All her friends are reflective surfaces,
She is every verb, adjective, and noun,
Complimentary conversations in greetings
The words bitten will come back to hound.

Inspiration is the greenest form of envy,
By means of law, canvases should be handcuffed,
So that her every tide is a tsunami,
And the world shall fill their glasses till they've had enough.

Mountain rocks depicted with precision,
Her neck meets the outer layer of the atmosphere,
Her fork digs into words of appreciation,
A yellow smile beneath every crushed veneer.

In the jungle of artists striving for life,
Her nails are red wax tearing at every masterpiece,
And on every name she climbs ahead,
Till every deer is scared of her remorseful teeth.

Curiosity was his best dress,
It best matched his green eyes,
A vast land of questions,
As if she had all the answers memorized.

"How do tears form?

From where do they come?

Is sadness a cloudy sky

And rain drops run one by one?

His analysis of his mother's breakdowns,
It was his favorite past time hobby,
While all the kids ran around in backyards,
He'd make theories on her sobbing.

"Are there different forms of crying?

On a scale of silent tears

to gut wrenching sobs,

The louder, the more sadness domineers?"

Every night he'd put his hand under her pillow,
He said he never wants her tears to go to waste,
Her broken heart mended to be broken again,
As she watched her 7 year old discover the world's sombre face.

"Does someone ever run out of tears?

Or does crying ever lose its meaning,

Can something only choose to be happy,

Or would it be called cheating?"

Sometimes she wished for a solitary evening,
When she could follow with her demise,
But every time she'd thank God,
For giving her a 7 year old of the best kind.

And for once she replied

"Did you know that heroes came 

in all forms, shapes, and size,

And before dusk turns into reality,

Wounds can be healed one last time."


● ● ●

I will offer my brains on a silver plate,
Well done, medium, or rare, I shall comply,
All I ask is to have a grill of my own,
Or else I'll have no other option than my thoughts to fry.

With a side dish of spaghetti dreams,
We'll skip the pickles for something stronger,
I'll dice up ambition into nice polygons,
Cause maybe then the flavor will last longer.

With the finest of cutlery and napkins,
I'll fold every certificate I've ever been given,
You shall wipe the grease on the paper,
Until the absurdity of the years is driven.

Clink your glasses, devour the best of wine,
An elite of every drop of sweat in the expense of sleepless nights,
Ones spent toppling over determination,
But tonight I'mma wear a chef's hat and cook some peace of mind.

Amidst the flames,
The star wailed -

"Fate, oh, fate,

this isn't how 

the arms of the flames

shall flicker off 

my wait."

The murmurs of mortified stars
Blended along the curtains of sky,
Brushing the night with streaks of auburn,
As they shined their goodbye.

Fate replies,

"Tonight,

We shall cover thee,

in the shrouds 

of sacrifice,

Stardust coloring

the elderly night."

With one last frown of luster,
She - the star - found her deathbed,
Held high at the peak of the fire,
And the ashes of the story she bled.

•••• •••• ••••

On the opposite side of the mountain,
The moon sang of midnight on and on,
His words cherished for only one star,
One whom the late hours always adorned.

"I shall offer

my lullabies, your dowry

to the divine throne,

In the grooves

with more shadows 

than light

we'll be at home."

"Under my light

you'll never be dim,

In every galaxy

celestial bodies will bow,

The sky's a limitless 

ocean for you to swim,

Cause the moon

has found a temptress

somehow..."


A view of moths around a flame,
The indigo night turning orange,
The moon's face rendered forlorn,
To demand the news he gasped for courage.

Crowned with dawn appeared the sun,
And all the stars dimmed with fear,
The moon widowed from his only love,
Prayed this morning would disappear.

~ "Oh why ... oh fate,

I demand 

my star back."

~ "The sky shall

celebrate

your little star's

trip to the zodiac."

Replied fate punctuating his answer
With the awakening of the emigrant birds,
All traces of yesterday now gone,
All traces of his star nowhere to be heard.

•••• •••• ••••

Away from the world,
The moon wrote with silver ink,
He sang of the could have been's,
Of his star, he shall always think.

"In my mind

you've build 

your chamber,

For my eyes

you've ruined

beauty,

For I will always 

think of how 

you burned amber,

The whole 

universe now

So empty."

"The night 

inspired me

to become your hero,

During the day

I'd disappear

to chant my plans,

But fate 

made you

your own

Hero,

Before I was 

ever 

given the

Chance."

\\\\\\\\\\\\●●●●//////////////////////////

Amidst the flames,
The star wailed -

"Fate, oh, fate,

this isn't how 

the arms of the flames

shall flicker off 

my wait."

The murmurs of mortified stars
Blended along the curtains of sky,
Brushing the night with streaks of auburn,
As they shined their goodbye.

Fate replies,

"Tonight,

We shall cover thee,

in the shrouds 

of sacrifice,

Stardust coloring

the elderly night."

With one last frown of luster,
She - the star - found her deathbed,
Held high at the peak of the fire,
And the ashes of the story she bled.

•••• •••• ••••

On the opposite side of the mountain,
The moon sang of midnight on and on,
His words cherished for only one star,
One whom the late hours always adorned.

"I shall offer

my lullabies, your dowry

to the divine throne,

In the grooves

with more shadows 

than light

we'll be at home."

"Under my light

you'll never be dim,

In every galaxy

celestial bodies will bow,

The sky's a limitless 

ocean for you to swim,

Cause the moon

has found a temptress

somehow..."


A view of moths around a flame,
The indigo night turning orange,
The moon's face rendered forlorn,
To demand the news he gasped for courage.

Crowned with dawn appeared the sun,
And all the stars dimmed with fear,
The moon widowed from his only love,
Prayed this morning would disappear.

~ "Oh why ... oh fate,

I demand 

my star back."

~ "The sky shall

celebrate

your little star's

trip to the zodiac."

Replied fate punctuating his answer
With the awakening of the emigrant birds,
All traces of yesterday now gone,
All traces of his star nowhere to be heard.

•••• •••• ••••

Away from the world,
The moon wrote with silver ink,
He sang of the could have been's,
Of his star, he shall always think.

"In my mind

you've build 

your chamber,

For my eyes

you've ruined

beauty,

For I will always 

think of how 

you burned amber,

The whole 

universe now

So empty."

"The night 

inspired me

to become your hero,

During the day

I'd disappear

to chant my plans,

But fate 

made you

your own

Hero,

Before I was 

ever 

given the

Chance."

\\\\\\\\\\\\●●●●//////////////////////////

A woman without something she loves 
Is like a river valley devoid of water,
A thirst that runs deep in your throat,
Or coiling autumn leaves devoid of color.

A woman without something she loves
Is a hollow spring that reeks of silence,
Miserably piled ruins of a vast castle,
A new form of living foreign to science.

A woman without something she loves
Is a day when the sun frowns upon the earth,
A lonely journey in the dead of night,
It's when beauty dries to become a curse.

A women without something she loves
Is a world so wrinkled in the after mass of the past,
A blank canvas so sharp in its whiteness,
A rummaged and thrown away draft.

It's when she loses something she loves,
That she turns into a sculptured mannequin,
Two burnt circles for eyes to never see past plastic,
Her heart the broken strings of a violin.

● ● ●

If I count all the reasons why I should be angry this evening
All the reasons why I should be sad
Every reason why I should be devastated
Disappointed, forlorn and infinitely mad

If I count all those reasons

My evening will stretch and border me in
It'll make tragic synapses with the night
My time will be smothered with numbers
Mathematics will hold me back from a beautiful twilight

I shouldn't count those reasons

... I should just leave them to be
Like every other bottled up emotion
Maybe I won't be able to close the lid
Maybe the pressure will cause an explosion

But maybe... 

Maybe I'll focus on the classical music
Emerging from the next door apartment
It'll take me somewhere, a nicesomewhere
And the pen will involuntarily find the parchment

The mathematical evening will turn into a poetic one
One thankful for music, beauty and art
For those treasured moments in my memory lane
With their fair emotions that colored my heart

Maybe the future will turn into a canvas
And the night a finally finished masterpiece
The white walls a space to think and develop
And tomorrow a new thought to believe

I've always hated mathematics

The way everything was narrowed down
To only two shades of life, black and white
I rather loved my rich box of pastels
Where every moment has its shade of right

And by the end of the evening

I came to a tie

Two piles of reasons
Piles that mathematics created
And I know today is a choice
So I'd rather choose the lighter weight 

●●●

Pause the thought in the middle of a free fall,
Grip every bond before it breaks down,
Energy focused on adding the last brick on the wall,
Denial makes a noise louder than silence's sound.

In your firm grip hold onto today,
Stretch the strings till you prolong the hours,
Riding on the back of sweet delay,
Let it take you to the place where you can cower.

And revel in the unhealthiest of routes,
Bobbing your head under the water,
Negotiating with your breaths on mute,
Reality can cough back to life later.

● ● ●

Inspiration doesn't like to be chased,
It likes to come at its own pace.

You'd run and run hoping the tunnel would end,
Too bad the light and dark can not be friends.

Oh but they can!

When you close your eyes,
That strike of thought that lights up your mind.

The ghosted words tripping in your darkness,
Till they fall and incorporate some light in the abyss,
... they can be friends.

Just like the positive and the negative attract,
They agree to disagree, they've made a pact,
They run parallel just in different tracks.

And sometimes both become allies,
In concentric circles meant to hypnotize.

But one will never be the other till the end of days,
Try to mix black and white you'll only get grey.

The world would wilt and all the rivers would dry,
One can't live if they other has died.

Though their intentions are oceans apart,
They tend to follow each other in that regard.

It was blue

Mingling shades of blue

Swerving round the setting sun

Stray green herbs

Matching the life lines on their wrists

He said, "Take care..."

And then smiled

He smiled the way the sun whispered goodnight to the earth

With a promise that it won't be long till morning

The shore played the protagonist

In a beautiful lie

Bowing to the curtains of sand

Their shuffling feet

The applause from the only interested audience

And with one final nod

Her hands ached to go home

Home to the notebook stashed in the lower shelf of her dresser

To where the pen was eagerly waiting

The pages excited to be ravaged by ink

Because there, between the lines

Lied the secrets she spilt into the night

She'd already written the entry in her mind

But then she crossed the street

Waiting for the bus

Where the real world was colored in smoke

The streets crowded with foreign faces

Cats rummaging around trash cans

Balconies spilling the secrets of every house

Busy lives shouldering past her

Folk music covering the atoms of the air angrily

There was the sickest shade of grey

The one that hinted of lime yellow

That spoke of distractions and misery

That smelt of melancholy

It almost reminded her of cigarettes

The way she needed to be away from it

She held her head low between her shoulders

Hiding away from the few familiar faces

His image begging to be the last thing she sees

The dreamy waves begging to be the last thing she sees

The melodic breeze begging to be the last thing she feels

Before they make it down to the pages safely

Shall I dwell in a blob of paint

Something so fickle...

With flailing arms I'll try to swim

in something so little...

Colored and indigenous

My thoughts will trickle...

And in this petty vividness

My eyes shall twinkle...

Till I create a river so infinite

So I never again feel belittled...

I would rather you be
A contrast to my pale expectations,
Than to merge into
The lowest pit of my imagination.

I would rather for it
To be the absolute worst day,
For I only like things to fit
Into the right plates on my tray.

Destroy everything I thought was right,
It'll be the most beautiful destruction I've ever seen,
Open all the jars and throw away the lids,
Teach me how to love the scariest places I've ever been.

Cause I'd rather be proven wrong,
Than continue this stale truth,
My mind needs a reevaluation,
Before it sweeps away my drying youth.

And in a different track,
Runs this parallel train,
Vision focused on the rails,
To acknowledge a hello refrained.

Blur of Gold

Let the world blur
On the tips of her toes
She will spin and spin 
Till the darkness grows

Hands raised above her head
Shoulders disappear behind her hair
The loud music will mask
Her erratic gasps of air

Dispersed in opposite directions
Every rhythm is so new
In her temporary blindness
Every light is blue

A delirium airing live
Adrenaline looking down a cliff
The only voice is nothingness
Every muscle learns to forgive

Just like a gold coin
Tossed down suddenly
Intruding eyes are hypnotized
A blur of gold is all they see

As if just to teach a lesson
To put the black next to the white
Irises flicker with sullenness
Then dies a vivid light

Meters of cloth
Wasted on the sparkly ground
Paler than the spotlight
Departs the pulsing sound

Can the world stop spinning for a second?
For once, can I spend a full day with the moon?
The streets decorated by frozen people,
Emotion stolen from features that were starting to prune.

For every birthday candle that went bare of wishes,
I think now I've found something I'm so adamant to have,
A place where nothingness can echo all around,
And all tomorrow's thoughts can be left as rough drafts.

If only for the night, can I have the world to myself,
To draw the patterns of my dreams across the clouds,
Then when time rains, flooding the whole sky,
Maybe they will be set into motion as we reach reality's whereabouts.

Life flows through the doors,
Dispersed by the ceiling fan,
A makeover for every patron,
The waitress serves a second chance.

Ex-husband but current parent,
Negotiating with a teenage daughter,
Two untouched lunch plates,
As the gap grows further and further.

Central focus being on a book cover,
Held by an E.R nurse still in her scrubs,
The waitress tries to decipher a meaning,
All while wiping leftovers from table tops.

The calender on the wall says Friday,
And in walks a sundress along with a button down,
Two steaks and a red rose,
Right up comes the waitress with a dinner to astound.

Beginnings and ends in motion,
The clock cues for the 40-something man,
In the far corner he sips his black coffee,
Forlorn eyes of a widow staring at a wedding band.

Wiping beads of sweat from her forehead,
Retying her hair into a secured knot,
Exhaustion slowly kicking in,
As she refills the coffee ***.

The college girl strolling in with her book bag,
Smiles with pity at her as she gives her order,
She thinks of how her minimum wage must look,
But her love for her job makes her smile never falter.

Days are something treasured,
Every hour, a different movie plays,
She collects all those stories,
With the tip left after the customer pays.

Faces are recreated on a piece of paper,
Words copied from my mind and saved for later.

Cause the windows of my mind are my eyes,
And the view is not something I've improvised.

I'm just enjoying being a passenger with such potential,
Getting inspired by the events even if not sequential.

And in turn art is a part of me, woven so beautifully,
That I use the colors of Twilight, waves and trees.

I'm trying to savor the universe so that it never runs out,
I've turned its essence into more shades of pastels than I can count.

I've written its stories in the memories of timeless books,
So diverse and enchanting, some I never understood.

I'm in love everyday, but I'm also forlorn too,
I cry my sorrows to the sun as it dives into the blue.

I'm so small, I'm so inferior to the creator,
But as long as I'm alive, everyday I'm an innovator.

I read it on a t-shirt, 'One shot, Two kills',
What do I know?
Maybe there's a beauty in the way blood spills.

Instead of holding a pencil, you hold so much grudge,
Everyone around turns into cardboard targets,
Maybe this is life, who am I to judge?

You paint with too much red, and the occasional black,
The only two colors I know,
Just like I know your menacing eyes, two hawks.

But what I only ever knew were her love and kindness,
She carried me dutifully,
Till the black hole in your chest told you 'Shoot! Don't miss!'

My mother, she's the only world I'd ever visit,
What a grace from God,
He gave me a one-way ticket.

As she cradled me inside her one last time,
She whispered 'they are monsters,
Angels like you have better fate than mine'

A bleeding ******, and a broken umbilical cord,
What a peaceful way
To say goodbye before hello was told.

You're such a heroic murderer, everyone should be proud,
'Human rights' saved your kids,
But I was on the wrong side of the fight, so I died without a sound.

On the edge of the balcony,
The world teaches my head to rotate,
My spine surrenders its balance,
My hopeless body waits.

Fed up with human-crafted idealism,
Along with all human functions,
I bottle up all emotions,
And set this dim night to action.

The volt is raised,
The time, a haze,
The night, a home,
The cold, so warm.

The picture is now ruined,
Each shred its own standalone story,
All I feel is coursing adrenaline,
As I dig a deep hole to bury all my glory.

Standing in line with hollow light bulbs,
I wait like an addict for the dose,
Every last memory not convincing enough,
As the switch is finally being closed.

The volt is raised,
The time, a haze,
The night, a home,
The cold, so warm

And the metaphor become reality,
As I become addicted to the echoes,
The world shut out like an outage,
So the only thing alive is my voice.

Speed limits, all but a dream,
No remorse nor guilt to hit the breaks,
I'm alone with no ties,
Don't believe in friends or family's sakes.

I find more and more like me,
Vanity and selfishness put in a mixer,
Dim mutant stars living an eternity,
With only thirsty desires to be watered.

Birth date and place, the advocate night,
It spreads its arms till we prevail,
Humanity switch is now a temptation,
To more animals with 4 limbs and tails.

Now that scene on the balcony,
Such a long walk from there,
Comparing that volcano,
To this new software.

I am now a blank canvas,
With no pressure to spill colors,
I just exist to be,
Haven't got a nerve to suffer.

I see them pure people in my memories,
Now drinking the virulent night,
Two worlds being carbon-copied,
Death suits being worn alive.

The smoke colors the universe,
A place no longer suitable for life,
Who would abide to the rules?
When we've all lost humanity signs.

Hearts, now glazed,
Time, no longer a grace,
The cold, a curse,
A search for another earth.

A band of thoughts are attempting suicide at the periphery of my mind,
I'm just a wastebasket hiding behind pile after pile,
A fertile land for damaged possibilities and short-lived dreams,
A rainfall of time but at my alter the minutes just freeze.

A choice to end my head out of its inevitable misery,
Sell my dreams to pay my passive soul's endless fees,
Or maybe buy some time never mind how high the bill,
But all my solutions stand under the impossible.

And while I wait with static arms and sleeping feet,
The walls that are turning grey stare at me with pity,
A million moons have risen and a million stars have departed,
My head just needs to say the words to my heavy heart.

Visualizing the future when every possibility suddenly happens,
Is a castle of ice that just melted on my head all of a sudden,
It's the moment when my eyes look up and I take everything in,
It's now because otherwise it's gonna be ... when?

If you've read any of my texts,
You'd know that I'm obsessed
With those crayons of nature,
Also known as spectrum colors.


My life continues to unravel in each spec,
I've been in the Grey longer than you'd expect,
I was confused, uncertain and hesitant,
I was neither the black nor the white end.

I've also met the Blue and I sank to my knees,
With black circles and my forehead creased,
Eyes leaked, breaths suffocated and silence killed,
Dark nights trapped you against your will.

But I can't deny that I've seen the Yellow,
Curved lips, high on laughter that you can't swallow,
Bright days mingled with good friends and health,
I'd be ungrateful if I said I wanted anything else.

But I've always had my eyes set on that one color,
It's the last one and for me it is like no other,
It's the color of dreams, the pleasure of my head,
It's the very beautiful purple also known as violet.

And as you look closer, the journey is complete,
You meet all those specs with every step of your feet,
The grey, the Blue, the Yellow, those are the waves,
That carry your boat to the Purple dreams that you crave.

Right
Is it a hand?
Is it a direction?
Is it a command?
Is it an intention?

What is right?
How do you know it?
Is it counted by numbers?
Or studied in schools?
Can it be outnumbered?
What are the rules?

Right
Is it a feeling?
Is it a *******?
Is it appealing?
Or a lame hallucination?

How can I be "right"?
When the world is divided into two?
Every pole is claiming it's validity
Some are too intrigued but don't have a clue
And some are sitting on sofas arrogating others' stupidity

So what is right?

And how come no one ever questioned this 5 letter word?

Everyone is focused but their sense of mind is blurred

You can read a book or recall something you've heard

But there's no magnet that pulls you to it 'cause that'd be absurd

Why then would you need a mind that interprets  
Everyone has a since of duty to something they want to protect

But don't they know that no color is like the other even if stirred

We come into this world and think that some things should be preferred

But that doesn't make them placed first, second or third

And now we're crowds walking like a group of herd

Right
Well...write
Til you can find a meaning to this concept and you might.
But stick to your pole, no need to fight,
'Cause we're humans we don't bite.
And nothing's black and nothing's totally white.

Fluorescent lights showering the room,
As two pea-like eyes started to bloom.
Amazement in the irises of the newly born,
Novelty in the skin she has newly worn.

It's the same date but the moment has changed,
The eerie newness by usual comfort is replaced.
The mind is fighting, racing ahead of time,
Beauty and grace in her features intertwine.

The small mass of flesh in the back of her head,
Her feet moving to a new unknown ahead,
The shade of her complexion remaining the same,
No wind nor breeze touching her undying flame.