My patience is vague,
Lost and gone, spent days in vain,
Only my fists red.

The world is ending,
My patience is running out,
can you close the door?

So pen is
mighty than
the sword,
My Lord!
If it wasn’t
I would have
my faith restored
They opened
when I spoke
and I knocked
on the door,

For brothers with sisters,
You hug her and miss her,
See her grow up,
From the time she didn't know much,
Now see her go the distance,
From the innocence to influx,
Of all the things you didn't wish her,
From arguing to mix ups,

For brothers with sisters,
All the love and the insults,
Her first friend and confidant
When she doesn't feel that confident,
The only peace maker,
For the nervous teenager,
The secrets you are sharing,
You couldn't tell your parents,
The only one who knows about your secret girlfriend,
The only one you can trust for certain,
From the "Stay away from her mister!"
To "my cutest sister"

For brothers with sisters,
Fighting for the smallest things,
Thinking you could win,
Do anything to make her smile again,
Promise to never see her cry again,
Until those funny things you whisper,
From a brother to a sister

I can’t tell you

what to do
and what not to
tell you ride the wave
till it crashes
why I left my land
or about the moutain
that I stand on
I can only tell you about
aim higher
when one loses
how battles left
scars
and fights
only left bruises
what it feels like
when its
me against everybody
I am glad I did
Can’t tell you how
I came through
I can only tell you about
things that I have been through

I can’t tell you
how life is unfair
I think everybody knows that
I can’t tell you to be happy
just tell about how
you can look past the negatives
just like I can’t tell
to be vegetarian
just be nicer
to the fellow human,
I can’t tell you
do you part
and the rest will follow
I can only tell you
one thing
there will be
a better tomorrow
I can’t tell you
you can win too
I can only speak
for the things
I have been through

They say I am high off life,
But I never seem to levitate,
I don’t do drugs still,
Instead I meditate…..

Then I put this
pen to this paper
And I gravitate,
No rehab for me
this lyrical therapy
seems to medicate…

I am a prisoner
of words
done said,
debtor
to the those
urging
deep in my head,
brilliant light
that turns us
into circling moths
and it grips
like the lines
that forms the dots
for those
a blurred
dream
coming into being
like a meme,
ever present
like the shadows
waiting to be one
beyond the dark,
unseen like
the underground movement
the arteries felt
the choke of the smoke
more work for my heart,
there is method to my madness
otherwise, this wouldn’t be an art

They say
I am a man of few words
I shouldn't be a poet
But, I have to remind them
Its not how many words you used
Its about using as few words as you can,
And still saying a lot more.

from open skies to blooming flowers,
through my darkest hours,
through pain and persistence,
to my lack of vision,
tossing and turning,
something four walls couldn't confide,
till my veins collide,
from fingers through her hair,
to my "I just don't care"
if words could lie,
my failure to comply
my actions speak louder,
but through these pages I found her,
my stare into nothingness,
but I settled for nothing less,
than an ocean of words,
mend wings for these birds,
more than a speck in the sky,
the tears that never saw the cry,
fears that never saw the light,
but the light walked me through the night,
more than a pen that I am holding,
dear moleskin...

I set fire to the rain
split the veins of the grain
if you doubt, i will do it again
and all for the sake of pain

There are dreams
And there are dreams,
That fuel the passion,
The rest all are nightmares.

The tears have melted
And returned to the streams
And streams into falls

If I knew my life’s purpose
what’s in store?
what if is the question
can I ask one more?
If I knew what I was meant to do
I wouldnt waste time
If all I could fit everything I want to say
In one line
I wouldn’t waste so much paper
save one tree at a time.
what if I wasn’t born in India
And I wasn’t color blind
I was racist
eradicating natives,
What if I could read people’s mind
know their true motives
What if Gandhi was a soilder
Rather than a messenger of peace
what if british raj continued
we trying find the missing piece,
What if success
wasn’t measured by money in your bank
or the car you drove,
but by how much love
to and fro,
What if I never came to Canada
and the struggle added
nothing to my character,
what if I had more business sense
than talent,
If I had one wish
and I could save the planet,
what if i could tell
everybody
I have a nasal piercing
What if we can’t let
emotions overwhelm us
and hold the tears in,
if I wasn’t a needle in a haystack,
if there was a rewind button
on my life’s playback,
But no regrets
so how could I say that,
what if love was more
than a four letter word
if it really meant
something in today’s world
not mere limited to poems
writings on the greetings
what if you could back
it matching feelings
what if I couldn’t write this
just keep it in my mind
and wouldn’t be labeld selfish

Through emotions that brim,
My devotion is deep,
For every instance that I sleep,
Through,
I am glad we made it through,
Few shattered cell phones,
No broken glasses known,
Few broken dreams I am trying to collect,
Watching golden sunsets,
Not yet,
But I have no regrets,
I traded pain, for highs and lows,
Till the time froze,
This is the life I chose,
Through poetry and prose,
You, my only outlet,
From the outset,
To vent my frustrations,
My guide through strange nations,
And my vague patience,
My stronghold through age races,
Can't escape when my face makes it,
Appear so clear,
My only near and dear,
When I least made sense,
Sorry, When I saw past your every defense,
And my every pretence,

Glass with wine and incense,
Travels with no nonsense,
All this traded for a today,
For which I have nothing to say,
But a better tomorrow,
Not a promise that is hollow,
Don't worry, In time,
I will make your miseries mine,
Beyond a diamond ring,
And everything,
That has a place and time,
No words to define,
God sent, Something so divine,
To share my life,
Empower you with the title of wife,
Beginning to renew,
I understand your point of view,
All the things we have been through,
Ineffable tears that ran through,
The valleys of disappointments
Memories and moments,
And all this,
Against my parents wish

Life is a about striving,

Life is about diving,

In,

Life is about setting goals,

Without the penalty

Kick,

But did you ever,

Lend a hand to a stranger,

Not thinking about the interest

Rate,

Do you have friends you can call,

At 2 am, without telling

what the reason

Is?

So you have a career in medicine,

Respected by peers, Admired by juniors,

But to get there, were your sacrifices worth

it,

Did you find a loved one?

Yes you did,

But did you find a soul

mate,

You drive a big car,

Live in a big house,

But do you have a heart to match

it?

Dress up, put on the make up,

Wear only designer,

But can you stare in your own

eyes,

Wake up everyday,

What a perfect life,

Ask yourself what did you really

Achieve

You can only dream of
places I have been
Mentally,
All the things
I did for my family,
All they did,
instead of helping me,
Is trying to
put sense in me,
When I come to a point
Where I am
about to plead insanity,
A room of variances,
Out of body experiences,
Mental *******,
Heart full of spasms,
The ones
my past couldn’t fathom,
This ain’t a struggler’s anthem,
But I can’t help but,
Generalize,
And I can’t undermine,
That I felt heaven,
At least on my fingertips,
I found hope,
At the brink of disbelief,
Don’t blame the postman,
If you put the wrong address,
Life is a *****,
depending on how you dress her,
Let the broken glass,
Mess up the dresser,
Rosewood, Redwood, any wood,
If I could I would,
The more I clench my fists,
the more sand I loose,
But I choose not to,
just my screws,
My life is like a travelogue,
No just ticket needed just travel along,
Like a broken pen and a moleskin,
A DSLR and an eye to watch closely,
No backpacker,
Just a bad actor,
Modern day rye catcher,
Self financer ,
A mere puppet on the string,
That life hangs by,
finding questions to some bad answers,
Putting up with bad promise makers,
When a promise may curse,
Life is just a makeshift,
Life is what you make it,
Or make of it

If it wasn’t for this pen,
My whole present would be spent,
With lost souls,
Finding peace with consoles,
Would I be able to bear the onslaught,
Only God knows,
But all I muster is false hope,
Coz my audience lesser than dog shows,
No skull or crossed bones,
Only dive deeper than the bottom of the glass,
My bottle has been smashed,
After few shots it all makes sense,
Don’t bother with the blend,
Keep pace with the bleeding pen,
My only weeping friend,
the feelings won’t matter,
coz the hope gets lost,
and the dream shatter

Patience is not a virtue
When the world is pushing me into a vacuum
Who do I run to?
My future is doomed,
I slit my wrists and paint the room,
I should paint the sky instead,
It should be enough for the liters I had,
And with both hands I bled,
Yes, its true what you read,
Like winter miss me, when my green leaves are dead

rising tide
finds wings to ride
little children run at ease
all reckless told to say cheese,
i die with a moan
my breath finds itself grown
my name is desire
my religion to aspire

I wish I could put down,
In words
What I feel,
But words are just words
They can never express what I feel,
And feelings change,
Just memories remain,
And overtime,
Memories fade
like the dark circles
under my eyes,
Only impressions last.

The gas in my tank,
was low,
I was trying to find
fault with the road

beauty is something
that cannot be defined,
beauty is something
like love
you know when you
see it,
beauty that I am
talking about
isn’t the sunset
so beautifully painted
or a picture perfect
dawn,
its in the lines
that cannot be drawn
its in the self aligned
rain drops
weaving a symphony
its in the birds
choosing a perfect
spot to nest
its in the bees
buzzing for attention,
its on a sunny day
when you are staring
down the sun,
its in the coincidences
that leaves you
without a reason
its in the winds
commanding the trees
calligraphic words
on the invitation
for the change of seasons
its in the quiet stares
on the rocking chair
looking for introspection
its in the child
losing his way
begging for attention,
its in the tears
that refuse to cooperate
and thats because
we have difference of opinion,
and then we reconcile,
its in the waves
testing the rocks
and then the rocks lose it
and send the waves crashing
its in the disappointments
and the clock keeps ticking
what you thought was a setback
was a disguised blessing
its in the rhymes
that are beautiful liquid
my brain is a strainer
the beats couldn’t be perfect
make your soul feel nourished
its in the female body form
alive and post dark room
that curves got you stumbling
and by form I didn’t mean shape,
its in the feeling
when you come back home
from a vacation
knowing the best view
is from your bed room window,
beauty is something
you seek
when you find
beauty is nothing more
than a state of mind

Should I grab my crucifix tight in these dark ages,
Or should I blast them all, fill up these pages,
My anger rages on,
The page is torn,
There is a cyclone in my mind,
You might go there and find,
Demons on a leash,
Freedom of speech,
Women on a wish,
Crimson and sweet,
Wisdom of discreet,
There's so much I want to do
But so little time,
My heart is already broken,
Why you tryna fiddle mine?
Leave me alone, Coz if I rebel,
You wouldn't like it,
Strip you all off your Nikes,
So called ryderz strap you on your bike seats,
I m supposed to be nice kid,
My last name ain't Shakur,
But me against the world
Now that's more like it

The angels can’t have it,
This sentiment is human,
What good are wings for?
If you can’t feel the wind on your face,
This feeling isn’t democratic,
But can make it to every king’s wish list,
Every day dreamer wishes for,
A realist’s reprise,
The line that is pushed,
For the wishes to bloom,
Turn back the arms of the clock,
Who could have known the joy in learning,
Stand back and read,
Behold! the jealously of mediocre minds,
For this art is a dream
Dare not awake the demons.

You can’t tell
everything
to everyone
but if you choose
to do so
some will
fall behind
I am just
trying to
play with your mind

when you
think hypothetical
Its amazing
what you
can find,

poetry
isn’t a dying
art
but everyone’s
struggling
every help
appreciated
cash or kind,

you try to spread
the light
but the one
on your porch
is lighting up
the neigbhor’s
while you
turn blind,

Knowledge is like
a well
dig deeper
quench the thirsty
make sure
a degree in social work
you don’t
fall behind,

time is like
a river
flows eternal
go with the flow
coz you might
realise in the mourn
the alarm wasn’t too
tight to unwind.

the itch was so bad
that I scratched till it bled,
I felt so much pain,
that I cut till it was dead,
and your love was so good,
I loved till it hurt,
And life is short,
what’s the measure of its worth?

I m mightier than sword,
If my owner uses me right,
I can **** without a stab,
I can start a war,
Stop a war and a lot more,
I give light to all those who lost cause,
For all those who got something to say, But can't say it,
I help them make it,
I don't discriminate, by color, race or religion,
I help them write, I give them a vision,
I got you your first job,made your parents proud,
I help move crowds.

I m a workaholic,
I like to keep spitting ink, without a pause,
I m a writer's weapon of choice,
I m the silent voice,
If you use me right, I can make your girlfriend moist,

I m your Sunday solitude,
And Monday news,
I m the only thing you might own,
When you die broke,
I can help your last words,
In the form of a suicide note,
Or clog myself at your father's last breath,
Make your inheritance go to charity,
So make sure you use me right and not play with me,

I *******, leave the pages *****,
Leave stains hard to wash away,
For my owners who lost their way,
And don't know how to use me,
Call me moody, I can make your shirt pockets get noticed,
So I just pray, my next owner be a true writer,
Who has his mind aligned to me, and wouldn't lose focus,
I hope one day I will help him write an opus,

I can make you nostalgic, give you memories,
Help you remember things,
You can use to sketch,
If my cousin's lid breaks,
I don't have the same shades he has,
But it depends on the user's skill,
And if I ever run out you can refill,

My golden age has passed,
But I still got it,
I fight against 100 keys,
But then again I got it locked,
And the keys on the keyboard,
Are like Nas,
What would you be without me?
I gave you power

With every line written,
All I have given,
These rhymes nothing more,
Than self made prison,
Trying to avoid tunnel vision,
The pen that left crimson,
The petals of emotion,
The decals of wisdom,
Rip apart
Like faint heart,
This ain't art.
This dirt on my shoes,
Ain't wishing for me to loose,
Every step taken,
The pages left brazen,
True rhymes feel like a haven,
For the endangered species of the kingdom,
I ain't talking about reading between the lines,
I am talking about freedom.

the chain of thought
doesn’t seem to break
and streetlights doesn’t seem to fade
and the pills wouldn’t take.
the battery from the alarm clock
adorn the floor,
the faintest whisper
seems like a knock on the door,

ubiquitous anxiety
plays a tug of war
with my cousin of death,
the stares at the ceiling
grow heavy with each breath,
the page lends a shoulder
the pen a helping hand,
the highway traffic finds its way
to my ear,
and its only darkness I befriend.

I see the mosaic leaves
And I think,
God has to be an artist,
When its autumn,

Then I am feeling rock bottom,
And I listen to the silence,
With the waves,
And at times when the birds chirp,
And I think God has to be a DJ

Then I see all the Violence,
And makes me think otherwise,
But my God doesn’t sleep

I pray every night,
Read the word,
And see the next day,
How He works,
Makes me think
God has to be a magician,

The volcano, the floods
The famine,
And then you see His fury,
Reminding of our duty,
God has to be a teacher

Then a great man said,
God is Truth
And so I seek,
The future looks bleak,
The grey clouds gather,
But on second look I find,
They come with a silver lining
And I get on my knees,
This life is redefined then.
God has to be the weatherman.

I see a mother and her son,
I see unconditional love,
And I now know for sure,
God is love,

I travel seven seas,
To find Him
And now I find,
God is inside me
Who am I to say?
Who God is…?