I wish I could see how I
look behind the mirror...
without any light,
or surface.
How would I appear
without my reflection?
I wish to take the journey into
that vast expanse of formlessness
where nothing matters:
shapes, colours and even movements.
A trapped shadow
harbours a similar desire!
Jan 27, 2021
Jan 27, 2021 at 10:18 AM UTC
It goes on in the head,
and too often, manifests itself.
But sometimes, isn't apparent at all.
What spurs the insanity? And how?
Nobody knows.
'Coz the brain is bizarre. And will remain so.
Madness can't be demystified.
Its mystery will grow thicker as
a Ramkrishna or a Mira Bai
attain transcendence in crazy love.
Or a ****** or an Alexander
pursue their weird expansionist dreams.
Who will ever unravel why a Gogh cut off his ear?
Why a Plath found peacefulness in suicide
Or what triggered for a Hemingway to shoot himself?
The 'black dog' of a Churchill chases me down too;
I can hear a Darwin howling like a child within me,
My eyes are blinded by a Newton's illusions
I hold the hand of an insomniac Dickens on an empty street.
And walk the tightrope of hope.
Am I losing it really?
But I feel to be regaining my sense of self
as I try to defy a status quo
and find a reason to be 'abnormal' again for them.
Now, should I run on the road like a possessed Archimedes?
Or yell like that unknown, 'maniac' girl who challenges civilization for its irrationality?
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 7:12 AM UTC
A recalcitrant child
didn't mend his ways
despite repeated warnings;
so, the helpless mother
had no choice
but to lock him up in a room
till he implored her to set him free
and asked for forgiveness
with copious tears in his eyes.
But were these tears shed
merely because of frustration,
just to get out of the desperate situation?
Were they honest enough?
Will the child really shape up?
Or the cycle continue?
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 2:44 PM UTC
A bloodless carnage
bleeds our roots.
The invisible shadow
prowls around.
A morbidity hammers in;
An obsession aches with despair.
Entangled in enigmas, dreams shudder;
A helplessness mocks the inertia.
An awkward acceptance creeps in,
But the uneasiness can't escape.
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 2:36 PM UTC
And when you survive this chaos,
Nail those face masks
to your walls,
to keep reminding yourself
how smothered you felt
every time you had to don them.
It will serve as a memory
to a sin that made you gasp for breath
and a life that choked on avarice.
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 2:34 PM UTC
The book of yore
is shut
and lessons unlearnt.
A storm blows the pages
wide open
and the forgotten chapters
come haunting.
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 2:32 PM UTC
The world stops
to tell us
how breakneck speed
ruins a race,
it goes silent
to teach us
how deafening noise
causes a disconnect,
it bleeds
to show us
how purposeful living
calls for less.
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 2:29 PM UTC
A shut-in life,
The baffled walls whispering,
Withdrawal into our lonely,
fatigued selves.
The swift pulse of our
changing priorities;
the stoutly guarded facades falling off,
thoughts wrestling with a constant sense of uncertainty,
a faith trying to salvage
a slipping hope.
Slow acceptance of an
inherent susceptibility;
Habits learning to shatter
the mist of myths,
Dreams making peace with
an obvious yet oblivious reality;
A silent realization to relish the nanoseconds offered now
without nursing an appetite for a future unknown.
A hardship that leaves us
languishing in isolation,
but creates a new bond
with our blessings.
Apr 6, 2020
Apr 6, 2020 at 3:06 PM UTC
A cottage left languishing
looks diffidently at me with a
welcoming eye.
A carriage abandoned
lends its hesitant hand
to offer me a seat.
Breeze of a lost past
turns the page of a forgotten chapter;
Time sets the clock back
A vanished glory comes
echoing in silence.
Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 8:15 AM UTC
It's a ghost city
where the dread of death
stalks the dead.
A corpse gazes
into the mirror
to feign a state of the living.
A brutal past haunts
memory's grave;
Unfinished stories remain forsaken.
A desolate shadow
falls on an unceasing night;
the stillborn day mourns.
Cry of a vanished era
bares a collapsed glory;
Pride falls from grace.
Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 12:42 PM UTC