Category Archives: dream

dream, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry

Taste the Light

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With every dream
of those strange colored icicles
and those unimaginable caves.

From the survivals and fallouts
from those painfully realistic
nightmares

and the drowning of the entire
sub-structure of it, in the whole of rum,
to rage against the dying night.

We have flooded the brain,
indebting it of our memories.

it is a sky now, so full of fireworks
it seems like floating nebula of dust and light.

Don’t let it suffocate.
Don’t let a genocide kill what you imagine.

Write and let the light taste the paper.
like it should.

 

*Rage against the dying night taken from Dylan Thomas’s Poem of the same name*

 

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attempt, dream, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, pain, Poems, Poetry

Dreams – Reverse Poetry

This is an attempt to create a reversible poem that can be read from both top and bottom. I have provided both the perspective. Do let me know , If you Liked it. 🙂

Dream

I never leave my glasses full
“Beer is continuous blood, let it flow.” Bukowski
the crazy old poet once said.
Cigarettes though I abhor with reverence.
My words are always the letters of condolences to everything.
Almost every weekend with scotch and vodka
I attend funeral of their dreams,
their dreams massacred in broad daylights.
Friends, Lovers, Acquaintances,
all gave in slowly, for a dream of stable life,
where they work till 9-5 somehow.
They buy food and have wailing babies.
Then they drink to bring normality.
They stop pursuing themselves
They hate mirrors.
Let them be.
I am normal now,
I don’t need a drink.
Let me dream.
Let me write something beautiful.
I don’t want to be like them.
I simply don’t.

————————————

I simply don’t,
I don’t want to be like them.
Let me write something beautiful today.
Let me dream.
I don’t need a drink.
I am normal now.
Let them be.
They hate mirrors.
They stop pursuing themselves.
Then they drink to bring normality.
They buy food and have wailing babies
They work till 9-5,
all gave in, for a dream of stable life,
Friends, Lovers, Acquaintances,
their dreams massacred in broad daylights.
I attend funeral of their dreams,
Almost every weekend, with scotch and vodka
My words are always the letter of condolences to everything.
Cigarettes though, I abhor with reverence.
Bukowski, the crazy old poet once said.
“For beer is continuous blood let it flow.”
so I never leave my glasses full.

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creative-writing, dream, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Heart, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

Split

Hymn those verses
as eyes dive into this
seminal darkness.
the very ones I always hear
and forget
at the end of the dreams.

Build a crown of wood,
and lit it up for those
eager to taste it.

Split the fire
into two parallel mirrors:
power and desire.
let me see the anatomy
and the invisible bones.

They shall keep burning each other
till they forget their purpose,
as the mind and the soul forget
when awaken by the rain of blood.

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dream, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Heart, Imagine, Life, Poems, poetry, Prose

Stagnant Waters

It is that time of week,
when our meaningless pursuits
drown in beer and single malts.

Our shadows retire besides us
tired of walking on overdoses of caffeine
and monotony.

The tires rest while the toes
breathe.

Even in this restless summer,
you somehow remember the fire hearth,
within your heart when you were young.

Exit Doors closed with regrets.
The waves are not beautiful.
The fear of death tastes nothing like ice.

A miserable mixture of cheap gin and tonic, that is a straight gulp of unending silence would feel like.

You are in the stagnant waters now,
don’t forget to swim.

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creative-writing, dream, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Poems, Poetry, think

Deja Vu

a multiverse existence,
where realities slip through
the hourglasses of time.

Memory is a sweet drizzle
originating from the clouds of conscience.

An atmosphere made of nostalgia
and we are the floating planet.

The galaxies unknown and untouched,
we bloom and wither in this cataclysm of life

I recollect all this,
from a beautiful dream with eyes open

so was it a deja-vu
or my hands just slipped of the typewriter

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