poetry on love

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.

Categories: 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 | 2 Comments

Etching On.

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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 fate..as thee etches on..

 

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

 

 

 

Categories: 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 | Tags: , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Wars we fight

Who dwells in their own head?

I do.. I do..

I live there with a man of dispiriting affections..

Broth of hatred.. froth of nonchalant love..

Rebelling against my rationale.. Again which is mine and which is his?

Life seems spent at war with love…

Moving on…

Which emotion is not to be felt?

I ain’t following a parchment of archaic laws…

Written and misspelled by all engrossed in a deep desperation of a kind..

Desire to be remembered… desire to be embraced.. Desire to be discovered..

Desire to be designed upon.. embarked into.. a journey from soul into a another..

Desire to appraised with condiments… tokens from one soul to another..

Who… which monk.. which teacher.. which bud..which man or women…

Can surpass the need to live.. need to be, to find which has not been found within..

And the need to feign control..

To him who I love.. who I have loved.. I can love..

I have found not the meaning of it..

I will always bless thee… find thee in my memories… search for thy love..

I hope.. this day.. the gulf of resentment has cleansed as much as it has left my heart..

Apologies I render.. and hope I shall find thee again.. in life.. in love.. in my heart..

.

And the man who fights with rationale.. in my head..shall always loose..

For rationale.. feigns control..

An incomplete drama of scribbled words.. this shall be..

For none can unfold the unrest of love and desires..

The conundrum of what to be.. who to be.. to succumb..

Or to succumb again.. just, to which…. ?

Categories: amibiguity, answers, DREAMS, emotions, expressions, life, love, poetry on life, poetry on love, silence, struggle, the mind | 5 Comments

Random… Pride..self.. love?the fever.

The burden we call love could easily be hate..

The need to be needed.. the want to be wanted..

The fetal position of the grieving soul..

The penchant for ownership of the soul..

Too weary to follow.. too old to know where it is to be.. where it is to summon itself, to its home?

 

The haughty madam beneath the simpleton..Prays to avenge her pride..

Ain’t she a felon herself?

The girl who pounced in her father’s arms..prays to be set free..

The laughter that kindled her eyes.. the soft lines of nifty smile..

Muffled and ironed beneath the pains of frightful wars fought in her heart…

 

In the end when bones brittle crumple.. and flesh melts..

The hearts surge with combative pain..

Left are two souls lost.. facing  walls grounded on either sides..

The mirror reflecting the ugliness of it all..

In thy own eyes.. the glass shows black..

Pride is harrowing in the pits its own dungeons..

 

Ohh.. the  depths of ditches we dive into..

The sins we commit in the name of love..

Sinful of hateful acts towards self.. and then towards the other..

What is love but a roped..tangled path..

Curious pull.. one strolls and then the moments dribble away..

One is siphoned..tipsy into another Moonlit forest.. another home…

Aren’t you lost yet?

 

Where do you turn when the bridges you built are trampled upon..

Fallen beneath the sea of distance…

When human made altercations.. distractions..  steal the good.. gnarl it from your grasp..

Turn away from home.. to find that you have none..

And only the dungeons and pits.. fraught with felons of your heart..

Where shall you find your freedom now?

Who shall row you back to the haven you once knew?

How shall thee save thyself from distraught nature of thy heart?

Where shall thee find thy home.. thy solace and salvation?

 

 

 

 

 

Categories: amibiguity, crazy, darkness, emotions, expressions, life, loss, lost, love, memories, poetry, poetry on love | 3 Comments

Oh Shush Shush

A piercing splinter tears apart the soul’s periphery.

I ponder; did a cane pass through dragging, leave behind what it wouldn’t miss?

Or a rose placed artfully on the soul grow on its thorn, It was plucked leaving behind the prickly bit..

It’s such a blur; it won’t stall for a moment of retrospect or introspect,

Breath is the wind blowing the wretched splinter in circles, a horrendous stormy weather,

It leaves thy home in a pile of powdery remains, clustered fragments of curtained images…

It leaves thy inner child panting and wheezing, clutching in places,

Colored in red-brown dust, the color of eyes, the color of blood,

 A darting arrow from the eyes of the strangest stranger splits it open..

The color of the red syrup slurps through the tear, The wound is to be dug deeper before healed..

The heart is to die again..and again and again.. 

In penance for the acts of desperation; Death of the heart is necessary,

Pain is an addiction, It traps your breath, But you are left feeling alive, just alive is the real alive;

It is audaciously exchanged for the empty vastness, where one is not in the desert, but beneath it..

 

Oh shush shush, silence the sounds of the restless breaths,

 And the splinter shall stall for a moment of freedom and rest,

Raise thy torrid eye, look into the sky,

Watch the clouds afloat, row through still air, silent breeze;

 Watch the sky crack to reveal a bluer stillness,  

Oh shush shush..

Breeze flows on the tracks of life, life that thrives in arid, humid, torrential days and climaxes,

 Felt in the eyes, like a feathered touch on the skin, the unruffled flow of life in the strangest of times,

 Flutters of the tiny sparrow’s wings, sudden thrashing and then for a moment afloat in the lazy wind,

Reaching her nest after a day of grains, straws and droplets of water,

Rampaging from wall to wall, beneath rare shadows and scorching rays,

The quivering tips of darkest of green leaves swaying in surrender, slightest momentum released,

Oh shushed are you?

Does the pain now sail away with the breeze?

 Does the vacuum fill with sights of nature, the tiniest electrifying moments, the miraculous breadth of life?

The splinter slain to unconsciousness, Breathe in deep the peculiar scent of nature afresh,

Dear mind, Oh shush..ponder away from consciousness drugged in constant spiralling stale pain,

Stride into the invigoratingly alive life, Stroll away from thy own trepidations,

For the cures, the answers lie in the breeze, the clouds..

The flutter and the quiver, the tremor as nature breathes with thee in solace,

Carrying you to home indeed, Releasing you to breathless nomadic winds, just as you are..only standing there..shushed in your heart.

Categories: answers, emotions, expressions, freedom, HOPE, INNOCENCE, life, life, light, memories, mindset, poetry, poetry on life, poetry on love, strength | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Live Like a Child

Live Like a Child

I was born.. but I found not the meaning of birth..

If you died, A sudden embark to a land beyond.. You couldn’t fathom death either..

I lived an innocence.. Forgotten for long..Then I lived in it from the out..

The fight for a candy.. Moments pass… huddled together with silly smiles..pink tongues..

Candies.. toys.. A run across the fields heedless of the sundown.. or the scorcher sunshine…

I felt the hallucinations we impose on thy innocence… I felt the trysts we curse it with..

Now you are mashed, molded, drained, rushing towards a speck of life you see afar.. ..

You know your colors well, but see them as spots.. Unseeing them in nature’s joyous endowment..

You know the variances.. but you forgo.. then turn away from the nature of their wondrous existence..

But I lived in it from the out.. you must to.. Because it’s in you, waiting to clutch your finger with its tiny palm..

Flip the pages of your learnt lyrics of life to the moments you cherished as a child..

Fight not for lands.. Fight not for the end you know not of.. be not a foe to a brother in another color..

Be not in combat with kindness.. let it sway you to the hedge of your paths..

Let it lead you to the forest of fallen leaves..  yellow..green..orange.. dancing colors on the trees..

Fear not the paths yet to come.. fluster not about the paths you leave..

Run in the fields as you would.. for you live a life unknown..

To know you must live like nature..  Flair in colors that make you smile

Stagger not my child, autumn is here..

The crisp sound as you walk.. is the sound of a new flourishing time to come..

I reveled in living.. Skipping away from the ways to live..

I cradled the child.. nudged it awake..teaching it to breathe again.. as if a baby in deep slumber..

One fine day..soon you might serve nature your bequest.. A creation..

Then you might know birth.. the tears of joy would stir you eyes..and your heart..

Death of thy friend is sad for footsteps are heard no more..

It made me stop in my trial.. leaves breathed no more.. only the sun flickered in my  eyes..

Memories in the wrinkled minds.. soft fragrance blows in the breeze..ruffles your feathered mind..

Your friend..Your brother…you sister..the hands you held.. and the sunshine..

The autumn leaves and the colors that ravished the fields.. fill your heart with the music of past joy…

Your heart with sweet smiles.. the moments you lived like a child..

To the beyond them might pass… and you might pass..

But the winds shall remember the brush of your smile as you ran and you lived like a child.

Categories: CHILDREN, INNOCENCE, life, living, poetry on life, poetry on love | Tags: , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

To find..

To find and string your own strands..They fly in the whirlpool of ripples rising from your epicentre..

To find your heart throttled beneath the sheaths of all that your heart knows.. and doesn’t know..

To find the true destiny of the scarred hope..

Hope who walks stealthily in your darkest shadows..

Hope is the tongue of that loving king on the throne of buried hell..

Warns you of a beautiful death.. Murmuring hoarsely“burn the wooden doors of the great framed arch..”

To find.. find that place.. that place we all want to go to.. ..

All want to writhe and laugh..and dance..and roll in its heated sand..  

A craft doorway.. The wooden doorway frames it.. The hell’s haven..

Be forewarned of seeing your pitiful self sculpted on gallows..

Drag your famished body..

Shoot into the orange light…rising heat…fiery flames of love and war..

Of bludgeoned hope.. Ambient dreams.. and rising agony..

And sweet, ravishing, merciless poisonous fruits reaped in lawless love…

Hold your breath and drown forever..It’s the sea of bodies of crippled friends..

 Each face a glaring resemblance of your many flesh wounds.. of your many fair colors..

To find the loss that scraped your flesh bit by bit.. To find all that you thought you had abolished…

To find all those brave souls you stabbed with you lust for life…for selfish freedom..For heinous desires..

To find your mind in trampled by one a many hurtling truths of enticing lies..

To see the bundles of firewood you have gathered..

And to see the blood red sunshine you have drawn in that bland…colourless garden of life

Masked tiny creatures carrying trays laden with shells..

Embodiments of prophesied lives lived in and with or without them..them-love..hope..dreams…ambitions..

To find that one creature who might frisk past screeching your name..you must follow the voice..

Chasing with your hands tied..On your knees to reach touch a shell..

 And find that one shell that prophecies your freedom from this journey.. as a slave of time..

A voice leads to another voice and another… And you must twist and scatter and disfigure..

But each head that turns to face you… a medusa..

And you must look at it to escape into the next moment..

You are sculpted on the gallows..

To piece all those static bits.. to merge all the stone figures..you must burn..drown and disfigure to find..

To find…to find..to find.. to find…I must go on..to find..

Categories: emotions, freedom, life, loss, lost, poetry on life, poetry on love, struggle | Tags: , , , , , | 3 Comments

Oh Dear Man..Tell me..

Oh Dear Man..tell me..

I shed tears engraved with your name

I find pieces of me seething in pain,

The pieces you touch heave and sigh in your remembrance,

And the parts in oblivion to your soul.. lay still waiting to be asked…

 ”Would you like a ride to the dawn with me?…Where is it that you belong and what say is your story?”

They shrink in the drought of the long summer haul, blind creatures with a pitiful stature, feeding on pain that trickles down their layers…

 

But you walk away, back turned, darkening my heart in your shade,

Marked by memories in the scorching shape of your form,

I stand waiting to run, run far away from your scorn,

But stranded I am.. limp ,  no caves to hide……………..As all are lined along hills of the grieving town..

The town where paths lead astray to the homes of dead hopes, drunken wishes, follies of wants..

 

You are but a mad man, a wolf.. Fighting like the brave life and death for his pride..

For deeper dreams and friends that that fill your soul..

And I am but the prey of the calls you sound in the moonlight..

I find myself twisting away to seek the fork that finds me at my sun kissed doorstep,

Where I might find you to be a thought of another distant self,

Where light of love might remain a haze without a tryst with its dark shades..

 

Let me stroll back, do not call me back in time,

Let me forget that I met you on the lone walk one very eerie night,

I was straddled by a sudden bliss..but now the bliss churned with a deadly essence..

The callous reckless wanderlust of unrequited passions…Brimming the chalice of tonight’s spirit..

 I find my mind sinks into yours with a penchant to read thee like a manuscript about all that is life…

Oh dear man, tell me… where shall I seek your heart..

Else show me the route to that moment before..years ago..then I shall escape to find mine in whole..

Categories: life, love, memories, past, poetry, poetry on love | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Departing

Let those minute pulses that beat in your mind, even as the breath has been felt and lost,

Let those beats faint away into void; let the breaths die their natural death,

Tie not the noose with one hand and pump your heart with another,

Either your hold, slacken it and let the beats, the breaths heave in deep agony,

And find your mind gushing with blood and tears of yesterday’s war,

Or drop the other hand and string the noose to the bell,

Let it ring in the mind and dull the lights on the those darkened days, dusky nights, chain the gates

Its time, it’s time to depart from the world of those wishful sensations,

Memories and questions, and desires clutch your heart, yet let’s depart;

To cleanse the heart that drowns in the pool of purple poison,

Let the heart beat to slander those memories, and yet as much as I try, all is still,

Hands shake, fighting the wolf’s claws to drag you back to that desert, the bindings of being human,

Can you depart the deserted land; pass the mirage not quenching your thirst?

Heart believes, beauty is just beyond the blinding horizon,

Is beauty indeed found, is faith brought back by a touch of innocence or just a lash of scalding truth?

Can beauty and faith be found in horrendous truth?

Pain, betrayal, unrequited love, unparalleled atrocities, Or is the child’s tear the only sacred beauty?

Do the birds of war and love embrace to find peace?

Does the desert finally show its true treasures and horrors?

And peace remains as delusional as the belief in the moon’s promise of shimmer on the dark fortnight?

Do the eyes droop and breathing ease resting on the bosom of a mate?

Or do yours and mine-souls,

Do we finally depart with pain in our bones and mirages in our eyes and thirst on our cracked lips?

But departing is only a trapping, the truth only a fantasy,

We are prisoners in our infinitely deserted land,

And answers evade and delude sinking into the sand.

Categories: life, memories, poetry, poetry on love, the mind | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

What You Want

What you want….flees you,

What you want …. strolls away causally to the other end,

Muttering a song of its own…nonchalant..

There ain’t much you can give to “what you want”..

As there ain’t much you have..than “what you want”..

Wants never rise to the brink..they dig deep,

If they ever rose.. they dripped and then washed off the linen of life..

they would be just..just overflowing foam..and never be your want..

but what you want ..it..they..he..his..are waves that wash off the shore..

But play in and serve only the ocean..

The ocean..is in you..the soul..the wants dig deep..and they harrow your nights and days..

It’s chains clunk..and you are tied to yourself..

Yes..his eyes were never mine..but wants can only want..

Free me from him..from his eyes..from his words..

From his desires that are not in me but in elsewhere..when he is drunk on his bitter taste of life..

Elsewhere..his eyes find his wants..

Playing naked in an ocean beyond the limitless horizon of mine..

And I can only know their existence..but quench my thirst not..

in its murky sparkling yet enticing waters..

Fortune deceives me..not even as fortunate as the moon..

which touches it only with its non-luminosity..

What you want deceives you..breathes your breath..

quenches its thirst within itself..leaves you thirsty…

what you want..make it go away..wash it away..keep it afloat at the shores..

Lest it be the only poison you can drink..rest dry in comparison.

Categories: life, poetry on love | Tags: , , , , , | 3 Comments

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