War inside my head

Stolen moments,
out of his and her life,
are at war.
no its not a battle,
its unceasing,
bleeding of the soul.
wailing wind whistles shrilly,
singing his pyrrhic victory song.
wearing the moments wreath,
he walks away,
leaving not a trail,
which she can follow.




You have changed, I think,
But I am no one to judge,
for better or for the worse.
not even allowed to ponder,
because in my hands it was not.

Not to judge,
you taught me well,
You knew you would change,
and drift apart
being judged is not what you would want.

Cannot tag you as bad,
blot you as wrong,
Tell me,
how am I supposed to forget
the past gone.

“I am responsible for you”,
You said once,
Yes, for all the pain you are responsible,
really responsibly,
you did play that part.

So responsibly that the only pain I felt,
was not from the path of thorns,
or from bruises of the world,
but from whispers of my help,
echoed back from the dark oblivion you were now part of.

Tale of survival

I flounder on the road,
my feet bleeding and soul crying.
Turning back I see the golden road left behind,
fleeting away in some other lifetime.

With vanquishing hope and despairing sighs,
I trudge along the path of burning splinters.
Searing pain reverberating in my head like a scream,
simmering to break out yet unable to find its way.

I doubt I can bear this long,
my strength failing as I move along.
Fire in my heart refuses to extinguish,
veiling me from flagrance around.

As numbness prevails I keep lulling,
about the happy days inside my head .
Till each fibre of in my body joins in the chorus
singing the ballad to keep moving ahead.

I still keep walking, tears flow down like raindrops
extinguishing the burning splinters below,
Cooling the path and fecundating the ground ,
nips of grass shooting from below.

Barefoot I tread not floundering this time ,
feeling the soft green grass blades glazed with due drops,
moistening the music of my soul sucking the numbness away,
soothing the burns of the journey long gone.

Turning back I see the burning road left behind,
fleeting away in some other lifetime,
only to realize that the struggle was worth the find,
the peace of the greens is better than the shimmer of the golden tiles.


They say.. but what if ?

They say,
Catch the dreams before,
They slip through your hands like a wisp of smoke.
Before they burn your hands,
and burn is all that is left to stare.
What if I want to feel the pain from the burn?
carry the black burnt mark on me,
Be the tainted vagabond,
but not the spotless dove
they want .
They say,
Work your way through the labyrinth of world,
Be the spider of the web,
not the insect struggling in cobwebs,
ready to be feasted upon.
What if I want to be locked in cobwebs for now?
For the cobwebs are my cocoon,
which I will shelve to fly away to my glory,
but not the glory they want.
They say,
stay away from the darkness,
for the soot cannot be washed away,
Be the happy child of the light.
What If I want to be covered in black,
to learn the value of even scintilla of white.
Just stop and stare at the lights
Till my eyes hurt me in delirium,
Pupils so shrunk that I see darkness in the light,
and light in the darkness,
But not the light they want !

sometimes goodbye, goodbye sometimes


sometimes goodbyes are better unsaid,
unsaid are the rules of the world,
world spins round and round,
round is the the circle of life,
life the file of experiences,
experiences to each his own,
own shaping their futures bright,
bright sun setting at distance,
distance is the unsaid goodbye sometimes.