Tuesday, August 11, 2015


Those tears will fall again tomorrow,
These words will seem hollow.
I slowly rebuilt the walls tonight,
My salty tears mending each joint.

The travesty of selfishness is beautiful,
It lunges at you every dying moment.
I have yet again kicked myself,
My drowning has been in my own concoction.

Obviously yet again caring was my folly,
But this folly is an ancient phenomenon.
How do I explain my chronic paranoia?
Is there even a solution to my life’s parabola.

These paradoxes scream at me aloud—
Aloud asking me to be my father.
The man I fathom over many instances,
Seems like the winner of my battle cases.

I don’t wish to accept those rotten conclusions,
My outlook can’t be doused with those illusions.
I have fought long and hard enough,
The end will surely be even crueler.

I am not here to judge or convince someone,
Let me hope that I learnt my lesson this once.
Yes, all my words seem dipped in negativity,
You perhaps can’t read my broken history.

Monday, August 10, 2015

Facebook status and me

Write a resolution a day in your diary,
Hath said in the past my mother dearie.
Except now that resolution is a status,
That diary galvanized into a Facebook update.

Facebook the child of an introvert,
The father of layered hidden agendas.
Brother of all misconceptions and assumptions,
Death of all that was left sincere and honest.

I declare my vanity too often here,
Horror likes and stupid comments torment my fears.
My gaze stalking over that petite blue Fuck,
Waiting for it to unzip that silly red numbered hole.

I don’t know how far I am dissolved,
Have I lost myself to the blue sea of rubbish?
I am searching for my burnt sincerity—
Sincerity or whatever is left or my true personality.

I sit amidst the same clockwork buggers,
My eyes scan through a blue flock of liars.
Do I hate Facebook like all others?
No, my friend I am yet another introvert like Zuckerberg.

Friday, August 7, 2015

I don’t love you

Care for a drink with this pennyless wordsmith?
Only if shaken not stirred with your heart.
I guffawed with my giant inhibitions,
You giggled with small proclamations.

Yes, it was more beautiful than a Fitzgerald novel,
Yet that was about the most novel part of all.
You stifled my voice, you crushed my emotions,
Yes, you devised my mental castration.

My misery was not for you to judge,
The history had clearly not taught you much.
Your arrogance created a fog of falsehood,
I did not identify anymore the gentle womanhood.

I don’t hate you like those before,
Maybe repetition has calmed me down more.
I strum my fungusful guitar, I stroke my broken piano keys,
No, I am not writing a melody but your forsaken eulogy.

Damn! You for all those years of mine,
Curse you for not showing your true spine.
You had no right to leave me so early,
The promise was to be together in even a death so grisly. 

Thursday, August 6, 2015

Mistress of Traffic

O! Cacophonic beauty of mine,
You dish it out in line.
Chaos amok from 0800 to 2100,
Peace galore for the rest of the period.

The searing halogens kill my eyes,
Rumbling honks crackling in the eardrums.
Yet, when I stand where the moon shines,
There lies the proof of life.

When I lie in your arms,
You caress me with heat and dust.
Your gaze reflects a million abrupt faces—
Faces irritated with the monotony of their days.

You hold my hand and show me a thousand stories,
There sits a peaceful pawnbroker, there lies a hungry beggar.
On Friday nights you show me those drowning sorrows,
And on Monday mornings those looking for blessings to borrow.

You adorn yourself with foolish lights,
The shrieking horns feeding your gargantuan diet.
Man whores around in your filthy roads—
Roads moving away from his goals.

Yet there will be those who shun you,
And oh! Yes certainly those who bend before.
But keep that free beggar in mind; keep that peaceful broker in tow,
There will rise a cure to your disease.

Who am I? You might cheekily wonder,
Yes, darling I am your biggest blunder.
I am that silent voice of hope in me,
My will has not yet broken in front of thee.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

My dear friend Larry

Hello Larry! My name is silence--
Silence, yes call me that for now.
I wish for us to be exclusive
But let's draw first the veil of anonymity.

I will juggle this puzzle for you,
Swing those volatile memories for us.
Hold your hand below that memory stream,
Tell me does friendship flow within.

Why did you tell me about possibility?
When all I could feel was your deniability.
Why serenade me with those motion pictures?
When friendship was nothing but a pit-stop for us.

Does the pain writhe in your conscience?
Has guilt yet skittled through the memories?
Of course not! It is after all just time--
Time yet another bigoted dimension of irony.

May I tell you of my painful seconds?
No, you probably ran away minutes ago.
Oh wait! You didn't know that I was blind,
That I am the wandering silent poet.

For you, this poet is lunatic hazy,
For me I am a lot of cacophony.
My words need to find the beach, Larry--
Larry, the ocean has pulled me too far from everybody.