Lily Dreams

A lily flew through the ocean blue,
It tumbled and dived
and dodged many a times
stony falls and shallow ravines.

She sees herself on the other side of the crown
Where she will attract the beauties of tinsel town.
She drove with passion
amidst many boos and frowns.

She flew under the morning sun
and took shelter under trees
when the day is done.
Accused of vanity she hid herself
from the cognizant societies and their shrewd serpents.

Months turned into years
and the seasons changed,
as she traveled the sphere
through plagues & shouting names.

This is the day of that year we recall
when she ceased her journey
on an evening of the tender fall
for that day she reached the promised land.

She was received with celebrations and praises
and saw a curious glow on people's faces.

But it soon disappeared as a long forgotten day
for now she spends her time
behind golden gates and rusty chains.

Many a curious men came and wagged.
They saw her through gleamy eyes and focused lens
and wailed her story with sacrilege romance.

Her hopes were gone of a chastised life.
This wasn't the place where she wanted to be,
when she fought her fears to set herself free.

Overdrive Records

At the beginning of the year, a friend asked me to write an article for him which he would use as a sort of an exposition for his recording studio, Overdrive Records. I was reluctant initially because I was not very familiar with that style of writing because whatever I've had written earlier was the inception of my own mind and hence, were tended and infused easily into words.Whereas, here I had to materialize someone else idea for them.

However, it didn't take me long to re-think about the whole proposition when I saw their logo, which was in its own way,delightfully beautiful.A few sittings later,I got an overview of what they want to communicate to those unaware of their beliefs and ideas.

It was essential for me to make sense throughout the introduction and include the technical details, the main theme of the article afterward.It was also a difficult task to balance their visions and include my own perspectives (which was highly influenced by 'the cube') and come out with something which would as well be captivating and possess a different character altogether.



OVERDRIVE RECORDS

The acceptance by the people of our great country in music as an art is increasing exponentially in present times. However it is of grave concern how it is being perceived by the society. It is worth noting that the great artists never followed the path which is being followed here. The competitive streak which is being inculcated within the youth is changing their whole perspective towards music. It is arguably healthy for artists to compete but it should not be their primary endeavor. The submission to competition has become a need. The music is lost in the rat race. The art of composing your thoughts, giving life to your visions has been ignored. The whole perspective has been distorted by the autocratic illusionary ideas of becoming a false god. We forget the simple fact that we all are but same. Music is an emotion, a way of life that is to be shared and not compete for. The problem, however, is not in our lack of competence or creativity, but in the system. We only have fistful options and regrettably we have to give our credence to the tainted methods out of choice. It is subconsciously eroding our individuality and uniqueness.

Don’t we deserve better? Are we doing justice with our talent? It’s about time we stop suppressing the reluctance. It’s about time we voice the right questions and stand for what is true. It’s about time we look inside the cube that will exhibit the intimacy of freedom and the amalgamation of finesse within the realms of music. We don’t give you a name, we give you a world to be yourself, we give you Overdrive Records.

We don’t feed the stereotype. No, we are not that kind of party. We differ to walk the line. We are the unconventional. We are the change. We are the platform of evolution: from Music school for stringed, percussive, wind, vocal training and electronic instruments from Trinity qualified teachers, to acoustically treated Jampads with state of the art soundproofing and providing facilities ranging from practice pads (generic jam pads), voice over booths, drum booths and practice stations. With the Recording Studio which will be capable of providing complete voiceover , percussive as well as stringed solutions , we ensure the artist's vision materializes optimally, from pre-production to recording, and from mixdown up to the mastering process, we offer services on the highest professional level. We do so regardless of the level you perceive yourself being on and regardless of the size of the project- Record a whole album, a demo or just some of the instruments to supplement your home-recording project. With an equipment domain ranging from Laney, Line6, Roland, Hartke, Shure, MXL, Tama, AKG, Sonor, Paiste, Meinl, Presonus, Rode, Planet Waves, Behringer, Focusrite, Allen & Heath, Mackie, Audix there will be nothing but a brief experience with the finest sound your ears can savor. Our Recording Label will offer a complete package, from CD pressing to marketing through channels like Planet M, Music World, Rolling Stones, Channel V, MTV and VH1.We guarantee to capture the musician's vision during the entire project. Being experienced musicians ourselves as well as engineers we know exactly what the recording process is about. While our team is working on a highly professional level, we, at Overdrive Records, always remind ourselves that during the recording process fun is equally as important as focus.

The beauty is inside your head. We are only the canvas.
You have the liberty to indulge inside the cube.

“The price is right,
The cost of one admission is your mind.”

The Rising Phoenix

Exhibit A:

On the left of the tableau stand a curious bunch of bespectacled
partisans of science who took an old man and scrabbled off with their
crafty fingers and sharp instruments the skin off his body. They let
him stew under the broiling sun and after much sessions of
uninterrupted agony they customized a new wrinkle-free youthful skin
for him to wear.It was a size too perfect for him and to see a feeble
man with a pubescence glow was a sight to behold for our meek
audience.

The new-old man has become the face of a revolution and our factories
work overtime to meet up with the ever growing demand for the new
pretentious invention of our era.

This is unarguably the magnum opus of the diligent men who have been
calling it the rising phoenix.Meanwhile their feeble man whose bones
crumble under the weight of the new skin calls it the redemption of
the sins of the forgotten past.

The door on the left heads to our recreation centre where you can get everything
made to your whims.

The door on the right will take you to your ordinary life of righteousness.

It is upon our audience to choose wisely.We request you to fall on
single file as you go through the left door,we already have a lot of
people waiting for their turn.

We love meek audience,especially our proprietors.

My Purgatory Dreams

As I walked onto the final path of redemption,
with every step a strange cold darkness felt closer.
It was a nowhere land,
somewhere in-between two strange nightmares.

Life was just a rage I had left far behind.
"No baggage of the forlorn summer", had told the doorman
before I was granted admission.
So I walked alone.
An empty figurine
On an empty land.

This was the end of the carnival,
for beyond lied everything happiness was never made of.

As soon as I had shed hope,
of finding someone on this limitless land,
as I had shed the human suit on the repentance gate,
a smudged shape walked towards me.
It stopped in front of me and stared,
with the eyes that had never seen the sun.

It was a little boy.
He had a mysterious deranged smile.
Casting that feeling upon me,
That everything good had ceased to exist.

He allowed me to examine him,
and I read his inhuman contours:
The pale white skin of his face,
had undercast the black eyes that he wore.
A blank expressionless gaze,
that innocent boy gave to me.

He took out his fragile hand
and like an obedient slave,
I held it firmly.
He turned around,
and walked forward.
And like a beast on a leash,
I followed him solemnly.

I walked the longest journey with him,
until we reached the most distant ocean
that stands on the edge of the world of living.

I followed the little boy like a drone,
into the lukewarm water,
it was here,
where all the sins dwelled.

The boy let go of me,
to go deeper within.
He asked me to follow him,
"This is the end of the road",he assured.
With that, silence folded my face,
and pulled me deeper within.

And I dissolved,
along with all the sins of a distressed past.

Extinguished - from the face of the world
Devoid - of any form of bliss.
In this citadel of pain,
I died a million deaths,
all at once.

Soul Peep

A man with thousand faces.
Went to an odyssey.
Inside the farms of his sanity.

Drowned in desperation,
of finding a man better than himself.
Within himself.
Can he?

A Voyeur

I peeped through a tiny hole,
to unravel a mystery land.
Untouched,innocent, fertile.
I tried many a times
to reach out for it.
But everytime i tried,
it disappeared into thin volatility.

It mocks my desperateness
and laughs on my naked self.
But I'm blinded
by the sweetness that grows,
it lures me to keep on trying,
and I can't refuse.

The florid layers that flow,
beneath the surface of it's evergreen
adds to the surrealistic charm,
Of this enigmatic kingdom.

However,down the deepest layers
where darkness ceases
and life bathes in purity.
The Forbidden Secret lies there.
Beneath it all.

It's glimpse I once had
It was a moment too short
but in awe I stared.
Through the tiny hole I basked.
Into a virginal divinity.
A paradise stretched across horizon
for the tiniest of moments
and before the wonder could grip you
it fluttered away.

I'm tempted to uncover it again.
Discover the wonder that lies within:

I would explore it gently,
scale its dimensions,
and relish the grace of its warmth.
I would share many a desires,
and admire the strange colors it wear.

It was an autumn afterhour
when it came closer.
The wind whispered in my ears.
"Wait. For in haste,the beauty is negated.
And denied."

"I'll bide the time,
under the two Sultry suns.
For soon I shall drink
the essence of the mystic spring
that submerge the Eden of my dreams."

But the cruel Mother of everything.
wrote a divine comedy.
For I waited forever.
And in despair I died.

The omens were heard in the forests,
nobody could ever really conquer.
many a voyages failed,
no one could discover,
No one could intrude.
The enchanted land,
none but death explored.

A Dark Night

The night blew off the fragrance of a candle,
as the wind sweeps your body closer.
You try to hide yourself in the darkness,
but it covers you and accentuates your beauty.

You seem ethereal as a virgin dawn.

With the touch of your skin,
everything melts in me.

You slither in my embrace,
as your body sways with the sound of sweetest oceans churning.
Like a river,
I flow inside your subliminal whims.

Breath in breath,
we lie twisted,
grasping each other by the hand.
A delicate emotion fill the volume inside us.

Your legs locked mine,
and in pleasure we dived
into a dream which enveloped us.
Bind us for a moment that felt eternal.

I touch your skin,
brushed off the hair.
I look into your eyes,
I see myself.

A smile slipped off your face.
But I wouldn't mind .
Neither would you.
For we are one now.

Communion

And the godhead said,
"Unravel yourself from chastity.
Fuel your dirt.
Experience falsity.
For I spawned you from it."

The frail disciple.Taken aback,
Spake with humility,
"Thy absoluteness,completes my womb.
Thy blood gushes my veins down below.
The florid folds long thy touch.
I seek pleasure in you.
Fill me with your essence."

Banausic bedlam

We create household drones.
The man machine we've become.
We are clones in pretty dresses,
sheltered in cold chambers,
wiped off of our imagination.
Shades of triangles,
marked on our foreheads,
we are the by-products of greed.
We are the perpend of masochism.
The root pleasure,
we seek in oblivion.

Who are we?
Not humans no more.
Who cares?
Put on the mask.
Slide.

The Green Page.

The ballad echoes down the street,
while the voices change their color by day fall.
If you turn the dimension,
you turn the wave.
Acquaint with tragedy,
as it becomes stagnant.
Rise with the downfall of the world,
spread chaos through the ears of trees.
Stand by the shadows of dusk.

The malice swarms the fertile land.

As fear delves the sunshine,
the circle of life breaks,
The race sleeps,
The ballad plays,
The world ceases.

I'm Hades

He: I see patterns of motifs and floral voices.
She: Paint my sins.
He: I paint myself.
She: Would purple be fine?
He: Your tentacles hurt.
She: Swallow your lies.It shall soothe the pain.
He: Should I gulp it down?
She: Chew it gently.
He: Your wings are burnt.
She: Find pleasure in my eyes.
He: I'll drown in your abyss.
She: Sleep before you can feel anything.