writing

Constant

It’s impossible to stay in one place when
Each cell in the heart of mine
Pumps blood for another
And
longs to drive on a different road
Every passing day
When thoughts start cascading
And my heart starts racing
Fresh blood filling up my heart
Hands pouring coffee
Overflowing cup
Steam rising up
Dissolving and mixing
What is not and what is there?
I long for a cage every day
That shall shield
The only vitality, keeping me
Alive
Against my will.

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Life Is Not Easy

Life is not easy when

she cries at night and smiles

in the morning.

Life is not easy when

people fail her and yet

she still has to fight for them. 

Life is not easy when

the thought of her being content 

becomes a wild thought for others. 

Life is not easy when

her own people look down on her

because of all the things she loves. 

Life is not easy when

her will to live is dampened 

just by hurtful words. 

Life is not easy when

people tell her that she’s a burden and yet

they can’t live without her. 

He Loved Her ‘Til There Was a Flower Left

In the first week, the plant was bountiful with flowers

The time he loved her sweet

The promises that they would keep.

The trust, they both would reap.

In the second week, down came 

the unforeseeable rain

Their fights, all in vain, as they ended their days 

In each others’ arms 

Under the shadow of the candle’s flame. 

In the third week, there was an unforgivable storm

More than half of the flowers were gone. They saw less

Of each other. Pieces of him in her and her in him

They remained. 

In the fourth week, the clouds started to calm, but 

Grey they still were. Only one flower perfectly poised, remained.

The one he had saved for her. 

*** Young love that is short and simple, yet passionate burns fast, my friends. But the scars always remain.***

Paper Flowers

Paper flowers in the wind

Gracefully at the might of my feet

Each petal bearing my sin, that would go unpunished 

For their beauty, I beseech for thee. 

Paper flowers amongst the pages

Hidden like valuable bookmarks

Endless pages with storytelling lines

All akin to my living lies. 

Paper flowers on the stems

Growing and falling at the same time

Counting every petal- one to ten

Collecting my thoughts, of your shrine. 

All Your Faces

All your faces, mere illusions
Mask beneath masks, the farther I went
The more I speculated reality- the weight of it
Or mayhaps the burden
On my frail outlines, I tried to hold
Only to crumble down on me
The closer I became to you
More distant I felt and stranger
I grew
Every moment I spent
When our eyes met, smiles synced, secrets lent
Your proximity felt imaginary
It could be, I share too much and trust
Too much and you- adept in the art of camouflage
And fooling me
But
Oh, beware, as I observe and just as cunning
To reach your core, when you lay bare
With your truth, facing right back
At you.

Sanity

The minute hand passing by

Pages turning over

Nietzsche and then Karl Marx

Philosopher after philosopher

Trying to make sense of my vanished balance

Still squandering, dust within my fingers

Gracefully falling

On dissipating grounds beneath my feet

Serenity evaporated through that ground

Only to be vanquished by what was more

Powerful- my mind.

Answers, not even one held. As they watched,

Through the glass, all the passer-by’s, between

The books and pages, staring back. Right at me.

A Girl’s Beauty, ‘Tis Whole

A girl’s beauty, ‘tis whole

As a full new moon

Leaving her trails on this earth

Where she walked.

Amidst the darkness, the curve of her back

Like the crescent moon and the shine

Her gazes strewn

Meander through the gaps ‘tween

Your fingers and the shady trees

Yet,

Be careful! You love her too sweet

Poison in disguise, it might be

For her eyes are aught but that of a cat’s-

Vicious and innocent

Preying, desperate to catch.

My Heart, Twas Still

The facade above my head,

with cotton clouds, it filled.

My heart shell’d by the cage

in deluge of thoughts, it was still.

Butterflies and memories

gathering around me, as 

the pink of the sinking sun

through the horizon, it spilled. 

My gazes, adrift

an off-road train.

From my hands, they fell

given by you- immaterial daffodils. 

Traces of the vase, now near my feet

Not a single blood of mine

it would spill, as

my heart in deluge, twas still. 

Under Her Skin, Above His Bones

Note/Thought: This is not another sentimental or melodramatic poem about unrequited love, although they do tend to get the best of me; but this poem is about the similarity that runs within humankind- underneath our different looks and the ideals we follow and the rules that we hold ourselves up to, we all are the same when we are stripped naked.

***

Under her skin

and above his bones

components akin-

honey and venom.

Blue and red,

veins they run

connected like dots

as places on a map.

Sins we commit

and angels, we claim to be

the flesh covering us, our lies

thicker than that.

Sweet and flowy,

red like rose,

crests and troughs, the curves

of our bodies, they move.

A breath he takes,

a breath she leaves

their joy in flakes

each one, they grieve.

Our thoughts are thin

we are the same-

under her skin and

above his bones.

***