Posted in darkness, emotions, expressions, HOPE, life, poetry on life, poetry on love

Strange Uncertainty

There are times when one feels to present to be a constant companion..

The familiar reality one lives in.. one shall live on in the same greys and greens…

As though there is nowhere else this framed moment can trample into..

The people.. most of all the friends and foes shall last..

But may I tell u… that even in the most heartening moments..there lurks a fear…

A fear that all there is will be gone.. a newness might forge way..

The beautiful bonds might just never be…

The threads intertwined in so unruly a manner..

It might just run aloof to another pinch of soul..

I might never matter to these beings in moments of reality however afar from now..

Meek a luck of fate.. one might come along with another in a journey far along..

Yet.. the fear engulfs me… for I so entrust those in my realm with powers as such to bewitch my heart…

The fear I never will be in their line of framed moments as though I never was…

Shall I loose you my friends…? Shall you be in lands afar in flesh and mind…

As we wade in the direction of that where we can grab something more…

Is the now never enough for thy heart and souls..

Are you not bound by my love to these moments as I am..

For I feel and fear far too deeply.. that specks of moments will cease to exist..

As we dig and grapple and fly to to the far west.. in search of smiles more beautiful..

Gold more enamored.. ambience more wholesome a feast …

Time and fortitudes take so much away from us..

When the waves wither away the silver and bronze and gold is squandered away in the tides…

In flesh when are left only your thoughts and you..

Will you find me in flesh???

Will I be by your side?? Will our hands will intertwined..?

Tides have a pattern.. Waves resonate in their own manner

And all that is in life along the shore or in the ocean seem to be fiddled with…

Like an incomplete pattern.. that never resonates..

Destiny can beaten.. only if thy wills to dream it..

Can thee beat this conundrum and does thee will to?

Strange uncertainty is a dreadful destiny.. a world might exist where I cease to in urs.. and cease to in all..

Posted in life

Rumblings of the mind.

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Mind is a nervous bulletin of preoccupations..

Hitchhiking onto travelling moments..

Yet fumbling backwards as though  spiraling almost unhinged…

A tyrannical pull, bending thee inwards and through the folds and traps..

what hinges thee?

A reverberation of remembrance..

The good.. a desire fore more rising.. The worse.a fear flowing through thy veins…

Profound moments that destined your spot at this instant in time..


Who is within you? Who have you absorbed into your self? And who has sunk within you?

The one you Hated? The one you loved.. are you still you? Whose threads weave and layer your soul?

Is your smile still your own? And is your life your own?

Do you still know the same reasons for your birth as you did yesterday?

As you did then? Just before the callous wind lost you in another spiraling realm..

And the roots do they still feed your conscience?

Who are you now? Are you there within your own holding..

Or have the ways lost you whilst you strolled the directions you did..


What do you see ahead? A narrow path.. fenced with the darkest trees… ghosts of today peering then at thee.

A path leading to a loftier side spanning into another dusty hallway.. You have arrived nowhere..

A life encumbered by thy own worthless ambitions..

Have you decided your worth in future yet?

And did you weigh it on the scales you stands…at that spot you stand on today.

Have you weighed it against the you of today?

Where to shall thou traverse? To find a comfort in the eyes of another?

To face a flowery self.. that ain’t you now? Or is it?

To buy yourself another fictitious deal filled with hope and ambition..

Is there a lord that frowns upon thee today?

Is there a lord that cups your destiny in a follicle..

Whats the belief you are hinging on to?

The posterior of time or a hook beneath you knee?

Does thee even have a choice.. A friend said one always has a choice..

But does one? Endowed and encapsulated by self within the helical shell of  freedom given to time..

Where are you and who are you? Spanned across the shell?


Rumbles the mind.. Hitchhiking onto the passing moments.

Posted in life

All that Slips Away

That feeling of all moments..the  bonds that bound you to your life.. slipping away..

That feeling of all old, now obsolete and memories rendered unmemorable…

The hand that rested around thy shoulder now dusting away thy touch…

The quips that forged a slung smile on time passed..

And the heartfelt closeness..

These are now no more smuggled for you…

How does thee feel?


Would you like a peek in the mind of the lad who yearns for the love to come back?

To feel the smile gush into the mind at the sight of a dear friend..

The cushioning love.. that blossomed as palms clasped.. Fingers intertwined..

Or not.. yet.. the pleasing.. solace of thy friends presence…

The desire to be wanted in both hearts now slips down..hangs hither tither..

Like a thread, a string that lays loose with not a knotted heart to tie to..


Ohh.. the blank space filled with spilling notions of what is.. could be and was.. but never became..

Can hope pry the lad and the lass away from the gaping vacuum that grips the heart in a numbing clasp…

And pours in.. enclosing the window to the world..

The reality is shuttered and squandered inwards into the space.. the space where none belong..

Now.. the mutters and giggles that pass, no more fostering a pleasure once felt..


Why oh why.. do hearts change… why oh why.. does mind flicker and flutter away to anew enclosures ..

Smile at passing friends and faeries.. But not the friend whose hand thee held in splintering pain and dawning happiness..

Does the old enclosure.. no more warrant a warmth?

Do the hearts not fawn a lingering symphony together, dribbling on the mounts of memory…

Does love and friendship not deserve a chance to renew its old ways?

A heart deserves a reflection in another… May not a friend free thee?

Avenge the space …the growling darkness of all that slips away..

Revive an old flame kneading a desire to feel the warmth of thy clasp once again..of belonging once again.



Posted in life

Let the shadow grow stubborn 

Sometimes in life we have no one to turn to….

None to talk with..

It’s almost as if people have forgotten of thy existence..

That’s the honest thought of a wanderer..
It is true. And the blurring of your own reflection in the eyes of others..

Sometimes humans claiming to be the closest will never know your pain ..

Maybe they will never even peek in to know …

Or desire to even know thy pain.. which is even worse…

Who can one turn to then..
It’s a dangerous game.. to be playing hide and seek with the thoughts in your own mind.. 

To be lost within and answering your questions and knocking on your own door..

No one answers.. you are still hidden between the darkest demons.. 

Who could possibly draw you out??
What could blow wind into the light..

Let the shadow not mingle into darkness..

Draw out the blurring reflection of the being unto the stiff stubborn shadow..

The inner mind.. the self into light..
It ain’t a task for the faint hearted… the ones who know not of acceptance..

The closest ones who run from pain…

The only way to survive pain is to feel it.. 

Feel it in the shadow of the other…

Like the tree favoring thee as the scorching sun pours over thy skin…

What could one loose by grasping the hand.. 

Listening to to ..believe and  drench in another’s words for a stretched while..

Let his shadow grow stubborn to wander homewards.. beneath the riding sun.

Posted in amibiguity, answers, blogging, change, emotions, expressions, feminism, HOPE, humanity, Hypocricy, life, mindset, Moralizing, poetry, poetry on life, questions, society, strength, struggle, the mind, time

Triumph over self.. 

The parchment and the blank space shall absorb all my postulated negativity..

And the smears of hope… Maybe it shall sing me a new song..anew answer..

With such an endeavoring wish tucked in my self.. Proceed I..

And smother I, it with my blunt words and purposeless thoughts..


Have I everything I need? And what is it I need and for what?

Have the people I love been cajoled yet? Cajoled by the time spent to stay on..

Why is acceptance a need, a need- so very binding?

Oh my… what if she gets what could be mine…

what if he takes away the spoon that could be mine..

To what end must it serve? to what end does need serve?

To need is to survive and to survive is to need, ain’t it?

Is what I own in me.. a shadow of what the other own?

Ought I to be better and different?


Is my ego to be grow on hedges and fence my crisscross ways?

Or must it slumber below..knead itself?

Has my own shadow darkened by heart?

Must my reflection in the eyes of the world be firmer…

Be colored in ways my self has not encapsulated…

Am I to be a master of my ego.. Or am I to be a servant?

To master it, ain’t it the same as to serve it?

Must I hide my faults.. must I smuggle the protruding black jewels into a dark corner..

Or must I smack it with laughter..


Why is beauty so well carved by symmetrical terms..

by eyes serving the proposed norms…

why is beauty such a need.. why is beauty so well sculpted in forms so well pruned.

Why must my beauty be compared and scripted and marked..

why must I serve a servitude to these very engraved thoughts…

To needs.. to pertinence with this humming civilization..


To be free from self.. free from want.. from desire…

Ohh how freeing.. how embezzling is the thought of

“triumph over self”..

Ohhh..But how ensnaring to be turning in this cocoon of self..


but to reach no purposeful end.. desiring to be free from self.. and yet reaching nowhere..





Posted in amibiguity, emotions, expressions, HOPE, INNOCENCE, life, light, living, lost, love, memories, mindset, poetry on life, poetry on love, questions, silence, souls, strength, struggle, the mind, time

Crookedly Woven Thoughts

Image result for wars within THE MIND AND HEART

Where must the mind land? Where must it traverse to?

It must speak for itself to rise and draw on the versatile goodness of fate…

It wishes to grapple in the light just as it does in the dark..

Must it bow, must it be, must it take flight? And in direction ??

Now it speaks a mingled concoction of crookedly woven thoughts..



Ain’t there enough food on the streets to feed this epidemic of scarcity?

Ain’t there enough love in your heart to heal all the hurt?

Ain’t there enough dust settling on the blood to awaken the heartless with its stench?



There are ghastly streets, rotten drunkards, thirsty for more,

There is enough monsterity to hope for a shower of hailing empathy..

A desperate need to be rescued from depths of such self destruction..



Was man born only to rinse swords in tears..

Do those who suffer only remember of the ways to inflict?

The wars of despondency, a continuum of repulsive deeds ,

As human strides round and beneath..away from its naive beginning..

Representing the darkness mounted beneath the sheath of our existence..



For words to leave the bindings and reveal the intentions of the mind..

The heart must pace with the subtly settling, unknowingly induced pain..

Settling pain is unsettling, unnerving, ain’t it?



In wars, how must the heart clamber out to help itself?


Is life a war?  In ways it strives to derive the worth of time..

An urgency to grope for what is and isn’t yours,

What exists, just tumbling and rising on pillars of man’s uncertain designs..

A struggle to win hearts.. A struggle pacify the reflections in others..

A desire to be owned , A desire to own..

The wry ways of this human embodiment..

Darn the pain.. Darn the seemingly sodden truth..



Must I say something nice? I shall..

Heart must clot its wounds…

The man, must keep on keepin on..

And the light shall reach you as it stretches across to save us all..

Maybe there is love, hidden at the corners of your eye..

Maybe there is love, trembling to be undone on the ridge of your lids..

Maybe there is love in the hearts of the diseased.. maybe it will be find the hope..

And we shall smile in unison.. as plainly as the child does.. without reason..

In supple ways, maybe light will find all of us.

Posted in amibiguity, answers, art, blogging, courage, darkness, DREAMS, emotions, expressions, freedom, fun, HOPE, life, living, loss, love, love oneself, memories, poetry, poetry on life, poetry on love, soul, strength, struggle, the mind

Etching On.


Etching Patterns of thoughts on the papyrus of our mundane lives..

Designs we croon into the ear of our twin incarnation..

Curved stretches curbing across the mounts..the will, the wish..

Binding with the harsh breath..mellow at times.. juggling at times..

Strolling across to plot a breathless life..


Stumble over potholes dug by our own soles, Hasn’t thee rolled over, traced back, and strutted along then?

Yet the path of etched drawls back and forth scuttering on..

Inking on.. smug.. or giggly.. dreadful or greedy.. smiling through the blots of ink..

In hope in faith.. for trusting to be bound by fate.. we etch on..


A kind samaritan spinning the fate.. whispering incantations to string fate to wish..

A mildly fulfilled soul springs along.. sketching butterflies..

And yet then. droplets of pain blotch the ink just along the curve..


Words lack depth one might say.. as the heart fails to siphon strings of syllables

Wishing to only tell stories of memorable cons, fortitudes.. innocence and love..

How often has thy samaritan hidden in the cave of doubt?

How often does thee ponder of ways to escape the designs?

Trapped in thy own breath, memories and desires..?


Or did the benign fisherman row thee  across?

I think he did.. didn’t he?

Anew bridge..anew sketch..

Anew binding of faith and thee etches on..


P.S- Random thoughts, random sketch as I try to drown myself in something mundane.




Posted in life

May Innocence salvage thee.

What can smuggle you across the shores of bitterness?

What can save thee from retreating in the dungeons of your self loathing?

What has shoveled self loathing into thy heart?

Who has? Friend or foe?

Why those angles of view are so primly defined as beauty?

Why the obsession over one beauty….?

As it shadows, dulls beauty of much more?

Why one beauty is so loved and the other so ignored in a manner so narcissistic?

Why the layers of forms and norms… texture and light only portrayed as mausoleums  of beauty.. 

None are though to do with depth.. none to do with her airs.. none to do with tugs of heart..

All engulfed in the nuisances of a well designed beauty..

The ensemble of emotions…crushed paper of words..

All crushed and torn… crumpled in the disguised lump of memories..

Neither is valued.. the true self nor the earnestly showered love..

Where is the reality?

Where is the love for love?

Where are the forms of gratitude?

How did beauty in this world born from womb .. dissolve into such frail existence…

Where is the child in you?

Where is the child in me?

What can smuggle you across the shores of blind indulgence and bitterness?

Innocence… it can save thee as it can save me…

May it rescue of our kind from drowning the self in the untrue designs..

May innocence salvage thee in its own womb..

Posted in life

Trysts with betrayal..

Dreams fade away..

Repressed beneath the cocaine like pain..

Pain from the trysts with betrayal..

Lines of fate branched into multiple stinging paths..

Which one would you choose?


When Dreams have faded.. path has been fenced with loneliness..

Friends you once thought forever…

Are waiting to loose you..

Ohh..The ways love’s betrayal swaddles thee…

Words once muttered in earnest…

Were only junctions in the web of distrust..


Camouflage muttered, instincts altered…

Only to save their day trampling on thy sorrows..

Foreboding thee to feel..

Negligence of thy states of being..

As though thee was a bothersome morsel loitering in  the corners of their presence..

They make you scream inwards… these friends..

I hope thy path never crosses with one of them..

Posted in life

Each one has a story to tell…

Each one has a story to tell… Aaah, such an unremarkable and a predictable beginning to a write up, ain’t it? But you see, its true even the simplest lives have innumerable of ways of depicting themselves. The simplest lives, the most monotonous one..the most monochromatic one could have elements that in conjuncture develop into a phenomena that can be more a complicated one . Or, maybe its perception is so ordinary that we beings who are awake only in a way would hardly notice.

Every story has an ache attached to it. Each story- a contracting and expanding plane, plane of time and memory.

Such pictures painted in red and maroon, highlights of paleness, violence lingering, dominating, a net of undesirable desires, a multitude of rare fortitude and neglected battles, ignored bruises. Hardly an ache without beauty of such sullen pain, beauty of hopeful eyes, nurtured heart, innocence braving, a survival of beauty through it all…

Some find a good ear, an attentive mind to listen, some crawl neglected in the caves of their own loneliness. Story teller, writers, weavers who knit stories for the keen eyed, mild-hearted, Imaginative minded beings. Aren’t they all, aren’t all the beings a little desperate to tell their story? Some tell yours, some tell their own.. yet a part of them explained through it, strewn across the pages, wandering with palms outstretched…leaning to draw you in..embezzling you in to feel them, feel their life…fight the wars they do -with them… see them in those words, in those colors..

The people in their stories.. have a epilogue and preface of their own.. might you heed their emoting eyes, actions and words.. might another story be told about them… For none deserves to disappear without a mark..

Each one hopes for thy own story to be heard… even the observer, the detached objective being, wants to reach you… if only you as a human could promise to hear him… accept him… fear not what you know not… simply feel as you must..

Hope the stories are heard.. hope the aches subside.. hope thy own.. as my own words, thy friends as my friend’s stories reaches thee.. and you listen.. listen with eyes,mind and heart.