she screamed into the camera
and became a voice of millions
someone called her a child of wealth
while someone called her fury fake

it all came from the mouth of an ill man
who would sit on his porch, almost at the death door
for how long should a fool ignore, the capitalism and greed?
he lost his shame when he started talking about her body

can a woman do something without being sexualized?
she sailed through the ocean to confess her anger
maybe the world needs more angry women
since a men can only talk about ***

when the floodwater rises, so does his fists
when the drought hits, his anger reaches peak
he needs someone weak to prove he is still a man
thus hiding violence under cover of crisis

they fight with their bows and arrows
while facing the one standing with a gun
they fight with giants millionth times their size
in terms of wealth, they're richer than old pharaohs

they fight with the monsters lurking towards their land
to claim it as theirs but they weren't even born there
they set the stage and talk about love
while their hunters hunt the indigenous

children dying in the global south
we cannot drink oil and gas
coral reefs are dying in the ocean
we cannot eat coal and live
species are facing extinction
he keeps filling his vaults while
children starve from hunger
and diseases spreading like wildfire

this poet finds it preposterous
why should i be afraid of the one in wrong?
to say out loud their names-
the one in power and the one pulling the strings,
its a game of power and money-
an endless hunger of greed,

ecosystems collapsing
forests in fire, cracks in the land,
oceans are toxic and storms wrecking havoc
and the cost is the humanity that we must preserve
our own kind keep pushing their agenda, calling this crisis a hoax
people are dying across the globe
we cannot survive from eating coal

"the oceans are becoming more salty
our planet is turning into a complete gas chamber"-
to someone i sound like i am a case of immediate help
who needs serious knowledge on what a religious text has to say

you see the more the merrier is not the right saying
when it is breaking the natural balance
oceans are turning salty, trapping more devilish gases
coral reefs are dying that harbors most of marine life

climate change is as real as the death and not a hoax
its real as houses burning down from forest fire
its real as your world getting flood by floodwater
or rising sea levels that will soon reach your door

there is a clown in every political house
he who denies the climate crisis
and calls it a "hoax"

there is a clown in every political house
presenting his circus show
to please his own kind

there is a clown in every political house
who loves to be at ***** and parties
thus betraying his own nation

in one dream this poet saw a horrific scene
where i was sitting on top of the house
and yet water had reached that high
submerging everything in its way

in the same dream,
i saw a child getting washed away
while his mother screaming for help, ready to jump
to rescue but is held back by others

this poet tried to jump
but my hands were tied in a chain
as i helplessly watched with tears in my eyes
i saw the child drown to the river bed

they flooded the towns with screams
that was louder than voice of their leaders
they flooded the towns with their signboards
calling out for help in the global south

the indigenous living deep in the forests
fighting everyday with a giant
with force so brutal that breaks their legs
but they still stand up and protect the land

the rich continues to get richer
while poor is forced to eat the mud
someone has gold shining across the neck
while someone's eyes shine with sparkling stones

the little child with innocence in his eyes
trying to calm his mother down
as tears keep rolling down her eyes
he continues his search for food in the mud

he did found something he could share
but its just one rotten potato covered in soil
its crazy how he has to live with this
when he has barely spent half a decade on earth

the one with money flying in his private jets
throws his food away like its a trash
while the same child walks miles
with his mother in search of same trash

she kept on trying to calm her child down
crossing the floodwaters to reach the shore
while she held him high above her head
she almost drowned in that raging flow of water

she kept on trying to calm her child down
keeping her hopes high for the sake of child
to see him live a future she knows is not protected
but must give him one at the cost of her own life

Families searching for their loved ones
After the mud has settled to the ground
And water is flowing at a normal pace
But all that left are the little memories
In forms of clothing, pearls or
In their decayed form as a skeleton

They all witnessed the horror with their eyes
While this poet was horrified from what I saw on TV
Families stuck between the flood water, holding each other close
Gets thrown off from the height like a rock falling from waterfall
 
How can that fool sleep at night after watching this?
Just a little message from him into local newspaper
And the story settles to the ground, never rising again
Until more atrocious scenes baffles the mankind

the town that once sat in the foothills
one night felt the terror of nature
someone was dancing with their lover
while someone was having dinner
and someone was playing with their kids
it all came down like the ruins of an empire
the rocks started to destroy the homes
then the water that followed swept away everything

there is no one this poet hate more than
those little ******* with power in their hand
who would do nothing but sit back and watch
as the world continues to burn in the fire

there is no one this poet hate more than
those little ******* with hands full of money
who sold their soul to build the empires
that run on the back of the poorest

there is no one this poet hate more than
those little ******* who have everything
but choose the silence as a way to escape
while the planet continues to cry out for help

the man set his own house on fire
and looked at the animals who are running away
he screamed at the trees for not taking the toll
even though ht was the one who started the fire
he blamed the clouds that won't rain
for bringing his house down to ashes

the man set his own house on fire
allowed the invasion of aliens
that destroyed him and all his principles
thinking it won't cause him the harm
forgetting a scorpion will bite your hand
even if you feed him

dear readers
let me be an invitee to read these files
about the same place where you live but
chose to live in complete denial

don't be a traitor, don't ignore the cries
this place gave you oxygen, water, air and
every source meant for your survival
even in the adversity of times

dear readers
our house is on fire, the ice is melting
you're breathing smoke, and million species at risk
and each day a new revelation in these files

the man who drink champagne after
signing deals that harm your land
he lives in a palace built by his greed
while the future generations search for their place

The ocean is home to a curation of shells,
The type you admire, the kind you call into,
The ones that whisper stories the sea never tells.
The peach and the pink, the pastels and the white —
All of them bring such a sense of delight.

I trace my finger over each and every grove and indent,
Each fracture and dent,
Wondering what they have seen, and what places they went.
I wonder if they are signs — heaven-sent.

This poet wonders — does she know the truth that is grand?
The shell that is pretty mesmerizes those little eyes
While the sea calls out her name for help.
Sand between her toes and wind through her hairs,
She felt every emotion one feels at a shore.

The next scene was haunting — it took away her innocence.
Fishes started to wash up on the shore,
The water began to form bubbles.
As she looked at her mother, who
Whispered with her eyes-
“Sorry, my precious little baby,
Forgive the humankind,
For the future we will leave behind.”

The woman was a prophet,
though many forgot it.
She read the fates for others,
she helped many lovers.

Never once did she look into her own soul,
she never tried to find what would make her whole.
But one day, she wished on a star—
that she could find a love that would go far.

A man with a long beard prophesied his fate,
said he would meet someone great,
who orbits the same star
and would understand him—till they fell apart.

His life was a crowded place—
full of strangers who had promised to stay.
The man forgot his roots, forgot where he came from.
His fate, too, was read by another—who failed.

Amidst the unsettling crowd of animals,
I still feel alone, even if you're sitting by me.
There is no cure for my loneliness.

The feeling is similar to what great poets must've felt—
that forced them to ascend from this land,
by escaping through a beautiful route called death.

It is a path with many pitfalls,
but I feel at home, drifting off into the emptiness.

It doesn't feel unlike the feeling of loss—
it comes with a sense of finality
that I have experienced before,
in some vague memory of the past.

Now, I'm floating offshore,
taking my final breath.

I read it in the manuscript of yours where you called me out
You said:
“I jumped off the boat because I found a hand to hold”
My love,
you were not paying attention at all
Our boat would have drowned
carrying the weight of us
if I had stayed any longer,
with no hint where we should go

It felt right in the moment
You were keeping our hands tied
I wanted to let go
before I sink us to the floor
it was a test
that I don't know if I failed or passed—
but it was fate’s plan
I couldn't change

I refuse to let your absence define my love for you
Is it that you're not here, now that I know your true value? No
I gave you the warning signs that you were losing me
Your grip around my hand was becoming too weak,
and my lips were turning red in pain
but you looked at my face and screamed,
“We are just fine"

We were a passenger on a boat whose sails were torn,
but I still held hope we'd cross these waters,
and reach the land,
i thought maybe we would find peace
once we reach the shore
But you jumped off the boat—
because you found someone else to hold

mirror on the wall reflects my pain
it is a witness of my harsh reality
the pain i romanticized about someone
is a fake reflected image of my thoughts
the pain i never wished to tear my flesh
is the real persona i try to hide

I was always on my own
even when i was deserted by you
for months, your silence haunted me
and a battle continued to rage in my heart
as i set out to seek the answers-
"are you there? are you alive?"
that futile simmer turned gray
which was meant to be full of love
i held meetings in my mind
my heart was asking to believe you
but my mind concluded you betrayed me

this affair was never fated to turn into love
something that started under the moon and stars
something that was ill fated from beginning
now who should i blame? you or me?
i carried us up the summit
but you and i were both sick
the clouds were turning gray
and everything began to disappear in the haze
the castles we built, the promises we made
turned out to be a mirage in my mind
you never meant a thing
i was a tool to fulfill your greed
a savior in times of crisis but you forgot about me
i longed for your love whole summer
even when i knew i was a prey

for who i am right now,
i'm but the result of someone's monstrous generosity
first they would show you the bright colors
and later sink their teeth into your skin
was it a cactus hidden among the flowers?
or was it a snake in the lake?
this poet couldn't differentiate as
they both share their thorn and fangs with you
and for so long, i tried to make sense of it all
only to realize i was a passing object you never needed

two years ago, on Christmas eve,
i made an appeal and stood in your court
i asked you to revoke my status-
from a stranger to a lover, or friends who love each other
but you declared me guilty
and sent your troops, with cannons aimed at my gate
if you had asked me, "will you survive?"
my answer would've been a big no
but here i am writing this one final ode
because i finally survived in that war

sitting by the grave of our love affair
lavender fields are now left barren
echoes of your voice lingers in the hall
and words i penned start to haunt

3 years gone by in blink of an eye
winter nights and fog touching the ground
blurred my periphery, left no space for closure
can someone tell me for how long should i mourn?

i showed you my scars
and you licked them as if they were a wine
healed my deepest wounds
just to make space for new ones

i showed you my scars
and in desperate times became my beacon
killed my ghosts chasing me at midnight
just to become one in my life

you are a loss i will forever mourn even in my sleep
paralysed by the ghost of you that haunts me in dreams
i gave you my heart till you bleed it out
forced me to say words i never once believed

they say people are always blinded by the truth
"forever lost" is truly the lost case
i was here bleeding at the shore
when you departed to another sea

you ate my heart with your bow in it
while i had a choker around my throat
and without the one which would keep me alive
my body forgot its work and gave up
i sacrificed myself for a ghost
that was born in my thoughts
i tried to touch your face
but it started to fade away
i kept on screaming your name
trying to reach your hand
but you were never here-
you never hurt me,
you never slit my throat
you never tasted me like wine

i can't get enough of your stares
as if they want to leave me in ruins
by eating my flesh and bones

i can't get enough of your stares
as if they want to undress me
without you ever touching me

let's meet tonight in cemetery
to perform our sacred ritual where
i hold you close and we dance in the dark
there is a sword in my back
and a glass of wine in your hand
to fill it with my blood

let's meet tonight in cemetery
to perform our sacred ritual where
you betray me for one last time
as you're kissing me and pushing the knife
deeper and deeper into my heart
and sky echoes with my cries

be my death and wear my bones
be a ghost in my life and
come to haunt me every night
i'll sit at the cemetery
or you can sit by my grave
just for once be my death
a reason i could happily die

life feels too much
let it be one of my escape
use your knife and
make me bleed till
all that is left are my bones
or be a ghost in my life and
come to haunt me every night

slit my throat with a sword
speak in a language only we know
look into my eyes with that daring gaze
that knows the secret you once spoke

"i love you" is what your lips said
with your hand around my throat
i was struggling to breathe and
you kept on confessing with each soft breath

your imprints on my throat
they all speak my biggest truth of
the night we both held each other close
and your lips marked my whole body

your imprints on my throat
a sword you entered into my heart
watched me bleed and smile
don't rain those tears tonight

let me be the danger you carry around
darling place your gun on my head
pull its trigger when it feels too much
even if i'm hanging by the thread

I'm bleeding while lying on the ground
my imbecile lover's sword in my chest
let go of my hand and don't be my savior
save yourself before heaven falls upon us

he never learnt to fight back
he never learnt to give up as well
he climbed the mountains
with a weight on his back
he jumped from the mountains
and into the valley
but still survived
living a life
with no place to die

i recall the last words
he died fighting bravely in the war
a child born under dark clouds
you were never the problem
i hope you rest in peace
i hope sun shine bright in next life
so go descend for the heavens
and may i never lift my pen again
to write atrocities committed
on the name of love

he is not cut out to live with all of this-
to live while bearing the scars
countless of spears in his chest
yet still breathing
blood all over the floor, returned defeated
every time he went on the war
with a hope that someday a savior will arrive
bearing a sign of peace and not bruises from a father

he collected all his hopes, dreams and wishes
hid them under floorboards of his room
letting them all rest in darkness
while burning in fire that comes from loss

he collected everything he had in himself
every star that was showed him
and when nights begin to bleed memories
they all rose back like ghosts in the fog

he collected every last bit of innocence
it was no longer the way to live
he must abandon the house he lives in
in order to fight something that isn't his

he told his child version to stay quiet
listen the voice through the cracks
silent all the voices from under floorboards
and rest in peace if he can't run away

no one ever taught him how to be a grown up
all he is now a puppet, controlled by dangerous thoughts
that tells him to run towards hill and jump into the valley

freedom is far beyond his reach
he believe his older version was too strong
he had dreams, wishes and knew how to cling with hope

but now everything is rusted
he breathe poisonous air
from his dreams in flames

hope is a devil disguised as a beauty
no one ever told him how scary it gets
he doesn't wish to grow up

is it ethical
if he says he hates his family?
they did him wrong but then the world will say-
"god help this child possessed by the spirit
he's the one in the wrong".

he tries to find a reason to love them,
because he is in debt for raising the man he is now
but then again, they reminds him-
his existence is wrong.

he is not saying he hate his family
if so, then they hate him too
the reason for this is far beyond
this poet's understanding

they also loves him,
giving him a crown of jewels
but imposing something upon him
that was never his to begin with-
to carry the weight of stones they bore.

and the arguments, the words thrown at his prime
it is hard for him to breathe sometimes
he's locked in a dungeon he can't escape

his blood boils in rage
the words out of that man's mouth
were always laced in poison

haunting this feeling was
for someone recovering from a loss
the stars that were glued to his sky
all began to fall down one night
he can't even wish upon them
hoping for a good ending to this story
because each star is a hope he sowed

his blood boils in rage
when that man ever hit him
he can't even stand his ground
so will he even tells his father
that he was not made to be hurt
with the hands that raised him

he sits on a swing and mourn 'what could've been'
a little child inside a devil like him longs for a home
is it that he wish to run or return to same old place
he will forever be lost in the woods, searching for the end

his body turning cold and sweat running down the skin
heart on its high and face appears to be pale
running from everything that he inherited
he just want to die and live in eternal peace

his wings were chopped at an early age
he was just learning to stand up and live his life
the cricket grounds are still lively without him
but his ghost still lingers around watching everyone

what could've been, what he would've been
they all haunt him in middle of the night
what he has become now is the result of ignorance-
someone whose heart was bleeding but ignored each dawn

a ghost of a child at the playground
swinging on a swing
laughing and having fun

a ghost of a child at the playground
swinging on a swing
he was never found at local cemetery

priests went out in search
exorcists did their performance
but the child was swinging on a swing

he hid himself in the closet
whenever he heard the footsteps in the hall
and when that man was in the room
he would stare through the open cracks

he knew it at the age when others were in playgrounds
the fear of a man who called himself his father
but nothing like one and only a tyrant
a monster who bullied his own kids

he locked the door of his room
closing all entrances, even the windows
to stop the monster in his dreams
roaming in hall from coming in,

he locked the door of his room
placed a chair and sat under the table
the sound of footsteps was getting loud
he just sat there talking to his toys

he locked the door of his room
he just stared at the pendulum bob
writing apologies on unsent letters
waiting for the footsteps to pass

she was too innocent to understand anything
too small to differ between love and pain
so she learned to express what she felt

she would lock herself in room with her dolls
and take out crayons and began to draw
a mother, a child and a man with big hands

sitting on the dinner table
where instead of food, he was served cold
silence turned into words that hurt

sitting on the dinner table
he was served disappointment from others
who questioned his existence

sitting on the dinner table
his father made a loud thump on the table
spewed out his hate he always keep close

he is always mad at his own child
for the stones that come his way
but his child will forever be grateful
for what he has done for him

he is always mad at his own child
the one he raised under his roof
to make him into a man, only to
crush him under his own trauma

now grown into an adult
he wishes to run away to a place
where land stretches upwards into hills and peaks
and there are valleys to jump into

he hates his family
They all had restricted his freedom
That’s how he ended up like this
With no one to call or visit-
and share his deepest thoughts with a friend

I won’t say anything or
raise questions on someone's intentions
because that's who this poet is
i made my finest decision to be alone
over the dramatic chaos life brings when I'm happy