Once good with moods,now brown with frown(kishern manickam)

                           Whoa whoa whoa everyone chill. I am uhhhhhhhhh.......... here to tell you guys and girls a story about anger,regret,vengeance and uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh........ vengeance. So let us all hear it out. This boy was once a boy who was always good with his moods and now is brown with frowns. This boy had endured a terrible past and family history which should never be mentioned in public. So the past went like this.It all started in prep-school. A school before he went to Grade 1. He met a few jolly looking kids in his classroom and tried to be normal when it comes to making friends. But first they didn't take it seriously, yet they decided to make a wimp out of him just for sayin heelllllo and how are ya jimster. They kicked,pushed and embarrassed him all around the class. Making a cold-blooded victim  out of him. Well he spared them and tried again many times to get their attention since he was bored and lonely. Yet the habit spread-ed like a virus that can't be healed.
                           Since it was one year for a five year old kid to have no friends and sociality with anyone. Not even his parents. He decided to commit suicide. Yet, he can't because by fear that he shall be punished by the lights of god. So he decided to give another chance to try. When he came to grade 1 some of his old friends spread-ed the virus to other innocent kids to be evil against him. He decided to evade them for good. Then grade 2 was the final blow, Everyone in the class turned against him. Racism,physical bullying, cyber bullying and all those horrible deeds came to the picture.he could bear it no more of lies and cheaters.  When it comes to him and only him. So the teacher misunderstood the students pain and fooled by others without realizing lies finally gave the final blow. He finally went to the principal's office and was advice not to use violence in order to fight for your rights but diplomat-ism to settle matters as a wimp would do.
                          Alas happiness is burned and engulfed in the flames of tyranny and informal laws of man. Turning into a beast like never before.Crown of frowns,turning the town brown as king henry's poop. Hump... Finally grade 6 arrived, the most brutal and devastating period, the last time he got into violence. He fought a boy who is stronger and faster than he is, This boy is the pure hearted of evil, crashing and crushing hopes and dreams without any creams. There he was prepared for the final battle to end the everlasting pain of childhood. The childhood he has lost long ago in the murky depths of the principal laws and suspects. Fighting there he was with fury and gory, Tempted with bloodshed and bathing in it. Sucking it dry from the very culprit.
                          Finally the last warning came from the principal and he was forced to renounce away his violence. Which made matters worse. As the years past, Matters became worse than ever.
Unfortunately, Life twisted and turned Topsy turvy. He started to be suspicious, Fighting for survival and vanquishing others to thin air.  Now without any true friends, still stuck in the path of darkness waiting for the sentence to go away. Two years from now, he shall be free from his plight in the convent. In the meantime, Hopes and wills crashed. To sooth  the everlasting pain  he goes to his computer and blogs emotional things of what he feels of life in this present day. Is what he agrees and what he disagrees. The boy's identity is unknown but the website is known. Because it is you are reading this very website created by this boy. No one knows what is his destiny, future and desire of what he wants to earn from working. For this boy is forgotten by others who gal avant away not thinking of the rest in a pit of demons. Enslaving and torturing the very souls who have never sinned in that particular matter although he/she has sinned on others in this period of life.

Goodbye (I'm Sorry) - ...And Then I Turned Seven

one's heart that is shattered into pieces

is ma

Last day of the holiday and back to the convent(kishern manickam)

                      Well,There I was having my breakfast at 7.00a.m in the Sunday morning.Dim light bathed my soul, so did the morning breeze.I was at my kitchen table.Sitting and sipping a mug of hot espresso.Watching the morning sun rise.My dad came to the kitchen and asked me."My dear son,kishern.Would you mind,If i were to ask you something before school begins."I replied"Yes you may ask."He asked"Any final preparations before the  bone-breaking day of school."I said"No thank you."He stumbled away without any words. 
                       After dinner,I walked up two flights of stairs to enter my very room of work.Looking at my objects.All neatly arranged,Then I went to the creator of my poetries.My computer of course.Then,I started browsing to my blog site.Obviously you guys would know.I started to admire my work and creation for the very last time before I embark to the convent of fears and tears.Where it is no better than no man's land.
                       After the admiration.I went to the site known as Facebook.To have a last friendly conversation with all my dearest friends and enemies.I had the last great talks and laughters.Before shutting it away.Now here I am just typing this piece of short essay.No better than Stygian smoke or tobacco with tobasco sauce on it.
                      When I finish typing this,My mother will come to me with harsh looks.To inflict negative wounds all over my face.My naggy mother comes to me with baggy eyes making complaints and frowns.Which turns the town brown.Ah yes,Here the night bird comes telling me to sleep well.For tomorrows plight will be the flight to remember.There now I went to bed awaiting the perils in the darkness without blight and might.

A soothing song to keep you calm

Learn to ease anger by a bit of romance

Anger a bomb?(kishern manickam)

Is anger a bomb?
Or is it hungry,
For comb,
Like a womb,
I say,
Storing something productive,
Goring something destructive,
I say,
A small beast,
Ready to feast on you,
Forcing you to tremble fearfully,
Acing you to rumble insanely,
Making you to ramble speechlessly,
Fear it smells,
Clearly it tells,
The beast of hell,
Hears your plea,
Preventing you to flee,
Is it a bomb that destroys everything,
Or is it a paradox,
A special code,
Like a toad,
That must be decoded,
In the right manner,
If wrong,
The Tanner comes by,
With salutations,
Then kisses you goodbye,
Saying it sarcastically,
That he misses you,
The beast burst into flames,
Engulfing with anguish,
Everyone at it's path,
Without hesitation,
Nor mercy,
Just as repulsive,
And never impulsive,
There thee,
Sends a bottle of sand,
Which there is nothing to fend,
Is it a warning,
To reflect pain,
Or to deflect vain,
Vanity and insanity,
Whats the difference,
There's no salvation,
All there is,IS DAMNATION!

My aching heart filled with pain and burning desire

The silence of an aching heart(kishern manickam)

The heart aches,
Like sour tart,
Just like art,
Humiliated by fart,
The jaws of pain,
The claws of vain,
Vanity and sanity,
Wine and vine,
Laws of flaws,
Makes no difference,
Even with inference,
A casket of shadows,
Is better than a basket of meadows,
Caches of books,
Is a latch of crooks,
Rust and dust,
All that is to be shunned,
The cone of light,
Shone's the way to fight,
Bales of ales,
Crystals of bristle,
Gail and gale,
Grail and Frail,
Pigeon and Stygian,
What does it change,
It's a map,
Of traps,
Filled with craps,
Of a lunatic,
No better by the lights,
Of a vermin,
canning and vanning,
Like a canker of hell,
Heavier than an anchor I tell,
I fell into a  well,
Narrow and marrow,
Is filled with waters of sorrows,
That is not to borrow,
Pelter's and pester's,
There I watch,
Ready to catch,
Below the well.
Waiting for a miracle,
Yet the oracle voices not,
There I meet my fate,
Losing faith in me,
Life is pointless,
Nor is it meaningful.

The next exodus to extermination or determination.Which should be choosen?(kishern manickam)

There I was,
Lying,
While flying,
To the path that I will descend,
Leaving away memories that must ascend,
Everything that must be apprehended,
Shall never be appreciated,
Dried and fried faces,
Of other aces,
Acing everything,
Like smooth icing,
The bed of roses,
Are watered by filthy hoses,
Causing a tilt,
A turmoil of blackish liquid,
More putrid than brandy,
The roses are rusty like smugglers while turning pale,
No better than crusty jugglers and burning ale,
Feels like thieving kids with dog claws,
No better than hefting deeds with hog jaws,
There leaving away everything,
Embarking on a exodus like hell,
Which there is nothing to tell,
Either i exterminate myself,
Or determinate myself,
Life is everlasting pain,
Which will never end at all,

Really sad

Listen to the lyrics and read the video(how sad to lose someone in love)

Well sad video 1

Is suicide the answer?(by kishern manickam)

Hey,
Life's like a bucket of tears,
Without any ears,
Trapped with fear,
But look's crystal clear on the outside,
bristle it over,
And see blisters of  light,
Faded and shaded,
Watching all horror,
And terror,
Scarier than Dracula,
Hairier than wolf-man,
Fairer than a countess,
Screaming and creaming,
About damage causing ravage,
Waging something vaguely,
A challenge like no other,
Battle the tattles alone,
Without any aid,
Or raid,
After watching the bucket,
Sadness flows to the cheeks,
Fire glows with a peek,
A Dash of dark ash,
Is no better than hash,
Even worse than a leash,
A Curse more senile than a vermin,
Disgusted with hatred and suffering,
Obsession to die,
Obsession to fly,
Away from thee cruel world,
Sail with rails,
No better than a glass of ales,
Trailing and failing,
The answer is not suicide,
Or is it?
Or genocide,
Filled with regrets,
Watching what you left,
And what you did not theft,
Floating away,
Gloating away,
Loathing away,
That you've done the right thing,
But it is not,
Or is it?
The question lies a myth,
That comes to the decision,
Between the precision of you,
Or god himself.

Life in the dark side(kishern manickam)

Just walking,

And stalking,

No talking,

No tacking,

Just me bland,

And blank,

As black,

With lack of gags,

Bored and gored,

Tired and fired,

Hear not,

Fear not,

Of memories,

To the demise of the past,

Which premised so fast,

That the blight of light,

Was engulfed in flames,

By the arrival,

Of rivals,

It came so quick,

Without a single tick,

Turning myself,

Urning myself,

A ticket to experience,

The socket of the damned,

The condemned,

And the forgotten,

Plight in the light,

Is the flight away from the blight,

Just leaving,

And thieving,

Without any amends,

That mends,

The vending machine,

Leaving away laughter and insults,

Moving on to the test,

Like a vest with strands,

Standing there I was,

With the chalice of malice,

It feels like diced ice,

I flung it to the wall,

I have denied the call,

To remain in the light,

Without any hesitation,

There I make my move,

To the cold stove of darkness,

Leaving away happy doves,

There my heart starts to turn cold,

Old,

And moldy as stale bread,

That tasted like ale with tales,

But some resistance is fighting for others respect,

Preventing a suspect out of me,

Like a spec to bring in more light,

Like the ring of might,

Which is tight till the end,

Preventing me to fend on,

To darkness,

Well the battle continues,

Yet the tattles remain a stalemate,

Like a game of chess,

The battle continues with hassles,

And fusses.

   

Boredom(kishern manickam)

Boredom,Boredom,Boredom,
Like a home to a dome,
Boredom,Boredom,Boredom,
Like cheese with ease,
As blandly as brandy,
As ankhs of blanks,
Like pools of wools,
Warm as corn,
Just like hair,
Lifeless like air,
Functional as a chair,
With pure silence,
Without cure,
Of noises,
Just silence,
Suppressing violence,
Like fury,
Surprising gory,
With stories,
Of stones,
Just laying down,
With lying frowns, 
Having to own,
The chalice of lies,
Not even the slushes,
Sloshes, 
Slashes,
And gushes,
Of liquid makes a noise or a sound,
Silent as it is,
Filled with boredom,
Drilled with oppression,
To keep silence precious,
And ferocious,
As a fake gem,
Of amends,
Silent bores and hums,
Silencer is a dancer,
Fancies of to it's victims,
To turn and burn,
The urns of noises,
To do nothing,
And to wait,
For your fate,
It's worse than death itself,
It is as worse as heath,
To eat everything it succumbs,
And to devour unmercifully,
Of anyone that stands,
with strands of ropes,
On its way to dash hopes,
For boredom can only be solved,
By striving and thriving,
For the best,
Out of the test.

Imagining wisps(kishern manickam)

Roaming wisps,
Just like singing gypsy's,
Panting wisps,
Just like chanting hippy's,
Roaming and singing,
Panting and chanting,
All the same,
That all came,
What's so special,
About wisps,
Dances at the tips,
Glances at the mind,
Bouncing  everywhere,
Gazing at me,
What is it telling,
To hunt for,
What are those lights,
Why do they they fight,
Showing their might,
To tell me something,
I ask again,
What,
Yet,
They still billow and bellow,
Like wind,
In mind,
Confused,
Still I ask again,
Yet these lights pass riddles and clues,
Like fiddlers and blues,
Then the point comes,
These lights were chanting,
The plight of dark memories,
That is a mashed seal,
With dashed teal,
That ruins the basket,
Of caskets,
The parts and puzzles,
Were pieced and pierced,
The true colours,
That allures good,
That haunts still of the past,
Which arrives as fast as a shark,
The memories hark like sharp winds,
Just like playing a broken harp,
The lights chant hastier,
And faster,
Driving madness,
To lose sanity,
It's like art,
Of a bowl of tarts,
Which fart ruins the rest,
Also ruining the test of endurance,
By bringing the text of defiance,
To the point,
With  a coin,
The wisp laughing,
And gagging,
Harder than ever,
Are like never,
Like a rusty lever,
Getting on the nerves,
With chanting verses,
 Till sanity is lost,
Revenge is forced,
To be avenged with cost,
Yet, 
There is no cost,
To avenge against the host,
Like a ghost,
Learning to endure negative wisps,
Is acquiring the ability to endure the negative tips.

To lose everything that was once yours(kishern manickam)

There I was walking through the spattering rain,
Reminds me of  metals clattering like trains,
There I was still walking,
As no one was talking to me,
Or even stalking,
The freezing  and merciless wind gales,
Teasing like bees and tattle tales,
I,
Watching a fire burning down something,
Watching it tire and turning away things that I own,
Watching lick devilishly and blossom every darkness,
Watching it sheepishly swallow everything like Stygian smoke,
Just standing there with tears,
Handing in with fears,
My ears have heard the call,
Where now I am short which I was once tall,
Burning away and turning over,
The great,
And summoning,
A turmoil of filth,
To tilt me at every moment of life,
There I was,
Watching my failure,
Denying the purpose of my fate,
For I have lost,
To the perils of life,
Giving myself,
To suffer a horrible plight,
Just as a terrible flight to hell,
Everything has changed,
The people,
The atmosphere,
The daily routines,
And of course respect,
Considering I as a suspect,
Also now a condemned acolyte,
To serve the lights of Lucifer,
 Known as the decider of the damned,
Known as the king of kings,
Known as a blood addict,
Known as a demon who hungers,
On anger,
So as I watch everything change,
I sulk everyday,
Transforming into a hulk,
That causes more destruction,
Like never before,
Alas,
Suicide is not the road to salvation,
As it is the toad of pathetic expiation,
So as devastation,
Every time,
The grail of frails is poured in to the mouth with extra thyme,
Worsening the flavor,
That vomits out more evil,
Like the vile of tainted blood,
Fainting all innocent people,
So as ruining the recipes,
And formulas,
Just sulking and screaming for vengeance,
Yet it will never be avenged by creaming up everything,
Cackling every time,
Like a mongrel,
Who wastes time mumbling and tumbling,
Utterly nonsense,
The pain that is unleashed,
And the happiness that is leashed,
What is it like,
To suffer a terrible death,
Once everything is lost,
That cost more than money,

Doing the right thing even if you hate it(by kishern manickam)

Doing the right thing,
With all your might,
Is worth to fight for,
It's not doing what you like,
But to do what it must,
For the greater good,
Every death ,
Every heat,
Everything that's old,
And cold,
Even in high quantities,
It's the qualities for the best,
It's like a vest,
With full of tight strands,
But with positivity and might, 
It's worth the effort,
A cash of million bucks,
Can sometimes be trash,
It's also a rash,
To the back,
Thinking what to do with million bucks,
It's your decision,
Live arrogantly,
And die the next day with vain,
Washed away by rain,
To a filthy drain with dirt,
Or,
Aid others that are in need,
Instead of greed,
And sloth,
By doing that,
Respect is achieved,
So as happiness,
tranquility,
positivity,
And most importantly,
The friendship of others,
They might repay you,
In money or riches,
But if you think is right,
knock yourself out,
But if you think is wrong,
It is even better,
It shows that you do not require,
Any returns,
It shows,
You are a general person,
The most important thing,
Is you have understood the means of materialism,
And understood the concept of your purpose in earth,
Everyone is sent here for a reason,
And it's all for the best,
By the rest of the actions,
People these days,
Do not realize the means of treason,
Nor humanity,
Instead,
They become primitive for survival,
Even the death of others,
It's not a matter,
This is insanity,
Also there is no salvation,
But what are these actions for,
For the best by every fraction,
We will not know at all,
As it's part of the plan,
By god's decision,
We can never judge,
Every severe incident,
Even if everyone must die tomorrow,
It's worth for god to tie that up,
It's like a test,
To decide the amount,
Of morality we have,
As humans,
Too,
We are bonded with emotions,
To do evil actions,
For we cannot change that,
As it's part of humanity,
But,
we must always learn,
To do the right things,
Even if we hate it,

The unique beast inside(kishern manickam)

Everyone,
Even the wimpiest of all,
Has something uncommon,
And powerful,
Something extraordinary,
And destructive,
A beast,
Like no other,
That is violent,
Nor is it tolerant,
The beast,
Unleashed at the times of hardship,
Tone as hard as stone,
Fights back,
At it's own battle,
The beast should never be locked,
Only unleashed at the time of chaos,
A beast,
That proves thees not cowardly and towardly strong,
A beast,
To battle what is truly thees,
At the lights of a tattle tale,
Anger and hatred,
Burns deeply,
With vain,
And stain,
Rain spatters violently,
Hard vipers flapping violently,
As the beast of a human could bear no more plight,
As it prepares a flight to war,
Uniqueness of each beastly human depends,
To fight and to not be killed,
To be tight with fights,
Is a monstrous plight,
However, 
The beast than evokes,
Shall never be invoked,
Blood,
Flowing with anger,
Is agonized,
And energized,
Blood,
Death,
Vengeance,
Fear,
Pleas of mercy,
Is what the beast wants as sweetness,
To abuse the uses of the beast,
Is inhumane,
The uniqueness,
Might be a monster,
Better control it,
Before it controls you,

Filled with regrets and anger(by kishern manickam)

Each time,
The crystals chime,
Like dropping dimes,
And tasteless thymes,
A pin drop silence,
Feels like a defiance,
As ones  bitter heart,
Is not  sweeter than tart,
Borrowing forgiveness,
Is sorrowing the past,
The burning fires of pain,
Is learning the pyres of  vain,
The isles of tough chains 
Is the tiles of rough stains,
Regrets and hopes,
What is the difference,
Hopes washed away down the drain,
With rain,
Regrets tag along on your journey,
Gag like laughing demons,
What is the point,
If there is no coin,
The beast that is created,
Screams with tyranny,
Eager for blood,
And vengeance,
Regrets that tick each time,
Hits as hard as a wooden stick on the neck,
vengeance to murder,
With gurgles or chaos,
The inner fire emits,
So as sanity dies,
Salvation did not act,
To save the soul,
Maybe,
its for the best,
Or to burst with anger,
The beast walks out,
To feast and talk out,
Screaming with bitterness of avenging,
Dreaming with sweetness of revenging,
Calling upon the wrath of the evil,
Against the faith of the condemned,
Pleas of anger and revenge,
Are Fleas of Laughter,
Bristling with fury,
Are the crystals of jury,
Calming the beast to it's knees,
Yet it devours with rage,
pleading with fear from the culprit,
Yet it is murdered without hesitation,
Alas it still can bear no more insults,
Even after the death of the culprit,
Leaving the world with no amends,
Mending the revitalization of thee soul.

When a lots of effort and hard working quality are placed yet it fails(by kishern manickam)

The time of judgement arrives,
Eager for positive comments,
When the verdict is spoken,
Yet the efforts are wasted,
Tears of shame burns the thunders of  brightness,
Fears of blame earns the hinders of darkness, 
Ears of  damn hears the spiders of  laughter,
Turns one insane and vane,
What is it like,
To be neglected of hard earned efforts,
What is it like,
To be dashed away with hard earned hopes,
What is it like,
To be washed away with hard earned masterpieces,
What is it like,
To be laughed at the vile of evil,
What does it gain,
From dashing away ones hopes and dreams,
Nothing,
Whatever gained is wasted knowledge,
Applied with the best,
Yet wasted and washed down the drain,
And rotted by rain,
Crashed with vain,
Yet too unforgotten,
Is it for the best,
I ask again,
Is it a test,
I gain,
Is this for the sake of more,
To rake others for the greater good,
One's plight,
Might be be one's flight to death,
I ask,
What way can life provide for greater good of everyone,
It answered no,
There should be certain sacrifices by the great and the evil,
Never there has been a single hand of justice,
To be here in battle of one's right,
Yet it is always laughed and mocked,
Relentlessly till the very end.

Being happy.(kishern manickam)

Jolly good day,
I bid to earth,
Jolly good day,
I bid to nature's dirt,
Jolly good day,
I bid to the burning sun,
Jolly good day,
I bid to everyone.


What is it like to be happy,
Well i suppose it's about being positive,
Positive in what you feel,
Well not the opposite,
I am a joyful beast,
Ready to feast joy,
I am happy to meet heavens divinity,
It smiles upon my might too,
Ah so happy that wanna chase after my secret admirer,
With a bunch of happy and lively roses,
And a box of sweet and finely coated chocolates,
Also a canary that tweets to bring peace to my admirer,


Jolly,Jolly,Jolly,
Just like sweet Jelly,
Jolly,Jolly,Jolly,
Jiggling my mind to another world,
Jolly,Jolly,Jolly,
Jangling away with metals bells,
Jolly,Jolly,Jolly,
Jogging away to a better lifestyle,


Aye is that what it feels,
So go ahead and find what,
Makes a joy machine out of you,
Not necessary laughing gases or joy buzzers,
From punjab.