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I am one,
In a trillion,
Significant enough,
With standoffish movement of air,
Of any velocity.
I will furnish you with an upchucking sensation,
In your solar plexus,
And move your heavy head,
Round and round,
Round and round.
Outdoing the darkness,
Above and beneath,
I will emerge cold-eyed;
I will emerge cold-eyed,
And hit the strong,
And bold,
And black boulders.
And sprinkle moisture droplets on your pale face.
I am one,
In a trillion,
Vying with my facsimiles,
And similar ones,
For reaching the untraced,
And unfrequented coves,
With puissance,
And robbing the possessions,
I will recede.
I will recede,
And submerse everything with me,
And what awaits me,
On my way.
And dunk yourselves,
Thinking I will wash all your transgresses,
You puny creatures,
I will,
But wash only your grimy,
And filthy bodies.
Advance farther,
And you will be another meal,
To me.
I am one,
In a trillion,
Significant enough,
Roaring monotonously.
I am a wave,
In a humongous ocean,
Busier than a bee,
Rising and falling,
Growing old,
And working harder,
Than ever.
Imagine, heaven and earth,
Earth and hell.
It's up there.
Ionosphere, maybe.
Or maybe, Exosphere.
Think of Pangaea and Panthalassa.
Imagine, the lost world of Atlantis.
Geography students would know better.
Imagine good, and bad,
Bad, and worse.
Imagine, if your name were not,
What it is,
Imagine, if you were not,
What you are.
Imagine, delivering fantastic speeches,
Craft out, mesmerising poetries,
Look for topics,
Like you look for alloys,
In your wallet.
Everyone's a poet,
Poet, in their hearts,
They do write poems,
But the designer styli,
Defy to converge their thoughts.
Summarize life,
Felicity, will obviously be wrapped up,
And so will be your bad.
And try, and minimize your bad,
To the least,
Like you do with your savings,
On a rave.
And try, and amplify your bliss,
Like your cells multiply,
In every thirty minutes.
Imagine, and fall.
Fall, for every beautiful face,
Fall, for every beautiful day,
And moment.
And spread love.
Imagine, and fall,
Into an abyss,
Of thoughts,
Every single day,
Every single time.
The bald guy,
On our currency notes,
Smiling, at whatever number there is by him.
Smile, at whatever is given to you,
Smile, for whatever is given to you.
And just that.
So, this spider was crawling up the wall,
The wall, which had its cosmetics coming off.
The wall, which was mum.
It had seen much.
I was there, under this cursed ceiling fan,
Which was creaking monotonously.
The portraits and the tapestries,
With the rusted nails and hooks under.
The sedimentation of soot,
On the walls,
On the ceiling,
And on the pictures.
All silent,
Dead silent,
Except this cursed ceiling fan.
The ambience,
Was in its nothingness.
As if, they were looking at me in awe,
As if, I were a trespasser.
Unanticipated, I heard rumblings,
And chantings,
And phrases.
The wind in the room suddenly came to life.
The Air, spoke something into my ears,
Something unintelligible.
The frequency went up,
And up, and up.
Ultrasonic vibrations, were those.
The portraits glared at me,
I was becoming anxious,
As well as having eerie feels.
My eyes glued on something,
Something creepy.
I remember,
How four score and seven revolutions of this planet back,
My 16 year old friend had perished in this very room,
Under this very cursed ceiling fan.
Now, not everyone can live for a hundred and three years,
And remember an incident.
Oh, and yes, my eyes glued on my own portrait...

...We do exist,
We defy science.
Her sight renders a soothing effect to my eyes.
Her touch gives a chilling effect to my physique.
Her smell provides a nice effect to my nose.
Basically, she makes me strong, unstoppable...
Excites my desires.
I try hard to hide my excitement but it oozes out spontaneously but don't think I am talking about oogenesis because I am not a girl, but a boy.
Every vision, every thought, every conception indicates their way to an impossible inference.
A hundred sleepless nights have I spent, and many more to come, by god's grace.
Neither does it let me die, nor am I able to live.
Is it really magic?
No it couldn't be. Or it might.
How every smile, every talk, brings us closer, and makes us witness the heavenly feeling, which ultimately is short lived, because the hard instances I spend without her company, take me back to the immemorial centuries of the past where everything was, as it should have been.
Murdered am I...
Murdered by her kindness, love, grace, and the qualities she possesses, which aren't possible to be expressed verbally...
Am I living?
Or am I down?
Those thoughts, still make me frown.
Those thoughts still freak me out.
Am I the dead immortal?
I really doubt...
"Stoner's Poem"

I see your snapstories,
I see your ask profile.
I see how you comment and reply and flaunt your English skills.
Trust me, I love your rebuttals,
More than Biryani and the Lebanese pornstar.
I see your Facebook posts,
I see your WordPress,
And I see, how you craft your poems flamboyantly,
And then, and then,
Pilfer my breath,
And rob my me.
Sometimes, just sometimes,
Your deportment bewilders me,
More than Lowry-Bronsted's theory.
I see how you dance in the rain,
Like "All, sin, tan, cos", do in my brain.
I see how you frequent every segment of my cardiac muscle,
And then desert it, like it's one of the many dilapidated constructions.
My reminiscences about your thingness,
Escalate me to a higher spiritual level,
More than **** does.
Oh, that smile,
Oh, that look,
Oh, the mystique in you.
And again, I am writing of Love.
And the pen doesn't seem to stop soon,
For I have taken a greater risk,
Than asking my friend about cathodes and anodes and electrolysis, while I took my last chemistry exam,
When the invigilator was around.
And I waited;
Waited, and waited.
Waited for the telephone to ring,
Waited for the silence to subside.
Trust me, the silence was deadly.
Trust me, it gave me goosebumps,
On these forearms.
Remember, how you used to hold my hand tight?
Remember, how I used to embrace you proudly?
Do you even remember the days,
When you used to luxuriate on my shoulders?
Trust me, I really want those days back.
Notwithstanding the best of memories made,
The telephone remained silent.
Life turned hostile.
But I waited.
Waited, and waited.
Waited for long,
Waited, for at least an explanation.
Waited by the side of the window,
From where the old tree could be seen.
Do you remember that old tree,
Where we used to rest after tiring bicycle rides?
Do you even remember the autumn evenings,
When we used to burn the dry leaves for some warmth?
And now, the tree, has shed all its leaves.
It was dressed as a beautiful bride some days ago,
But now, she has left all her ornaments.
Whatever it is, summer is on its way again,
One more autumn passed by.
But the telephone did not ring.
It was dead silent.
Trust me, I could not sleep all this while,
Not even did I doze for a minute.
Still I waited.
Waited for long.
And now, I'm tired,
Tired of waiting,
Waiting, for at least an explanation.
And hence, I'm sleepy.
And hence, I'm drowsy.
I kept my senses active,
As long as my ****** system could permit,
But, trust me,
Now I'm tired;
Tired of waiting.
Hence, I shall sleep;
Sleep, the deepest of slumbers.
And maybe, the telephone will ring then.
And these rails are the best companions.
They know every little secret. This sky knows everything about me.
They never betray.
They never hurt me.
This place.
I wish I could live here forever.
I wish I had a small cottage, here.
I wish you were here with me.
I wish there were no problems, in my life.
In fact, I wish I could say, "Problem? What's that?"
I wish I could stay a kid, forever.
If growing young were possible.
These moon-lit nights.
This season.
This atmosphere.
Heavenly feels.
These grasshoppers.
These little, little life forms.
The dew on the grass.
Mother nature.

But let it be.
Dreams are dreams.
Why dream?
Why dream big?
Dreams do not come true.
Dreams are dreams.
When night falls, we dream.
When we leave our bodies, we dream.
Why dream?
What's the gain?
They won't come true.
They'll not be there with you.
They'll fade away.
With time.
And leave you unsatisfied.
They'll leave you unsatisfied, for life.
They'll betray.
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