If I was a poet

If I was a poet Sep 2019

an apple

Suppose, an apple ;
It’s red, sweet, crunchy. You might claim this is what the apple is.
But put another way . Let's suppose your friend is color blind, and to him the apple is a dull greenish color. She also makes a truth claim about the color of the apple but it's different than your truth.
The views of reality is incorrect, but the truth is not, so what the truth is?
Who decides that it is Red and not Purple?
And green and not White?
Freedom and Liberty; in the other hand, doesn't really go hand in hand.
Liberty is often confused with privilege, the privilege to do whatever thy wants and demands -to get away with it even if it meant harming others'

---- my life isn't just about my life really, never really learned to view it that way. I mean I tried to have it their way ; but it wasn't just, Me .

So who decides what are we ? We are from nothing but everything, we are from nowhere to everywhere . But who decides what is nowhere and who decides what is everywhere. Where is liberty?

I decide what we are'
We decide how ;
And our ways decides where .

If I was a poet Dec 2018

Obsolete

Happiness came in waves,

and in the darkest of nights
with the strongest of tides,
it was all pulled away.

If I was a poet Dec 2018

Ouroboros

THis is the decisive juncture .

Where you comprehend it never ends, just die. This is the space where death decays. Drowning in cocktail of poison and pride.
You wish you were a little wise.
To have seen through the guileful eyes. To have known better of silly vows. Needlessly fell for the tragic demise .
I was a believer, for a while'

Hope bred eternal misery .
This is the tale of treachery. The garden of love seeded with lies. Here reality intertwines. Trespassers shot at sight. No strings, no sighs.
Well, nothing is better some times .

Love on sale. Grandest deal. As lovable as they come.
Assurance fails .
Now is the aggressive trice ;

This is when you eat yourself alive .

If I was a poet Dec 2018

Feu de joie

And feu de joie to each heart break
Feu de joie to every return
For all those gone
For all they have done
And feu de joie to each heart break
Feu de joie to every return
For it's time for death to die
For me to take my turn

If I was a poet Oct 2018

S t a y . .

I couldn't tell what's on my mind
So I stared
I couldn't help but, stare
And when I thought I would just write'em all
I couldn't, I just couldn't at all
Even when I know literature is not your thing
Yet words spill from your mouth in w a v e s
But in case you haven't realized what you mean to me
I think I just gotta say this anyway .

You're my pride
You're my strength when I'm insecure
You're the sun that doesn't burn
' but soothes me to the core
You're like a fairytale
But I know this love is real

You make life c om e b a c k to life .

And even though,

I could never tell you what's on my mind
Thoughts I never spoke out loud
The nights we shared,
Through the times we stared
I wondered if you been wondering
And I wandered to look for the right words
I lose it where to start
If it's those perfectly curved grey hair
or your strong arms
Is it the way you move when you sing to me
to every beat of your heart
Or that even at a four thousand miles of distance
You're still right here .

All that I could ask for
And all That I could say
Is you to stay
Just s t a y .

Happy Birthday My Love * Sudipta Das

If I was a poet Apr 2018

The 'Offering

Distance can be miles apart
Or a block away from each other '
We both see the horizon
In different time zone
Separate position
Same direction
Before sun rise
In the still of the darkness
I see a ******’s bloodless love
Flowing at peace ;
The wait was long
But he showed no wrath
Incinerating me in the flames of his glorious path
Have I not walked a natural phenomenon this beautiful before
Never the I'consumed methylated spirit -
That I'engaged in 'tandav
Whilst my boots concealed precious opioid syringes
was un touched .

The same story created multiple more

Even though I have unraveled a myriad of ideologies

I kneeled to the One ;

The exquisitely pure ,

The inconceivable ;

The unmanifest ,

Of infinite form ;

Blissful, tranquil, immortal ;

Everything about him reeks of danger and insanity
His scent gives off a feel of nostalgia and safety
Following sardiness of regret
Caught by the trawler of hope

Here control i s overrated '

The moment of the divine wholeness
Here I sit under it
Incessantly chanting

S t i l l

M o t i o n l e s s

Over an infinite time

It's green foliage adorns the sky
Each flower smiling .
The constraints,
which were built by the mind,
crumbled in an instant .
I look beyond myself and saw you there
All of these years of loneliness !
And though you are right, I've been looking as well,
In different time zone
Separate position
Same direction
Before sun rise
In the still of the darkness

'I 'Offered myself

Apr 2018

Ernesto Estefan

Well said

It’s not about yesterday ,
I am not even breaking the tomorrow’s bread ,
It’s about this very moment ,

Every new sunrise destroys the moon ,
Every new sunset creates another one ,
The stars never complain about this foreplay ,

They are selfish , maybe ,
Just like you and me ,
And the sky is the cryptic god of this lucid script .

When they make love ,
They are indisputable , Irresistible , Irreversible  ,
No one can intervene the realm of the loudest silence .

They moan just like you and I ,
But who is giving an ear ?
Can they ? Can you ? Can I ?

It’s never enough ,
Neither content .

They sleep on each other’s chest ,
Just like you sleep in  tranquility on my cynical palm .

How humane is to complain about love ?
Some are afraid to embrace ,
They will complain about others .

Someone should interpret the silence ,
Then you too may say “ well said ” .