Love is a poisonous needle
Which stabs you deep in the heart
And takes all your thoughts
Into this holy void
Where neither can you reach
Nor your lover.

Love is a vacant chair
But, my friend
Don't try to fill it here
For it's soon going to end

Love is a a silent lullaby
So let it stay quiet
Don't make a sound
And gently pass,
Or else you'll wake up the hound
Who stays with you alas.

Love is an addictive vine
It lets your heart be filled
With all those useless unsolved riddles
Like a piece of cotton twilled.

Love is insobriety
You forget how to live.
It snatches away your tranquility
For you're engaged to someone
With all the fake promises.

Love is a starless night,
With only one star shining,
Shining so bright
Ignoring to drift away from your mind
You lose everything,
You lose your sight.

Love is a void,
Don't let yourself get trapped
In its holy fierceness
Because it's going to slap
******* your face,
Rubbing all the lines
Your palms have ever traced.

Love is something
I can't understand
Lead me the way
Or let alone stand
Watch the lovers dance
Under the winds of autumn
Watch the lovers prance
Prance away in their separate ways
And watch them realise
That there're no more gay
In parting their own ways.

Love is a thoughtless beginning
But it soon ends
With all your thoughts pondering
In your sober inward eye
You wake up from your peaceful sleep
And you see that love has stolen
All you've ever had
And now everything's broken.

I wonder why
I was ever gifted with
This life, and with a sigh,
I'd say whatever gift you give me
My mind will be shifted
Towards the dark side.

I wonder why
I ever made friends,
I am so shy
My friendship soon ends
Even with myself.

I wonder why
I want to escape
From this dark land
I want to scrape
All the scars I have
And start a new life
In a new place.

I wonder why
People say things
Which makes me want to cry.

I wonder why
I try to stay strong
When I know if I cry
I can make others think they are wrong,
Then they will pity me
And they will apologise
But I wonder why
I don't want a fake apology.

I wonder why
I like to be polite
To people
Even when I know about the harm they gave me
I wonder why
I like to help
Even when I know they don't deserve it.

I wonder why
I like to be different
I don't want to be the one
Who only thinks about oneself.

I wonder why
I want to show the world
What love could do,
Even if you're arch enemies
You can't love each other, says who?

I wonder why
I think so deep
Even when my friends tell me to stop
I walk down in my mind
In this road so steep
In which I never want myself to stop.

I wonder why**
I feel like exploring my own mind
There are so many places I've found in here
There are so many places to explore
There are so many discoveries I have shared
There are so many discoveries more
To share with all the one's who care
To read all my thoughts.

Hurry,
inhale,
drink the alcohol
that flows through the tributaries,
before it is all gone,
and tell me all your sorrows.

Finish your drink,
wipe the mascara rivers away,
the ponds of tears,
the streams of lipstick smudged all around,
then let us float away
to a land of drunken, broken dreams,
and hopes never to be fulfilled.

We'll bellow with crazed laughter,
cry with smiles of the ******* up,
tell each other we are okay,
when we are shattering into pieces of
broken melodies-
hugs exchanged, sloppy kisses too,
but by tomorrow,
we have floated off,
out of unfulfilled days,
and back into reality.

.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...

12/37/14



Our love flourished in the winter
In a place where it never really got cold
Your eyes were always icicles
And your smell like winter wind

You come off as cold
But maybe as winter progresses toward spring
And life reveals itself from under its snow blanket
You heart too will awaken

I just love the idea of writing.
Sometimes it will suddenly pull you out of whatever you’re doing
Forcing you to jot down anything that came into you
There was a time when my thoughts are too much to handle on a pen and a paper
So I prefer to collect them first on a crystal clear jar
As it struggles to escape from me
Then I tried to watch them course through the sealed container
Until they have decided to calm down
And as soon as they did,
I would let them escape once again
Giving them the freedom to unite
And a chance to create new ideas once again
In order for me to place them back again
To where they are supposed to be
Nowhere else but, in my brain.