#gets
the spring gets tighter
as your pen lays discarded
soaking up the cosmos
is never impersonal
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 7:07 AM UTC
have you ever been to a museum?
that little verbosity,
gifted by the clueless
curator, next to the exhibit,
oft by each work of art,
leaves you
stupidfied by their unthrifty abuse
and the indecipherable misuse of
extra big unclear words
that make adjectives
want you to throw up,
over, on, the common tongue
this profoundly sound
smooth jazz advice, should
be the mantra of those who mask
their inferiority with a mastery
of a clogged comprehension
what is before the viewers
eyes, re and re/rereading
the illiterate utter cut
of the curator's *gib"~
berish
Nov 9, 2025
Nov 9, 2025 at 4:50 PM UTC
WARNING:
don't read this poem if you suffer from ADD, or merely hate long poems
<>
gave away 3 opportunities to a trusted someone,
a Persian poet carrying on a tradion
ask this poet of his unspeakables,
the open hidden,
received thrice, not nice, searching provocations, (idiot me),
inquiring of the souls interior chambers, where the fear to tread
is politely called in good company,
don’t go over to the dark side
questions of a thousand years, that got that way because
no one wants ever to be truly asked, and especially,
truly answer
but today's surrendering (the last of the three)
What gets you out of bed in the mornings
goes to the deadliest battlefields that millennially nourishes
and beats the blood of life
to feverish flooding that drowns you too close to real
death dangers
step to the step machine, lift the weights,
that cannot be lifted without a prayerful groan,
for surely surly poems cannot be, sleepy eyed ignored,
stepped over,
these muscle builders for the mind, these killing questions,
these ****** answers
Jeez Louise
if you are gonna ask me killer questions like this,
I may have to hide all the mirrors in the apartment,
with funereal linen cover-ups,^
and/or publish poems that actually
pay the rent (a drag)
to steal a phrase,
what a long story this poem could be,
especially,
for one-me routinely accused of being the
arch super-villain with ***** nails,
fighting the good cherubic angels of
brevity in poetry
delay, deflect, d'ignore the irrefutable,
snap, crackle and pop goes the body's ports and parts,
when first you self-deceive,
yeah yeah, alive, no jive, means
that still ya gotta get out of bed
by moonlight over Manhattan,
to deal with minute to minute trivia of lamentable suff
oh.
still here?
you actually want me to answer that question?
thought you were enjoying my evasive shadow boxing,
prefacing a smooth operation while escaping to north of the border
but lurking (always lurking) of late in the back of
the front of the left brain foot poetry orb, has been this word, variants thereof, saying
of me, write of me,
bless, (the) blessed, (with) blessings...
shocked? shocked?
yeah, me too.
on my mind when first we rise...
ah! counting your blessings no doubt...
now that's a thot, quite humorous, let's me count the ways
got your health?
well not really, left you hints aplenty...
peaces of mind?
sure, how many pieces you want to buy, we got 'em for sale
slightly used tarnished but organically reusable, from Whole Foods,
don’t be dumb
peace of mind can’t be store bought
No, I am not whining; I know what I got is good, but them **** poems that keep coming at night, like a fire engines flashing lights, a/k/a
them things that keep you up at night, are my habitués
but sometimes it takes months to finish a poem that
was mostly writ in a single flash
but bed born and dying
for there is no reality disclosable answer
get out of bed from
a ritualistic habit pointless
fear of living for nothing
great blessings, right?
to rinse and spit out our words of the
holy dark
for never seen the true light
supposedly that comes with you from the birth canal
(aren’t you sad you asked)
you see
I do not know
what gets
me
out of bed
in the morning
for I have been up all night
wondering why
I should
counting my seven days of mourning counting my blessings is a ******* curse
no more questions
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 4:18 AM UTC
endless weight
and the stars still shine
sickening pressure
yet my heart still beats
deep down
enslaved raging butterflies
its too much
anxious heat
no relief
it goes on and on
a dramatic end?
endearing yet frightening
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 4:27 PM UTC
whose name made you drink enough to forget your own?
why are you slurring, stumbling, shivering, shaking,
your mouth a spillage of magenta and fuschia,
hands slung over your best friends as they steady you into a car,
a cab they've called in a flurry of messy text messages and laughs,
joking about how drunk they've gotten to make sure his name
never perforate itself in your mind again.
you thought the two (or eight) shots you down,
in flimsy, rough, swallows of gasoline and heartbreak
will bury him in a box underneath the dirt floor of your mind
but his nomenclature refuse to transform from 'love' to 'stranger'.
he stays, he stays, he stays
unlike his form, his body, his soul,
and in the vagaries of life,
we lose and we lost,
because a girl's love changes,
like the seasons,
and we can heal,
we can break,
but we'll be okay,
once again.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 5:50 AM UTC
dip your brush in your sorrows
cover it in doubt and depression
paint your canvas in scars and messages of self hate
take a good look at the “masterpiece” you made.
grab a cup of water, cleanse your ***** brushes.
notice how all the black paint you have covered yourself in washes away.
dip the brush in a new found colour, the colour of happiness.
paint your canvas golden, show it what love is, love you have found within.
this is the true masterpiece.
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 10:41 PM UTC
Initially,
Her thought was a positive one,
And my memory sharpened,
So much that I still remember,
The first time she doublecrossed,
So like kids I had wept for her,
And an older friend Madhur,
His shoulder was my tear pillow.
Madhur had said, "If she made you cry now, how can she be your fabled truest lover, your soulmate?"
I remember how she had argued,
That I never cared enough for her,
But all my time was just for herself,
I so resent her for ever forgetting it,
How she revised her 10th with me,
I gifted her self-belief back then,
I know now she silences me.
I remember how I fixed a deal,
We sold the Bengaluru property,
For it our family had flown there,
But I remember how she was misled,
2013 was marred by an old terror,
My old phobia of getting ditched,
She forgot I got it sold for her.
2014 was a bit happier for me,
But I had wrongfully let her be,
I gave her immature self the key,
That key to my utmost happiness,
To behave like that I was foolish,
She was happy having my time,
Did I ever look at another girl?
I remember when my dad was ill,
He was admitted to the hospital,
In '15 winters it was exam time,
She had 'gain swayed off of me,
Young girl presented a Catch-22,
Choose from my thirst or thy dad,
I chose dedicatedly serving my dad.
I still try to woo her back in vain,
For I know she is a bullet astray,
Shot into the period by her age,
Social bounds are now a cage,
Like a Catty she pounces upon,
She surfs upon an internet tide,
And thinks that she is up to date.
Now I feel so tired of trying,
But I will try once again,
I will go to her house,
Once more I will go,
My course ends soon,
Now I just have to gain,
For there is nothing to lose.
Even our newer bigger home,
In Karnal comes to completion,
Opportunities are many in here,
Researching life I am indulged in,
Now is the time for me to watch,
Plan, act & watch the outcome,
I see joy is 'round the corner.
My happiness is in my own hand,
The pursuit of it is not so bland,
It is the most full of challenge,
No time to lose in indulgence,
It's now when I must perform,
The pursuit approaches an end,
My joy is in making destiny bend.
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 2:19 PM UTC
For those who need to hear it.
Life is not easy. It's never easy, actually.
And when it rains, it truly does pour.
Sometimes you feel as if you are drowning,
or that you're surrounded by literal ****
Then it rains, and it pours, and the **** is soaking wet.
But, it's up to you with what to do with that ****
You can either step in it and complain in disgust...
or you can grab a shovel, a rake, maybe some seeds,
and maybe, just maybe,
you can it turn the **** into something beautiful.
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 11:53 AM UTC
We sat in the back because all of this was new to us
There was a lot of people but the room was somehow still hushed
People kept entering from different sides of the room
We all stay quiet and hushed but you can still hear the cars outside going zoom
We don't know the real reason as to why we decided to come here
But honestly I think we are always searching for distractions to cover up our fears
We've done a lot bad but not a whole lot of good
But we keep living life hoping that one day we'll be understood
We've smoked this and drank that but it's getting kind of old
And we've grown into a habit of doing the opposite of what we're told
We've been wanting to end all this pain and depression for awhile
But at the end of each day we still somehow find a reason to still smile
The people around us think we are pretty confident and tough
But little do they know that we are on the verge of giving up
But we continue to keep living this lie because the one thing we're not is selfish
So we keep living our life for the sake of the people around us even though deep down we feel helpless
But we don't wanna hurt the people around us , we'd just rather hurt ourselves
So we'll just keep pretending that we're happy, even though deep down we're just empty shelves
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 9:09 PM UTC
Old timers' rom-coms,
Where did Gidget come from?
Of all the summertime wits,
When does Gidget get it?
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 12:34 AM UTC
She will be even more beautiful,
Heavier will be her eyelids,
Eager will be men for her body.
Would she even miss me,
I am not aware about it,
Longer this time spent,
Lot she will try to forget.
Ringing bells of her heart,
Every time she will bathe,
Pouring water from the shower,
Early tears will get veiled,
No memories get subsided,
Time spent she will recall.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 12:54 AM UTC
In these youth that only ditch,
There is a thread loosely stitch,
They gave a name for the glitch.
They just feel so entangled,
If I could satiate the deranged,
I would have felt happier & loved.
Not in the slightest her fault,
The fault is in my safety vault,
I can't protect it by adding salt.
She had her personality affected,
On the borderline of love she was,
She might get better when matured.
So I will wait for her to grow up,
Because mangoes are sour unripe,
So she might not repent her flurry.
Even though she is upset now,
I should patiently wait for her,
Us both together, life be wow!
She suffers a borderline personality disorder,
And I suffer its deranged consequences,
But I have not given up yet on her.
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 5:24 AM UTC
Placing the bandaid
on top of the next.
Placating my irrational thoughts,
but all so fleeting.
I'm happy. Then...
the wounds peak through,
I know these outside influences
whether drugs or relationships won't hold up
in the ultimate goal -
the real happiness quantifier.
That happiness
Beautiful soulful careless laughter
Give me that happiness.
Sing and dance,
but not at the expense of my lungs and kidneys.
Talk about something you know
For you.
Intrinsically fascinating,
Not fabricating lies based on ideas
for Others to like you.
Stop pleasing others for their expense.
Please yourself through ridding
Yourself of dense
Self pitying thoughts and
Push-over tendencies
Rejection fearing
and Stop baring these heavy suicidal thoughts.
Learn
To appreciate your worth,
You have a gift of
Kindness, intelligence, mindfulness.
I love myself
Or at least I'm learning to
and the healthy way.
By myself.
And I won't ask your opinion, is that okay?
Yeah I'm still learning.
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 11:46 PM UTC
Don't get sad about the past,
for it is not sad about you.
It has passed - like the cars on the road
through a green traffic-light.
It has passed like the moment
where the check-out scanner goes 'beep'
and you walk away with your things.
And if Nietzsche said, that if you gaze into the abyss,
the abyss will gaze back into you,
just don't dare to look
and it will cease to exist.
It will know it's place -
to swallow, swallow itself -
up into space.
Just don't look into the past,
for it is just a stretched blackness.
That is waiting, waiting to take you back,
into the life you should have had.
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 6:11 PM UTC
This is verse like a letter,
Do your best,
and your best shall get better,
Do your best,
You'll pass the test,
Do your best,
We're all different to the rest,
Do your best,
Each of us unique, yes!
Do your best,
Your best gets better,
My verse is like a letter,
Do your best!
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 11:04 PM UTC
Today I woke up heavy
though I knew I felt empty
the way gravity has no pounds
but still weighs everything down
And I wanna say I'm crazy
because delusion can be easy
I'd like to say I'm wrong
See, I'm too much like mom
I'll stay strong through her memory
through waves of sorrow plenty
I know I feel her love
she says 'getting better starts within us'
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 10:47 AM UTC
It gets better, i promise it does,
It rises and falls, like the setting sun
Happiness accompanies sadness on most of the days,
But one without the other, is darkness, or rays.
It will get better, i promise you that,
you will soon feel three dimensional,
and no longer flat
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 3:33 PM UTC
Here's to those
who seldom sleep.
To those in the shadows
who silently weep.
Here's to those
who feel all alone.
To those whose company
are the thoughts they own.
Here's to those
who sing of silence.
To those who are
sick of violence.
Here's to those
whose world is a stage.
To those who hide
their sorrow and rage.
Here's to those
who toss and turn.
To those who watch
their dreams crash and burn.
Here's to those
who starve for affection.
To those who face
merciless rejection.
Here's to those
who hide their past.
To those who think
love never lasts.
Here's to those
who wait for a letter
to tell them that in time
it all gets better.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 6:21 AM UTC
oh god
i just can’t think about it anymore.
i hate the way everything tastes
the moment you walk out of my door.
nothing ever feels quite so
satisfying
quite as dreamy
as you waking up besides me
and staying.
without fear of what the morning
sun may do to you.
my love,
even if you turn to stone,
i’ll learn every prayer
to bring you back from the dead
and even if i can’t
i will love you as a ghost.
oh god
can’t you see what this doing to me?
i am no longer the person
i told myself i would be
what a crazy sort of jealousy
to envy what will never be.
you have me.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC