I get so mad knowing you will never understand what I see.
You can’t see the pain,
the memories,
or the people who make up these images.

My mind works in such an otherworldly way,
I wish it wasn’t so far away.
I wish I could just share it with the world.
Even if the vulnerability hurt me, it’d be worth it to be less lonely.
All my thoughts could be appreciated,
and in their own light,
to the right people only.

I think in sentiment, so the clues of the portraits I create,
would communicate in clear secrecy, the truth they bear about me.
This unimaginable beauty,
that even I only see in glimpses,
would maybe a have a place,
could maybe be hung in a museum,
sold in an auction,
stolen for its value,
fought for to save.
It’s infinite.
the stream, the river, the trees, the forest,,,
the undetected particles in the air glowing in the ray of gold squeezed between the canopy from the sun,
the world of green and blue underneath the repetitive streaming and complicated designs that carry rainbow colored fish,
even just the emptiness of sound at the precipice before the greatest vastest canyons of our earth...
You can’t dare to frame a single one of these without spending every medium you can find.

And now I think I get it:
Art cannot contain the beauty we see and feel,
It is meant to be a crack of a window to the inside of what's real.
Art borrows a pinch of the beauty to show the others a glimpse to awe at,
And if successful, that small crack may bring one into the glory of it all someday.

He wants none of it
The unrelenting fame
Paparazzi's lights
Never out of sight
The crushing weight
Of a well-known name


He wants none of it
The life-******* fame
Endless demands
From legions of fans
Happiness funneling
Right down the drain


He wants none of it
The soul-deadening fame
Prestige a cruel mistress
All joys turned to business
Dousing his spirit
To extinguish its flame


No, he craves anonymity
For stardom to cease
To be happy with less
Freed from the stress
True glory found
In a life lived in peace

The maple makes its glory complete
with such elegance and grace
halo shadow of crimson and gold at its feet
wet fall day a shimmering sacred space.

Just because you now use your spear
as a walking stick, doesn't change
your past's sanguinary veneer
men, women, and children, your range.

All for us to sing of your κλέος,
the shades come back to haunt,
your glory, your fame, your albatross.
dreams of slit throats and screams daunt.

You have given up bloodshed,
we no longer sing your praises,
now you can finally rest your head,
and the enemy thanks you for your hiatus.

Standing under the starry sky,
He gazes at the crimson moon.
He is old, solitary and shy
He knows his end is coming soon.

The wind smiles as she passes through him,
Brushing his hair, kissing his cheek.
Playful as she may seem
She knows, he is now weak.

He gazes dreamily at the sky,
Reminiscing the glory days of his life.
Like everyone else, he will also die
But, he is happy as he knows that he will be with his wife.

He wonders as he watches the crimson moon.
He knows, his end is coming soon.










Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018.
All Rights Reserved

Sometimes we get lost in our desires.
We lose in the curtains of emotions.
We become slaves to desires.
The charm of life is lost and we live for the glamor ...
We begin to live day after day searching for the remedy of deception.
Many believe in pain and few in love ...
We sacrifice our minds for temporary pleasure.
Satisfying our desires can sometimes be dangerous.
Sometimes we get into a maze with no way out because of childish desires and whims.
Humanity has an internal hunger for success and greed
But not always what we want and really what we need.
I introduce you to a world full of rot.
A world where colors do not shine.
Where everyone seems to be happy with the things they bought.
Where the only satisfaction is ***.
Where many fall
In a cold and emotionless place.
Where many have become two in one.
Where many need lots of makeup to hide the wrong choices.
In a land of monsters and gods, in a dream-thirsty land, I saw people selling dreams and faith in exchange for glory.
In return for what they thought was happiness.
They sold the soul for pleasure.

Desire was dope he commanded the soul.
Many people no longer knew if they were in the real world or were in an imaginary world.

Every night, every weekend, all the laughter, all the wine was different ...
Sometimes we want things that we really can not have.
We confuse dreams and desires.
The power, money, fame more without space for love.