Walkin on uncharted roads...

It’s a lonely, long,
Uphill task, only for the brave,
But who is someone else to decide,
Or opine on which route to take.

Experience, a lame excuse,
Has hampered many success stories hitherto
Knowledge, the timeless weapon all would want,
Has held back the bold from walking strong
Are these really the key to success, I ask thee?
If so many others could make it, why not me?

An illiterate mind, undeterred by the winds of the world
Holds the key to intuitive decision-making,
No business models, no flowcharts on paper,
No pivots or excel sheets or conferences
Not even laptops or designer cabins

He has the spark in him to wash away competition
He has the drive in him to endure with conviction
He has the strength to walk alone, he is
The only one to walk on uncharted roads...

The billion dollar ride...

Jump into the ride, take off the cover,
Step up the gas, Burnout some rubber,
Pull down the window, open the sunroof,
Let the air run in, from the overhead scoop.

Don’t you whine cuz I drive it in style,
Lots of hot babes, as I cover each mile,
Jet black tints, to hide what’s in,
Crates of beer, washing all my sin

Raging beats, thumping my chair,
Babes at the back but I just don’t care,
Cops or not, the throttle’s always floored,
When I freakin’ ride, you just can’t get bored

Underbody skirts, hotter than your face,
Open the cans, and drink without a trace,
Flashing lights, I don’t care no shit,
In my scheme of things, they just don’t fit

I play my music loud
And my dash is all wood,
Don’t step into the car
If you don’t know what’s in the hood.

And I wrote...

It’s crazy how times you are in,
Can so easily influence your expression,
How love, or hatred, or misery,
Make you articulate,
So candid, a confession

It’s unbelievably true how,
The sad ones, the writings,
Pitch easier than their happy counterparts
How a woman can make you a splendid poet,
Write verses of feelings, unstopped.

It’s foolish to reason,
How words aren’t enough,
To the voice the child,
That delves in my mind.
Yet all that’s written is a revelation,
Even to the writer of the line.

It’s a different league they say,
Of writers or poets,
Or lyricists, all the same,
They speak their mind,
Fearless, persuasive,
Yet criticised alike,
For being ahead of their times

And so I write too, unafraid,
Not withered, nor scared,
Of the critic, or the rival
Yet each moment, I go through
In life, gives me a reason,
To stand by my expression

I need you back...!!!

Just another weekend,
Cool wind in my hair,
Rollin' down the highways,
At the speed of a snail.

To the beat of nickelback,
N a lil' bit of snare,
Eyes on the road ahead,
A heart alone, No1 to care.

A beast on the cruiser,
Wider than the rubber he burns,
A hot babe on a honda,
She's riding bent at the turns.

D sun ain't out still,
Its that time of the dawn,
I really wanna keep rolling,
Please don stop me, mom..!!

No fear of falling,
Or the cop at the barricade,
No beer to accompany me,
no smoke that's lit.

Careless, a freak,
A ruthless rider,
I brave each fall,
Bruises don't matter.

I dont just roll,
I can roll on forever,
Just gimme back my ride,
Den call me whatever...