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Surya Teja M Sep 2018
I'm not what you see me
I'm not what I do
I'm what I think &
Never exist in reality
This tells what exactly an individual is
Surya Teja M Sep 2018
The words are magical
Mysterious too
They entice us into
A world of fantasy
Lure us with their curves
And ****** us to play romantic games

I was not the exceptional
I was too entangled in it's web
Craved to write love,
Lust, beauty and people
Which fade away as clock ticks

They transformed my words into fictional
Took me away from this natural world
I was flying in it's beauties
I was touching it's indelible curves
And went deep inside it's private parts

I fell from that sky on a starry night
Like a star that laminates more
Hit to the grounds of reality
The fragile fantasies were shattered
Made me alone in my story

The reality is bitter unlike the fantasy
It bites my bones, eats my head
Burns my soul and torments my heart
To write what is true
Despite of being ugly and *****

As I walk along the pavements
My heart is loaded with misery
The agony it has brought is completely a mystery
All I realized,
The writers whom I read were impotent to write this pain down

Dustbins are screaming for mothers
Pavements are starving for food
Brothel houses are moaning for their souls
Preachers are filling hatred
Politicians are serving agony

I want to weep
I want to write
I want to bleed
It's about a new Writer who is vexed up reading and writing love, lust, fantasies which made him lost his grip to cling to the harsh ***** and ugly reality.
Surya Teja M Sep 2018
There is a life
In words
That everyone
Couldn't witness.

The life in it itself
Is an oxymoron;
Fills you with joy
And makes you cry.

Happiness is fictional
Suffering is factual
Joy melts and
Pain freezes.

Read more
Be alone,
Find the joy
In the solitude it brings.

Write syllables in torment
Let them kiss each heart it is read
Let the agony rejoice in words
And let the joy weep in pain.

Let the world of pain
Dissolve in every note of music
Let it disperse in each cheerful mind
And **** all the lives of mythical muse
Yes, the happiness is fictional and the suffering is real
Surya Teja M Dec 2017
The body that I beautified over the years
Had eaten by unseen scavengers,
Left my soul lone and lost-
I found hardly few, crying, at my funeral
Few held me for days
Few for years in their memories
That faded, eventually, away like morning mist-
But when will my soul die?

Surya Teja M
Surya Teja M Nov 2017
I dreamed a class of history
When I was riding on my bike.

A giant man was tussling a fierce lion
The one wins, eats the other-
Shortest tale of Darwin's theory;
The one fits, survives.

Group of men killing the other under the crowns of kings
Winning flag slaves the losing flag
Dirtiest game of thrones;
The one wins, rules.

I winked-
Emaciated begging hands are stretched along the roads
On which I have been travelling;
I have been riding over corpses of people starved to death.

I am scared now:
What kinda dream my daughter gets
About me and about us?
Are you too scared, now?
I tried to tell that we are not lesser the than people who warred and killed other people. Our war is a form of CLASS. This a Class Struggle. I think, our next generation will think the same way as we are thinking about our predecessors.
Surya Teja M Nov 2017
I awoke from my sleep on a starry night;
It was old like my heart and quiet like my love,
The stars were huddling tight and twinkling bright,
I ambled to window sill and perched like a waffling owl.

I beheld-
Wind swirling, tree quivering
Clock ticking and waves swaying.

The tree gravitated me; quivering and rustling
Standing strong against its heart to fly-
Reminded me of my job of my young-hood;
Duties and desires waged war against and leaves fell apart.

Turned my eyes and swaying in the waves
They swayed me to the corners of happiness,
Resting me in the chasm of gloominess
It was like then me-
Walking on same path and dreaming for the wonders

Seconds hand in clock beat in my ears
Once, I loved creating, perceiving and pursuing
The freedom and independence I grabbed from choices
Allowed me to exist like me out of anxiety

The call was too late;
The breeze entered my dress,
Crept over my body,
Stalked me to death,
Decomposed my corpse,
Diffused my soul into the dust.
To the one who is stuck in different philosophies
Surya Teja M Nov 2017
At the end
You are alone
With the memories
Full of people
Who left you
In the darkness
Of misery
To sail in
Their loneliness
Some people think, you can not be happy with them and stay away from you and lives in misery. But, they do not aware of a fact that you will be in more misery and they do not know their presence is an heaven
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