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paper boats Aug 2014
And if I were to die now,
What would define me,
But my youthful years,
And nights spent in solitude...
If you have accepted that you are going to die alone....is 'when' really a question?
paper boats Jun 2014
I have no more poems left in me,
The moonless sky has taken them all away,
And because stars are beautiful I let them be,
Hoping they would light up your way.
My indifference is a substitute for my love....
paper boats Apr 2014
Your words,
They sting.
So sharp,
But not sharp enough to pierce through,
Only to stay lodged beneath my skin.
So that every time someone brushes by,
I hurt.

Funny thing,
You care,
Like a mother should.
And yet still,
I can see you,
When you're old,
Regretting,
*You're alone.
paper boats Sep 2014
This is a happy poem,
About happy children,
And happy mothers,
Who dont get drunk.
And happy fathers,
Who dont leave home.
This is a happy poem,
About happy songs,
Which arent about heartbreaks.
And happy stories,
Which arent about death.
This is happy poem,
About happy headlines,
Which dont read '****'.
And happy people,
Who buried themselves,
Yesterday.
paper boats Apr 2014
You've done something to me.
Life wasn't like this before.
I write poems about love now,
And convince myself that they aren't for you.
I don't know how you feel,
Does it really matter?
You've taken over my mind,
And the butterflies in my stomach...
Wont sleep.
Lets just go our separate ways,
Before its too late.
Because,
Its inevitable.
Please stop...
Please stop.
Before i fall in love.....
paper boats Jul 2014
If i were to write drunk poetry,
You would call me foolish,
But my words dont lie,
they flow,
Like a river,
which knows no end
and a few rocks
which hit you,
like they hit me
but they mean no harm,
so let them be
i walk through
a sea of fire
but it doesnt burn me
whats the use
i wont scream
So it passes by,
and i stand still
burning with out burning
in my fiery dreams
Never answer questions about yourself when drunk, you'll find out things you don't want to know.
paper boats Jul 2014
When my words die
And I cut too deep
When blood stains fade
And tears numb skin
Don't wait for me
When all is gone
And winds blow quietly
When the dark loses fear
And life moves on
Don't wait for me
When I leave
And don't write a note
When I leave
Don't wait for me
*Don't wait for me
I'm sorry
As
paper boats Dec 2014
As
This burden of breaths
Takes its toll at times
Conjunctions cloud these corollaries
For fog to float further
And away, and away.....
**And away
paper boats Aug 2014
In the end,
Only the little bird stands,
Alone,
Amidst the carnage.
The little bird,
Who flew away,
Away from the blood,
Away from the hate.
Now he stands,
Amongst the ruin,
Amongst the dead.
Hear his song,
For in the end,
Only the little bird stands.
...a song of war...
paper boats Aug 2014
Hands creep up
Eyes look down
Blouses fall
Nations shout
Sit still, sit still
Through it all
Little girl,
The madness
The media
The justice
The rave
Sit still sit still
Through it all,
The politics
The disgust
The dismissal
The frowns
Sit still sit still
Through it all
little girl
sit still sit still
*Through it all
...satire
paper boats Jul 2014
Blue* is cold,
Like beauty which falls,  
Called rain.
Like the warm blanket I sleep with,
While they starve.
Blue is the colour writers write about,
When they speak of heartbreaks.
And the colour of the monsters,
Under your bed.
Blue is the red and white of the Americans,
And the Ashoka Chakra of the Indians,
The colour of the eyes of the Germans who lived,
And the colour of the tears of the Jews who lost.
Blue is the skin of the dark hued god you pray to,
And the sky he looks at,
And the sky I look at,
Blue is the fading Sun,
And the sleeping Moon,
The stars in the sky,
Which we wish upon,
Which are already dead,
Like all our dreams.
Blue is the vast ocean we can not cross,
But we have,
With our metal birds......those aren't blue.
Blue is the blood the women bleed,
And the Palestinians in Israel.
And the sleepless children fighting wars.
Blue is free health care,
And overpopulation.
Blue is religion,
And it is death.
Blue is the glazing over your eyes as you read this.
Because *blue
...isnt a colour.
Blue is not a colour.....only a word.

-Inspired by Magritte - ceci n'est pas un pipe
paper boats May 2014
Did you know,
Cigarettes taste like instant coffee,
The kind I drink at night,
When the dark keeps me awake.

And poetry feels like salvation,
Specially when it doesn't rhyme.

That headaches are the best thing that can happen to you,
When you're awake.

And sleep is a just a lie life tells you.
But you believe it,

Because it's the best ******* lie you'll ever hear.
I used to believe in only the things which made sense,
but beauty doesn't lie in the eyes of the beholder,
It lies in it's extraction from the *******.
paper boats Nov 2014
The skies trip,
As entire days sleep,
How to fulfill....
Such empty baggage?

Where are you?

Erase these moments,
Until the dust is gone....
But your scratches remain,
On my honour.
paper boats Mar 2015
Walk down a lonely road
To look at autumn leaves.
Breathing quietly
So she doesnt wake.

Cold evenings
Are for falling in love.
Letting the snowflakes knock
On her window.

Under apple trees
With her laughter in your ears.
Listen carefully
Or you wont see the sun set
In the east.

If the sky sighs
Youll see her in a drop of rain.
Chasing after clouds
While your umbrella waves goodbye.
change of seasons - sweet thing
paper boats Sep 2015
Be inspired by blinding lights,
Followed by empty roads,
Let dotted images linger behind your eyelids,
As roaring traffic competes with stale music and smoke.
The lost crickets find solace in illuminated screens,
And my youthful insomniacs wonder where the poetry went?
Some remain, holding onto their pillows,
Others are gone,
But there sobs were lost among our silence.
carpe diem
paper boats Aug 2015
Hush my love
Under beds, under beds
The dust bunnies see
Through the rugs.

The cigarette sky
Of smoke and red
Like whiskey kisses
During evening naps,
Interrupted by prose
And denial.

Until the storm ends
Your bed is warm
But my breath wont carry words
The stairs know
They let me go
And I tiptoe out of the dark.
paper boats Jun 2014
Soporific nightmare,
While I wander,
Beckons for me to follow.
Inviting cliff,
Of shattered scribe,
Dismisses my plain apparel.
Where is the escape,
If now is neither here nor there.
If then is just a dream,
Faltering in the dark.
My Nyctophobia,
Claims to be an excuse.
Residing in a subsiding sky,
In a silent ocean,
In the wings of the chrysalis,
Of my fallen butterfly.
co·thur·nus
kōˈTHərnəs/
noun
an elevated style of acting in classical tragic drama.
paper boats May 2015
Bad prose and half - dried hair.
Pants..? No.
Just a blanket,
On these unpremeditated rainy days.
With stale crackers for breakfast,
I'll start a revolution today.
Depression is a renewable resource,
Like plastic.
Earwax is made up of words,
So my heads overloaded,
calendars outdated,
Bridge, underrated
Woops
The jump didnt make it
You made the jump
Now shh
I cant hear the voices in my head.
paper boats Oct 2014
Can you hear me?
I call,
Everyday.
To you, to him, to them.
Can you hear me?
I sit here,
Everyday.
I don't have much to say.
But, will you listen,
Anyway?
You can walk away,
They always walk away.
No one ever stays.
But,
You could.
Yes, we could talk,
Yes, us.

Will you stay?

Wait!
Don't go away!
Wait.
Don't go away.

Come tomorrow.
I sit here,
Everyday.
You can listen,
To what I have to say.
I call,
Everyday.

*Can you hear me?
paper boats May 2014
How long has it been
Since the rain came?
Quiet and free
Singing songs of the wind,
Blowing through my hair,
Slurring the words,
Which wash over me,
As I lay in its embrace,
*Content
The rain washes away the tears, leaving its own in their place....
paper boats Dec 2014
I have a love whom I do not know
and when the wind blows we speak
sweet empty verses strung together
My hollow tree they seek

I do not send him kisses,
No songs are sung by birds
He does not hold me close to him
Ours is a liaison of words

His font is precarious
His emotions obscure
Soon it will fade away
Of that I can be sure
paper boats Nov 2014
I remember these roads,
But not where they lead.
This walk with no purpose wont end.
The echoes still call my name,
*The echoes still call my name.
Foma - harmless untruths
paper boats Apr 2014
i wrote a poem.
it was like our time, short, sweet
but now its over.
It was a little bit like love.....inevitable.
paper boats Aug 2014
The nights howl
Dry blood runs in still veins
Change is death
The winds decay
Their heads bent
To their masters they say
Even Iron chains break
To their masters they say
Even Iron chains break...
Valar Morghulis
paper boats Sep 2014
They bled black, and soon everybody was infected with revolution.
hok kolorob - let the voices rise...a revolutionary youth movement happening in kolkata,  look into it
paper boats Aug 2014
We grow attached to our pain,
Accustomed to our cages,
Minds of dark static,
Corrupted ephemeral ersatz.
Hating the sound of our voices,
How they betray our madness,
The image of muffled screams,
The erratic jeopardy of our thoughts.
How we fall,
Look at us
As we Sway,
Look at us.
Dont ask us why,
Because we dont know,
Dont ask us why,
Dont ask us why,
Dont ask us why,
Dont ask us why,
Dont ask us why.
..never mind the voices in your head,
they are the only thing you can be sure of...
paper boats Jan 2018
Within me is a gremlin,
Stunted and gnawed.
He fancies himself an anarchist,
Or a comedian; in the din of the night.
Within me is a gremlin,
Without is a corpse.
Know thyself
paper boats Sep 2015
Through beauty, you have spoiled me
And I run from life and death,
Hiding from foreign love.
Lest I pay for my sins,
******* in your bed,
Begging for the ropes to to cut through my acne - spotted skin.
Then in my bed,
With no arousal left to stain the sheets,
I let spill the tears,
From naive memories of the hands which touched me then.

Sonnets are post-modern confessional poetry,
And my love the subject of them all.
Like a sun,
Forgetting to light half of the moon,
Your unbuttoned shirt often slips my mind,
Slips into my mind during languid afternoons,
When I haven't quite digested my lunch,
Or your smile.

Can I leave?
But I am trapped,
The key in my pocket,
Rusting.
paper boats Aug 2018
Draw the curtains, blow out the candles,
We are shy things, harmless shy things,
Who live in quiet, quiet places,
Like the sleeping pages of a dog eared book,
Or floating in an old lover’s new perfume.
But don’t go now, listen first,
Don’t you want to know where you’ll go?
Listen, listen, listen close.

The sound of drizzle on Monday mornings,
Is the soul of a bearded man who died alone,
Waiting in a hospitable bed near the window.
And the careful drops falling from your leaky faucet,
Are elfin souls of children born too soon.
But that isn’t where you’ll go,
Listen, listen, listen close.

Every wrinkle on the hands of an arthritic woman,
Is the soul of a struggling artist
Who left without a penny to his name.
And when the sunlight filters through the leaves,
On an especially windy afternoon,
You can hear the snores of a resting Kamakazi,
Who died during some World War many decades ago.
But that isn’t where you’ll go,
Listen, listen, listen close.

In the shuffle of sheets strewn across an abandoned desk,
You might find strange numbers and words,
Scribbled down by an absent-minded professor,
Who shot himself during an experiment.
In the tiny sting of an unexpected paper cut,
You might find the letters of every forgotten word,
Like the souls of the great Greek heroes
Who lost their way to Elysium.
But that isn’t where you’ll go,
Listen, listen, listen close.

Near the restless moon on a drowsy summer night,
Before you go to bed with the blankets by your side,
You’ll hear the ‘click, click, click’ of a busy keyboard,
And in the ‘click, click, click’ you’ll find,
The coffee-drenched soul of a writer you didn’t know.
So listen, listen, listen close.
paper boats Jul 2014
The wind carries stories
listen
Chasing us through burning towns
run
The melting sunset
dusk
Swallows our thoughts
*immersed
A love letter to life
paper boats Apr 2015
While i was looking away
The wind snuck in
Through the cracks in the wall
And the calm fell out
Through the windows

Hear the crows' call
When the night sleeps.
Through the dead trees
The searches for its shadow

A little bit further
From your dreams
Is where she lies today
But not for long
Until the fear is gone
And then she slips away

*While you were looking away
Mangata ; the road like reflection of the moon in the water.
paper boats Apr 2014
Late night,
Next day,
Half - eaten chocolate bar,
Laptop screen, bright.
Eyes, red,
Headache.

Insomnia.

Dark sky,
Light stars.
Traffic light,
Empty street, trash.
Dog, dust, sweat.
Stomach.....empty.

 *Hunger
Why are you awake?
paper boats Jun 2014
Where our thoughts end.
Can you imagine it?
A place beyond which there is nothing.
Can you fathom,
Can you fathom, what you can't think.
Will you try?
That notion, that idea,
Of an end.
A false wonderland,
We can not see.
Where infinity ends.
Where I fall of the edge.
Where no one can catch us.
*..........none of us..............
A poem based on a quasi psychological and philosophical theorem I thought up while talking to a friend.

Our thoughts must end somewhere......for we can not think out of the box, since in the end, we can not think what we can not think....if we are thinking it....it isnt outside the box....if we want to think outside the box....we cant......only when you cease to think...does the box dissolve.....granting us....*nirvana*
paper boats May 2014
I have stopped wishing for snow,
And settled for rain....
paper boats Apr 2014
Fingers shake.
Scribble down one last thought.
Sigh of relief.
Lay envelope under pillow.
Eyes close.

This is a poem,
Like any other poem.
About a girl who met a boy.
Did they fall in love,
Yes,
They did.
They fell,
Like the rain.
Then,
One day,
The boy,
Smiled.
And that was that.
But,
The girl,
She couldn't forget.
She couldn't forget that smile.
And, so
She wrote to him.
A poem a day.
Everyday,
Before she slept,
Slipping them under her bed.
With each passing day,
The girl wrote a new poem.
And soon,
She became an old woman.
But,
The boy had also become old,
And, once again, he left,
Resting in peace.
When she found out.
The old woman didn't know what to do.
So,
She wrote one last poem,
And slipped it under her pillow.....

The old woman down the street had died.
Who was she?
No one came to her funeral.
Apparently, there were pieces of paper stuffed under her bed.
Its trash now.
paper boats Aug 2014
Reading poetry doesn't fill voids
We sit still in fear of falling
Dwelling in the dark
A shallow attempt at masochism
When blood doesnt suffice
...please...
paper boats Jun 2014
Slow as the thunder cries,
Fast as the rain sleeps,
Gone like the little birds,
Blowing in the breeze.
I don't have an excuse....I have a story.
paper boats Jul 2014
I haven't written in a while,
Nothing worth calling poetry.
I haven't thought in awhile,
Nothing worth calling thoughts.....
Stop questioning life, it will drive you insane.
paper boats Sep 2014
A youth
Of love and politics
Wasted on heartbreaks
Because we let the poetry slip through our fingers.
Pills you swallowed
To curb your sanity
Were only candy.
The day I remember
Was only a death
And the birth
Soon forgotten.
life.
paper boats May 2014
Starry night
Dark blissful sky
Flows from your fingertips
Encircles my words
Shaping them into pictures of you
Imprints my soul
Leads me into a beautiful trance
Whispering my name
And mesmerized
*I find solace in the moon.
From you have I been absent in the spring.....
paper boats Feb 2015
I still sit by the window,
Where the crows call.
I hear the smoke,
On windless nights,
Like a loveless kite,
Lost in the rain
Hiding behind roads
To forget its way home.

With rusted breath,
And wasted mind,
The  debts i owe
Leave ashes behind
Your stories unknown,
My stories untold.
The rest unfinished,
Collect in my pockets.
paper boats Mar 2014
Sometimes I reminisce,
With my shadow.
Sometimes I let loose,
my memories of you.

Other times,
I live.
The way you did.
The way we should.

I look,
At the sea.
And it shows me,
your smile.

I listen,
To the wind.
And it whispers,
your name.

At night,
I keep my window open.
So that I can hear you,
So that I can feel you.

I don't think of you.
I never think of you.

But sometimes...........

Sometimes, I reminisce.
paper boats Apr 2014
You won't listen.
Why?
I'm shouting....
You hear me.
But,
You don't listen.

You say little,
Its always the same.
But,
I listen,
To unspoken words.

And they slowly drive me mad.
Its what isn't said that is the loudest......
paper boats Sep 2014
Silent, solemn whispers,
Eerie, little ghosts,
Wisps of dying prayers,
Clinging to my throat.
Lying on the sidewalk,
Weaving through the blaze,
Calling to the strangers,
Forgetting petty names.
Grasping at the voices,
Clawing at the light,
Hugging deathly shadows,
Slowly going blind.
Blowing through the rumours,
Sleeping in the ash,
Falling down the secrets,
Living in the past...
*soliloquy*
paper boats Aug 2018
"And there is no cure for solitude?"
There are worse things than solitude.
"Like what?"
Company, for one.
"The cure?"
No, the affliction.
"Quite sure?"
Quite sure.
paper boats Apr 2014
You don't talk to me,
anymore.
The voice in my head,
Its gone.
My mind,
Is a bit emptier.
My desires,
feel lonelier.
My thoughts,
They seem larger,
With no one to share them with.

I,
am mine.
I am alone.

But,
You wouldn't know.

Because,

We don't talk anymore.
paper boats Apr 2015
Sometimes i think i love you only for the poems.
paper boats Jun 2014
We were never meant to be.
The poetry I wrote,
**You didn't read.
paper boats Oct 2014
Humanity's womb is barren
The music has died away
We ***** our children
Lead them astray.
Change marched through the streets
As they lay littered and free
For these corrupt eyes to see.
For these corrupt eyes to see.
How we bled for peace
And we killed for peace
But peace was power
And power was peace
How we bled for peace
And we killed for peace
*Now our blood drowns us.
-Our greatest punishment is that we crave change, and yet it is futile-
paper boats Aug 2014
Feathers dipped in red
To paint clouds,
Voices tied
Like fences with barbed wire
Eyes tainted black
To shun morning light
Camouflage night
Hands on throats, broken wings
Hollow bones under beaten skin
Angry tears, and hushed beats
Trembling hearts lie dead on streets
Cracked, and bruised
Words and beliefs
Another day
Our defeat.
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