I know you.
You remind me of forts and castles,
Noisy yet still, stern yet emotions leap down your walls.
You remind me of how these masonries aesthetically hold themselves throughout the chaos of thunder and storm.
How thousands patter on your mild floor with grams of pearls and kilograms of rocks but you still balance your mass of significance.
How blotches, stains and criticisms get scripted on your marble but you still stand high yet grounded, tough yet soft.
How fingers walk through your edges and nooks to endorse in your beauty yet your beauty remains confined to you.
How you’ve kept your doors opened for the world yet you have so many passages still unknown,
still in dark.
How despite of all broils and wars, you keep your dignity safe and sound.
You remind me of forts and castles which the world counts under its Wonders.
I know you.
How those curtains of lashes fall on the theatre,
Bringing forth elegance.
How the folds of skin lay down in grace like a bride at her wedding day.
How kohl impregnates it’s peripheries biding
an inevitable truth.
How glamour streams through the surface, sparkling through splintering walls
and towering debris.
How the potion of fluid piled at its nook, slouches you away,
intoxicates you a little more than a drug does.
How deep you dig yourself into the boundedly unbounded pupil dipped in colours,
painting a world that dwells between your fingers, coils around your toes, sniffs at your chest and resides in your soul.
Synopsis: While riding on a road, I encountered little spirits with tanned skins and bleak bodies sheathed in layers of hunger, wrapping themselves around people like You and Me.
When the spectrum of sun
it gleams all his
undernourished scars carved
out of savagery.
When the horns of motors
it jolts him away,
depriving him of the only precipitates
When the layer of coal
beneath his naked feet
his subtle skin burns out agony
and heals in mourn.
When his belly grumbles
and yelps with no sign
of a baked or just a withered bread,
it floods him with slurry
flowing all through the scraped areas
of his fatigued spirit.
When the glass painted windows
glare at his most
it tosses him off with denials
to jostle amid the poor wealth of high stratums and patter
the glasses of inhumans.
When the civilisations rest in blur,
he lurches and crawls,snaking his way
to the corners of ashes pitched
in bins, yearning
to smell the outdated fodder.
When the buildings stand
stiff and sturdy,
he lurks in the basement,
half- draped in his torn ripped
piece of cloth and
shuts his red- puffed eyes
still craving to earn
Whoa! Imagine, You’ve accomplished all the desires in the cradle of success. you are just standing at the pinnacle but you realise you are not happy.
Everytime you pass by, applauds carpet your way but it’s still incomplete as if the puzzle of your body still lacks the mid-block.
You’ve got a life but you aren’t alive.With the utmost luxuries of a life, you are deprived of contentment.
THE UNFAMILIAR DESOLATION
I’m stuck, breathing to break the chain of solitude amidst the jam of officials.
Crease ripples my face just when the brimming prickly tiles slam my visuals.
I’m stuck, between the contractions and rarefactions that grow just when a metal spoon falls off the china dish.
Sensation muddles in my veins just when my leathered shoe echoes in the furniture-filled evacuated mansion.
I’m stuck, under the weight of the antipodal expressions, rushing; dodging; creating a havoc perhaps turning me feeble.
My soul thumps heavier with every gulp just when the mild cotton stuffed curtains shadow the dawn and intensify the dusk.
I’m stuck, while tossing and turning over the cosy-frosted mattress, sorting my baffled interiors.
Below sherbets and between the barbies
lingered in me, a mashed paper.
Scribbled in it , were cursive words ,
beautiful but messed in chaos.
Among the lits of lamps and sugar of candies,
the first time these lil kid’s entrenched words faded the lit
and bittered the sugar.
On my wooden body, the clammy sheet developed goosebumps and a
loss of vigour.
‘walking down an aisle
with heads down.
Oh I see my golden crown
The optimist lenses no more matches eye maa.
The dancing feet shivers maa.
I fear their dusty hands.
I fear their smutty clans.
I fear their laughter maa.
I fear them, more than I love gobstoppers maa.’
~ cried the crushed paper waiting for the sulk of fear to reach maa.
She was an angel said her twinkling eyeball.
She was a blessing exhibited her face not less than a luminous fireball.
A baby doll who held a doll.
A girl who played football.
A Teen with curly blonde strikes on her back that used to fall.
A lady she was now, ordered and restricted to cook and clean within the wall.
They couldn’t accept her, dancing in rainfall.
They couldn’t accept her eating at a road-side stall.
They couldn’t accept her doing party and drinking alcohol.
They couldn’t accept her watching movies and strolling in a shopping mall.
She had the playlist that they never chose,
She had the lyrics that she did not disclose.
Only she could do was to scroll the troll,
Only she had, were the memories to recall.
She is the same but their expectations changed.
She is still the angel with twinkling eyeball, she is still a blessing with the face not less than a luminous fireball :”)
Against the wind , I fly
Tolerating the ashes, slapped by the bushes i step, I try.
Lifting up lids to the showering blossoms than being annoyed by the sad sulked autumn leaves, I try.
Up the hill ; down the road i crawl like a baby but being unstoppable, I try.
On the zigzag curved path ways like a roller coaster I swing but with the strengthened nerves, I try.
Unable to flip my arms through the sea inhaling exhaling in and out the water,
I with determined vibe try.
My straight posed stoned body walks on the undying limitless sun lit way with an enduring promise ‘ deny to cry ‘ :’))