It is grief, I'm sure of it, it is grief— she says, swinging her arms.
I look at her bright eyes and trusting
smile—then I look again.

I know it in my heart, she says.

She is small but larger than life,
and I wonder—how much room does her heart have?
Is it full of grief?
If so, where does she keep me and my longing?

She takes a sip of red wine,
and I notice her pretty lips.

Oh, how tormenting it must be
to be such a fine, lovely creature—
to speak of sadness,
to spell it out,
to give words, and meaning, and shape to suffering.

I wonder if a lonely man can do such a thing.

I’ve seen men cry, yes—
and I’ve seen them clench their fists,
break porcelain cups—
and break themselves.

But I’ve never seen them become poetry.

children don’t come out to play anymore,
my friend says, rolling matchsticks between
his fingers.

remember when we used to play until dark
until our mothers dragged us back into our homes

he says this between lighting another cigarette

that's why these young men today
can't run, can't lift—
they drop like dead flies on treadmills
their hearts can't take the madness of the world

he sips his third beer

we used to roll in grass, in dirt, in blood
trying to break ourselves
trying to break each other

tell me—
how many bones did we break
before turning eleven?

I try to say something
but nothing comes

he looks at me
and stares off into the distance

remember when we used to climb trees
there are no trees anywhere

what happened to the trees?

I guess they needed more homes, I say

he tosses the cigarette **** into the empty can
and the can onto the freshly cut grass

he looks at me
then starts to walk away

dusk is here

I think I'll sit here for a while
while my friend goes to look for
his mother.

Gandalf: a character ( wizard) from the legend that is lord of the rings
...

chapter - 0:



he was walking past the useless lake on a breezy autumn day when the gust of wind brought with it the scent of a thousand abandoned garage bags littering the corner of this semi unorganised semi-civilised halli part of a mega city.

his home was about three thousand kilometres away and a dozen hundred dialects removed from where he chose to pursue his 'higher' education.

a term he took literally and to heart.

he was almost always high, if that's what you call being semi awake and always clawing somewhere deep, both mentally and sometimes even physically.


but as soon as the cacophony of a thousand different bad smells hit his soul, he knew the trip was over.

he jolted back to existence from an escalating thought process leading him to the discovery of a new and a better universe.

he took a deep breath and immediately regretted his decision, almost screaming in horror.

and while he was battling a lost battle trying to defeat an invisible and impossible to contain force of population and pollution,

his smoked eyes latched onto a figure emerging from the corner of his smoked eyes.

he suddenly realised where he was. and it wasn't where he thought he was about two seconds ago.

leaf-less and life-less trees stood where he could swear was just an empty slightly orange and red sky a few milli moments ago  

the lake had turned from blue to a shade of green or was it still blue ?
he wasn't interested at all, so he just gave up reasoning in mid-process..

what difference does it make ?

but suddenly his mellowed mind  realised the threat, and his attitude changed from i-don't-really-give-a-**** to oh-****.

there was something else there too, and he, like a ******* cat- turned around just in time to see what it was,

and the time stood still. he couldn't believe his eyes.

it was    gandalf.

**** it. he was sure. ******* gandalf.
with a ******* stick, his beard and that grey whatever. gandalf.

he took a deep breath again. it didn't hurt as bad as before. maybe it was growing on him. he took another breath just to make sure it wasn't. it wasn't.


and as gandalf started becoming bigger and bigger, he could see his mighty white beard dancing in the wind more clearly. he could sense his aura radiating a wonderful positive force that was almost impossible to describe with a naked eye and with an F  in communication skills.

gandalf was finally a stone throw away from the boy. he could throw a stone at him. he could but he wouldn't. no, he thought about it but no. it wouldn't make sense. it was too insane of an idea too. he wasn't yet ready to accept his true human nature that enjoyed the absurdity of violence.

though he was a hard-core stoner.  ah irony and puns.


instead he took the more scenic route and almost mumbled " gandalf?! what?!?! "


it took the old white man a second to register but he managed a sudden " gand elf, what?!? "

it wasn't awkward yet. but it was india. so it kinda' was.

the boy almost trained in apologising professionally and profoundly, mumbled " oh, no.. I'm sorry.. I just.. you know.. there's this .. dude.. people do cosplays now.. and I was a little high... ahem.. I mean I was thinking.. I mean I saw.. you.. I mean, I swear you're looking like a ******* gandalf.. I mean gandalf ?!?! "


another gust of wind and they both frowned.

gandalf responded " who .. what the **** is gand elf ?!?!"


the boy " he was supposed to be a dwarf like something.. but he become a wizard and tall, you know .. fought a dragon.. and rode giant birds.. ?!?! "


not gandalf " what the **** are you talking about, what is wrong with you, you're not making any ******* sense and I, I'm .. hey, you see.. just saying, I'm very good at making sense, that all "


the boy " so, are you like a ******* teacher or a .. scientist?!? "


not gandalf? "ummm.. well you can say that.. something like that "


the boy " what do you mean, for all I know you could be a perverted ******* who also happens to wander the woods doing weird cosplays and killing people. "

not gandalf " the ****, kid ?! jeez.. simmer down.. that TV is insane, you guys ******* love it.. **** man.. I should have stopped that from happening... and video games! god, they ****.. I should have just killed the lot of you.. " and on went a rant the strange man


the boy " wo.. wo.. whoa.. wait, you're talking like you are better than the rest of us...are you on crack ? what are you even saying you ***... you're more like someone who pulls on broken strings on a hand down guitar on some shady corner of an immaculate subway... you're just a boomer, are you not, mister ? "


strange man not gandalf " well, in a way I am.. I am.. well, I am everything and everyone" he whispered..    a satisfying smile almost breaking out


the boy " the ******* mean ******* ?!? "

this was too much for the old man who was just having a walk and minding his own business

he whispered more angrily his time " oh you punk, you little punk I'll tell you! I'm ******* god, you **** .. yeah, **** it.. I'm not even kidding.. I'm ******* god, yeah!... **** it *****!. "


he took his hand and pointed to the sky and the clouds parted.


the boy couldn't believe his eyes, and almost suddenly the clouds began to form a shape.

he couldn't make it out at first, all he could see was that the old man who claimed to be a god, drawing something in the air.

he looked up and finally realised what it was.

God was drawing a giant duck in the sky.

and as he was staring up in a mixture of disbelief and horror,  the old man spoke loudly " that's you.. you sick ****.. it's your little duck. "


old-man-now-god-went on "... I mean it looks like a big duck 'cause you couldn't see it otherwise.. but drawing to ratio... it's your little duck.. and the whole world can see it now.. and they know it's small.. and not as big as it appears because it had to be big enough for everybody to see.. "


the boy was now going insane. anybody would. people just don't turn up, part clouds and draw ducks in the sky.. that doesn't even happen in movies.



the boy went on- a little horrified of what he had just witnessed " what kind of a god are you, I mean... what in the god's name was that ? how did you do it. ?"


God responded with squinty eyes " which part of i-am-a-*******-God did you not understand.. you.. you stupid mortal. "

from the depths of darkness a flicker of light emerged in the boy's mind, and he realised something very important..


the boy " hey, you can't be god, god won't ******* curse! he's god. " screaming cautiously at the stranger...


God had heard petty arguments and had gone through all that phase of  people taking some time to turn around and warm up to the idea of the literal god in front of them, he'd been over that all his life.

but this was the single dumbest thing he had ever heard since he made the decision to create the universe in a hurry.

God thought to himself " I should have paid more attention. meh. "

one more thing- the boy went on " why are you a he ? not a she ? I mean if you're a god why be ... I mean an old man with a stupid beard. why not somebody hot, and cool... and with a nice body and a face... slightly better... or maybe much better..  you get the point, right ? I mean.. you're god, right ? "

God just stood there and soaked in his own filth.

the boy went on hysterically " oh my... did you hear my answer even before I said it ? did you ? I mean can you ?... and did you ? or was it you that gave the answer.. 'cuz if you made the universe.. you made me too, right ?. "


God was annoyed. like really annoyed at this point and he blurted out " you think I made you ? you think one fine day I woke up and I thought to myself.. oh! I've created this beautiful but empty place full of darkness and the cold, spectacle of fire dancing in nothingness- breathing life in ***** of all kinds circling around the stars and what not.. and you think I was like 'what am I missing ?'... oh yes, right! I'm missing one ungrateful ******* snake with a little duck. "


the boy stunned " God ?!.. No, **** no! "

god almost curios " why would you say that. why did you even speak , why! "


the boy " my duck .. you know.. ain't that ... small. "



God almost smirking " shut up, *****. "


the boy " oh, yeah.. right you... really know how to abuse your own species. jeez. "


God " I didn't make you ... I ******* dropped my dope in the ocean once and you ******* things came out of it. "

he went on " I thought you'd die on your own but nah.. life's too nasty.. ugly and ... you know... it's.. admittedly... quite beautiful. "

time stood still as soon as he said that.

and it was a beautiful moment. both god and the boy trying not to turn red or cry.



" but the sad part is.. " God whispered with the love of a thousand cuddling pandas " you guys found me, I mean... oh my God! that brain thing really worked ... extraordinary! my subordinates tell me ... very expensive.. err... I mean to design... "


the boy " people work for you ? what ?! that's like.. you have a staff ?!.. weird. "


God " *****, i'm ******* god.. I don't have a staff.. I ******* make the staff. and no that's not even an iota of weird.. but you know what's weird ...truly weird, a fact so crazy that it'll blow your mind and give you enough wisdom to tear through the fabric of the world I've made and undiscover all its secrets, science and gossip?!  "


the boy was now as curious as a teenage boy in teenage, he replied " what?! tell me.. is it here on earth ?!"



God " yes, it is my child.. indeed it is! such joy!... and it is also right here where we stand. "


the boy's mind went into an overdrive.. maybe this was all his design.. the almighty has come to show him the path.. out of these woods he's lost in.... and also a path of divinity and happiness.. and also he had watched Bruce almighty a dozen times or so... he was ready.


almost in a poetic voice filled with a general sense of elation.. the boy asked god " tell me.. please what is it pleaseeee ? "


the god smiled, in a way only a father smiles to her new born daughter.. knowing she's going to be paid less, has to go through the cycle of being temporary insane every month ( or that's what female's had been telling him .. it doesn't matter.. you a guy.. you see a woman in pain.. you *******... that's 10 hours of her ******* the life out of you. and you still wouldn't be a good listener or attentive according to her even if you give up in the 9th hour.

the boys repeated desperately " what is it! I'd be a good boy but please tell me pleaseeee! "

and the god smiled. he smiled and pointed to him. " that there , that is it.. that ugly ******* little duck of yours. "


and immediately burst into a laughter more grandeur than any sound in the world. I mean right after radiohead but whatever.


the boy saw his finger and tried to trace it's path. and almost in a moment.. it was over.


he had lost it- he screamed at the creator " you think you can make fun of me 'cuz you a big guy ? you think you can make fun of me because you're the most powerful thing there is and can literally turn me into 50 hands and no ducks... just living life in pure agony.. " he trailed off looking a bit distant towards the ending..

God " jeez. kid. you don't have to be so dark and imaginative unnecessarily.. see, okay I'm sorry... I hurt your little heart...which by the way I have made and do own the materials to.. and that's why you're alive... basically all of you and everything.. now to think of it.. it does make me a big guy... or more than that... but that's not the point. "

he went on " the point is i should've known better... because you know I made it all.  even the concept of being better..  booom! blows your mind ain't it.. chuck it.. and the point is.. I should've known better, so I'm  sorry!.. you can tell people I said sorry but they're not 'gonna believe someone like you "


the boy " **** do you mean someone like me?! " back in his form


god " oh you know... someone with a small...... ******* duck !"

and the god fell down laughing hysterically and immediately as soon he said the words..

rolling all over the soft grass and the boy's face.


the boy had enough- he screamed " **** like you can spend two minutes being a human... who's to tell you didn't have a small duck and then just made yourself one big enough " his voice trailing in the wind


god hadn't been spoken like this since the invention of languages.. oh how much he despised languages..a ******* constant annoying noise in his head specially the bengali.. **** them.

God spoke back " oh, so you think being a snake is better than being the almighty ?! "


the boy " I'm not a snake.. I'm a human.. what school did you got to ? "

God " you can be a ******* rock for all I care ... just be nothing.. you know.. instead of being everything.. the idea of it... it's is rather.. you know... so beautiful. "


and at that moment the boy realised that even god wasn't immune to something that he didn't know.


the god " I'll do you a deal, you be two seconds in my place and I'll be two seconds in your place... and then we'll know.. I'll know the fear of being nothing and you can know the escatsy of being everything. deal dawg ?"


the boy " but.. like two seconds .. awful less of a time to enjoy any kind of escatsy "

God " running late, mate. "


the boy " okay okay.. let's do it "



God smiled a bit and immediately a giant light came down from the sky roaring with a thousand thunderstorms...

wind was growing stronger by the second and it was almost impossible to hear anything... or analyse anything for that matter...

God screamed at the boy " it's going to go in your *** and out of your mouth.. and your soul will be passed to mine.. "

the boy screamed back in oh-my-god-that-face horror barely making any coherent sense.


God rolling on the floor laughing
" jeez. I'm kidding you punk.... that face tho.. so woke.. so woke..."

it took some time but he picked himself back up and screamed at the boy " it's going to happen... three..two.. one.. " and boom


the boy felt what can only be described as the best ****** anybody has ever had.


the god felt like what can only be described as the hardest kick to the nuts in the history of universe.

two seconds after... bam! everything stood still.. like nothing had happened.


both stared at each other for a while..
God went first " so, ... ?! "


the boy " yeah. "


God " pretty tense...yeah.. *******.. I mean.. God!.. you guys are awful to be.. it *****.. I gotta' change that thing... you know... about people taking their own life... and going to hell... I get it... I mean..  yeah.. you know... like whatever."

God went on " how was yours. "

the boy " yea.. pretty chill.. ... "

God " that it, boy ?! "

the boy " yeah. .. mostly "


God " hmm.. woke.. woke... so were you clever enough to do something for yourself ? "

the boy " oh..yeah..pretty much.. nice cars and girls.. stuff.. " his voice cracking with a very refined i-don't-give-a-**** attitude


the wind was still now. butterflies were flying between the blooming flowers and singing AC/DC for some reason. it was pleasant.


god snapped his finger once and said " so.. yeah i should go now... apparently somebody's supposed to take a picture of me in the sky.. gotta flex up.. chow~ "


God snapped his finger a second time and lo behold!  like that he was gone ****!...


the boy stood still for a moment longer. he smiled and walked away.




(4 days later...)



god was in the alps...looking out of the large window wondering how dreadful it is to be human..  

and as he was crawling in and out of different dimensions he smelt something. something interesting.


it was alcohol. ( he's god so it's very easy for him to figure out such little things.)

so he went over the fancy bar and poured himself some *****.. " ah potatoes.. at least they turned out to be just right.." he thought out loud.

and then he proceeded to drink himself to death.. countless times. 'cuz he could do that. he was god.


over and over again. glass being neither full or half or even ******* empty.

drink after drink. and soon late enough he went into a deep slumber because of course god loves a good sleep. who doesn't ?


he slept through the entire life span of many insects and until the breaking dawn.

the first rays of the sun hit the mighty alps as well as the face of this almighty being on a white bed in a red hotel by a blue lake who had forgotten you do your own curtains in the human world.

his first thought was to destroy the sun- it took a lot to not lift his finger.

slowly but surely he regained his infinitum consciousness, and got in touch with the multi dimensional universes sprawling all over every  second in past and future simultaneously... but **** that 'cuz the head ache oh! so painful.. almost made him forgot he could just not want it and it won't happen.

God did not enjoy most human banalities.. but he did enjoy a rather a peculiar one...even more than drinking and kissing death. the one of peeing.

and he had to ***. bad.


God, with a hint of a smile lifted his finger and boom he was right by- where the deed is done in a civilised community. he imagined what would people think if they came to know why he's always more often than not a 'he' than a 'she'.

he was in his stark boxers, standing almost naked with a smile on his face enjoying the rush.

pink floyd started playing out of the thin air. an autumn's calm spread through the veins of this sudden universe. I kid you not, shahrukh khan was there with his arms wide open.

slowly the god began the almost holy ritual.

pull down the garment. admire. take it out. admire. do the deed, keep admiring. put it back. sigh. very well organised and neat.

so god took a deep breath, looked at the alps one more time, looked down with a smile on his face, and slowly pulled down the garment... his consciousness in a rush.

and then god screamed. there was a duck.

the city held me in her arms
and told me not to look—

close your eyes,
she whispered,

don’t let your silence
spill into the streets.

let the birds sing,
let the lovers live
and dance.

there is no need here
for someone like you,

with your night
and broken bones,

your silence that grows
roots.

go quietly,
let the light pass you by—

we are a place of the living,
and you are made
of yesterday.

chemical nights
city lights
and the isolation

farming dreams
while they scream
in my head

loneliness eats
and it repeats
in synchronisation

insects crawl
while people talk
in my head

gnarly roads
vapours from smoke
and annihilation

words i write
have already died
in calming insulation

and the rot
has set;

the dark coming down
all over me.

19/6/2022





Dreams, eyes wide open, she said
to me "there's only an abyss underneath the bed," and grey clouds, against the blue skies, "that is just a thought in your head," she said to me.

"what is noon to solitude?," she whispered to herself, "what is a forest to the moon?," and the curtains set themselves on fire; "it must be the heavens knocking on our door," i said in a hurry.

the angels plead for discomfort, how quickly the pedestal invites scrutiny, how slowly the day fades from benign existence - is that how autumn expends herself every spring? waiting to find a lovers arm to stop breathing?





@writeweird

in the withering whispers
as a new lore begins to grow and fade
take an oath, a vow that will linger
i still don't remember
how i forgot her face

wake me from this lonely dream
of having nothing more
before my time
in all those tales heard and seen
i can't make out which one was mine

feed me before i eat myself and
let the rust sleep through the doors
we cannot be saved from ourselves
even though, i am not who i was anymore.

the rain falls where the petal's sleep
of a flower, not yet ready to seed

and i see what i cannot free

a dream not steady to breathe
that will blossom once it has bled

with all the shapes and figures
we keep deep inside our heads



i was never ready to leave
but there was nothing else
i could ever be; a heart
on an island full of stone



even if i could erase myself
there'll always be what i've known

and it will keep on screaming
long after i'm done and gone

back to the unknown
with all that has grown

and i know I'll still be there,
waiting for the world to ask

reflecting on my face
i see in the reflection;

as the world grows dark
through the glass


and i see the door to the window
it's closing in on me
it's closing in on me
It's eating the view

it wasn't build to last

there's nothing outside but the rain
but the pain and tears blurring
my eyes at last


there's nothing but the veins
of a storm that's about to mourn

and there's this forest
inside of me
that just wants to hunt and roam

and i see the rain falling,


the rain falls where the metal weeps
of a flower, not yet ready to be freed


but i see what i can free


the door to the window
it's closing in on me
but my mind has left

in midst of the clouds
where life is born
far away from myself

and for every time the storm bleeds
a flower will breed

and piece by piece
the door will start to fade

a forest shall be made
as wide as the window can be

as vast as you can see
as alive as you want to be

the door to the window
never had a key

it was just us,
filled to the brim
and we couldn't keep it in.

And the fool—
wide-eyed, swaddled in pink dusk
and thorn-sick roses,
suckling on the myth of hearsay.

Sketching sunsets across barren fields,
he swings the shackles—
wars, blood-grit, and the stale breath of ghosts—
mistaking the fires for a beatitude.

It is easy to be the culprit
in April’s fickle winds—
no hands reaching for winter’s ruins,
left frostbitten and mute,
like chapters pressed between the pages
of dust and dusk.

The fool speaks no tales of the world—
a bystander, heart ajar,
flinging wide the doors, the windows,
begging the seas to split.
He mouths prayers not his,
sings borrowed hymns—
and does it all,
anyway.

For that is the fool—
played, preyed upon
by the cruel and the cunning,
their feast of him
a ceremony of abandon and appetite.

Until dawn splits the sky—
and the world,
picked clean to bone-white skeleton,
turns, hungry, toward another joy.

was it so long ago ?
when i used to
dream till noon
dream about the stars
scream to the moon

i regret every scar
and hour
for bringing me
so away so soon

from that beautiful corner
to a dutiful mourner

is every seed
meant to bloom ?

I love your love—
cruel, twisted, and dark

With my flesh
my bones
my heart


I loved your love
until it tore me apart

And yet
I love you still—
for all the grief

the darkness
the dead planets
the broken promises
the fading stars

It's better than
not loving anyone
ever again

I love your love
when you smile in the dark

I love your love
like a ghost loves the past

I love your love
even when nothing is
supposed to last.

I breathe here—in this house
someone else built.

And I’ve lived in houses
built by others—

some far, some near,
but never mine.

I call this room mine—
these things, these clothes,
these books—
they are mine.

Aren’t they?

I look out the window
and see the trees, the sky,
the birds—

they’re not mine,
but I keep them close anyway.

I have loved,
and I have cried.
I’ve made others cry.

It’s not a fair deal.
It comes and it goes—
it rarely stays.

Like the words I bleed—
I confess,
I rarely know what to write,
but I write anyway.

And why do we write?

For someone to find us?
For us to find them?

For them to see us—
just see us?

There’s no art in this world
that isn’t a longing.

There are no happy songs,
or paintings, or photographs—

they’re all fleeting.

They don’t exist
the way we do.

You don’t have to believe me.

It doesn’t matter.
I do not matter.

My thoughts,
my dreams,
my words—

they do not matter.

Nothing rarely does.

But I write anyway—
maybe you’ll find me,
and none of this will matter.

the house of april


september skies
summer stars

faults within me

expanding into the
night

flaws within me

birthing autumns
morrow

sowing the seeds
of wilderness

in the eye of
nothingness

stark as reality  

stands still a
home

false within me










@writeweird

and the tomorrow

will it be any different ?

a thousand year old
constellation crashing
down after a billion years of spring

will it be coherent ?

when the dust fades
and the smoke travels back
deep within,

will it be transparent ?

the sky and the moon
the sun and the monsoon
the love forever and the gloom

though it's only september
i can see another december
beyond the pines- behind the doom

blossoming, in love with the fall
as i sit and contemplate the dark,
that has engulfed this room,

the kid must die,
and the kid is dead

so kiss him good-bye
before he loses his head

put him to sleep
i know he wants to rest
and dream his life away.

the seed must unfold into
a forest, lest the barren tides
will sweep all away; in ways.


metamorphosis can happen
tomorrow, always.


so, let the kid die;
and the kid is dead.

they come
for me in the
summer

sweetness of
the moon rains down
on the last bus
going home

all the flowers
crushed beneath
the sky

cry for the
mother tree

it's not that hard
to mute the violence

for she was standing
still when I met her

now she's part
of the crop

I don't know what
else to tell you

I've never known
what it feels to be
someone else

I wear my skin
more drunk then
others

my bones pierce
through my veins

the blood rushes
down the staircase

spiralling into
the circles

circling the end
of times

I wish I'd known
you better

but you don't
exist inside these
walls

if only I was trying
to build a better world

we could've known
each of us

there's nothing
else to succeed our
thoughts

there's only so much
you can feed the insides
before it eats you in your
moment of silence

it's better to burn the
rest of you than keep
living the lies

maybe the fire will
cleanse us of our stagnant
despair

nothing moves without
a herculean effort

is this how you feel
when you are sober?

it's better I don't
wake before the end
of another year

I've never felt more
alive when my mind is
blank

so let them come
and find me

I'm waiting for
something to happen
anyway

I'll trade all my
fantasies for one
moment of absolute
nothingness

I can't even tell when
the summer begins and
where it ends

I wasn't born to
count reality

I cried
yesterday

and what little
was buried inside

got out—

spilled all over
the floor,

flooding the walls,
the windows,
and the doors,
dripping from tables,
chairs,
and pillows

at my feet.

And how I stood
there in silence,

hearing the clock
tick and talk,

waiting for
someone—
anyone—

to come and
save me.

It's only been
thirty years.

Love is strange. It is even more stranger when you're a man. It's stranger than a woman's love. It's different than love of a parent for his child. It's different than almost any love out there. And it's because nobody really talks about it. Nobody is really sure because men are like that. We'll always be like that.


Because when a man loves he is ready to die, die for people who he has never met. Die for people he cares about. Die for nothing. Because a man won't love you with all his heart, no, that's not enough for any man i know out there. You see, unlike women, men love with all their soul. I know you'll stop me here for a moment and tell me that i am wrong and that a women loves as much as a man does, that there's no difference in the amount of love, because love is after all just love. I agree. All I'm saying is, it's different in its quality than quantity. It's a different way of loving and that cannot be untrue. For all there is, and all that has been said. There'll always be a difference between a man and a woman. It's the way it should be. Because they complete each other in ways they can't be on their own. A woman might love diamonds because it makes her feel beautiful. A man buys a Ferrari because he finds it beautiful. A subtle difference and a bad example. But a difference nevertheless. I'm not sure what I have in me that wants to express this part of me as I write this. Maybe it's because I am a man and i'm not made to understand the mechanism of love. I'll just love her if I find her beautiful and she'll be beautiful not because she is, but because I find her beautiful. That's the most simplest way I can explain how any man loves. Note there's still a hint of ego somewhere because a man will always love with all his soul and by extension, his ego will be there somewhere. That's not necessarily bad, it cannot be, anything which makes us human, makes us human. A woman will always entertain a mans flaw. A man will fall in love with hers. A woman has enough strength to leave somebody she may love. I don't think men can do that, a man, i think cannot ever leave somebody he loves truly. Even if he knows his presence is negative, that it would be better if he walks away, he won't. Because men are designed to fight till the end. Because he will fight for you, if he loves you, even when he knows he'll lose. That's how a man loves, and you know why ?, because he was to make a woman fall in love with him. If only that was easy.

make me a love story
like they show in movies
one I can stay in and get old


make me a bridge I can love
this way or that
it will never matter where I go
it will never get cold

and no matter how many
times I look in the mirror
it will never shatter
and it will never know
this curse of gold


make somebody to be mine
even if it's only me to fear

somebody on my mind
but it has to be real

not just words I will bleed
on this empty page
I'm staring at this moment
make me a door

give me more than my share
I've been breathing torment
and now i don't know
how to live anymore


take me some place far away
one face where no scar can play
I'd like my sky to be so blue
full of light that no star will stay

and I'm not reminded
that i made my home
in another galaxy

for i could never find
someone standing close

make me a love story
like they show in movies
one I can stay in and get old


I've been dreaming since
yesterday in something
another year wasted
before it could say anything

I find colours so grey

make me a rainbow
and it will rain all across
my sun rays


I've been living on fumes
of tears i was sold

make me a love story
like they show in movies
one I can stay in and get old

longer my pain grows
stronger my wait flows
into an ocean of my abyss

I've been made a machine
and I'm in love with this
empty feeling that I cannot resist

that knows
no boundary
of not to grieve

please understand me
I'm not what I was told

make me a love story
like they show in movies
one I can stay in and get old


build me again
like you wanted me to be
what you needed to see
and set me free
from your lies


take away my eyes
place them in a box
filled with a sky
replace my every part
I won't even ask why

even if I have to die
it is worth living for..

make me a love story
like they show in movies
one I can stay in and get old

between, there lies my burden
on my knees i am but a servant

serving at your feet as i've done
a thousand times before

swollen gaze
resting upon your eyes

i can't flinch
and catch me by surprise  

bound in chains, kissed by
******* --

i want to taste your
addictive lies

corrupted conscience
lost in sermons

you're so vindictive it'll
never suffice

you and i cannot
survive

in this malfunctioning
world

spiralling through summer
as it grows

into autumn, uncertain,
of the winter that passes by

in that weakness i find myself
drawn to you

in your arms of ruthless
subversion

suffocate me with your
fruitful diversions

the more i am awake
more it worsens

i'm barely alive haunted
by desertion

desperate for an escape
from this burden

yours even   ever after,
i am truly yours.

eight ate late




the more i take
the more i can hate
the more i can hate is no more
than i can take

the more i hate
the more i can make
the more i can make is no more
than i can hate

the more i weep
is more i wait
the more i forsake
more demons i make


the more i sleep
the more i'm awake
awake to the world
these dreams have made

the more i wake
the more i can fade
the more i can fade in
this sinful world that's fake

then more i breathe
the more i can feel the blade
running down my spine
behind me like a nightmare

the more i see my face
the more vacuum fills the space
eating me alive on the stage
surviving only wounds

***** after *****
no laughter ever escapes
no super hero wearing a cape
i'm an uber zero
dealing myself in straight traits

the more i can break
blow up in smoke and flakes
choke on raw feelings
and the words said


the more i knock the gates
the more i'm not

the more i'm afraid

to lose a part of me.

oh, she
moves like a breeze

you'll forget
to breathe

and still
the aura won't leave

it'll linger
and it will freeze

a feeling
you can have
but never owe it

she'll turn any man
into a poet.

angry man wearing a denim blouse,
such a beautiful way to shut down your mouth.

nothing much to say, there's no one left to shout,
I'd like for you to stay unless you want to **** the mouse.

the bodies are kept warm sleeping in the oven,
everybody was left weeping empty pages for a question.

cats have nine lives, must be so cruel when they want erosion,
can they still sue sides if they need any emotions ?

bla bla, bla bla- don't you answer me as if you're my child,
i've learned so many things but not any worth-while.

ha-ha, ha-ha..keep bringing me more organs to pile,
it won't stop killing itself until the forest is old and wild.


stop making sense I don't love you enough to agree,
I revel in non-sense, so get far away from me as you can be.


you'll find the scars hanging by a noose in the closet,
take this axe and match it with whoever's standing the closest.


so don't ask me why I broke in today to put you in doubt,
there's sweet music in the background which keeps getting loud.


such a beautiful day to burn down the house.

in Jammu: the city of temples, there is a house.

On the other side of Tawi, past the old bridge, i sit in my memory;

she's talking to me, "earn so i can be free," as my heart drowns in summer.

"it's unbearable," i say -- "the weather hasn't been kind to you"

i wait for her to say something but she's busy again - "i have so much to do.. why don't you settle here and make my life easier," she says with a forced smile.

On the other side of Tawi, past the old bridge, i sit in my memory;

perhaps one day i can give her the world, the one she is promised.

here on the foothills of the mighty Himalayas, on the other side of the tunnel, i wonder.

perhaps i can leave while i still can, younger than i remember, or have i been old and it's merely a dream?

have the city swallowed my memories to keep her relevance alive.

is she just a figment of her many tangled roads, the tree sitting on the three hills, and disjointed neighborhoods?

by the river Tawi - where i once spent the evening swimming in the sweet embrace of liquor, and in ***** of a welcoming morrow.

overlooking the new bridge, thinking to myself, 'how beautiful is home today'.

or making out in the backseat of a confidant's car as we travel through the sidhra road, and she says to me, "do you think this will never end?"

and before i can tell her the truth - i see a fleeting glimpse of silver; and there i am -- in tomorrow -- far from the edges of the mighty Himalayas.

i take out my phone, i need to see what time it is, and there on the screen, it says it's 32 degrees of summer in jammu, still -- and i burst into tears.

On the other side of Tawi, past the old bridge, i am my memory.

what are the
sins of the lonely?

are they kept
in the walls of a home
that cannot weep?

for tears may come
when the fruit is ripe,
but it would taste only
of sweet nothings.

I have kept a world
inside of me,
a world far from the
outdoor light.

that place is no longer
what it once was.
it has aged, as have I.

it craves no more
the soft hum of conversations
about art and life,
nor the company of those
different from me.

it has watched too much
come and go,
watched so much
amount to nothing.



and so, I walk these
empty roads,
this fragile and silent world.

the sins of the lonely
are etched in walls
that will never learn
to weep.

in unwritten letters
to no one,
in a soured world
hidden within.

this mind, this body—
this flesh, these bones—
aged and brittle,
ugly and unloved,

now hold only the ghosts
of what once was.

and I am buried deep,
entombed in this place
that has forgotten itself.

tell me, how do you sleep ?
in your nightmares,
trying to chase you
to the further corner of your mind-
do you mind the intrusion ?
of those things alien
forming the rain and laughter
faces burnt and stranger
than anything you've ever seen.

tell me, how do you dream ?
when the clowns with evil smile
and God's in different names-
count your pain,
and you finally realise
the lies you've made in-to yourself.

tell me, how can you tell ?
it's only in the mirror,
your eyes and whispers
thoughts those wither
now that you're a drunk again.

tell me, if it's not insane,
to languish in the same memory
day after day,
knowing that time stops for no one.

there's a new sun,
everyday for one to harvest.

the moon sets everyday too,
but everybody's asleep
waiting for the star dust-
to make them their idols
so that when they sit idle,
it's not that lonely, and they're not
the only one there.

tell me, do you still care ?

they sing in a line
these people made out of a wish
like water without its fish
they're all dead
they're all dead and moaning

for a beautiful morning
and i'm tired of mourning
when i hear their voice
there's no song for this noise
the dead cannot sing
the dead do not bleed and sink
when eyes are moist

they do not drown in ink
feed clowns and blink
shaping world in their void
screaming, destroyed..

always reminding me
how little there is to live for.

There was a time when I wanted to fly. There was a time when I wanted to feel as alive as possible. Now I'm just scared. Afraid, of how things can go wrong in one second. One moment you are someone and the other moment someone else. There's no story here. No words or figures. Just me. Just me and you. I don't know why you're here. I don't want to know. But I know you know what I'm talking about. You know the pain. We all do. If you don't, just pretend you're lucky. Because you're not.

Pain is universal for us. We can't possibly imagine a world without pain. We pretend it is something evil and cursed. Something rotten and broken. But it's not. It's the only truth other than death. That's the only thing that will still hold your hand when you're waiting for death to come. It is your most trustworthy friend. The only true friend that let's you be.

Death takes you away. Happiness makes you forget who you really are. But pain. Oh, the pain. How many countless artists and art has been made because of pain ?. Almost all of it. Because pain teaches you about a world that is far and isolated from everything. Where you can be truly you. At your best and worst.

But I don't like pain. It's just not for me. I don't thrive in pain. I give myself up. Some people create when they're in pain. I destroy. You can make art both ways. You just can't choose which one belongs for you. And it's killing the world.

The problem in the world is that we're all afraid. We're all afraid to love and be ourselves. We can blame it on everything else but honestly it's our fault. It's inside us and we weren't taught to respect it, we weren't taught to separate pain from love. For us it's the opposite faces of the same coin. Pain is not absence of love, Nor is love presence of happiness. It's born inside everyone differently. It's like our DNA, different for everybody.





We're not taught about freedom anymore. But rules and laws. We're not taught about how we can be ourselves but how we can be someone else. It's a race and we're all losing. We're all losing because there's no finish line. We're all just running because the first guy began to run and then the next followed him. Now anyone who doesn't run will find himself lonely. There's nobody left standing still. Everybody is busy in running to no where. The world feels small now. The universe feels explored. There are more answers to questions now, but we're still clueless.




There is more love to be had now more than ever. There are so many of us now.

But where is love ?. Where is this magical thing. Where does it hide ?.

When I was little I searched for it in people. When I grew up I searched for it in my heart. And today, with a broken heart I know where it is.

Far and unreachable but somewhere beautiful and warm.


There's no pain as the pain from a broken heart. It swallows every inch of your body, your soul, along with every positive energy in the world. It swallows time itself.

The worst part is, even if you could go back and change things... you wouldn't.

That's not love. That's the pain.

That's the pain telling you that you not only need something but something that was a part of you is missing.

The pain is what keeps the love alive and in a way keeps the world alive.

And We'll be nothing without love.

Not with our skyscrapers and latest technology, addictions and trends.

Have you ever met a man who lost on love ? Who saw his love slowly walk away leaving him alone in the universe.

Do you think he still enjoys good food or music ?

Do you think those things matter anymore ?

Love is magical. Magic does not exist. It only appears in a moment briefly only to disappear.

Leaving you scratching your head because you have no clue what hit you.

Getting hit by a train is better, some would say. It's not even anywhere close in my opinion.

And when you're in that pain. You realise there's no difference between love and pain.

But the difference you make.

It's as much more important to heal the world today than live within ourselves in pain.

It's as much more important to stop running for a moment and see around ourselves. See if somebody needs to be picked up.

And love is the only thing strong enough to make us stop.

But you now what ?.

Pain is the only thing that will make you stay.

restless countless

count yourself
boundless

found mess
inside my brain
soundless

silence
violence
and a pinch
of lawless

compress things
with loudness

somewhere here
south west

no sleep no rest
sowed seed grow lest

maketh tree
with tears shed

read free
the words wept

a forest to see
at a place mindless

can you please
mind less ?
the madness

your time is free
mine priceless

you want to be
me timeless