I stand in front of mirror
And I see a stranger being staring at me
I try to start a conversation
But my questions are directed back at me
and after looking closely I recognize the stranger
Its my lost self I have been trying to look out for a long time
and after a while I see patches appearing on my skin
On the skin of my self in the mirror
I try to feel them on my skin
but they refuse to appear
As if refusing to relate to me
And I think to myself
Is it me failing my self or my self failing me
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 2:36 AM UTC
Where would the unattended feelings go?
Would they be eased out in the cracking of knuckles or the shift of postures?
Would they be smoked out or consumed in the cups of coffee?
Would they be ignored in the aimless walks in the park or a drive through the city?
Would they be kept aside while talking to a stranger coming close or a closer one going strange?
Would they be watched out in movies or read in books or gazed out at ceilings and walls?
But the question remains, at the end of it all... Where would the unattended feelings go?
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
It's mother's day today
Please don't hate me
Atleast for a day
Trust me when I say
I love you as much as your sons do
And I pray for you silently
And I feel sorry for
All the differences in our opinions
But that's who I am
I can't be anything else
What you demand will deprive me of myself
Please don't take that away
Please believe me when I say
That in those long hours of night, it is you for whom I pray.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 11:31 PM UTC
You have had me
Myself,
In the most
Raw, pure, honest
Portrait of myself.
You
Changed that
To a person
Stranger
To both of us.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 3:20 AM UTC
That lamentation, as it was,
Heard for centuries above
Has told of the glory and the loss
Among the other needless costs
In it now I find a friend and foe
Here in the belly, the undertow,
The phantom crashes, deep bellows,
Fiery lights made palpable
A static tension in the air
Breeding pain, doubt and despair
Multiplies, exemplifies,
Heavy hearts and saddened eyes
But it's necessary for
Harboring coming downpour
Floods crashing through ***** streets
Wipe clean the mark of entitled feet
Rejuvenation in desolation
And when wandering your gardens
I stopped to appreciate every flower
You sang me along, flowers seemingly
Growing where you walked
Magnificence made my breathing heavy
I longed so very much to sing with you
But I could not breathe,
I could not make a sound
The rain is falling now
With arms full of tulips and the idea of you
I'm carried outside myself
By the scent still left in your wake
Intimacy in isolation
There is something to be gained
Sitting lonely in the rain
Wrapped within nature's grasp
Unifying present and past
I've now only in this weather
Visions of these gardens brought to wither
The vibrant mind of springtime
Knocked unconscious in the winter
Anywhere the sun leads you
The clouds are sure soon to follow
But you'll be far from daunted
There will be more gardening tomorrow
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 9:51 PM UTC
Dancing in the wind, quite literally.
In the beginning, you danced in the rain,
Your fire doused by the weight of the world.
You spluttered and your glow was crushed.
The expectations of society held you down.
Your movements were feeble and your light was dying.
It began with a touch of innocence, that harmless naiveté that age withers away.
Such a fragile essence of youth is pounded by the harsh reality that is life. Broken.
This acidic reality consumes all; Innocence, hope and simple idealism.
Maturity is a merciless awakening to a ruthless existence.
She drowned you in standards of beauty and perfection.
Did you not realise we are all beautiful?
The moment stops, stands in turmoil
and caustic, sarcastic scepticism.
It builds, climbs and crashes around you.
You fall, die and are swept away.
Only a spark remains.
‘A will to shatter stars.’
Your mind snaps, is reformed and strengthened.
Apparently, “what doesn’t **** you makes you stronger.’
The darkness of your father’s death;
and the morbid beauty contained within that blood-stained image is glorious.
It drives you to new heights and drags you to more depraved depths.
Passion unblocked, and lo, it lies on lofty heights.
Luminous, boundless, binding.
Your smouldering coal bursts into flame anew.
A curious desire for life is born;
Its candle flickers alongside a raging inferno.
A rebirth ensues.
Complete eclipse of restriction cycles from new moon to full.
The lunar light darkens shade by shade, shadows lengthen and the sky descends.
Lightning arcs though strong clouds.
Pulsing energy razes the heavens in its purest form.
This is the ultimate representation of your freed mind.
This chaotic rolling mass of fury, built up over years of restrained frustration.
Inexorably intertwined, our threads on fates tapestry weave over and over.
A ghost of echoing sentiment remains, one that must be guided, lest it is forever lost.
Gently nurturing a recovering mind is a tedious process.
Great perseverance and patience are required to preserve both its sanity and your own.
‘Tis a far reaching and noble goal, yet one of the most arduous of all to pursue.
This explosion of your psyche and subsequent downfall leaves a dangerous dilemma.
A block, if you will. A redeeming light remains from your rapid release of consciousness.
The key, is in finding that light.
Unlocking this matrix of memory produces a spectacular result.
This web of twisting thoughts spins in the air.
Dancing in the wind, quite literally.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
May be tombs are not
As much a sign of glory
As we think them to be
May be its just a way of soil
Of returning the sufferings
That this world
Puts upon the soul
May be that's what they are
A heap of suffering.
21.4.2016
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 3:32 PM UTC
Through those long hours of indiscretion
And those long wept nights
I have detested
The constant echoing of that one word
In the alleys of my mind
With each passing second, hour and night
The echoes got
Louder
Shriller
Noisiest
Those echoes of 'undefined'
The echoes of what you left me with
After I offered you all that I was
In my body, soul and mind
You said what we shared was undefined
Transforming my life
Hours of my day and my nights
Into a struggling realm
Where I struggled to find
Some invisible strings that might
Lead me to a ray of light
Where I can start my search for myself
Left by you as 'undefined'.
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 4:23 PM UTC
Scars filled bodies
Wounded hearts
And empty souls.
But don't spread your hands
In front of someone
Because that is only going to get you more pain and longing hours.
Go back to
Where you came from
That's your cage
Your corner
That's where you belong.
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 8:47 AM UTC