How drunk is drunk to me.
I hear men drink the sweat of their heart away.
I try it every night.
Spend my nights in bar till
I end up fist fighting.
Till my mouth fill with blood
more than whisky.
They won't **** me,
they love their lives.
But I won't stop till they run away.
As I walk back to my apartment
women look at me and frighten
like I'm an animal,
which I wish to be but-
When I reach my apartment,
I ask myself if I'm drunk enough.
And I would say myself,
try better tomorrow.
Jul 24, 2020
Jul 24, 2020 at 9:57 AM UTC
When I was a kid,
I had a labrador.
He was beaten, beaten his blood out of his face.
I wish I can help him.
But I was beaten too.
By my daddy,
sometimes by my mommy too.
I used to go to school
to escape the chaos in my house.
The school was worse.
They bullied me
throwing my water bottle away.
I was whipped for that.
For losing my water bottle.
The labrador used to stare at me,
he wishes he could help.
I went house
without pens, napkins,
torn notebooks,
sometimes torn uniforms too.
whipped, whipped, whipped
my childish pale flesh.
One day I walked to house
without a pencil eraser.
I was not sad.
I was not scared.
I got beaten a lot of times.
But-
I went house and saw
my labrador
dead.
I did not cry.
I accepted my quota of whips
and took a long walk outside.
I did not cry.
Jun 3, 2020
Jun 3, 2020 at 2:29 AM UTC
When I was a kid,
I had a labrador.
He was beaten, beaten his blood out of his face.
I wish I can help him.
But I was beaten too.
By my daddy,
sometimes by my mommy too.
I used to go to school
to escape the chaos in my house.
School was worse.
They bullied me throwing my water bottle away.
I was whipped
with my dad's leather belt
for loosing my water bottle.
The labrador used to stare at me,
he wish he could help.
I went house without
pens, napkins,
torn notebooks and torn uniforms.
whipped, whipped, whipped
my childish pale flesh.
One Day I walked to house
without a pencil eraser.
I was not sad.
I was not scared.
I got beaten a lot of times.
But-
I went house and saw
my labrador
dead.
I did not cry.
Accepted my quota of whips
and took a walk outside.
I did not cry.
May 24, 2020
May 24, 2020 at 12:46 PM UTC
India is about to war
on Pakistan.
I'm busy getting my
degree.
Climate is burning
the ice.
New parasites are evolving
in our lungs.
Immigration is devastating
employment.
But people are busy
paying their bills.
Spaceships are surrounding us.
Government is announcing
a new refugee scheme.
ISRO is launching
forty satellites.
But kids are busy
practising their parents' signature.
Young is busy
risking life to buy marijuana.
Youth is busy
begging for jobs.
Adults are busy
spying kids' notebooks.
The world has enough problems
already
to make something new.
It is like adding
a new task in the to-do list
in the rush hours.
Bees becoming extinct.
Well-
let me get my degree first.
May 18, 2020
May 18, 2020 at 2:33 AM UTC
There was a tadpole
who lived in a tight pool.
He waited to be a frog
before fainting the winter fog.
To hop in hard land of dry sand
where huge trees stand.
What happened when he hop?
For his unluck, against his hope.
He fell under a giant boot,
instead of on a tree root.
May 15, 2020
May 15, 2020 at 9:44 AM UTC
Leave the stars be flying,
by seeing your beauty,
they will be dying to stark.
Leave the bees wandering fruitless,
if they witness your sweetness,
they will be wondering thoughtless.
You are a flower dipped in dew.
He who made honeydew,
must have mad you.
May 15, 2020
May 15, 2020 at 9:28 AM UTC
Some poets
mislead
you.
"Don't give up"
is written
by those who write
"Leave when it hurts."
They
confuse
you.
Leaves change
colors
with seasons.
Poets
write
accordingly.
Sometimes,
they behave
homeless.
Poems are fake.
They write in
masks.
People say
beautiful
things.
But they
don't follow
them
They knew
they are
wrong.
Poetry is
not a philosophy.
It's only a confused
poet's diary.
So don't read
poetry.
Or atleast,
don't take them serious.
May 15, 2020
May 15, 2020 at 12:54 AM UTC
I was all fine in every reason,
yet you wrecked me like I was none.
I'm still holding to my obsession
But you changed like a season.
Now it seems like a part of your theme.
When I'm still flowing in the stream,
how could you walk away with no esteem
like it was all one dream in a dream.
May 14, 2020
May 14, 2020 at 4:36 AM UTC
She is making tea for her poet-husband.
Wondering what her husband is writing.
Once he wrote "Charm floats on her cheeks,
like a paper boat on the water.
Dipping and dancing."
Or maybe he is writing something ***** on her.
Like once he wrote -
"Between her thighs is the temple
where I belong."
She is making tea for her poet-husband
thinking he wants to impress her again.
She can hear his pen tapping his teeth.
But she can not see whisky on his table and
she can not see he is watching her sister
as he writes.
May 13, 2020
May 13, 2020 at 8:48 AM UTC
There is a goldfish
living in a shoe.
Afraid to get out
and see the sky blue.
There is a goldfish
living in a shoe.
Who once lived in water
which is blue.
May 13, 2020
May 13, 2020 at 8:34 AM UTC