Delusion

My book of life filled with delusional chapters
How long can I read them before they disappear?
Sometimes I wonder, when will ‘inanimacy’ end and conformity begin?
Certainly, I am not the only one flustered by this abstractionism
And there are quite a few out there, just like me, pondering, waiting, thinking

New day, and I’m ready to open a brand new page and start scribbling
Wishing something meaningful would come out with this new hope
Yet never disappointed with the drifted words, smiling and glowing
Once again, I end up writing another inanimate line
And one more bewildering thought strike my wandering mind

Words flowing through the plethora of mountains
And to the valleys, where they finally come to rest
I decide to look back; and I’m stunned by the greatness of the still mountain
Which never ceases to inspire me, and once again I continue with my fantasy

Maybe I am searching for some truth, and I hope to experience reality someday
And I know its somewhere out there, waiting for me too
Trying to understand what I’m looking for
Waiting to step in any time to help me comprehend
More it observes, more it is perplexed
It fears the unfaithfulness that I would bestow upon it
And silently it sneaks back to its familiar old corner
Which I will never anticipate, and it knows I wont ever understand

the new beginning…

How the mind wanders in the emptiness
Hollowness feels good after long
No more holding back and no fear to explore
More time to embrace the colorful silence
Yesterday seems lost with the hazy figures
Today has the softness in its inception
It’s not just another day with the cloudy sky
It’s a new world and the new rain
And it makes me feel beautiful again.

Yesterday

I could read you, I said.
Through the transparent light,
I even see the scars I put on you.
Meddling in the past of flowers,
Or I must say the gloomy spring, unfolds in front?

Not another hour must pass by,
And I hear you scream from the ugly lands.
No man can ever forget the sweetness of that cold.
The warmth of the summery curves,
Rested above my sturdy chest.
I see you, and I close my eyes for eternity.

Discomfort in your own skin,
you try to build a new suit, and I draw for you.
Colors re-appear, and smells permeate through the pores.
Yet you are stuck with your old coat,
nothing left to spend.

One last time you would stand, not alone.
Before long, I shall be gone, leaving no trace behind.
Would you wave with a withered face and fragile hands?
I want to remember you, unaffected.
I will call you from afar, maybe once.
And I shall send you a postcard.
Expect not another letter from me onwards.

Deception

I saw a lone star somewhere far
I bathe in its light but it has a scar
I sowed the seed of dishonesty
While I appreciated the beauty
Of my troubled mind

You were kind, tender, and surreal
I would for once give up and surrender
Then I wonder if you’d still take me back
Now I have mingled with another pack

Your voice disappeared in discordance
Now nowhere I fully belong
Neither here nor there is my true home
My own shackles chained my feet
For me to live a life of guilt and deceit

I want you to call me one last time
I am no perfect and I cant set things right
Although I played a wrong card for you
I know I picked the rough plateau to rest
And a colorful deception was my design too
But believe me, it is only a speckle of the past!

End of war

Through a pigeon flying somewhere high
Comes a story of all dead men alive
Vague scenes from the battles won
Standing on the edge fallen apart
Still breathing Utopian dream

Puppets

Voice tells us a story of a diary.
Can’t deny the strength of the flowing river.
Water cascading down through the tiny gaps,
where the flowers of summer blossom
and smile in their own colors.

Written by the ink of black clouds,
treasured by the demon of no sin.
Where does the story end?
Did it ever have a beginning?
Beautiful mosaic, appreciated by all.
But did it have a real story to tell?

History is all that we see in the dark.
Who wrote it down for us to read?
Blindly we believe all they say;
for they can never be wrong in words.

No hopes for the voice to die out,
but whole of life left to go through.
We are the puppets for them to play,
dancing in their melodious tone.
We are the seasons they try to change
and tune us in their own way.

And I don’t want to be a boy!!!

You are not to be heard, it was long
decided. It’s all printed in black they say,
and carved in so deep that everyone follows.
Not just today, from the day you were born,
they called you a girl and not a boy.
You were delicate, you were fragile.
So there was always someone
—brother, father, husband, or the son—
just for you, to protect you from all evils.

There are many victims of ordinance,
robbed and raped by attackers.
But you are too intimate, they keep you
safe, miles away from the ‘domestic violence’.
You are so privileged, and yet obedient.
There can only be one captain, so you quietly
lift your dainty step and join the crew.
You don’t stand for any rights, and
you suffer no pain, encounter no injuries.
You have no visible scars or wounds to heal.
Your pious submission is served by the stronger.
Neither you think nor do you speak,
as you know, they love you silent.

You become oblivious to what you see
and insentient to things you hear.
You don’t reply to the sturdy figures
or try to persuade them. They are
just like you, deaf to your dying sound.
They are deprived and weak too.
But they are eager to protect you.
They want to feel you, know you from inside,
caress your vulnerability, and give you faith.
Security, love, and care, you get all.
They bestow you with all the happiness
—man, shelter, children, and food—
and you relish for the life time.

It moves in a circle.

Cycle of words all draped in circles,
they last for seconds and die.
And another cycle starts and continues
until there is no more left.

I watch the tape recorder play.
It circles too and in a soothing tone,
but slowly it muffles.
Silence reigns for micro seconds
before another song resumes.

The earth revolves around the sun
and the moon around the earth.
Does their motion change the seasons?
Does the wintry frost wither the leaves
before the summer breezes in?

The vehicle’s wheel rotates
and rolls the tire in circles.
Does the engine make circles too?
And I wonder, if it takes us any farther.

Somewhere on this dark planet, a mother
gives birth to a child,
while the father sacrifices
his life for the nation.
The grandmother is baffled
by the mixed feelings
of circles going round and round
but never reaching her.
Her husband tosses
the empty cigarette box on the floor
and slowly lights his last cancer stick.
Time grows older as he watches
the clouds of smoke disappear.
The hands of his watch fall apart,
take him back in time to wander.
Once more he walks in a circle
and blows one more perfect ring.
But now he understands the fickle world,
where once more the dawn meets the dusk
and intertwines.

Let Go

I follow the leaves of the maple trees,
with my careless steps, as they try to slip away.
But I pull myself together again and wander ahead.
This time it was something different,
somehow, the colors were new.
But I sensed the dullness through the light,
which desperately reflected their lonesomeness.

I have been scared for so long now.
The imperfectness in me haunts me hard.
I fail to understand its okay to be ugly.
Rather I try to run away, from the threatening silence.
I want to grab the closest song, bitter-sweet I can’t know.
I want it to linger, I want to walk together,
because I know this road is long and
I feel l might get lost without you.

I am caught in this structured route.
It leads to the place you call it destiny.
I follow, I agree, I think I have to believe.
I pretend to argue sometimes, but I know I cant.
You say I’m beautiful.
Yes, I whisper. I continue to embrace my denial.

Today I found myself walking alone, I wonder
why you let me loose. You weren’t afraid
of my fear anymore. No surprise.
It lives with me, and within me.

I thought I held you tight, and I had you so close.
But you were searching for something perfect.
I could feel the chillness in the air,
as the blowing wind, and the dancing leaves,
caught me aback.

The sun died before my eyes.
I stood still with my hair caressing my face.
Once again, I wanted to miss you,
but now I knew I had to let go.