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Jan 2019 · 294
Shanath Jan 2019
And now my words have died
Without smoke
Without a last sputtering of spit.
There are no ashes
No burnt pieces for me to keep.

And now my words have died
Without a last strong gasp
Without a mark of nails dragged.
There are no etchings
No last message for me to decode.

And now my love is gone
Without a residue of memories
Without any final words.
There are no photographs
No love letters for me to cherish.

And now my love is gone
Without a fight
Without suppressed emotions kept down.
There are no regrets
No second chances for me to go back.

And now the last drop of water has dried
Without a ring on the table
Without a crack in the ground.
There are no slippery edges
No soaked soil for me to collect.

And now all the water has dried
Without a river
Without a cloud of hope.
There are no oceans
No seas for me to reach.

I warn you my dear hearts
The end is nearer than you know.
The earth is dying
And so are our hearts,
Our insides ridden with cancer
Our blood drenching the hands of our friends.
The animals are up against us
Because we, we did them wrong
And mother nature furious,
Is breaking on us.

And I warn you my dear hearts,
Do not go, do not die
Without an apology.
All our lives
The lives we stole
From the genocides to wars
To the deaths we delayed,
I warn you my dear hearts,
The bodies we polluted
With our bare hands and thighs,
Do not, do not forget
To apologize
For all the blood we drank.

I tell you, I tell you
It is never the end of the love,
The disappearance of the words
That hurt me,
It is the fact that they went unannounced,
Silently, quietly
In my sleep
Everything around me died
And I couldn't even weep.

So cry out your apologies,
Your last words of thanks
The end is nearer than you think
So blow your horns out
As we leave.
We were a storm
A plague upon others
So go out with your hands folded
And pray all our sins
Are in due time forgiven.
Will you help me?
Mar 2018 · 257
A Scorned Witch
Shanath Mar 2018
We used to wake with the rising sun,
Before the sky could heat up enough
To burn us with her flames.
We would stay up long after the sun died
Every night, long into the stars' play
But we were always busy looking at each other.
The moon was and has to be jealous
Of us,
We took the time we gave to her
To give to each.

Then there were the other dolls
That swung out the door.
You used to be captivated by the sea
And stars,
But I broke your trance
And with your eyes on the ground
You drifted like the smoke from cigarettes.

You were clean before,
Never had a drink,
Never smoked, never catcalled,
For the moon had you,
You were stuck in dreams
But I broke your chains
And had you freed.

Now you use me as a match
To light up your darkness,
To fulfil your hunger,
Your midnight smoking ache
On the terrace,
The filthy parking lots.
You don't care that you are burning me
And I like a fool
Crave your fingers on me
As you strike me against the sand.
Again and again
Then discard me.

I never feared being burnt,
The whole world used to hit me
On me
Like stones rubbed together
To spark fire.
I would light up and ignite
But I never thought
You would bite.

I forgot that all birds in cages
Beg for the sky,
But once freed,
They all come down to litter the streets.
I freed you,
You carried me on your wings,
Made me forget the moon,
The stars.
The fact that I was a planet on my own,
And I tied myself to you
Like I was a lost moon
Surviving on gravity's pull.

You dropped me in a sky-less desert,
The horizon dancing in its own flames.
The sun and the moon collided
And the stars fell like moths
Burnt by desire.
You never did return.

But I was wrong
The world remained intact,
The clouds cried.
It was I
Blinded by the shine of your eyes.
You used to reflect the moon,
The fire of the stars years away.
I am ashes, black char,
On your wings I will be a stain.
So you shook me off
And never returned.

I only wish now
That when I lay well into the noon,
The sky will heat up enough
To evaporate me,
And I will dissolve.

You will feel me in your breath,
In the wind beneath your fake wings,
I will flow into your blood stream,
Block out your lungs,
And you will bleed through your nose,
Cough up black debris of the past.
I hope you will remember me
As the dolls you will collect
With their paper fingers
Falters to revive you.

But I will be deep in your mind,
Corroding your nerves,
Blocking veins and arteries.
And when you ask yourself
What is happening,
You will see my heart that you stole
To save yourself,
Will burst in your own cursed cage
And in your own blood
You will drown.
But God forbid I become caught in your dreams.
I always was a nightmare for men
So I will be no different for you.

Somewhere you did burn me,
I simply took it as a glow.
But you hate ashes
And I have regrets.

But this is the time
When your absence of mind
Lets the match burn your fingers,
And your clothes catch on fire.
But you, unlike the horizon,
Don't dance but wither in pain.

I will seep out through you then
And water the plants.
I will be a garden built
On your ashes.
So many thoughts
Unsaid, unwritten,
I share
And I am afraid
Of thieves,
How can I stay quiet
In this world?
Mar 2018 · 284
Stubborn Writer's Block
Shanath Mar 2018
When you can't find something to write of,
Find something in the written.
Reading and pondering
Still a lot to catch up on.
Mar 2018 · 479
Thank You For Saving Me
Shanath Mar 2018
I am a heart under constant construction,
Decay and rot eat away at my grown roots
And I start again and again
With no time for new fruits.
I squint at the budding leaves
Unable to contribute
I weep for my bare branches
And wonder if I should
Chop it off for good.

I have friends
I can hardly talk to,
I stay away from home
And we are a family
Who feel more
And speak less.
But I whisper a few words
If ever people listen
To a girl muttering more nothing
Than a wise word or two.

But here I might say
There are hearts,
Bare and raw
And sweetened
With delights of other's life
And hardened by their own.
And in my darkest nights
And blurred noons
They send words I could use.
I thank all my friends
I will perhaps never meet,
Never really talk to
But who talk to me through words,
Who love me I feel
For all my vain thoughts.
And to all those people
With so very few words
For words are never enough,
I thank you
For you have saved me
Every day as I woke up
You have all saved me.
I woke up to a beautiful and one of the kindest message I ever received from Star BG and I cannot tell how perfect timed her words have been and all the other people who have been kind to my words,  my feelings and have always validated me,  I have found a safe place here in HP.  Thank you so much.
Shanath Mar 2018
I try to spit my heart out
To the side of my bed,
Double over and ***** out the memories
Every time I think of you,
So that every time the door opens
It wipes into a bigger score,
When we tried to be good to you,
Remember but, we were not.

And I wonder how
How do we fail so gloriously
When we see the hurt
As clear as the oversized neon signs,
Piling over each other
Over bulky building
Crafted with fragile glass
And sharp corners,
Rusted bars colored twice.

We try to save a few
But **** so many,
We make wider roads
"Four ******* lanes" we boast,
But we tear down homes.
And every time I served you
I thought of your brothers
We stole you from
And I pray they be good
But how will they
Since you were gone?

And I stare at butterflies with awe
But run from the worms,
They make me itch and swell
I cannot help,
And I know, I know
Why we fail so gloriously
And yet try so miserably
To save others.
Why, did you ever see the sorrow
In the sky when she pours
To refill the oceans she emptied,
And we dare to think
We will save others
To save ourselves.

And all that I remember
Is that it was I who killed you.
How do I stop thinking?

The title  "Why Can’t We Save Anybody?"- PERKS OF BEING A WALLFLOWER (the movie, cannot say if it is in the book because ashamed as I am, I haven't read it).
Feb 2018 · 496
Everything Is About You
Shanath Feb 2018
And I wore a sweater yesterday
But today I bled through my skin,
And in the street today
Shedding of the hearts
Did flood my eyes
And I sniffed back the tears
While unscrewing the dull red bulb.
But I could no longer hold
When you went
And I guess this is it
This is where I end.
Survival is hard after a taste of love,

I always knew but I was cheated by hope.
Feb 2018 · 310
Shanath Feb 2018
Four stacks spaced out,
The biggest with waves of curtains
The third with books,
The fourth had my shoes.
The top most out of my reach.
My father and brother
Would stack them in
But I climbed on a chair
And threw some covers in.

That same chair
Black with wheels
My father thought I will study in
Ran over my right foot
Last my sister was here.
As she examined it, I learnt
My sister had finally become
The woman she studied for.
The chair now nurses a few ***** laundry.

Last evening my right foot
Became useless
When I stubbed my left
On the corner of the bed
I laughed at the irony
That I had no perfect foot
To compare the new acquired deformity.
I rubbed some ice
And decided to not speak of my injuries.

The first injury I flaunted here
Was from unwrapping a new knife,
My father realized then
That probably I won't make it alone.
So he then cut off pieces
Of papers and cloth
To place in the closet.
I received in total six major cuts.
The last closet, I arranged by my myself.

The other room in this new house
Made some funny noises,
I checked it out myself
And spoke to my mother after
But I didn't mention it to her.
She doesn't call me in the mornings
To wake me up now,
My father waits till it's eleven,
And my sister during her drive to work.

I start conversations with my brother now,
I see the words we speak same,
And he asks of me.
I have a friend too
I confessed love for
And he did too.
And I am happy,
I declare, I sing.
Yet I have tears on my cheeks.

I do not understand this
I am getting everything
I fought for.
And having it all
I can't help but anticipate
The day it will all be taken away.
Why do I realize now
That happiness isn't real
Only the yearning of the same is.
Sleepless nights,
Red eyes.
I can't think straight.

Not now, perhaps soon
Feb 2018 · 475
Outside My Room
Shanath Feb 2018
Buried my head within my arms
Leaned myself enough to see the white dog
Crouched and closed,
As if hugging himself
He was trying to beat the winter cold
And I, the cold of my heart
From seeping outside.

If the stars had been sleeping now
The poised old man
Would be out
With his cup of tea
And I, with my mug.
He would try to survive the silence of years
And I, to prolong the one going on.

I am not good with people,
I don't think he is.
But I connect to them both
In our silent stares.
Once I had waved to him,
Once alone,
And I click my tongue from here

Every time he barks for attention.
The stars are out now
Tomorrow afternoon,
For I will be away in the morning
Collecting sadness,
I will return and wave to him back,
Its time we both find people again.
Time is ample
My heart though, whimpers.

(I promise I will read.)
Feb 2018 · 423
Ghosts Of Delusion
Shanath Feb 2018
We look at them
And smile at their brilliance,

Do the stars look at us
And weep for our miseries?
I am gone
And now wish to be forgotten.

                               ( There was chaos to clean
                                                  Now I will read.)
Sep 2017 · 655
The Irony
Shanath Sep 2017
The black and white pills
Are failing to cure me,
After three long years of running
It's my feet that's killing me.

I would have ran home
Though I ran from there,
It is only when you are alive
That you begin dying.

Black and blue bruises
Hug me tighter than my own skin,
I wouldn't know I still had blood
If I still didn't bleed so much.

I should have drowned myself by now
If I could reach the sea.
But it is in my sadness
I learnt the opposite must exist.
I am waiting for the end
Then we will begin again.
Sep 2017 · 701
Fabricated Affair
Shanath Sep 2017
I am counting sunsets
On my fingers,
Falling short.

The sky falls so slow here
I can almost see
My eyelids brush the bottom.

The distance between us
Stretches beyond land and oceans
Yet the same star would fall on us both.

Your voice to me is waves
From the sound of air in a sea shell,
I can't tell which is what.

The moon and my bed
Feel the same
Perhaps so are you and the images in my head.
If you knew, if you knew.
Sep 2017 · 706
The Erased
Shanath Sep 2017
I am but an echo
Of a call
In an empty city block
For the lost lover
Who has crossed the road too far.
I don't know, I don't know.
Sep 2017 · 496
Devil In The Folds
Shanath Sep 2017
Two sticks of bones
Laid with meat and muscles over
Cradling a devil in its fold.

The devil rises with heat
Satiated when pain is inflicted
Upon the weak.

In the midst of life
And blood and the hidden
There is an abode, a heaven.

Their chest and thighs pour
Their soul and lust
There is pleasure, there is pain.

But not all pain is pleasure.
Ask the skirts with melting limbs
Played with by the stick owners.

They violate, they tresspass
Tear them limb to limb apart
Blood is a colour they own but despise.

Parted are the weak barks
Exposed is their bottled bodies,
Their insides poisoned with sap.

Their mouths tore
To steal laughter
But what escapes are scream.

The devil in the folds
Rears its ugly head
And burnt is the heaven.

Life giving land is made to bleed
And the pillars of faith are shook
Hands to caress, strangle the own.

They are the weak
In a world of lust
They fear the devil and hate themselves.

Not all who bleed
Wish they did,
Watch those covered little girls

They have been once uncovered.
Nightmares and stories
Aug 2017 · 548
A Cup of Tea Now
Shanath Aug 2017
On my way back,
He got angry at the seats
Assigned separately.
A little too far,
She, a little too dimwitted,
Those who travel together
Sit together,
Now don't normal families do!
But we couldn't,
The seats were empty,
We were the first few to arrive,
She has no excuses
Other than her mindlessness.
I stopped the formal complaining
And would sort it I say.
(Rough edges).

In the aisle, a small traffic
I, the second car.
After a brief, polite but angered spat
We sat sepearate,
Say I will sort it.
The man I could tell
Spoke my tongue,
I waz getting better at observing.
After two lines of request he agreed,
And I waited for the aisle to empty.
(Questions. Answers.)

In the wait,
The man behind got up
And offered his place,
I couldn't thank him enough,
Our frivolity
Made his act a nobelity,
I declined.
We smiled at each other
Our truest of smiles
And things were better again.
We were one big family,
Looking after the other.
The man of my tongue
And the man of my family
Drifted off to a conversation,
And I to a digital page.
I can't speak for the noble man,
I didn't look at him again.

After a light meal,
I am craving a tea,
That's the first thing I ask now
Everytime I come home.
(It might be red.)
Travel Tales V
Posting the last
Of it all.
Took so much
To say it all.
Aug 2017 · 385
What Happened In The End
Shanath Aug 2017
Maybe he was staring at my back,
I didn't wish to know for sure,
I couldn't wait to get in the car and go.
The heat the same.
The streets empty
Like my heart,
Calmer this way.

A festival,
Men and kids in long shirts,
Black and white,
Their smiles defind the excitement
I fail to feel these days.
Children ran in the cafe
And at the gate.
(Rough edges)

On our way,
A scene in the passing only,
So forgive me I can' t say
What happens in the end,
But then again would it matter,
I failed,
And now, so will you.

A cluster of motorised Rickshaws,
A white sedan with one man
A small crowd,
Nothing unusual.
-An observation of a grown mind.
One relatively huge man,
Huge of muscles,
Probably in his late twenties
Or early thirties,
Stood holding the door,
The man in the white car
With his hand on the wheel,
Their faces a scrunched up paper,
A raging frown,
Up too close I would have ran,
From far,
I could almost feel both of their
I could read the story of the man in white
Matching his car,
I was worried
How could he possibly describe
His ***** face, blue eyes
To his daughter too grown
To be fooled with a lie
Of fighting dragons.
Or to his son, whose mirror
Would now own a scar.
How do we a grow up,
With all the mess of knowing
A little too much?
His left hand holding his phone,
The muscled man was pulling him out now.
(Was there red?)

( I am sorry).
Travel Tales IV
Been cramped up in a city
I have yet to know,
I couldn't, I am sorry
Read or post
But I have been writing.
I am trying, I am trying
To get back in,
Please bear with me
I will take some time
To scroll down through all your writings.
Jul 2017 · 606
The Grey In Black is White
Shanath Jul 2017

You can have my whole heart and devour it
but not squeeze out a drop of blood.

You will drown in a thirst
as you try to water me.


I am not meant to fall in love
I am meant to divide my soul

Among the satans of the world
And turn fire into cosmos.

(I am lost
But I will find my way.)
Edited, I thank Guy Scutellaro for the comment.
Jul 2017 · 822
Shanath Jul 2017
The heat knocking through the glass,
Shaking the metal,
Our seats impersonating
Our body heat.
I looked out, a brief pause in journey.
The red light tirelessly blinked
Then and now,
Green would be a go.
He was peeling it off,
He asked me, as usual I said no.
One was handed to the man
With an upturned mustache on the front,
I could tell that was his pride.
Three were alined in a plastic bag,
Their fate still undecided.

Gentle but hurried taps on my window,
They had cars to cover
I think now.
Two little kids in ragged clothes,
I wonder is it the dust of the world
Or the filth of a society's failure
That stains their clothes brown,
Their faces black?
One was of the usual age
They're grown up at,
The other, the age
They begin at.
After a brief and short
And "matter of fact" discussion,
Bearing in mind the kids' busy schedule
I wound down the window,
And decided the three bananas' fate.

The grown one just ran to the next car,
Grown you see,
The little one
Yelped in happiness
Of the fruits rejected by me.
Nothing could sound more beautiful
Than the kid's exclamation
A giggle.

The red turned off.
The driver smiled
Yet every act was but a drop
I could not collect
To fill the desert of doom.
The heat hovered
And hovered,
The heat that turned
Back at my home
Many bananas black
Until they were discarded.
The flies feasted upon,
The gun is pointed
At the kids.
Sometimes blood leaves no stain.
Sometimes the black stains
On bananas are of our souls.
The ant, the flies,
The lion, the man,
Who is important?
Shanath Jul 2017
Five years or more
Or perhaps less,
Does it matter to you
Or me?
Isn't time a relative measure
To make sense of other conducts.

I was here, this city
My idea of the west
That still can and will
See me as of this land.
People were bright,
Were too busy in their lives
To yell at you about the dent
In the car's bumper,
People would narrate so.
That was to me, a declaration
Of our true values.
Probably that's simply a story now.
But either my mind grew
Or the things,
Who will attest to it?

In my car, the fan on full blow,
The heat musty though,
The sun burning with a new found motive.
In this city of people with hearts,
I looked out my window,
Rarely looking ahead,
Maybe this is why I fail
To memorize roads,
Or streets in my own place.
But the car halted and
The driver mumbled,
The accent a lovely northern,
One that sounds too polite
To instill any fear,
To pass as a slur.

My eyes darted ahead,
So calmly the man in the driver's seat
Sat, his both palms griping
The wheel a little too loose to turn,
His heavy chin on the back of his hands,
His back arched forward,
So calm and serene.
The man on the bus,
Sat same, his back though
Stretched way too forward
From his seat,
The distance greater,
He, struggled to keep that pose.

Both man on the wheel stared
Through the double windshields at each other,
If I didn't know better
I would say they were friends
Playing games.
If I didn't know about the traffic,
Blaring horns louder more by the second
I would say it was a new game
Likes of the bull and the matador,
Tad bit less dramatic,
And less action and work.

But my mind grew,
And I could tell this was a fight,
Raging between the eyes,
The victims of the peaceful blows,
-Everyone behind them,
Beside them.
Other people screamed at both,
None flinched,
Them, as sturdy as their vehicles,
The elders grew despondent,
I couldn't stop looking at them.

This was a quiet revolution
Of the new age,
The calm, polite age
And I wanted to watch it bloom,
Like a sunrise,
I wanted to clap to it
And yet not disturb it.
This was on a busy street,
Two men on their thirties,
Fighting for what they believed in,
In their own way,
It was funny
But it was also beautiful.
(I knew both of them were wrong.)

The driver curved around them
And my view was a passing glance
The silent passenger is there
To make observations,
Take notes.
Jul 2017 · 604
An Uneventful Day
Shanath Jul 2017
I stood facing the wind
Closing my eyes,
Picturing my worries being torn from me
In a stretch behind
Almost making a wing.
In my quest for some enlightenment
Or at least an epiphany long due,
I thought I heard some music,
A coded message from the skies
But then I realized it was my beeping machine

We have ran out of all the magic
(Or we have gotten used to it)!
To give away everything
But my heart.
Jul 2017 · 711
My City
Shanath Jul 2017
On my bed,
The sheet climbing off the sides,
My cover a pile at my feet,
And a transparent stretch on my face
That blocks the light from within
But not without.
Tiny dots across the window
Glows like fireflies in the cone,
A dark, dark room.
(Rough edges.)

The world outside
A buzz of flies
Waiting to die,
You could use a gun
To shoot at them,
And they would thank you
For all the destruction,
The blood so little from them
You won't even have to wash them off.
(Is it even red?)

There is no glory
There is no pain
In the killing of lives
Tinier than our egos.
The buzz flows
Like the wind,
Or the air in the conch
The blood in your vessels.
If you don't put your ear next to it,
You won't even listen.

I was twelve
Probably ten,
My brother held his breath
While he explained the Schrodinger's cat.
I listened the same,
I cannot and will not say
I understood it
Because you can never tell
At which age
Things became what they are now.
How can you tell, its your mind that grew
And not the thing itself?
This might not make sense but its a part of something bigger like a single day in a year)

Been away
Been busy
A few things took a break
But in a circle
Everything comes back.
Jun 2017 · 446
Weather Report
Shanath Jun 2017
I was high up, flying.
So I took the lights
On the land as

But I cannot make out
From where came the lightning?
The settling after a chaos of silence and noise.
Jun 2017 · 506
Shanath Jun 2017
In this torturous silence
That has lasted weeks
And burnt the night down to ashes,
I could hear my heart beat.
Like tiny screams underwater,
Water rushing into the lungs.
I could hear my blood
Walking in my veins
Punching the walls,
Tearing them through
The order of the heart
And pour out everywhere
They could run in.
Outside I lay so still and quiet
My mother should be scared
Of me losing my voice
But she isn't.

I stopped talking at home
Long back,
When I would hear the shouts,
The blows to the doors.
I feel my screams
During my growing years
Consumed the needs for words.
So I lay and this silence
Isn't odd
So no one is afraid for me
But I am.

How else do you
Know a forest is burning
If you don't see the fire.
How else would you
Know the ocean flooding the shore
Unless you feel the waves.
But you don't.
For you are in your buildings,
Behind closed doors,
You don't know when it pours
Unless you walk out in the street.
You don't know the storms,
The tremors that could bring you down,
But in your barricaded homes
You don't.
So tell me how will anyone
Know I am dying
When they don't even see me here?
They don't.

But I can feel
The waves,
The rain,
The heat,
The water I am swallowing.
Because I am all of these
And no one anymore
Can see.

Don't worry you are not the block,
I am the one blocked.
In the silences that preceded
the on going one,
I used to stutter.
I ignored those as irrelevant mumbles
But these are the sentences
That in those stuttered words
were broke.
This block helped me decipher and join those.
Jun 2017 · 1.4k
Light Bulbs
Shanath Jun 2017
I am done,
I came crashing down
Like a thousand light bulbs
fitted too tight on high ceilings.

I flickered minutely
In the last hours
And then you ignored me
An anomaly that can't be fixed.

I crackled inside
Heat burning the glass,
You wanted me to light
Up your world, but I burned.

But trust me
I would have glowed
And shone bright but sorry,
I swear I'ld be among the stars.

But I wasn't
Instead I lay on
The floor that you swept,
And I was done, unfinished my
Words are failing me
Or maybe I am failing them.
How do I explain
I am unworthy?
Jun 2017 · 666
Shanath Jun 2017
Who'll you blame for the falling stars
When you're the one picking at them?

       But I only tried to rescue the moon
       He was stuck after the sun.
How did the Earth get here!
Jun 2017 · 453
Shanath Jun 2017
                                  A week in my mind,
                       My body carelessly toured
                                                      My home
           And the world through a screen.

      I have been acting a moth on a wall
                      Repelling any movements,
                                    An itch on my nose
           Or a flutter of my devilish wings.

                   I drifted through the rooms,
          Making a few grunts in response,
       Words typed into measured boxes,
                           And my eyes cast down.

                                       But on my wings,
              Were two massive hidden eyes
                             Dressed as black spots,
          Almost as if they were torn holes.

                                           So things I saw,
                                                I overheard,
                                                   I observed
                                         And I scoffed at-

                            Two little glowing suns
                Blinding, lay in a pile of meat.
                                           Two little birds
                               That never got wings.

                                    A digital document
   Defining accomplishments of my life,
                                                   One big lie
                              I can't seem to correct.

                         One platform lined with
A millions dreams and secrets spilled.
                                       That shuts down
      Comes up but the dreams are tired.

           One big assembly of happy feets
                          A roar of laughter at me.
      An hour of lesson will be forgotten,
                                     I was a case study.

           One small group of broken souls
                              And delusional hearts
                                  To keep up my past,
                                               I abondoned.

                                             One thin book
                                Parted in the middle,
                                               Upside down
                                I can't seem to finish.

                                             Two sore legs
                                      And heavy thighs,
                                        Chipped off nails
                               In an attempt to shed.

                          Given up ideas on paper
                          Stacked inside a drawer.
                                           Dried off paint,
                                  Major white spaces.

                                             A swollen sky,
                                       A blistering land,
                                             Wilted plants.
                       Rain since morning today.

                                           An unmed bed,
                         Pile of shirts in the chair,
                   Wires tangled on two tables.
                                     A corner left to sit.

                                         One dear friend,
                                  Some unsaid words.

(I am a mess)
No point made (?)
Shoo me away
Or I will sit dormant on the wall for ages.

(The usual thoughts).
Jun 2017 · 508
Shanath Jun 2017
As a kid I found a hammer,
But I knew not how to use it.
I carried it everywhere
Like most girls carried

Then I saw a few men
Use their hands thrashing walls.
The walls stayed intact
But their knuckles

So I learnt a new trick
I waved my hammer like a wand,
And ran through the town
Entering buildings, breaking

When the violence in the world ended,
I tried to caress people
But instead I hit them hard.
Then I realized my hands were the

So I thrashed the mirror first
To see how it could feel.
I saw it broke, the world stayed intact.
So with my hands I bashed my
The usual thoughts.
Shanath Jun 2017
I was messing around with words,
For people once messed with my mind.
Words carve truth
And sometimes are part of foul play.
Sometimes words are used in games,
Sometimes words carry wisdom
In disguise.
And all in all, words are human
They are flawed and they are metaphors.

I had a question
Of all the questions I have.
I baked it into simple bricks
To build symbolic sculptures with it.
But what use is a question
If it in itself is indecipherable,
Answers need a structured path to unwind.
I was looking for an answer
But I wasn't expecting one.
I feel most questions
Are there
Because they have indeed
No answers after all.

These are our constructed truths,
I used to say
When he used to accuse me of lying.
I always have a dark, dark humor.
But I have the luck
To meet bright people too.

I believed there could only be truth,
In absence of which there is a lie.
But the world isn't black and white,
White itself is of several colors
That serves together.
So who was I to question
The ways of the world?

Words from different mouths
Different they sound,
And different answers they form.
A house of cards
We live in,
Too light to sustain,
And yet some remain for days.
A blow would end them
And yet we don't.
We could build a whole world of it
And someone might as well try.
We deal with a deck of cards he said.

There is this big flaw
You must have heard.
This rebellion of bumblebees
Who fought over physics to fly.
Are nature's laws that sustain us
A lie too?
We deal with an illusion they said.

One card by itself can be torn to bits,
But cards appear too strong
When they build a sturdy skeleton
On their own.
Which one is the illusion
    -the one card that acts weak
     Or those in a heap, strong?
On behalf of the bees flying,
Of people revived after death,
Or people who survived poison
Or saved by the devil,
I have to ask,
If everything is indeed an illusion?
What exactly are we dealing with?

Then he came with the most important question of all
For what shall
We do with the answers,
What good does a truth do?

I don't have enough answers
It seems only questions.
Maybe in them hides answers
But maybe it does not matter
                                                   After all.
What did you pick?

(Questions exist because
There are no answers
Four wise man commented on a piece I wrote,
Thus answering a question of mine,
This piece is because they decided to
Share their wisdom.
I thank PAGAN PAUL and
              BEN NOAH SURI and
              HARLEY HUCOF and
              TEMPORAL FUGUE
For their version of truth,
Their questions
That led to a certain enlightenment
And a few more questions.

(The piece they commented on is Abstract Ideas)
Jun 2017 · 489
Abstract Ideas
Shanath Jun 2017
When you are not dealing with the
What are you dealing with?
Could it be a lie?
Jun 2017 · 789
Shanath Jun 2017

A bird from the window
Pecked at my papers
Lined with my scores.

Now trees are dead,
And papers are gone.
This is the computer age.

I will break it down for you.
I even made a list,
Would you like to count?


1.This is the computer age              
    Of digitized proofs

2.Authority attested identies,
     With participants' certificates.

3.Our own words have lost meaning

4.We are now vessels                     
With our definition stapled on screens

5.Meagre salaries    
    Tagged on our foreheads.

6.We are our grades.

7.The given guidelines,
      Projects we finished overnight.
         We are the cheated test scores,

8.The printed marksheets
       From the renowned buildings.

9.We are a bunch of degrees.
10.We are a box of experience
     With a reciept of coffees we bought,
         We are a cv of what we did.

11.We are the said lies

12.The stress calmed by mummbled slurs.

13.We are the second employee
        Shouted at.

14.We are the hundredth consumer
       With company approved needs.

15.We are the salesperson with quotas to meet.

16.We are the owners
       Of a dying business,
         A pending debt.

17.We are the numerous people
        Of covered faces on the streets

18.And exposed bodies in the world wide web.

19.We are the constructed
         Digital photographs
            With deconstructed heads.

20.We are a bunch of numbers

21.We are a bunch of numbers

22.We are a bunch of numbers,

23.When did we become
24. A 0 or a 1?

People shouldn't even fit in a whole encyclopedia

And yet here,
Are you looking for a number 25?


Well I gave the papers to the bird,
She put it in her nest
And made it warmer.

You call me crazy
But I will always
Call myself a free bird.
Sometime in winter I must have burned newspapers.
Jun 2017 · 602
Shanath Jun 2017
There are many stars
On my one heavy blanket,
Outside the earth falls.
Dreams are constructed
Nightmares are real.
May 2017 · 509
The Game
Shanath May 2017
I am such a big ball of trouble,
Rolling around spitting strings of lie.
Leaving a trace of my words
Every cover I trudge on.
Starting conversations out of boredom
Poking people to form a reaction.
I exclaimed today
Our sanity is an obstruction
To our happiness,
So I made them take part
In my own little game
And together we lied to a friend.
It is all for humour trust me
I declared,
And sure we laughed the whole time.
Until with the nightfall
My victim started muttering,
Spilling secrets for me,
Planning to rescue me.
He said he needs me
And that is why I can't **** myself.
I laughed until that very confession.
Now I feel like a *****
Fishing for love
I can never earn.

Both of us lost
This is how the game ends.
How come I end up regretting everything?
May 2017 · 634
Shanath May 2017
I was humming to myself,
I often do now.
A way to distract my mind
From the clouds of thoughts
That ultimately rains as sadness.
I was humming and I was unequipped.
And the trouble with being oblivious
(An outcome of humming or doodling
Or daydreaming)
Is that we shut our defenses
And open ourselves to attack.
I was climbing up the stairs,
Hair dripping water
And wet clothes in one hand,
I was climbing up the stairs,
I was humming to myself

(A question- if we are unarmed
And see an armed person,
Is it necessary that person to be dangerous
To feel in danger?)

I moved the thick curtain,
A choice of my sister
I say,
I can't confess how I picked it too
But I hate its colour now.
I danced my fingers through
The waves of it,
All I wanted to reveal
Were the steps that continued
But there he was
                              A beast.

In a stance, staring right at me
In my own turf
He was questioning me.
He was the stranger not me.
He was the intruder not me.
But I was unarmed
And his claws dripped of dried blood
I pictured,
We stared at each other for
The nth of a second
That seemed like ages.
I was drowning in his eyes,
An effect of humming beforehand
I believe.
Then my mind snapped
Like a rubber band
Stretched too far for too long
And a scream
As shrill as that of a kid
Escaped my mouth.
Broke all my teeth
Parted my lips
Tore away my tongue
And I screamed with all my might.
(I feel it was all my fear
Rolling out all at once
At the slightest chance of an escape).

Whether my scream faded
Or did it stick to that very step
Or did my voice die down
I can't say,
But as fast as my heart beats,
I was down
Behind a glass door closed
And a wooden one slightly ajar,
I was now a captive in my own home.
My screams now words,
It's silly how human fears
Are better described by sounds
With ill fitted

After moments gone,
Having gathered my strong,
Calm demeanor
I carry most of the time,
I grabbed a stick.
I swear I wouldn't
If it didn't just lay there
As a lonlely toy that needed holding.
I couldn't wield it to hit
I know,
But I could make some noise
As if my voice wouldn't have been enough,
The beast had ran

Listen to me, he is the dangerous one
Not me, not me ever.
I tapped the stick at the railings
As I climbed a step then another
All the way till the point
Where my scream lingered last.
I bobbed my head slightly ahead
Of my body,
The beast could tear my face off
But not my heart I reasoned.
There it was, a mess,
Milk, and rice,
Cereals, biscuits,
Containers open and spilled,
Things scattered but things I say,
To the hungry beast
                                - Food?

I climbed up the remaining stairs,
Following his footsteps,
The markings he left,
The dripping water off his soul.
Can I confess now,
The beast was a kid,
And his tiny hands couldn't hold on
To all the food he stole?
        ­                                                  Needed.
And finally at the door,
A whole packet of cookies
Lay there, like a star
That fell from the sky
Unhinged it dropped on the ground
Where it didn't belong.
I didn't pick it up I followed ahead,
He passed that door,
I concluded from where he
                                               Broke in?
                           Discovered through.

And went ahead to the bigger one
Where we welcomed guests
That neither belonged.
I shut that door,
Locked it now.
And came to my room.
Kept the stick aside,
Leaning it on the wall,
Like a dancer resting his feet.
And sat on the bed

                 ­     I fought off a beast?
A beast scared off a hungry kid.

(I hope he managed to steal something away
At least bit into something before I intruded.)
If I keep some food out
Will he come and take it?
May 2017 · 709
Shanath May 2017
I never got the sun,
A shooting star got there first.
So I played catch with the moon
And when I took my hands away
My fingers bore

But the moon doesn't have flames,
So the fire must be in me.
The moon should have some burn marks though
Otherwise the whole thing has been a façade.
May 2017 · 1.0k
That Box of Ours
Shanath May 2017
A paper box filled with crumpled newspapers
Carrying death notes, attempted ****** stories
And the failed political agendas
(Failed I say for I personally see no difference).
Neatly stacked they would take
Only the bottom half of the box,
But since the papers were to be rid off,
And the papers carried blood,
Shoved were they like ***** secrets
In that plain paper box.
That action somehow now
Turned the box into a closet
Filled with dusty winter coats
From a life past,
The clothes might fit your body
But they won't fit your soul.
O' my friend added today
How she hasn't seen me in black
Since the last time I returned,
She said it as a fact,
But somehow that hurt and
It felt like fear- my mumbled ignorance.

The box lay in the middle of the room,
The room itself empty,
Sold were each artifact
Over the past few months,
To get back
What they had stolen in the first place.
I no longer fought when
My favourite tin can was taken,
It too had rattled the pockets,
It bled for our tummy.
The box lay out of place
Like all of us,
Trying relentlessly to fit in,
The balled up papers
Sticking out the *****,
A triangle there and a lonely strip here.
I could read few words of different stories
And create a new lie,
But the lies seemed silly even for me,
I needed something else.
You might ask why not burn them,
Why not shred them,
But even fire creates smoke
And secrets never really die,
We always, always hide them,
Paint over them with lies.

So the box,
Now being there long enough,
Wasn't kicked over
Like the many times before,
It lay there, carefully maneuvered
By the liars and the sinners
Of the house.
But their breath stopped
Every time they walked into the room.
Like they didn't wish to inhale the dust
And the stories of the box,
Like their lungs would be infected
The same way their hearts were.
But the shameful box had secrets
Staining red over time, dripping blood
And spilling black soot of lies,
Flies buzzed around now and yet
Why did we not discard it,
I thought.
What was so special about our lies,
Our sins
That we keep the box around
And not hide it but be ashamed of it?
Why do we keep it in our homes still
If all it does is poison us?

Why do we keep our old loves
Alive in our memories?
Day by day I feel more like the box itself now.

(And those who still have a unscathed box,
Please take care of it).
May 2017 · 612
Under Attack
Shanath May 2017
The whole sea of blood in me
Rushed to different directions
All at once.
Crawling and climbing,piercing
Veins and arteries, puncturing
Bones, skulls, ribs.
The air pushing and breaking,
Punching my lungs, my heart
Tearing me apart.
I woke and my scream pressed
Down, trying to make sense of
A haze -panic.
I was under attack, and my body
   Had tricked me, was dying, as my
Mind refused living.
I regretted and shamed myself
Having never learnt to swim, as
 Desert drowned me.
But who ever did try telling
You didn't need fire to burn
Ashes, embers flying!
May 2017 · 1.9k
Glass Bottles
Shanath May 2017
I The Music

My soul has been clinking
Like glass bottles in the wind
Hung on some worn out strings.
They create music by only colliding .

On the verge of breaking
The loudest I sing.

II The Contents

From afar you would look through them past
Hardly making out their curved edges,
They appear empty,
But haven't they swallowed
All that breathes behind them.
Tearing apart the light from the sky
And swallowing the clouds.

The whole world poured into me
By merely being          empty.
May 2017 · 970
Shanath May 2017
The entire day I spoke to countless mouths
At night I fell short of tales
                                                  To write.
I wonder now what did I have to say in the morning
When no event ever took place?

(Clearly I wasn't even listening).
Now I feel I wasted my words
(And your time).
May 2017 · 1.5k
Shanath May 2017
Awakened by whispers from a friend
On the other side of the earth.
He perhaps forgot how time
Lacks to treat us the same.
He was bouncing from
One classroom to the other,
I was in my bed
Sweat drenched in my dreams.

I tried to muffle his scream
But he yelled louder,
Bloodshot eyes, I spoke,
Careful not to wake my mother.
I asked and asked if he was alright,
I was afraid he was thinking up
The actions I almost followed.
I asked him again
If he was fine,
He replied with a "good morning",
I said "goodnight".

My head was thumping too hard
I knew the morning would begin
With my weekly dose of migraine.
He called me back,
I asked again if he was alright,
It's 3 **** clock in the morning,
I would sleep if he was fine.

He acclaimed that I lied,
"I was hurt so I was up
Or else I would never have taken his call"
He said. I sighed,
He couldn't hear.
I told I would be back in two hours,
I wished he would rest
Get his head straight.

He acclaimed that I lied,
I wasn't gonna sleep,
I was traumatized,
He asked again if I was fine,
I replied "relatively".
I wondered what I meant,
He didn't ask to clarify,
I declared I am going to sleep.
I lied.

I was up till past 4,
My alarm set to 5,
I would speak to him then I resolved,
He could do with not killing himself
For two hours I analysed.
I slept for minutes 45
I called but he was gone.

I tried to decipher my strange dreams.
It was about the dogs
Chasing me,
The fear I always have.
I try never to think of love,
In my dream I had no way out,
That was when he had called.

I reminisce now
Was he looking for me to save him,
Or did he save me?
We all need our saviors
Even while we try to save others.
May 2017 · 1.6k
My Mind Is Infested
Shanath May 2017
There was a storm today,
A tree older than me,
Taller than the walls of brick
Why can't I stop thinking about it?
I went to watch the sky later,
There was blood in the horizon.
May 2017 · 1.4k
A Deal
Shanath May 2017
From your neck
Crawling its way up to your head,
Like a river cutting across soft land
The pain follows upto your brow .
You squint your eyes
And shake your head,
The pain taps your mind.
This is the pain from hopelessness
There is no escape, feel it,
Embrace it.
Pray that it busts your head open
And your brain splashes across your bed.
Pray that you evaporate
That you disappear,
Leave back a stain
For that is what your life has been.

You lay on your back
Silence broken by the blood
Running around in your otherwise limp body,
And you hear a screech, a whisper
A mocking?
You turn your empty
But strangely heavy head,
You see the creature
whose children you killed that evening.
You had hunched over the broken egg,
Its insides now spilled outside,
And the other one still lay across.
You had nothing to do,
You wiped the goop that could be life
With a torn bit of paper ,
Haphazardly poured water
And wiped again.
Who would say
The floor had seen death today.
The other egg you rolled to the side,
You knew the creature would cry tonight.
You went about with your life.

The creature is swelled up again,
You noticed
Life would get a chance again,
That is how it works you wonder,
But she must be furious
You see her staring at you.
You are sorry you say.
That's all you had to say
Until today.

Today you are thinking of striking a deal with her
Today you will ask her
To spill your head open
The way you had spilled her egg.
You will ask her to give you peace,
To give you your awaited escape
And in return she can have her justice.
Tell her you can be killed,
All she has to do is drop you
From a height
The way you had dropped her egg
From her home, your rolled mattress.
The only difference you had no intention
Of taking away someone else's life
But your own.
So today ask her to correct your mistake.

My blood will be wiped
My stain will be removed
Someone else will take my place.
Apr 2017 · 1.7k
One Last Time
Shanath Apr 2017
I was too long in the dark
Craving the sky to run my lips over.
I never owned a sun
So I set myself on fire.
(And now I burn in desire)
Apr 2017 · 440
Self Destruct
Shanath Apr 2017
I haven't slept for nights,
Waking up in my trials
Mistaking midnights for mornings,
Tired by the lack of dreams
And a need to see the ones I think come true.

I work like a clock now
Going round and round
Rising up only to fall,
Its all a routine,
The ticks follow some more lost ticks.

And I walk through rooms across rooms
Not noticing the doors,
And I end up in places I should have known
But I still don't,
I'm lost in a city I grew up in.

I listen to people as to how they failed
And I convince myself to follow them,
Though I know my ways but I abandon them
Due to my lack of trust in self and I complain of others
Never trusting me.

I sort through the truths
Discarding the unacceptable,
Constructing a few new
And feed them to the ones I meet
Watching myself crave for a confession and becoming a lie.

I ask others of their well being
Making through their masks,
And then they ask in return
I can't trust the words I reply
But they do.

I go out hating my home
And out in the world I see the filth
So I return alone.
The things I could do to better
Instead out there I become one with the guilt.

And I fall in love
And pray to fall out the next second,
I look at us and see how he is better
And then I look at the lovers
And pray that we never become them.

And I fail, I fall
As I stand steady
Grabbing at air for balance,
And I look around for stability
But instead I self destruct!
Apr 2017 · 536
Let Me Go
Shanath Apr 2017
Thousands of thoughts running amuck
In my head
And no one in the world
Cares to understand one.
You pass by me
And don’t even notice.
I pass by you and I can see
Your whole life
And your world is a world
I will never belong in,
And I will try not to.
But you expect me to have results
Same as yours.
But I am not you,
Not her,
Not The person you would want me to be.
I am a shadow fleeting by,
Burned by the light,
So despearate to hide.
Let me go.

I understand when I look at you
How this is all you need,
A haze of days tangled in weeks,
Where you eat knowledge
And exhale not a word of your own.
I understand you will cure the world
Of its constant ailments
And I respect you,
That is your world.
But I am not you.
Let me go.

I breathe, I breathe
I live by seeing, feeling,
By laughing, by watching the strangers
I don’t have to befriend
Or isn't of the same house as me.
I live by people,
People whose world is built
By wood and chalk
And the dust flies likes ember ,
I live by their world
And get some dust on my face
And I breathe in their blood.
They are the people I want to be with.
Let me go.

Don’t get me wrong
I respect you,
I do,
But you don’t like me
And I don’t like you
And I don't think
We should do the same thing.
You are a block building a bridge
I am a wild flower lost in the wind.
Let me go.
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