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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Desire, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry, sadness

Being Truly Alone.

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My Love,
You have never been alone,
Sitting in an empty house
watching the rain shouldn’t make
you lonely, It should make you complete.

I remember the painter
who waited all evening
for people to visit his gallery.
No one did.
He closed the lights and shutter
himself.
He was truly alone.

I remember the singer
who played this afternoon in the
bar I was drinking.
No Damned Soul was listening to him
still, he played his best.
He was truly alone.

I remember the gentle foreigner
who drank beer at the table next to me.
At the very end, out of blur
he gave up and sought a corner
to call someone. He might have talked
for half an hour.
He was truly alone.

While I read the book,
sipped beer and wrote this poem.
yes, I was truly alone.

 

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

Catharsis

swarm

My restless memories
of the most beautiful time gone by
were like colonies of dragonflies,
iridescent and precious.

I clung to them,
for months
feeding of the unreality
they served me in the brightest daylights
and the end of the darkest hours

It was a never-ending carnival,
with my eyes shut off.
A rain that never stopped caressing my lips.
A kiss I couldn’t forget.
A dream close to reality.

It was too late
when I realized:

The most beautiful things should burn first
for the catharsis of a delusional mind.

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

Warm Guilts

Love is a warm misunderstood guilt
that floats below a bridge of flammable dreams.

To cross,
jump and swim
there has been no other way.

Walk then if you can,
crawl if you must,
into the thousand brewing mirages.
Each withholds a memory, recycled,
for love is to remember and never forget.

For the faint hearted:

Phoenixes are extinct,
in this sea of fire.

SB

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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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beauty, Desire, dream, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Poems, Poetry

Night Leaves

I feel the weight of summer
arching my back
with droplets of its love.

My t-shirts hate summer,
It makes them nauseous.

The Night burns in dark,
the stars left us long ago.

It is they who hid the warm winds
in unseen alleys of the sky.

I wait for an answer that never
comes.
I wait for a voice never heard.

The night silently leaves.

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