There're endless ways to write
give vent to a joy or to pain
heavy stuff or childly light
sunshine or broken sky's rain.

It depends on the day the mood
good times or bad on the way
shapes the words your attitude
color them the way you want to say.

Endless are the ways to fill the page
rhythm and structure and rhyme
clear as daylight or a maze
depends how you're treated by the time.

You choose from the collage endless
words that may sadden entertain
when broken you may choose to show a face
that by lighting smiles lessens your pain.

A ghost town stands in the Eastern Sierra
just up the road from ancient Mono Lake
A long dirt road, you have to take

Now a dead mining town with its buildings
still intact,
There were riches everywhere,
once it boomed and roared.
The bad man from Bodie, he was once called.

But between the winters,
the end of timber,
the mines ran dry
a killing every night,
There is silence now,
All those riches returned to sand.

Oh, America,

It's the killings
everyday
every night.

Where America, I ask of thee
Where America, does all this violence breed?
So many on the ground to bleed.

42,000 shot
and still counting
killings everyday
killings every night.

America
oh America
Where does it come from
all of this rage?

Frustration
Anger
Cold blooded eyes

Harsh life
in the boom town
Hard to get it right?

The Old West
is
the New West
life is short and desperate

Another shot rings out in the night.

We're all dancing as fast as we can
or in the can
numbed out by alcohol, speed and ******,
eyes buried deep inside electronics.
Anything to make it all right
as the walls close in.

Depression they say
is violence and homicide
turned inwards instead.

The Old West had the Civil War
The New West has its
endless wars

here we go again.

We're all alone
in this world
that's for sure.

It hurts my heart
to hear her say,
"Goodbye God, we're going to the old USA"

We are the Failure, Cowards and Conditioned Leaders,
We face the future with warm courage and high hope.
We don't want to wake up and face the music,
as we keep sticking with old and precious values,
For we are the destroyer of homes,
homes for a future that we can't seem to get our hands on,
homes where living will be the expression of everything,
but like that is good and fair,
this shan't be that,
how we hope, future homes hold,
truth and love and security and faith will be realities,
but like all dreams,
we wake and see its not a reality,
We are the Failure, Cowards and Conditioned Leaders,
as we face the future with warm courage and high hope.
for nothing good will come from our race.

I didn’t cry when you left
Neither did I say anything to anyone
I just kept quiet for a few days

But, I've observed everything
And suffered even more

That blue shirt,
Which you often used to wear
Is ironed and arranged
in the wooden closet

Your specs are still kept
on the television..
And the umbrella ..
waiting for the rainy season..

In The last rains
We were soaked and drenched
I did not touch your umbrella ..
I know,
That you do not like
If  your things are misplaced

I’ve told the cobbler
To mend your old shoe
Your watch is repaired
With a battery brand new

Taylor has stitched your pants
With a lining inside
And
Your bed is done
And mom waiting by its side.

Dad ....
I know
You will be tired by the journey
But this time,
Please stand still
And Rest for some time
I will take off your shoes
And massage your legs
To make you de-stress
Whatever you’ll say
I'll do it all
Just stand still
And be there

You know what dad ...
The last time you left ..
You left us shocked...

Ananya

You might be ****, even kind...
But I care not for your ego.
I might as well be blind.

You might be interested in many things.
None of which light my fire.
A hollow heart filled with empty blings.

I live to build and design.
Practicality is so hard to find.
I want to understand the world.
Very few share my mind.

I'm simply complicated.
And there is no shortcut to my desire.
I'm after the impossible.
But that is all I require.