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japheth Jan 2019
every year,

i've always hoped
for a plot twist.

but this time around,

i won't.

why wait for one

when you can twist fate

yourself?
here's to a year of me being in control
Ashari Ty Dec 2018
the only plot twist
that i need in my life
is us
K Balachandran Nov 2018
A gothic drama
Night enacts; its taut dark plot,
Lone moon polishes!
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2018
I was on the way to pick her up,
was just about to cross a slippery *****
on the front yard of my in-laws’ home.
Forget how long it took me to cross,
Huh, I had to solve a riddle.
A Moon pops up halfway through,
right in my way, it just won’t move.

I said I don’t need any horoscope,
already married, I am not a groom!
She goes, I too don’t fancy fussing about.
The riddle I got is only an easy-peasy one.
Just tell me your W duo—Where and When
did you take your first breath?
I laugh, isn't it the mum who can tell best,
who saw it first when I was born
but I can't go back and ask her,
she won’t show up
unless I return home, picking her up.

I said to the moon, o dear,
never did I say you got a scar,
that a spot on your face is cute, fair,
is only a cool shadow of one’s
deep-rooted fine lock of hair!

I then ran to the expert scientist.
He said it’s all vibrating but knows not
where the heck, if ever the spin might stop.
Again I ran to knock on the Sufi’s door.
He seemed to know why I went there,
And said in a deep voice, “as far as I know,
you don’t have a sister-in-law!”

Again the moon asks, in a heavy tone
“Tell me the truth,” before it's too long,
I said you’re in my way,
“I am not asking for an acre of moon.
Spare me a digit gap if you could.”

Unlike how the lands on earth, she tells,
keep changing the hands,
owning the ultimate plot is still one’s dream.
But no space is left unmeasured in space.
You miss by a hairbreadth, no matter how tiny,
and you might as well miss it by the eternity.

So zero space can I spare says the moon
This is it, the dead end, no more room to move.
Still, even a closed circle can’t be close,
the smallest atom is not the smallest to be closed.
The constant spin inside it constantly finds
ever more space to move on, because the root
pi is cracked open, spills out a new decimal,
though none can pinpoint, in this finest loophole
the sky can sway and earth finds a mouth to jingle!
Future is more digital. In the last stanza, a complicated dilemma solves for me. Since the subject matter is that there is one perfect circle though it's vividly complex to discover. The Motion continues even from the ultimate end of the tiniest particle. Because the closed circle is somehow open for something. But this subtlest opening angle is transcended cannot be located. Just as the never ending pi decimals denote its enduring open range without projecting a pattern is a juxtaposed example.

Juxtaposition conveys a lot of meanings in natural science. For instance, the inverse of phi golden ratio 1.618 is 0.618 they are same but utterly two different Numbers. I find it as a sign that the closed circle also can open without actually opening to the mass.
Sky Aug 2018
i love you, i told him
he stared back at me with those lovely
brown eyes

marry me, i said to him and
although he stayed quiet i could sense

the answer
from behind his smiling lips

i smiled and in one
swift motion

smacked the poster of him onto my bedroom wall

ugh
its crooked
its difficult being a fangirl...
K Balachandran Jun 2018
Lush tree sways in wind,
Sun ☀️ sends cryptograms through it;
I am in their plot!
Though unaware one figures in the ever extending cosmic narrative
Lizzie May 2018
I get this feeling
This feeling inside
Whenever I see you
I want you to die

I want to break you
Into so many pieces
Just like my heart
When you ate my Reese's

You knew it was mine
I saved it many days
But you just took it
And ate it anyways

I'll hate you forever
To your final breath
I hope you suffer
A terrible death

RIP Reese's PB Cup 2018
A comedic love song with a twist.
All in good humour :)
sunflower Mar 2018
We are like trees.
Growing tall with greenery.
Dusty brown soil,
dry cracked leaves.

Wrapped with vines.
Climbed by twisted plant.
They crept along the ground,
they clung onto our skin.

The tree is us.
We grow old with emotions.
Dark ugly hatred,
beautiful fragile heart.

Embraced with thoughts.
Trailed by twisted world's plot.
They followed along our life.
They stuck in our mind.

A poet is a tree.
Watered with tears.
Sunned with laughter,
Cut down by harmful words.

A tree is a poet.
Being called a home.
By birds and humans,
who always come and go.
For when I thought of nothing else but myself whenever I see a tree.

ㅡn.s
They echo through our dreams
clear as church bells
on a crisp Sunday morning
'from that direction
where everyone is looking...
don't you see?'
smoke continues to rise
some 50 years later
from a fire still burning
of greed and hate
the bitter taste remains
the nightmare of truth
keeps it veiled in shadows and silence
hiding in the blinding light
of paradise
Oldie
the partition was posted
almost two years ago
and it stated that a super pair
of creators had to go

lots of folks signed it
lending their ample backing
for he who wanted
the upper echelon's racking

those who aided him have
all been well forgot
yet at the time they were
so expedient to his plot

once he'd achieved
the cardinal's goal
no longer was there a purpose
for a little fish shoal

taking advantage of others
is his kind of game
using they who are wet behind
the ears tame

everyone of them summoned
to do his bidding
and in this salient narration
there's no kidding
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