Was sitting on a chair and dreaming,
that I'd go out someday for fishing, again.
This world had us like a satan.
We miss everything that is going.

In the long afternoons
when I'm just alone,
at my place, with no one but my soul;
I think hard to answer stuff,
stuff that are useless to be told.

In the long afternoons,
that are dimmer than of the dusk.
But I'm active then and I just suspect my luck.
For something strange that happens to me,
It leaves me alone with a shock.

In the long afternoons,
for the useless things I think,
apocalypse, fame and my thoughts that link
to an outer world unknown to everyone.
Rainbow sheep and how the world shall sink.

In the long afternoons,
for the tragedic songs I sing.
The sighs I swear like the death of a king.
I daydream about stupid li'l things
but it's you that I think more about, and that thought's not leaving.

Where will the sun go after sunset?
After it dives into the deep blue sea?
Will it go somewhere it needs to be?
Or will it just take time to be free?
I don't know what the sun will do meanwhile.
Thank God. Love's still there in the moonlight.
But, really, will the sun ever get tired?
Playing the wicked games, up in flames;
Inexhaustible, yet a source of blames?
Why do humans blame it for their faults?
By the way, where will the sun go?
People in the other end speak stupid.
"The Sun's still shines after sunset.", they say.
**How can I say it's not the sunset that I mean.

I wanted to be alone.
So I went to the roof to see,
the citylights blaring at me,
in their luring tone.

I went to the edge and thought,
"Didn't I love these and all?"
and when I looked down,
"What should I do?", I thought.

I looked down again.
"Didn't I dream to fly?"
Then, a dilemma.
"Now why do I cry?"

I went to the roof.
But I'm still alive.

In this big wide world, a few things,
are the things that cannot be seen.
Amongst them the most gentle,
is the wind too uncertain.

Sure it gives a sense of eternal peace ,
but sometimes does a bit of mischief.
The phenomenon of nature, so inanimate,
it makes me forget all my painful grief.

I can't compare you to a demigod,
but for sure, you are a preacher.
A preacher who preaches the priority of life,
and pretends to be a pre-cautious wanderer.

Oh wind! You're without a faithful destiny,
'cause you're the destiny of your own.
But I'm so sorry for the things we've done to you.
Hope you forgive us humans. I mourn.

But don't ever cease blowing sins off this world,
I said you're a soulful preacher so agile.
You're perky, lively, calm and sinless.
Wind, I feel you. Flow by me, and make me docile.

Try to halt me and you fall back.
Thought I can't see ya' but at every sec,
I see you with my eyes without a break.
I got guts more after every take.
I'm the one who can't be moved,
for heck's sake!

I don't even own a picture of yours,
to see you with  my deepest insticts.
And not even your voice to hear you,
for you break the silence of my soul.
Even silences have secrets, you say.
But I can't see it neithher feel nor hear it.

I didn't even see you from years
'cause you left for a town indistinct.
But distance makes us want to be close,
to find, to cheer. Distance makes our love
stronger than it was from ever.
But somewhere deep inside, I 'm afraid.

I didn'y even know you good,
when you left for your place.
You loved me then, though
I didn't understand and you left.
I should've loved you sooner
and for it, I apologize my dear.

I don't even care about what
you do to make me jealous.
I really don't mind when you flirt.
Although you're far off from me
thanks to technology at most.
'Cause we can get hold of us.

Even we're silent, distant and numb,
**I know you do love me
and I do it more than you do.

To write, I fear
'cause I think it'll make me sad.
To speak, I fear
'cause the criticism hurts so bad.

They call me a rant
stating their ego, stabbing me.
What is that they want?
My knowledge or to be my enemy.

I was strong yesterday,
but today my success is bequeathed.
I am weak today.
My emotions caged. Imagination tethered.

To break, I am ready.
Like a loose invertebrate, I lay.
To die, I am passionate.
But it is adjourned to someday.

They made me run away.
And I feel it easier than to fight.
I can try for a billion billion times.
But,
Would I ever be able to escape this plight?

Black and dark like half-burnt coal.
Without a speck of humid hope.
Dark, dark slender piece!
Condition of my heart is this.

Heavy it is asa paper weight.
Obvious odium is all it gets.
Dampness exists. Only in tears.
Joy is absent. Only fear appears.

Useless heart. It lacks sentiments.
Visualises only the profane objects.
Alike a phony piece of polyhedron.
Black & White -- the only shades in its spectrum.

It was brisk and vivid. Happy and humid.
Pure crimsoune flowed along the good deeds.
But now it's a spectre - wretched and mechanical.
Asphalt river it its . Odious and ordeal.

Its operation has become so tedious.
Its functions - corrupt and nefarious.
Love? It has forgotten this name.
The only player in a two player game.

What happens when a person dies?
Does he roam around freely
and without even tries,
makes everything happen?
Or is it darkness and all black,
as he becomes helpless and numb,
heartless, hopeless, literally dumb?
He becomes nothing but a memory.
Really? What happens if I die?
Will I be a memory for smiles?
Or I'll be blamed for my lies?
I want to feel death for sure.
But I don't want to leave my life.
**How easily can a person die?

A single sniff of the dry snow.
(Before I drift into another plane..)
With sheer precision. Long and slow.
(Help me when I'm still sane!)

How can a thing, so divine like you
can fall on this land of sins
and make it a bit more peaceful,
purify the sinister plans and kins?

Your sound is such music to ears,
I don't ever want it to be misheard.
You sing a lot of lyrics on your silence,
washing off a tree so withered.

Your cool little lads make the green fields shine,
and such beautiful story the tell .
And your deific resource of Adam's ale,
assuage and cleans nature's throat so well.

You're the only pure thing in this impure world
or I should say you were.
'Cause not a thing, even sacred like you,
can make the greedy human beware.

Forgets your purity, calmness and love
and he treats you like an entity.
But he shall pay for this cruelest crime,
for he had polluted a thing so holy!

Till this day I feel your form so pure,
'cause there are only a thing or two like you.
You remind of love, peace and control,
and yes they are not evil but pure like you.

He stood there staring the red,
red sunset,
and the city with his ocean deep eyes.
The city, to him,
looked like the remnants.
Of an abandoned heart.
And beside, with grace,
Thames teased him, throwing
the sunlight at him.
Dressed in silk, a handsome face.
The kindest one, he stood there with grace.
Stil staring at the city.
"Where are you?", he murmured.
And a teardrop made its way down his face.
He kept staring and waited,
for Her to come.
Now the teardrop sent the sunlight back to Thames.
And thus started the "Quit playing games."

I have left behind many things
for '17 to take with it.
I'm already. Packed all my belongings!
All? Oh wait! A heart-shaped box.
"Memories of her" it talks.
"Won't you take me with you?
I'll help you be happy
be kind and control yourself. "
I blamed myself for forgetting
such a wonderful possession.
"Why did you forget
Your favorite obsession?
Take me with you.
I will melt your heart
Reshape it
Cast it
And then break it again."
I dropped it at once!
"You don't stand a chance!
I'll make you confident
Motivated and adamant.
But I'll bug you too
Make you lose your focus."
I threw it a corner, ran from it.
And then I stopped.
What was there in that box?
I ran back for it.
Found it lying there.
Opened it.
Empty.
Maybe that's the reason I forgot it in the first place.
"You came back, see?
You can't live without me.
Will you or Shall I
say Happy New Year to your Queen?"

Imagination
On the cusp of extinction.
Surreal dreams, tethered.
Creativity, withered.
Can't fly, so heavy.
Can't think, so clumsy
Can't contemplate, only can process
what we're being fed.
Our minds, concealed.
Can't think, shut up.
And keep running
like a dog playing fetch
or a hamster running
but getting nowhere.
Keep running
from what you've really got.

I miss those days

when I saw a fascinating shine,
even in a mere dime.
Or the beauty in a snake's eyes.
Whole civilizations in the clouds.
Tiny little monsters I used to draw.

Now, my mind is elsewhere,
pretending to be an intellectual,
it wanders from eccentric angles to factorials
and making its way through the Lissajous curves,
makes a perfect robotic locus.
Studying!

See.

It used to rhyme.
It used to question.
It used to weave poetry.

Now it does none of them.

The rage in her eyes, of fear or passion?
Her cold wrists, black and swollen.
She's sobering up. Besides this rage.
In her eyes, I see love. I feel
compassion.
Oh! The pain of handcuffs!

If the sun ever ceases to glow,
I won't care 'cause I'd still have the
glimmer in your eyes.
If apocalypse ever touches the earth,
I won't care 'cause I'd be an explorer of
your terrains.
If the clouds ever refuse to rain,
I won't care 'cause I'd be satiated by
drinking up your pains.
If melancholy reigns over everyone,
I won't care 'cause I'd be happy to feel
the rush in your veins.
If love ever claims to close its reserve,
I won't care 'cause I'd have an infinite
reservoir-your smiles.
I won't care if disaster strikes.
I won't care on failure of science.
As long as you are with me,
I won't care till the end of time.