Desire, fiction and poetry, Heart, Imagine, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry, Random thoughts, Uncategorized


Ravaged Souls
Bitter burned bodies
Broken in every part
whether inside or outside
look for faith
in search for something
that simply consoles
them  that it would be all right.
If I tell this by myself to someone
in need
We would be making homes out of
of divine pampered idols
for those who pray for homes every time.

fiction and poetry, fiction&writing, Freehand Writing, Life, Poems, Poetry, think

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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attempt, Death, Freehand Writing, Imagine, Life, Poems, Poetry, Random thoughts, Uncategorized, Writings

Voice Seeking Heaven.

Euthanasia or Mercy Killing is a highly debated issue,with people willing to die because they can't bear the excruciating sad life with no hopes left for better tomorrow.

Between the battles of life,
and triumphs of battles,
layed a voice so idle,
with no strength left,
no hopes for a miracle,
eyes wander as far as it can,
with bafflement unbearable,
armchair carries the body,
but soul refuses to stay,
in the confinement,
that is at rest since ages,
the purpose has been lost ,
and the hope is decaying,
it seems the bird flew close to the sun,
and got a great burning,

everyday the eyes try to see the stars,
wants to find the faults,
that made all stop,
eyes still,
looks for the star,
that is the destined one,
where the soul would rest,
once free,
not all souls seek an early heaven,
not all want to be free soon,
it is the scars that one can’t live with,
that makes destiny rot into memories,
death is not a fear now,
but a friend embracing arms,
that would let voice seek heaven,
and questions unanswered.

attempt, Freehand Writing, india, Poems, Poetry, Prose, Writings

Ashes of Future

Ashes are that remain,
when you burn everything,
flying away with inadvertent pain,
letting you know the missing,
ashes of future,of unfinished acts,
which were let go,
because of time you never had,
they could have been memories of past,
a delightful one,waiting to last,
if you would have trusted the guts,
and never step backed as such.
if you would have raised the bar,
for the dreams,
if you would have listened to the fire,
deep down,
if you would have believed,
that with every burn,
ashes do rise but never as the phoenix,
of  winsome times.

Poems, Poetry


There are times when we fail to hear to our heart, We lead the obvious easy way. This slips us to a state of oblivion. An Oblivion of not knowing onself, which is rarest of terrors one has to face.

of places where the heart hasn’t travelled,
of places where it feels wanderlust,
there are places that are still unknown to you,
because you did not know yourself as such,

of things which the heart wanted to do,
of things which it called passion,
some lie in the dust now,
because you lead the heart to such aberration,

of people whom the heart loved,
of people without it coudn’t beat,
they all flew away somewhere away,
because of the promises you coudn’t keep.

of times have come,of times have gone,
weather dosen’t changes all of a sudden,
always remember to peek into your heart,
before falling to oblivion.

Poems, Poetry, Prose, Random thoughts

Paradox of Choice

Sitting on the writing desk,
writing through papers without rest,
till i feel numb,
and the path makes me astray,
i ponder to the inner self,
on questions feeding on my soul,
as who decides what is right ? ,
the conscience or the heart,
who decides what is fair?,
the choices or the heart,
who decides the bad?
the outcomes or the heart,
and who would choose to follow the heart?
the sufferer or the mighty?
the sad or the happy?
the dumb or the clever?
the coward or the darer?
the wisher or the lover?
the winner or the loser?
the sinner or the preacher?
and the writer or the reader?

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