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Pranav 2d
I find the charging sky lights to be
disorienting and pure.
Black and white at same time.

It’s a rainbow in the clouds after the rain
and succeeding the dark clouds which make me sane.

I am aware that rain will come again,
yet I don’t know when I will be rain-bound.
Each turn is a change in the circle of pain.

When the lightning strikes,
we look at the bright, white flash of light.
White pierces through the dark,
and confounds us and leaves us looking at the stars.

We wait for it to strike,
only for it to come at the most unexpected of times.
We must not be confused, or surprised.

We should rejoice when things go awry.
For it will too pass, and change will evade.
The earned hope will remain.

For chaos and the unexpected are change,
and change is the inevitable truth which cannot be tamed.
We’re celebrating the chaos and celebrating change.
We’re celebrating the inevitable when we dance in the rain.
Everything is in a circle, it a cycle of interconnectedness or several cycles of interconnectedness which are themselves connected to each other. It is the same storyline, a basic plot line that follows a similar story from the past and everything repeats itself. So, it does not matter what the end goal might be, it is about the experience and the change that will give us a greater understanding. Living though the motions, looking at the circle go, and know a greater story exists and you just have to fill in the blanks to make it your own - to make your cycle of birth and death meaningful and like a ring with a lot of engravings on them and then hanging that ring in an a larger ring that involves the entire existence. Not just your existence, but everything that exists which is also going through the motions and is following the circle and engraving its own little and large details on the Ring of existence.
And at every turn point of the ring, which is almost at every point, there is change and there is chaos.
We think of rain to be release- from winter cold or summer heat. Release from the uniformity of suffering. Yet, rain comes in as chaos. We do not know when it will come and how the raindrops will fall. They will fall as they want to - in utter chaos. After uniformity, comes change. Change comes in form of chaos. And navigating in that chaos i.e. dancing in the rain is thriving and celebrating each little raindrop as it is. We’re celebrating the chaos and celebrating change. We’re celebrating the inevitable when we dance in the rain.
Feb 5 · 136
Calling for help.
Pranav Feb 5
People’s feet are hurting,
dresses and shoes are a size smaller than theirs.
They’re taking chances, and going to dances
and the truer selves are calling for help.

They’re dressed in their nicest,
their inner screams are the quietest.
Under the gleaming smiles,
their broken, imperfect selves are quietly calling for help.

The smoothest white marble floor lies,
in the reflection they seem to be perfect
while they’re numb inside.
Living corpses are calling for help.

They’re breathing slowly,
to cope with the swift dancing.
The masses are strategizing and scheming
on how not to call for help.

All is calm and feelings are suppressed.
Suddenly!
Chandeliers are falling,
glass is on the dance floor
and hoofers are calling for help.
Feb 5 · 117
Life she never lived.
Pranav Feb 5
TRIGGER WARNING (this deals with suicide)


Hands fall down as they try to work in the mills. Hardened, bruised hands are cut and blood drips on the cloth that she's producing.

She has to work there, if she doesn't she has to bear the slaps of her drunken, miserable husband. Her eyes used to dream of skyscrapers and cities. Now, she is stuck in a slum and an endless cycle of misery.

She dreams on of a life she never lived. She wants it so much that she runs away from this world. She finds sweet release as her body is burned.
Jan 31 · 52
Pick your pain.
Pranav Jan 31
Lasting pain in an everlasting mind
always comes through.
Babbling mouths do not help with the pain,
truth adds salt to the hurting veins.
Blinded by light, my blinded eyes
search for the handle to alter my path.
But it’s almost been snatched away from me.
I have no way out of this unreal reality.
Veering the direction of my pointless life
is what might help me.
The pain I receive remains paralleled to
the pain I give, yet I complain.
I believe I deserve the excruciating chains
that attempt to hold me back.
The pain will last as I live.
But I pick the pain,
and that’s enough for me.
Pranav Jan 31
The ancient Egyptians wrote down words.
Proud of their heritage and culture.
Their words are gibberish to us,
we try to make sense of them.

I wonder what will my words
be like some thousand years later.
My voice won’t make sense to the future generations
as I would mumble out words, incoherently.

Will they try to encrypt my broken messages?
Will they try to know the thoughts of some 1400 year old boy?
Will another 14 year old boy write the same things as I did?
Or will my words remain worthless as they are today?
Jan 28 · 754
Fresh Snow and Water.
Pranav Jan 28
I have been to the mountains where I have cried.
I climb hills not for the vista.
I climb for falling down the rabbit hole.
Then, I plummet down the icy gully.

I have drowned in bathtubs where I have smiled.
I swim in cold bathtubs not due to recklessness.
I swim to delude my presence.
Then, I hitch-hike upto the peak.

I do these things I cannot understand.
Reality slips away,
like fresh snow and water slip from my bare hands.
I climb to the mountain and fall to the bathtub.
Pranav Jan 25
Four people in different rooms
with phones in their hands
and thoughts in their heads
that they are trying to suppress.

They are hurting underneath
the smiles and faces which gleam.
They blurt out things that they do not mean
and hurt the hearts of the glossed-over faces they meet.

They are dishonest and keen
to despise when the slate is clean.
Hearts of mortar they hide
by accompanying the blind.

I sit and observe
their pacts build and crack.
Lawsuits are filed and lawyers remain unpaid.
Changes are made but not sustained.

No injustices were done
to the ones with phones in their hands.
A choice was given to improve
and they said no.
#no
Jan 23 · 50
We are the nation.
Pranav Jan 23
We escaped the belly of the beast.
We weathered bludgeonings from across the seas.
we fought them with peace.
Together we wrote our own destiny,
we spelled out words of justice and equality.
We woke to self rule and sovereignty,
pledging to wipe tears from all eyes.
On an unfinished pursuit of our ideals,
our divided wounds continue to heal.
And heal shall they,
for we allow them to with our constitution.
A collection of our most-driven convictions.
We have witnessed wars and decades pass,
the technology grow and freedom last.
Tis nation of the Himalayas and the Malwa.
From the deserts of the west to the deltas of the east,
Liberty has been enshrined
& secularism promised in our revered book.
It is belongs to all of us,
in its mighty self and binding laws.
We, the people have rights that we exercise
and duties we fulfill.
We are not powerless,
we have the power - we are the nation.
I wrote this for the Indian Republic Day Celebrations in school.
Pranav Jan 17
I will mourn the people I lost
and the opportunities I took.
I will suffer when the sun is out.
I will stay in bed tonight.

I will not go out
when I am supposed to.
I will think when I reportedly don’t.
I will stay in bed tonight.

I will admire the people I cheated.
I will congratulate the ones
who aided my fall.
I will stay in bed tonight.

I will not drink as required.
I will not be antagonising
another man in the dark.
I will stay in bed tonight.

I will not steal an idea.
I will display my work
and be laughed at.
I will stay in bed tonight.

I will stay in bed tonight
and wake as a failed being
that almost resembles a human.
Oh wait- a failed being is human.
Jan 16 · 87
Soul
Pranav Jan 16
Nothing can be changed of soul
in my possession.
Its rugged, scarred self
hurts and heals.
I now own the soul and
I can’t let it go.
It works as a king in my brain and
lives as peasant in reality.
I am subservient to what I possess.
I cannot change it, but
the soul can change me.
A soul is precious,
so I gave in.
Into tricking another soul,
or maiming a different one.
I gave in and
now I am in agony.
What should I choose?
I will let the soul take over me.
idk if it makes actual sense.
Jan 16 · 59
Contradictions.
Pranav Jan 16
Hands try to move without no stimuli,
they fall down.

He tries to smile in the worst circumstances,
he is a fool.

They try to euphemize what hurts,
they are scared.

Ones who write exaggerated emotions,
the people who read it feel the exact ones.

Honestly, criminally and brutally,
honesty is torn down.

Mindlessness peacefully takes over,
it is despised after the crowning.

While taking the chances,
I fall to the ground.

The plants grow in the soil,
and return to it somehow.

The world is the truth,
the world is plenty with contradictions.

Is truth now only a contradiction?
Ah ha. Look at me trying to think like a real thinker.
Jan 15 · 539
Six decades of Intimacy.
Pranav Jan 15
In a bus, sat an old couple
and held each other’s hands.
Two hands were clenched together,
as they had when they were just born.

They were at peace with what would arrive,
yet sweaty and energized like they had been
when they played in the green grounds
as little, naive boys.

Six decades of intimacy
running through their minds.
Both chanted and repeated prayers
and wishes for each other and others.

They were mid-desert
but their bond well-irrigated.
Their fields had borne flowers.
And water was plenty.

What had happened was that
a band of robbers had attacked.
They threatened to ****
and so, they did.
Jan 13 · 67
Out of reality.
Pranav Jan 13
I took the vehicle to your house.
I didn’t meet you when you died.
But I know you wouldn’t have recognized me.
Your vision failing you,
and I’m hoping your heart hadn’t given out.
You drank tea before you slept
and asked the rotis to be kept for dinner.
I long for your voice,
I am scared that I'll forget how you sounded.
I cannot imagine how it would have felt.
I am terrified if I imagine your last breaths.
I received the call announcing you had "expired".
My reality did too.
Rest in peace, badi dadi ji.
Pranav Jan 5
That world is not mine
yet I bask in it.
I cry and laugh sometimes.
All so real
but it’s deception.
To yearn to touch
but falling short of the warmth.
It briefs me on what I want to have
while staying on the side-lines,
All the ****** time.
It keeps on rolling
as my time passes by.
And my tears pearl-down
And my grin turns wide
And my heart’s in a riot.
That’s what happens-
when I look at a
movie screen.
lmaoo watched too many good films.
Jan 5 · 51
I have met them.
Pranav Jan 5
I have not worshipped them far and wide.
I have not preached what I have learned.
I have not fasted for a thousand nights.
I have not helped more than I have hurt.
I have not done what I should have.
I have not longed for visions.
I have not had revelations.
But
I have met the poor begging for food.
I have witnessed people turn them away.
I have seen people loving so passionately.
I have heard of the dacoits threatening to ****.
I have read the books preached by the leaders.
So I conclude I have met god, whoever that might be.
Jan 5 · 71
Hag
Pranav Jan 5
Hag
With velveteen curtains and a table of gold
sat an old hag with stories untold.
Kids scurried along the marble path
as they escaped her ferocious shihtzu dog.
Filthy men passed one-liners
about her polished growl.
She played hoarse music on her platinum harp
and sang along verses of outcasts’ tarp.
She read out loud stories
banned by the elders in the ancient market.
She lured and polluted little children’s minds
with her ideas and little schemes.
Yet the townsfolk let that damsel stay,
for she was an old hag who could do magic.
With their minds did the magic play.
The populace attempted to play with her tragic
mind in the hope that they could do magic too.
Jan 4 · 49
In the mirror.
Pranav Jan 4
Stealing bits and pieces of information about myself from people I don’t know.

They tell me that I have my grandfather’s eyes or that I behave like my uncle when he was young.

I look for these parts, these broken pieces I lost. I don’t know when I lost them, though.

An aunty I meet will tell me that she heard I was good at geography. I don’t like geography. Or do I?

Don’t blame me for trying to find the shattered pieces of the mirror in which I hope to see my reflection.

But deep down I know even after I find all these shards, I won’t see a reflection of myself.

Because I won’t recognise the glossed over person in mirror.
ugh this isn't a poem.
Jan 3 · 1.1k
I don’t have a shadow.
Pranav Jan 3
Shadows are impersonations.
They move around
In the sneakiest of ways.
Lurking and inching and cheating.
Trying to escape the mirror.
The darkness died when the hero won.
It didn’t.
It just followed them, lurking to get back.
The core is darker of the fake.
They’re dark,
because they tell them of the time gone by.
In monochrome,
the color died, it lives in the real world now.
I don’t have a shadow.
I am one.
Jan 3 · 249
Stuck on the verge.
Pranav Jan 3
I’m stuck on the verge
of meandering outside
or wandering inside all the time.

I need to know if the sun shines
and if the moon still glows.
I haven’t seen the stars in a while.
The trees are in disguise,
and leaves don’t fall down by my side.
I haven’t stepped outside.

I need to know if my lungs pump out air
and if my brain still responds to stimuli.
I haven’t visited my heart in a while.
The emotions are in disguise,
and tears don’t fall down my eyes.
I haven’t stepped inside.
Dec 2020 · 124
Home.
Pranav Dec 2020
My eyes have been searching for a place to call home.
I have been to Rome and have done what the Romans do.
I have failed to win a place amongst the ranks of caesars.
I have felt the harrowing escapism of not being at home.

I sit inside the colosseum and work in the communes.
I look for a place to reside, as I sway through.
I curse and beat myself up for not being homely.
I walk in the darkest alleys calling it my home.

I said bought the elephantine houses.
I said that I played with the kings,
though I only washed their feet.
I did not feel at home.

I search for belonging,
in my own heart.
Is it good?
Dec 2020 · 282
MMXXI.
Pranav Dec 2020
New dew on the lush olive green leaves,
coherent chaos awaits.
Yes, we can.
Dec 2020 · 309
Deserve.
Pranav Dec 2020
Your eyelashes fall down as you close your eyes to sleep.
You stretch your legs under the blanket
and twist and turn if you're not able to leave reality.
Your peach lips slightly move as you speak while you dream.
Your hand is under your head while you board a night taxi to partake in fantasies.
Wherever you might go, but I don't deserve you.
Dec 2020 · 108
Rollercoaster.
Pranav Dec 2020
I belong in the heavens
and then I'm under the ground.
I reach the clouds
and then sweep the dirt.
I'm on a rollercoaster
till the end.
Dec 2020 · 79
Should I keep trying?
Pranav Dec 2020
No matter how hard I try
I cannot speak
I cannot write
I cannot live
drama 👀
Dec 2020 · 64
Sulk.
Pranav Dec 2020
Is it okay to sulk when you know you’ll be better later?
Pranav Dec 2020
Her hardened feet and cracked heel
brush against the muddy ground.
She travels on foot to fetch water
as she withers away into the befouled.
Dec 2020 · 389
Trust.
Pranav Dec 2020
Sometimes all we have to do is trust each other.
Dec 2020 · 89
Poetry II
Pranav Dec 2020
Poetry is the simplicities of life.
Dec 2020 · 215
"Goodnight, sweet dreams"
Pranav Dec 2020
"Goodnight, sweet dreams"- I used to say.
Then when I came back home
after staying at grandma's for the holidays with the cousins,
I listed their names as I went to sleep,
good night, sweet dreams accompanied with each.
"Good night-sweet dreams, Nani Ji"
"Good night to everyone whenever your night might come"
"Sweet dreams to everyone whenever your night might come"
Nani Ji is maternal grandma in Hindi.
Dec 2020 · 84
I was just a little boy.
Pranav Dec 2020
I was just a little boy
when I asked why I couldn't run in the traffic;
when I bathed in the inflatable pool and didn't get out;
when I locked my mother in the room;
when I locked my cousin and myself in the room to play with our toys;
when I was puked on by;
when I scraped my bruises in fun;
when I got a fever after I saw that lost kid at the mall;
when I ran in the hallways in races with my friends;
when I told my mother everything;
when I was innocent.
Dec 2020 · 204
You can stop.
Pranav Dec 2020
You can take something,
but can you take nothing?
You can take their life,
but can you take their soul?
You hit alright,
but can you hit no more?
You can start,
but can you stop?
You can stop.
You can stop.
Dec 2020 · 73
Poetry I
Pranav Dec 2020
Poetry is the subtleties of life.
Pranav Dec 2020
Your face reminds of the places I want to visit.
As your hands explore, I’m reacquainted to dreams.
I find my thoughts after aeons in darkness as we sit cross-legged and chat.
Thoughts of wonder commence as you curl your peach-coloured lips to read me poetry.
I can feel a heart beating through those lips.
The rumble of your heart makes me discover that I have one too, though stunted by the lovers I never met.
I ask for you, and you agree.
PS: The heart remains stunted as I never meet this lover.
Dec 2020 · 191
Break Down.
Pranav Dec 2020
I could just break down and cry.
But I could also get over it
in the fear of being judged.
I honestly love reading and writing poetry. Then why does it make me sad and I kinda even like it.
Dec 2020 · 95
~Let's talk about it.
Pranav Dec 2020
-Can I talk about it?
~Can you?
-I cannot.
Dec 2020 · 127
I belong in my own heart.
Pranav Dec 2020
A house is not a home,
your heart is a place where I am
but that's not where I belong.
this ish.
Pranav Dec 2020
Life is attempting to walk down the stairs in darkness.
You can get better at it if you're familiar with them.
It gets better with time. But what if doesn't?
You'll stumble and fall like a toddler.
Dec 2020 · 306
In the Vampiric Mansions.
Pranav Dec 2020
A chalice filled with the wine of word,
love rotted with time into hurt.
The viscous, darkened liquid
runs in veins instead of blood.
Bubbling liquids spew out
of my decaying mouth.
Bloodshot eyes are searching for
a familiar hand to hold.
Do not ask about the soul,
it's already sold.
It's dark. I know. I don't mean the stuff about the sold soul in real. Thanks @SkylarRusso for the title suggestion.
Dec 2020 · 295
Grow Up.
Pranav Dec 2020
We're kids- all of us.
Then,
why do we force each other to grow up?
Dec 2020 · 233
12:04 AM regret.
Pranav Dec 2020
I am stuck in the trappings of poetry.
I have an exam to answer at 8 am.
I read and rejoice.
But I am sure
that I'll be overwhelmed
by regret in the morning.
Dec 2020 · 101
Walls of being.
Pranav Dec 2020
They stand high and firm.
Unwavering strength to listen to it all.
All the love and it’s absence
were encountered by these dutiful walls.
Countless beings came by,
some to conserve and some to destroy.
They still didn’t crumble down.
For they had stories to tell.
Memories and existences
that fared the test of time.
Frozen in these walls of being,
are the lives of numerous beings.
Recording their lives
in a concealed script.
Old houses appear desolate.
They are not homes anymore.
Old forts have this despair.
That they wish to share,
But can’t.
It’s their irony.
They’re strong but sad.
Have words to say but can’t.
Pranav Dec 2020
I could be mean to you.
But where would that get me?
I'm not a conceited brat. Just tryna be a good person.
Dec 2020 · 70
strength.
Pranav Dec 2020
our relationships
are as strong as our
will and determination
to fight for them.
Dec 2020 · 217
Fences.
Pranav Dec 2020
I look at your fences
and your flimsy nests.
The wind comes in and breaks them.
You rebuild, the bear comes in and breaks them.
Yet you still rebuild.
Why do you do that when you know it's pointless?
Pranav Dec 2020
Let me cry rivers
and not be asked about it.
Let me shut myself in my room
and not have people knocking at my door.
Let me pass uninformed comments
and not be embarrassed by the people that surround me.
Let me be a stranger,
a forgettable face in the masses.
Let me not stand out,
or blend into the ordinary.
I am lonely,
let me be alone.
I am on way to do that.
I'll start pushing people away now.
Pranav Dec 2020
Peaceful nights
and then morning rains,
living through midday fantasy
with fruits for brunch.

Roaming in kaftans
and then cycling in the fields.
To guffaw at our jokes
and sit under the tree.

We're drinking water,
filled to the brim in the glass
to quench thirst
after our outdoor rendezvous.

Dancing to the sounds
of our breaths
and feet tapping to
the throb of our hearts.

Hold me in a
euphoric embrace
as historical wrongs
are corrected.

We'll sleep peacefully
through the night
and wake up at the crack of dawn
to see each other again
in euphoria.
Nov 2020 · 157
Insecurities.
Pranav Nov 2020
Abysmal despise curtains your insecurities.
Nov 2020 · 149
afterthought.
Pranav Nov 2020
A perplexed hand reaches out
and a trembling fingertip reaches the ****.
It circles the burgundy, round grip
with faltering determination
to push the hazel door forward.
this is what happens when you give too much afterthought to your decisions before acting on them.
Nov 2020 · 87
Devastate.
Pranav Nov 2020
All of my heroes died in vain
for me.
I'm not up to their remarks.
Perhaps that's why we have heroes.
Some believe in gold
and find it deep while they
toil the field.
But for the ones
who don't wish for the gold
or are too devastated
by the devastation
their destiny is to die
in and by devastation.
For the majority of us devastated peasants
in the wide devastated field-
our destiny is to
lookup to our dead heroes and fail.
Miserably and devastatingly.
Don't school me on my pessimism in the comments.
Nov 2020 · 235
Neon Haze.
Pranav Nov 2020
Under an old display of neon lights
two gilded exteriors meet.
Their gold needs to melt
and the lead core bared.
Wilde's prince's lead core didn't melt,
so won't their austere cores.
Their gold melted in the neon haze,
but didn't have the heart
to see their leaden heart
in the bright of the day.
Started with those neon lights that you find in the movies and it just went from there. I'm referring to the Happy Prince and his leaden heart from Oscar Wilde's works. (I'm 14, I've never been to a place where there'd be a neon haze.)
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