I hate the blues tonight,
coz its no use to grieve the broken heart.
There is no point in being right
in this meaningless fight,
when all are happy to be wrong.
I don't want to make a wish
nor i want to dream of you.
Tonight i yearn for simple thing,
to keep silence without the blues.
i am done thinking of fellow men,
their holy grace or miserable lot,
counting blessings,
dreading faults,
bashing head against shut doors,
rushing to open slots.
now i am eager to be real,
i want to feel the ground
to burn the traces of figments,
shout the truth out loud
I dont care if one cares,
how spooky looks,
how right the words.
Crowds will stir and stare,
but won't dare
to come near of my sword.
I've lost the steam but I've got the  fire
to crush the pillars of this world.
No matter how my fate is dire
I'll tread against the will of fools.

Man is so bogged down in confusion,
he is subject to circumstances,
his life is highly preconditioned,
his choices are predetermined,
thoughts are arranged for him,
I wonder, what does he has at the end?
What is mine, for God's sake?!

I indulge myself in poetry, when i am in pain.
It helps to cushion the fatal blows.
Its my last resort,
when everything has failed.
When felt perplexed,
I rush to conjure another verse,
to purge fuzziness from my head.
It is a remedy for a broken soul.
I breathe with poetry.
I heal with it.

I am not afraid that people can hurt,
that love may conceal a terrible revelation,
that truth has no sense,
that reason may not apply sometimes,
so i keep poems by my side,
to kindle the feelings inside,
to save the humor for the darkest nights.

Words are my clouds,
to soar in the sky,
to build castles of imagination,
to play with shapes,
to chase shadows,
to flicker the lights.

This craft is old as human spirit.
It is pure and clear as mountain creek,
a mysterious trait in our hearts.
Perhaps, it is a nonsense
of feeling lonesome,
an uncanny substance
with no form and meaning
or alluring thought for feeble minds.
I can't tell for sure.
But it is a hallmark of all times.

Revisiting withered memories became my lot,
since i've lost the trail of time,
flashing past moments in my head. As if i was uprooted from the ground, floating in a limbo.
It is a strange feeling to loose the sense of reality,
when all rules and connections are gone awry,
when everything boils down to a single truth.
I sense in that particular moment, that life is a fast-forwarded footage
of events that have no gravity at all
and leaves a bitter yearning for forgotten feelings,
like sea tides ebbing and flowing,
pushing and pulling, it gently floats one into oblivion where all meaning is broken,
where everything is void.

I imagine the late september rain, dripping on your head
and drawing delicate curves on your cheeks.
Would i remember this moment of serendipity,
trying to unveil the truth in your eyes,
unaware of future peril, oblivious to your betrayal, careless child,
enchanted,
entrhralled,
unmindfull of the state of the world.
I would have drowned into eternity this way.
I could have scattered my fears away.
I might have forgotten the misery,  the longing.
If you could only stay for a time. If you could only delay the fleeting of the moment.
If you could only halt the breaking of the day.

On sunset i settled down to complete the morning verse,
to wash away the load of day's fuss and come clean,
to forget the intentions and cut the excitements short.
I come my place, leaving a part of me outside,
killing the noise at doorstep,
becoming oblivious of daily routine,
ready to start anew in the silence of darkness.
Let's celebrate the darkness.
Let's celebrate the silence.

as the years went on
i learned to linger on,
to take a slow walk
and make a little talk,
to think of sublime
and not to yield to pride,
to blend in a crowd
and not to speak loud
or brag about
or babble around.
I learnt to be humble
and behave with humility,
to be in the middle,
to value civility.
I've come to believe
in the tales of past,
that people remembered
but never did last.