.   .
" i want to be propelled into the nebula  .   * ' '   ,
to the transcendental lanscape of a billion stars
~ cumulonimbus cloud of cosmic oblivion "
* .             '
  '    * .
.   '
  

This foggy mind,
where the mist won't cease
Opaque clouds drift
to my thoughts - the breeze
intentions unclear,
abandoned with slight fear
passions muted -
purpose is queer.
White page lies blank
Black ink is drained
the brain's an asylum
neither insane nor sane
Is this the Kingdom of Boredom?
for all empty souls & crumpled blanks
Please reach thy vibrant hands into the dump
with the glimmers of galaxies in your eyes
& drag me out of this living slump.

My urge to become a 70s serial killer
& sadistically stab strangers
with a butcher's knife
is overwhelming

Still 16 and flushed with life
Anticipating both glory & strife
In a safe haven, yet under wing
Magenta feelings & a freedom sting
Edgy thoughts, urges to be cool
Plenty of time to act like a fool
the paradigm of imperfection
Awaiting my great resurrection
Isn't youth the most beautiful phase?
Oblivious to reality, in an exuberant daze  

But, even Crimson roses will lose their petals
Shrivel up & as charred ashes settle
On the dulling ground, too far from the sky
of azure hues that now stare down to patronize
the once young spirit, who thought it was eternal
being so free & silly, with an unfinished journal
of my life that'll oneday come to an end
as the setting sun will inevitably descend.

the world is simple-
in the moonlight
my life sails smoothly,
in its daze.

                 I lay on my bed,
                 the phone in my hand
                 but the night out the window,
                 has stolen my gaze.

The hushed house is asleep
as I'm wide-eyed & awake,
menacing homework still unfinished
tomorrows problems can wait-

               for what matters in the morning,
               doesn't matter in this moment
                though the regret I feel at dawn
                  may require an atonement.

my procrastination has lead me
to the classic- stretch & yawn
I let the blanket comfort my soul
& welcome the 'moonrays' with the curtains withdrawn.

coincidence?
synchronicity?
or
correspondence
of the soul?
triple 4s
catch my sight,
everywhere I go.
providence?
abundance?
alignment
of dimensions?
444              4,4,4
             4
4:44      4
              4
perhaps
delusion ,
happenstance..
or
divine
intervention.

The teen-age finds
Infamy attractive
& the 'unlawfully fun'.
I heard that
There's no better feeling-
than being on the run.
Some made rebelling,
their creed
& saw thrill-
in ruination.
Amid the juvenile drama,
a thirst for-
retribution.
On top of
great parapets
& in thickets-
we hide.
Don't we all
want to be~
Infamous inside.

You'll never be this young again

That youthful bliss slowly fades away

You won't see miraculous things the same

Will my eyes glisten when I listen,
       to The Strokes on replay?


Your skin'll alter & your heart grows faint

Wisdom replaces & it chases
silly thoughts to grey

No, nothing will eternally remain..

An inevitable reality
     that drives me insane.


So don't let these days go to waste

Do what you couldn't do yesterday

Do what you can't do in a decade

No matter how old you are at this stage

That invincible feeling that neverends
         is ending as the sand of your hourglass descends.

& Though things are changing without your consent

You have the choice of forever remaining content :)

a chronological sequence
a capture of moments
kinetic art of reality
through complexity & clarity
meagre for bland eyes
cynics with heart beats
but flatlines
in indulging in
the cacophony of life
- align the body & mind
with the glimmers in sight
before the grim reaper
emerges with his scythe
snarling - but of course
it's the nature of life.

They were toxic bestfriends
both of evil similarity
Annie thought Amy was a parasite
who manipulated her popularity
6 months were spent on careful conspiration
all the while they were still friends
till the fateful day of its execution
is where this story ends.

9am one Friday morning
Amy gossiped during Spanish class
Annie hated when she flicked her hair
& stole all her attention from the mass
while Amy spoke of Bessie-
saying she's dead weight- a waste of space
'so will you be' Annie whispered
under her breath with a demented face.

10pm that very night
the girls slept over at Amy's home
Her parents off on holiday
a spontaneous luxury trip to Rome.
Nearing 12 & the time feels right
the tv plays the ending scenes of 'Saw'
Amy dozing off in her seat
as Annie returns in a stance of an outlaw.

Fixated on the rise & fall of her chest
diabolical thoughts run through her head
Clasping a butcher blade at her own behest
she inches closer towards the dread.
Seconds away from agony,
her eyelids flutter open to a vile scene
as Annie pulls the knife down on her
lacerating through her skin.

Stab after stab
the gashes splattered gore
that stained the velvet couch
& trickled on the floor
she felt her rapid heartbeat
quiver through the knife
and stabbed her one last time
-enough force to end her life.

Blood sputtered everywhere
as she took her final gasps of breath
flailed her arms around
and faced her gory death.
Amy lay in a pool of blood
her favourite Crimson red
Its metallic fumes in her nostrils
started messing with her head
Annie stumbled over the corpse-
the knife slipped from her grip
as regret clutched her heart
across the hallway- made her trip
legs dragged feebly with lament
eyes dazed with disbelief
lightheaded and psychotic faced
stone in her throat gave no relief.

In the bathroom mirror
a sinner took the frame
white tee smothered in scarlet
gruesome was her image,with shame
trembling fingers at her sides
fixed on the bulging red
a sinister curve formed on her lips
'Just like in the movies' is what she said.

In a dusty pile of the past
A journal stained with time
A memoir of your childhood
An accumulation of arbitrary
thoughts and rhymes
cringe-worthy phrases
of yet evolving thinking
You'd wish you could erase
from existence & printing
Unlocks a chamber of nostalgia
whimsical feelings
& the scent of home
Unravels an eternity of memories
vaguely reminisced in monochrome.

All the whirlwinds that you're caught in
seem to subside for another

At the peak of existence, your worldly presence - meteorically withers

templates of morality sculpt you in the guise of societies figurine

Life's an arc of luminosity that flashes with no time to intervene

Daylight's wasted on the quest of figuring out a plaque, title or conclusion

Chance are; purpose, concepts are menacing distractions, mere illusions.

Being alive in the same land your heart beats, & not in another hallucination

Is in itself the grandeur of appreciating this entire creation.

A nebula of starry celestial bodies

lightyears away, radiating cryptic melodies

to astronomical eyes, spying on skies

that promise the answers to all of their why's

reflecting light from neighbouring, Andromeda

and meteor showers caught on radar

This universe that clouds my mind, like

- comforting night skies, though our intelligence is blind.

restricted behind the bars of reality
strangled by deafening ethics & rules
deprived of the freedom of choice,
to be what you want, when you wanted to.
To be the sovereign to my kingdom of thoughts,
the monarch to my souls enterprise
I feel my insouciant youth evanesce
a passionate mind being scandalized
-encaged in rage with the worlds deception
that independence comes with age & time
soon only to be racked with the revelation
that responsibility replaces what freedom aligns....

Before my bare soles touched the Earth
before the moment of my birth
  before my species had evolved
   before the moon had first revolved
    before this world came to be
     before the magma, air & sea
      before our solar system spun
       before the great colossal sun
        before the starry Milky way
         before infinite galaxies
         Beyond the depths of this universe
         beyond the mind blowing multiverse
        beyond the trace of all beyonds
       beyond what logic corresponds
      who lies behind this splendid mess?
     come out creator & confess!
     if it is God, who created him?
    & the creator beyond that rim.
   As if a secret, forever hidden
  from human knowledge, strictly forbidden
what lies behind the mind's invisible wall?
the truth, the purpose of our soul?
               For I seek a beginning beyond history
               the great Beyond that remains a mystery.....

Myth of dense forest terrain
anomaly creature, inexplicably inane
8ft grizzly humanoid primate
resides in queer & eerie climates
emanating the putrid stench of death
Its' presence will have you gasping for breath.
Strange disturbances in electric fields,
the camera glitches, recording squeals...
in the distance, a blood-curdling roaring howl
that even silences the consistent night owl
midnight in a forest cabin; awake with dread
as the Sasquatch peers through the window
across your bed.

Starless firmament after dark
falling back into permanent gloom
stare up at the black canvas
manic thinking - only to assume
that telescopes show depth & dimension
a peak at a page of the universe
minds in contemplation wired with tension
wonderous discoveries never fulfilled intention.
Even though we're enticed with possibility
expected to live our days with ecstatic productivity...
This facade covers up bleak existence
against glum reality - the human resistance.

Lucid
Crystalline
Sea in Cyan -
a rendezvous
with the
Vermillion sunrise
horizon.
Its Amber halo
fades into the
Opalescent
Azure sky
vaguely cast
in Magenta.
Alabaster white
froth, laps up
against the
Sandy shore in Fawn.
Beachy summer-
the vast Blue
Fluorescently mellow
Dawn.

Murkey thoughts

of potential poems

                            lurk around

my heavy void                         of emptiness

the struggle to translate them into words

                     fires up frustration

an insinuation                       of a dulling passion......

once existed a mind of clarity-

               unbothered by the taunting past & present

& the future of uncertainty
                                        
Once when I wrote of       frogs   &    jellybeans

with much simpler rhyming schemes

once when confusing questions didn't   f l o a t  around

certainly not ones that were this
                                                         profound.

now insanity replaces curiosity

dysfunctional thoughts &
                                             distruaght rhymes

try to summarize

my ConfusiOn

We find our sentiments
&  create our aesthetics
to reside in our minds
though we know it's pathetic.
Living in the reality of-
another dimension in our head
when in reality- soulless eyes &
a presence dead
haunts the present world
shifting phases, facing conversions.
The body grows,
as strangers take over
or is it the same soul
in different versions?

Please give me a delusion that's worth sleeping for

A realistic illusion with all my fantasies galore.

Because reality can't grant me all the happiness I crave

My bland eyes seem to bore me to my dreary grave.

When my vision fades in slumber & my soul is wide awake

Won't you take me to another land for the shortest break.

& promise me that while I'm there, you would never mention

The real world which I've escaped -into another dimension....

I used to be one of the jerks
who thought depression wasn't real

But, lately I've been oblivious
to the strange sadness that I feel

These days I see no point in life
what am i doing here?

A soul gone hollow, empty existence
and a mind that's far from clear

Profound questions rack my brain
but the answers leave me shallow

I feel the formation of a void,
an endless pit so hollow

Things I used to romanticize
bring me joy- no more

Is this a 'perk' of growing old-
just to be filled with bore?

Not usually a downcast being
just vaguely melancholic

when reality punches you in the face
to the truth- far from euphoric.

stray thoughts
born from the blue
become daisies when
the sun shines through;
a dark age unravelling
the Elysian fields
from existential glooms
come ethereal yields..

Perfectionism is
solely imperfect
We can't change
what is meant to be
This dimension's truly
a synchronized mess
& we're confused
to the worst degree.
Neither appearance
nor soul
will adhere to the role,
or that ideally flawless pitch
you've got ready in your head-
the stereotypical switch
that you subconciously await
the time you achieve perfection
-won't be met until you're dead.

Synopsis of existence
Truth of the universe
Beginning of all Beginnings
-all I seem to write in verse
These futile questions,
never answered to
Suffocate your mind
till' it turns blue.
Wait, does the mind...
even possess colour?
The mastermind of life
must be such a troller...
Grants us unquenchable curiosity
- a teasing curse, a monstrosity.
Us minions to unknown sorcery
Stuck living this blissful atrocity.

Thought you'd be the cynosure of this story
The protagonist, given all the glory
Instead you felt merely equal
To an extra in an unwatched sequel.


Imagined it to be Cinematic & song-like
Eons before that killjoy took the mic
Now certain sensations that you come by
engenders the exhale, of a melancholic sigh


Contrary to the rhapsody, in your mind
life is left indefinite & undefined
Until the mayhem ends in dysphoria
to the fool who long- awaited euphoria.


Are you a believer or sycophant to god?
-intentions of fulfilling desires, rather odd
So comes the unsolicited truth; the kalopsia
That triggers the many nights of insomnia

A mural of faint galaxies
behind my eyelids
vaguely sparkle
like the static of tv -
it isn't darkness
nor is it imagery...
It's nothing
but, what is nothing?
Like bedsheets pulled over
the pupil & iris
staring at a ceiling of
subtly glitching galaxies

Demons are fallen angels
Cast away far from the skies
Betrayed by the fading hope
Who've lost the sparkle in their eyes.
Abandoned by heaven
Deprived of all their chances
And had never been forgiven
Captured by the devils glances.
Who've fallen to barren graves
To dwell on the past & hate
Drained of courage to lift the curse
or the strength to change their fate.

Cataclysm at its finest is it?
Catastrophe galore
Crisis & calamity
Beginning of  
humanitys' war
Great nuclear holocaust,
Mother natures devastation
Festering with inhabitants of the era of degradation.
Where we are the parasitic infestation
numbly oblivious to backfiring ruination.
Our world is a gas chamber
with poison - being suffused & saturated.
A toxic wasteland for our toxic souls
heartless ghouls ought to be annihilated -
obliteration sounds tempting...
'mass suicide of this vicious nation'.
Black death couldn't quell us malicious beings
No virus contagion in existence ever would -
eradicate a species, this selfish & grim
Should we blow the world up if we could?
All the Atomic & Nuclear could be put to good use
Escape the mess we made & ignite the fuse
As the grotesque & gory go up in flames
vanquish every origin of mans evil games
Watch Earths inferno,
much better than Hiroshima or Chernobyl
Lamenting on the barren face of Mars,
Of the spectacle 'it' could've been but never will.

Ah, wisdom & philosophy
critical thinking is catastrophe
profoundness of curiosity
importance in ideology
might be so greatly hypocritical
to the purpose in life - entirely
struggle to figure out, 'complexity'
could be humorous in irony
To the anonymous creator;
'Why make man such a Thinker?'

We meet once again
always standing face to face
with a questionable glance
and an unfamiliar trace.
emotionless and still
testing out a smile or two
in yet, a judgemental stance
curved mouths that don't feel true.
And of course sometimes we dance
& re-enact our favourite scenes
do extreme fashion shows
before stepping outside by all means.
A peculiar friend you are
& a puzzling character too
who makes me feel like a queen
or implies that I belong at the zoo.
We are one & the same
yet so foreign-
The being in the reflection
of my silver screen.

We're wordsmiths forging a masterpiece
Perception's the brush to our mastery
Phrases sculpted like chiseled marble
with Michelangelo's dexterity

times' thoughts struggle to translate to poetry
& ideologies unleash your inner lunatic
But as Picasso proved, with his absurd canvas
Even confusion could be artistry!

The world's preposterous afterall
Its Interpretations come from the cardiac
& psychosis is better than normalcy
I'm fine sounding like
             A dyslexic graphomaniac.

Gloom drenched sky
grey musty clouds
slumber sighs
thunder hounds
startle the heavens
biosterous barks
silver linen
lightning sparks
Zeus in fury
reigns stormy skies
grey coliseum -
Orchestra up high.

Your heart is as cold
as Alaska
your thoughts flow,
like river Nile.
Your mind is as lush
as the Amazon
& eyes reflect the soul
like the sea & the sky.
                     Yet, your heart is as cold
                      as Alaska.
But, when humanity seeps
into your frozen core
As if the Sun shone down
& scorched the ice
your heart would bloom
like the tulip fields
& the night, a coliseum
playing the Northern lights.

a tiring maze
a puzzle unsolved
a lightning phase
before your old
duty madness
weighs your soul
the human sadness
that can't be told.
an idle transcript
of ending time
oblivious to
your obscure mind
a hollow space
saved till you find
whats been missing-
The yet 'undefined'.

abysmal feelings rise & fall
society hurts a shattered soul
I hate connection,
  proximity burns
     victims stay victims,
       till that victim learns;
       all you have is yourself,
      scarred yet starred-
    with glints of hope
amid the tar
hurts to know no one
understands
   trivial matters
     flare up in fiery lands -
       of hatred subtly
         thrown into your heart
          like an eternal hearth, none
         cares to help put out
     hurts to know the perpetrator
   gets more sympathy
than the one who's crying
at his torn dignity

Why the incessant heart ache
that comes with its persisting beat
the reiteration of menacing thoughts
-Inability to sit still in your seat.
a clenching jaw & those rapid eyes
implies the existence of a disturbed soul,
trapped between heavy walls of meat
at the pit of the minds' profound hole.
Are you in distress & unrest
in a state of mournful agitation
inflicted into lifes entangled turbulence
with no forewarning or invitation          
unwelcome thoughts linger to & fro        
pacing through the hallway of your head
from the livid past to a murky future    
Your senses awoke in - infrared.

Aren't we a minute   •
in this world?        
Just a moment     ▪︎
in the universe.
But, this moment
feels like a whole eternity  ■
to our tiny insignificant souls  
that we hold so grandly; entitled   ●
transfixed on playing roles
in this enigmatic reality  ○
Searching for meaning
in such a quantity ■
of the unknown¿

Thinking contemplation
leads to revelation
seeking information
for a transformation
In a simulation?
this entire nation
an insinuation
of greater creation
or the ultimate narration
piques our fascination
less human conversation
more alienation
engenders more destruction
than annihalation
so, forget this complication
& make life a Celebration.

To be an anonymous cryptic thing
imperceivable being with invisible skin
to be unseen - but this time it's glory
with no need to share an idle story.
Dancing on the striped  pedestrian crossing.
Creeping up on an oblivious lakeside gosling.
Running maniacally through time square.
Not having to subdue the lunacies I wear.
Sneaking ticket-less into the theatres
Avoiding lifes'  void of norms, too meagre.
The imprisonment in being seen
- at the expense of living like a libertine.

To stay out of trouble
is to live in your bubble
'Don't mingle'- not subtle
when you end in the rubble.
Became a social butterfly
only to hear the distant battle-cry
as arrows struck you from up high
& you began think, 'I'd rather die'
than carry the weight- 'misunderstood'
from societal challenges- understood-
risk your peace - do you think you would?
to become a figure - appearing 'good'.