All the ants have scurried away,
leaving the unstable mud anthill to crumble.
The other older ants are slowly turning grey,
From grey to black,non poisonous and feeble.

Crimson red ants bursting with colorless blood,
Driven by pure prejudiced hunger.
to carry heavier loads,more food ,till they collapse under the burden,
Their ambition ,now,more fiercer.

The grey ants peculiarly fat,dumb and happy,
Oblivious to the scurrying soldiers.
Waiting to be submerged under the fall,to be perished entirely,
Paving way for the red running dots to disperse.

A solitary ant suddenly stops scurrying,
to WAIT
for,they say,patience will conquer all worrying.

Wriggling the small toes in the sand,
She lay stoic on the neutral mellow shore.
The sea was at peace,unlike her life,tangled and unplanned,
The waves soiling her feet in salty foam,watching as the seagulls and halcyon soar.

She envied the vast moonlit sea,
How he remains calm after all the chaos.
After all the turmoil,he stays unfazed..the beauty,
Forgiving,forgotten and silent.

The harmonious waves cajoled.
The seagulls conspired.
The moonlight flooded.
The breeze taunted.

"How long Should I wait,
To get to that realm of that peaceful state".
Gazing at the adorned black,
Only silence answered back.

She sprung to her feet,
flung her bag,her glasses,her fears.... her worries.
Darted towards the anxious sea , ready to greet .
The benumbing waters awakened her soul.

Diseased again , in the middle of May,
Almost threateningly fatal.
Dormant dimmed brain of mine,apt and inviting prey,
Been demented since awful April!

Earnestly eager to get healed,
I've enacted the preposterous tribal dance to the write(right) gods and appealed.
They unmistakably ignored my pleas,
and my mind still remains stuck,stagnant ,in a frigid freeze.

Changed my workspace to the garden,
To **** in the fresh air,clear my brain and brighten.
Result: Chewed half a pencil,
******* alien patterns in the muck,and a weak wasted writers' will.

Countless imaginary "stories" with no beginnings,
Right Brain-dead till late evenings.
Waiting on this blasted writers' block to clear soon,
Hopefully,the rains should clean the slates, in Judicious June.

One bite of the forbidden fruit,
Hallucination and deception followed suit.
The more i enjoyed the malicious juice,
My heart swelled in rapturous delight
to deafen the opposing voices,I negotiated a truce.
But the more my body craved for it,with little respite.
The comfort and love it gave was heightened solace.
the complete engagement of trust and companionship.
The Ecstasy it contained,hard to replace.
But now the fruit has stopped growing,
No more pleasure,no more craving.
Even if I pass by a solitary plump fruit,waiting to be eaten
I remind myself,the taste and the craving will only sweeten.
I looked passed it,to the lush green field,
love is a patient process,it will soon began to yield..

Yellow skies,
Love is the resounding laughter of your friends.
Red skies,
Love is the foxy grin and sensuous perfume.
Blue skies,
Love is the serendipitous pictures you click, that bring you joy when you later see it.
Brown skies,
Love is the egoistic compelling football match you just played with your rival.
Pink skies,
Love is the super expensive shoes you and your girlfriend giggled over.
Purple skies,
Love is the family time you had and having been missing for so long.
Green skies,
Love is the last time you smelt the soil and the watched the sun set.
Beige skies,
Love is the soft fluffy coat of your dog.
Black skies,
Love is gradually replacing hate.
White skies,
Love is time you smiled back at the mirror.

Towering over the rocky shore,
mentoring the intractable,discordant waves.
Rigid and stubborn,over which the eagles soar
"They" come here for absolution,the murderers,the soothsayers,the knaves.

Tweleve kilometers away from the tower,she watched,
living in sweet sardonic solace,in an ancestral cottage.
how "they" climbed the crumbling earth,body and soul parched,
desperate to be purged,freed from guilt-driven *******.

Ruminating over the storm swept silence,
she loathed man's dependence on belief.
Comatised, mentally enervated in its absence,
The belief commands discipline, our obedience.

Scrambling over the jagged rocks,
she climbed to the base of the dominating column,
A vulture sitting high above,looks down to mock.
the blinding circulating light,an eerie feeling she could not fathom.

Ascending the two hundred and forty eight iron spiral stairs,
as surreal force encompassed her, she instantly felt possessed, her mind awakened by last night's nightmare.
As she stood high above,adjacent to the vultures,
She acknowledged her mind grow vacous,empty , free.
There was something calming or demanding about this structure,
exterminating her inner thoughts and memories,reaching an ******* apogee.