all too familiar,
like a long lost memory.

In that moment,
the end is wanted.
But edges save you.

A fall would give,
freedom to misery,
and flight to solace.

Parched and wounded,
illusions soon gather
the storm passes by
from dusk to dawn.

Then two angles walk in
song and dance follows
And all your left with is
these words of sorrow.


'Great Stories, Come out of Great tragedies'