My Past sometimes plays Russian Roulette with me,
Instead of bullets that may cause sudden death,It uses memories.
The only problem is, it brings me down to the ground.
Every Single Time.
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Category Archives: fiction&writing
What to Write?
I have seen people wonder,
I have seen them go crazy,
thinking about what to write about,
they all want blazing responses,
Medals on their dead poem coffin,
that dies as soon as it becomes popular,
they want to be the next Bukowski or something,
as soon as possible,
One day someone asked me,
” What to Write About? ”
and I told him simply,
Once your soul is restless to write,
and an image in the head drowns you somewhere,
when you feel your hands laughing when writing,
then you should write.
Write about that dog who kept you wondering how happy can one be,
about a girl whose prayer made you stand in the traffic,
about the sky that made you head to bar,
about the rain that took you to your past.
Write about what have you inside,
Fuck the fame,people,followers.
Feed your soul till writing again becomes your wanted hangover.
Write yourself out.
Always yourself out.
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Heart
Do not cry because you failed,
there should not be shame in that,
You just discovered where you lack.
Rather than living a fake life
full of people about whom you don’t care,
you are now alone with yourself,
better first look the mirror,
Than to look people around,
the places around,
be honest with your heart,
taming this beast is not easy,
It feeds on pride,loathing,fame.
But cries on knowing itself.
Make your heart a drunk,with no judgement at all,
then it would follow the beats as steps,
and you would never fall.
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Not Today
Disgusted and Tired,
I wake up in my room
and watch men walking to their offices
like a group of penguins
I feel the air grew warm and sad for me
but not warmer than my quilt
I see the day bright
but some days you want to drink darkness
and have hangovers of past
of times when you were not having a penguin suit
but just a naked scarred soul which was afraid to live like so.
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Two Souls
Two souls floating around,
dissolving in each other
without a sound,
in a world full of shouts and noises,
forgetting all their easy choices,
like the sky and dark clouds,
let us brew a darkness that haunts,
that torments the sun to rise,
till ages we separate from love.
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Light
When darkness creeps to my heart
and tames my fear back upon me,
when the ghostly haunting memories
flashes in my eyes
I try not to cave in
I try not to fear
the light inside me fights back
I look for people i love
I imagine their hopes on me
I see them smiling
I then become a spark
that glows till
there is no darkness
till there is hope
till there is love
till there is life.
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Poor
Toiling hard day and night,
looks tired at every sight,
for every dream in eyes,
lonesome cries
and few delights,
still walking down the road,
he never forgets to smile,
to wish people around,
learn something new
and share what he has,
be it food,
life
and laughter,
I wonder why they call him poor.
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Writings to Heaven 