The years and time siphoned
Out the life of that tall standing tree.
As the wind cankers its dry branches; a ruthful vagabond,
The tree, of its teeming duties remains free.
Somewhere, you can see its lushy green,
The twittering garden, breezy dance and impalpable glory,
The soul savory colors and seasonal reigns, reflecting
In the ether of earth rooted memory.
5d ago
May 29, 2026 at 3:07 AM UTC
"Not now, I'm busy
At home doing some self-care.
Roughly speaking, I need at least three hours."
...
"Carson, I'm sorry,
I lost the track of time.
Sorry, I will visit you tomorrow or
Should I go to the hospital right now?
(Uff this is so tiring)
Should you need me, please just call/text me."
...
Carson:
Ring...Ring...Ring...
No answer
Hey, I feel terrible, can you come visit me?
Delivered
May 6
May 6, 2026 at 7:16 AM UTC
Tcha Tcha!
Tcha Tcha Tcha!
A squirrel hears my calling.
Tcha ... Tcha!
I sit idly.
With every calling,
It leaps forward,
Carefully tracing its steps.
Tcha Tcha!
I extend my fingers,
while in my mind, I fear it might bite me.
Tcha!
It finally comes near me,
sniffs my extended finger.
As I try to touch it,
It leaps away from me.
Tcha Tcha!
The desperate calling now
makes it stop few steps away.
It turns to stare at me.
Then leaps away further.
I keep calling, in hopes,
it'll come back.
Tcha Tcha!
Apr 3
Apr 3, 2026 at 3:32 AM UTC
I
When the firecat bristled over Oklahoma,
The green lushy bushes trembled and thrilled.
II
Did he try to find a tree in that night?-
When the valley candle converged upon its image.
III
I look at the dead tree
But I know
A green bud is finding its way out
From beneath the ground.
IV
The glossy leaves
Are bangles of an armed tree.
It fires out the life when the wind blows.
V
The green algae in the sea bed
Shimmers blue in the moonlight.
It's the ritual to summon the Sun.
VI
The barren winter is soon ending.
The green is shedding its weary skin.
VII
I look at the green leaf,
The green tree,
The green hill,
The green in my mind
And the green in yours.
Are they the same green?
Let me change my lens!
VIII
The forest green welcomes me,
May that forest forever stay in our blind spot.
May its green stay green
And not dusty of some underdeveloped road track.
IX
Outside the window:
The Golden Oriole and a Great Coucal
Sit on the faraway tree.
They came to see the Drongo's air dive.
Ahead of the blue-green endless sky, a swallow prepares for its 'better' dive.
The trees gossip on swallow's act,
And in the greener shade
A stream hums with airy beats.
X
When I see a dry tree
I lend it some of my green.
'I have seen you in glory;
it shall return.'
XI
Watching the green frames,
Change throughout the seasons
Is alike a flower blooming.
The winter night wilts it
And the spring morn teems it.
XII
It is the color of life.
A state of calm tranquil.
The trees in the hills
Moving in unison
Marks how alive the wind is.
XIII
While the valley candle kept burning
And flashing on the firecats fury;
I borrowed his lens of green.
It was broken.
Apr 1
Apr 1, 2026 at 12:08 AM UTC
The tree cradling the twitter of birds and the squirrel's call
Outside my bedroom window, now-doesn't stand tall.
It was the source of my delight.
A tree, on my way to work, just yesterday-
It was tall with vibrant blooming buds.
But today, it doesn't veil the sky's grey.
My favorite tree on the sidewalk,
They shunned its leafy arms from rising higher-
It was interrupting the electric wire.
While their dead stories are littered around the street like a treasure
And their lonely roots away from the day's light,
Their glory days remain etched in my vision forever.
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 12:56 PM UTC
Don't ignore the
Uncountable wailing prayers
Echoing beneath the oppression chambers.
The dead voices, or the living ones;
Coming from a palace of humanne grief.
Don't ignore them.
Don't find pride in the corrupt patriarchy of religions.
Don't seek for shelter in your god,
The one who forgives you by repenting for your bad act.
The one who abandons the victims labelling them as the 'part of great cause' or 'sacrifice for greater good'.
Don't **** yourself because your god didn't save you.
Don't **** the helpless for the sake of your god.
**** your god,
The one who allows it.
The one who allows **********
And aborts your sacred vows.
The hypocrite that wounds the god in you.
The ruler that stays still when he has the power to change.
The psychopath that smirks at your spiritual suffering,
And wheels it in endless cycles.
**** your god,
If you cannot do so,
Set him free from those heavy chains of the past,
From the dark locked room in the depths of your innervision.
Let him see the light of each day,
Let him see the world,
Teach him the morales,
Those which you casually shove into people's faces.
Teach him once, twice, thrice,...-
Till he learns the distinct good and the distinct bad.
Liberate him or let him perish
Either way, "God Is Dead".
Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 12:45 PM UTC
Every time when the wind carries itself
From here to there,
In the midst of the grey,
The trees welcome its grace
With gossips and claps.
And the sky that roofs this
Earthly sight
Steams up in delight and pours out the pearls.
The land rejoices upon the gifts showered from the heaven
And tunes out soft happy melodies.
Thunder, that courses through the distant horizons
Declares its presence now and then
And swiftly in a flash, traces- in its divine light;
The play of the dark
That has long reigned the night.
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 11:23 AM UTC
I wish to be the flying speck of the dandelion whole
That curves the fabric of the divine wind.
I wish to be the ripples
That shatters the smooth orifice of the calm lake.
I wish to be the reflection of the diving fishing bird
That penetrates and vanishes into the deep blue ocean.
I wish to be the dancing shadows of the trees;
The dark side of the Sun.
When the orange sphere hides behind the hills,
I wish to be the lingering silence that follows the night.
And when it appears again- high and bright,
I wish to be its warm radiance that nourishes the day.
I don't mind being the dusty swirl of wind
Or the dying steam of water.
Neither do I mind being the wilting flower
Nor the ceasing trace of fire in the coal.
For, it is my ample wish to be all, or be none,
To be eternal or be gone.
Mar 5
Mar 5, 2026 at 3:14 AM UTC
In the stillness of the moody weather,
The delirium whispers, "come hither";
I walk with tiny cautious steps in the dark.
Extending my arms and swaying to your view that is stark.
When I close my eyes in the day,
You cease alike a flickering fire;
Only to appear a little farther away,
And say to me, "Look at that glowing spire".
I look at the spire-
Amidst the many others, it's the only one that's glowing.
When I turned to you, you were already a dying fire.
And I unfold my eyes to a cold wind blowing.
Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 11:55 PM UTC
It all makes sense,
that it is not in the mortals
to create beauty and leave them
hidden in the most absurd places;
always visible and yet overlooked.
It will all make sense,
when late in the night,
you sit outside
and the smell of blooming Jasmine fills the air,
the crickets chatter loud and proud
while a silent melody takes over.
It will all make sense,
when in the early morning,
you sit by yourself and look
at the palm of your hand,
flip it back and forth and trace the lines.
It all makes sense,
that the divinity resides
all around us and within us.
Feb 12
Feb 12, 2026 at 5:07 AM UTC