On my first visit
I was restless
I was put on Clonazepam
I got well
Then, he kept on that for every night

On 2nd visit I had nothing
I was there to meet him if I need to stop
He increased the dose
I started to sleep more

On 3rd visit I told
I sleep a lot
He blamed for the season
And without 2nd question
Added 2nd medicine
Telling, this will help

On casual talk
A friend of mine told,
He can’t sleep
I told it’s better to consult
Dr. Clonaz added, the same

Here we have a Pill society
We are his follow-ups
I tried to understand why he adds so often
On every 2nd prescription
Clonazepam is his Pen pill

Probably he understands why
For a good reason he adds it
For a no reason he adds it

For old age, it seems mendatory, he adds it
For young age, Dr. Clonaz don’t hesitates
To let us taste
His favorite

I wonder if the stock clears
Out of the market
What could be his new choice?

Can we survive?

It was started with
“This is a Poem”
The first, not too long

After THIS,
I was inspired from
THAT,
HE,
SHE,
IT,
THEY
And sometime WE, too
Getting fuel to write

Now,
It feels like Perpetual
The Journey continues

They said
Picture speaks
A thousand words

To be true
Nobody ever heard
What it speaks

Though all of us
Assume something
Though all of us
Make some sense
Though all of us
Feel something special
Though all of us
Have something to say
Though all of us
Try to understand more

Probably
Picture speaks
Through the eyes
Without a voice

She said,
You are too emotional.

But, you are dead
What I felt.

Why can’t I write anything?
Why I need to write something?

Between those two questions, I found my way to ink my thoughts being fascinated with words addressing a soul inside the human body. Being a part-time dreamer, full-time realist I tried to reflect human psyche, social-issues, clinical journey, and so forth with an interdisciplinary approach. White Words invariably explores the hidden depths of a human, set free by either circumstance or the truth. With every new day I felt writing is not just an art, It’s a social engineering with thought exploring the boundaries of our mind. Words could be a medium to achieve inner peace, sometime embraced with an autobiographic element. Nevertheless it needs to be visualized with holistic lens, being near and far off from the distance with curiosities to get the true meaning of it.

All forms of arts are work in progress, where artist tries to reflect the craftsman’s imaginations and emotions, other time control it with an armor and conceals things using words easy to say in the comfort of expressive outlet. Honestly, I never cared about getting it right, now the same thing is inspiring me in the form of catharsis to make a free verse of a poetic trail.

I feel blessed to be around the people I've come to admire.  I remember mom for providing much needed optimism and endless devotion. There is always something new to learn and there is a constant effort to evolve with a better reflection. I want to thank all those who enjoy my writing, and open enough to hone honest  criticism. I  am  accountable for all the errors in bringing this up.

Let the White Words be the life to live by. Until we are blind to foreseeable future, live until we die, laugh until we cry and write what can’t be said. Lastly for a moment just imagine, how good it is to have a voice and being heard, and heeded.