Long Subdued

Rusty, windy, fallen out of line,

it had been a very long time,

recollecting back from scarp ,

trying to get everything back in my grasp.

Wondering, thinking , passion restored or just a faint outburst,

is it those one of those eye blinding moments,

or am I really craving again for the thirst,

pitching every word just in line to bind those shimmery ornaments.

Cradled by the on goings in the life,

was unfazed by the ornaments i had left to be woven,

frozen , still, yet so dynamic life had strived,

that i had left the doors for sorrow open.

Had to come out of the cobwebs,

build slowly and gradually steps for the life I had lead ,

find an entry for the exit i had longed for,

could see the light at the end of the tunnel and I fled.

Here I am back again, same old story,

yet with a different and composed version of present,

because the past led to many paths and rest was history,

tarnished and shining everything around was pleasant

Warmth

moonlight walk, slow steps , the sands falling beneath your feet,
but the thought in your mind keep on going steep,
life had taken a turn , widened,
it worked like a machine lost its pulleys and was unstrapped,

only light left at the time was the moon,
you wish you could end this all so soon,
parked the wheels outside the cage,
still you couldnt let go of that deep embedded rage,

Never so desperate in life for certain answers,
wish could unravel the mirror beneath the sheet of sand,
no energy left for to blow the sand,
come take a walk with me , hold my hand

Blew the wind uncovered from the ever so hardened dust,
the only i was searching for with that charming lust,
wish could lay in those palms, the lap and stare at the moon,
you showed me life, gave me reason, to come out of that cocoon.

Feedback

Do you often travel that high,

one that you feel when you touch the skies,

where you can touch yourself and you dont feel anything,

from the height, all those known earthly objects turn out to be something

proven true in the open, the feel of gravity,

it automatically turns yourself to the undisclosed brevity,

"please fasten your seat belts" as it may not be safe,

they give you a feeling as if the next thing you will land up in your grave

the wingspans piercing those surreal and heavy clouds,

it feels like the wings are covered with never so ending shroud,

briefly detailed the mystiques of the driver of the bird

he is just another mortal battling in that flock of herds

fast paced, tight laced, slim caged, the journey is short,

there hasn't been much ending without being flawed,

once you cover the wings with the burden of those heavy emotions,

you will end up living your life with nothing but desperate situations...

7th Symphony

^{7 th Symphony}

Wandering into the mist of loneliness,

The loneliness of the desperation,

Slowly crawls into my skin deep into the wounds.

I wonder in the wander, passion, pain of fire,

Picture this I won’t last till the end.

Shed it off, burn it off, rip it off,

Uncover yourself from the fascist face of life.

Cold yet it may seem, you are still lost,

Keep on pressing the button, the ice machine is still cold,

Seven life, and the satisfaction you crave for,

Are you living it up to the dream you were born for,

Suck it in, deep within, those worms will eat you,

And at the end you will desire to burn out yourself.

Definitive Destiny

Definitive Destiny

Roamed, rode the road before, with the same air around,

Grouped with the same feeling but the journey this time was straight and found,

Fiery and feisty was the path that led to the shine,

I was on the path until I saw a shrine.

Met a man, without a name, with his head covered with snow,

I kept on wondering as to why he was carrying a glow.

Lived in the shrine around that holy road,

So far away from the rest that along many miles no one could be heard.

Took my time and stayed at the shrine for the night,

Unknown to what was there under his mighty plight,

Brought on to the table, the book, along with his pipe,

Kept a piece of bread, and sat along with his dignity and pride.

Picture this, old rusted, dusty, worned off,

Book was heavy but it carried a strange light.

Turned the page and found out was carrying my name,

With every single page carried my glory and fame,

Stored and lost in those pages, wandered,

Who was this old man, and what is this shrine I started to wonder.

Moved on to every page and found out the turn of events,

Till I reach the page which told about the old man , his shrine and waited for a further advent,

The pages were blank, fresh , waiting to be written,

Confused and bound, I must be mistaken.

The old man stood up, gave me keys and said,

‘I m the One, who doesn’t belong here,

I write the rules, those which I never share’.

For it was time to march forward,

Because he had to write what I was supposed to do and moved on.

Returned back on the same old road to find a sign,

“He was never here”

Carrying a smile, Roamed, rode the road before, with the same air around,

Chapter 8

Re Birth

A lot of time has passed, things have moved on,

My relapse has ended, and now I am heading to a start on my own,

Dewy leaves and fresh faces feel like I am back,

I was long that now I have to come out of my knap sack.

It took me long, a very long time to get back to were I was before,

I couldn’t imagine myself standing alone on the lonely sea shore,

Now that the smile I left is back to fill that cleft,

The emotions have gone that I had and I never slept.

He had plans for me, that involved the trip which condemned for long,

Still I keep a good attitude and sing that song,

My words still pour those left over feelings,

That won’t ever go beyond the ceiling.

The sweet journey had all the shares of fun and sorrows,

I’ll look at your face forever and for today and tomorrow,

I could help you the way you wanted,

All I can say is that it was the time we were granted.

“Never give a heart to the person whom you love,

Love the person who can give you his/her heart”

Chapter 4

Move On

A week has gone by; I have learned to fly on,

The mark of the coffee cup on the table has yet to dry,

And I feel happy, that for this week I haven’t cried,

Good times started rolling, and it’s time to march on.

Past was past how surreal and bizarre it may appear,

Yet for the time I spent, those was the golden moments,

Frozen by the history of these so called mysteries,

I call it the hysteria of the your utopic delusions.

I am now entering the phase where I’d have to be left alone,

Alone and free from you, and all sorts of yours memories,

I’d like to erase all kind of your inconceivable memories,

Burned the cigarette just like those memories of yours.

And at the end, I realised, you were not the only one,

But still my heart weeps for you, for the so long journey,

The journey of that demystified long lost files,

Where I learnt to raise my toast and legalise those long lost files.

Chapter 2 - Aftermath

Time to magnify my horizons, search for clues,

It’s now time I find right feet for those shoes,

Been lost for so long, that people call me sulky,

Move and shake on, stop making your heart bulky.

Yes, it hurts to revert back from those moments,

But now I have to realise they were futile ornaments,

Invested heavily in them, those turned out to be false,

I’ll probably wait for some one to come, certainly when the heaven calls.

Time for the windmills to churn the wheat again,

The sunflower to bend towards the sun again,

Let the dragonflies raze over the fields,

I’ll write these poems and they will be my shield.

Even if I stood a chance,

It was too late just to give a chance,

I’m now a free bird, from those overgrown,

Overgrown premature yet so soft memories of hers.

Dementia

Wrote a series of poems in forms of chapters titled Dementia.

Chapter 1

Over & Out

A thousand forces couldn’t break those chains
It could have been worse if I tried to refrain
One night, few seconds, few words
And it all came down crashing on me

My cards fell, and everything was lost,
It was just like the refrigerator had defrost,
The water left was too cold to touch over,
I was rattled by the events and their reasons.

Now that I know where I stand
I’ll always keep myself chained to the ground,
It will be over soon, I’ll have to refrain,
Find another reason and came out of the exile.

Won’t ever go back to the phase I was called,
I’ll keep my records in those long lost files,
And pray to heavens, thought of ‘IT’ will always make me smile
I vent out my anger & sorrows, through these poems, but I won’t ever cry.

Bleached Soul

Jump, hop, slip out from that narrow hole,
those never ending dried up basement vents,
cracks and vents blow the steam out of you,
the drugs help them to widen there horizons.

Lost control to the steering wheel,
eyes were red shot and blood gushed furiously,
the white powder, a gazeless stare, million thought,
endless instincts but the small brain.

Destination is far away, the route is wide,
fuel is full, the tyres are empty, no air,
shaken stirred took on the wheels with a flair,
With the bold step he took he felt a new divide.

High, from life, from the pages he left behind swirling,
embarking upon a new voyage, full of twisted empty barrels,
got many blind and countless stares down the road he took,
but with one mission in his mind all these surplus he clung on to the hook.

With the sun overhead and the screeching of those empty tyres,
made sure he never lost control of the handle,
his mojo was way above the level to wrangle,
his feet touched the ground and leveled the air above his head.

Marching Orders

Marching ants, vibrant sunflowers, flowing waves of birds,
everything was not so complex as a flock of herds,
life was never that easy as it is hasty,
the flow of events turned out to be nasty.

Spilled coffee on the teak,
life was flowing at its maximum peak,
movement of every single entity around me,
could feel the flow of every drop of blood gushing through thee.

Burst car tyres, bent rim, shattered glasses,
life flashed in front of me in few moments,
mind has lost its synchronisation with the brain,
things have slowly started flowing down the drain.

Teardrops, like the perennial raindrops was a sight,
life was turning , running like a turbulent flight,
dropped the coffee mug, shattered , scattered,
kept everything, every second of the spent life aside.

Marched forward away from the abnormalities of those formalities,
far away in those jungles high above without any tragedies,
the smile was back in those peaceful surroundings,
missing was NOW the hustle bustle tangled boundings.

End was near, not yet close but not so far either,
torn clothes were better than the ripped soul I had,
puzzle was complete so was the destiny's marching orders,
it could have been easy if those sane moments could've been pondered.

"Mortals block their emotions in such a way as,
Birds flock their feathers in a motion."
--Nishant (19/01/11)