shadows swirl slowly,
into whirlpool of darkness,
will you meet me there?
Tag Archives: Life
Interconnected Dreams
Sometimes while sleeping
I greet the twin sisters.
Subtle faceless apparitions,
that love to giggle
while skipping the ropes to reality.
coalesced dreams, some call them,
living without an end or beginning.
in a state of drunken stupor,
set by feasting on the flesh of stars
they drive me back to the black lake
where we once buried the moon.
Effigies of time, burn on the shores,
the lake soaking its ashes.
Does the Time ever weep?
for what it has lost,
even in these interconnected dreams
an undecipherable hymn now,
colludes with my stupor
as the faceless Twin Sisters smile.
I shall remember nothing
except for their holy unison
and the figments of thread
sewing their thumbs together
The Tea Stall Warrior
his armor, is a vest with holes,
shabby shorts with a mosaic formed
by the stains of oil,tea, ashes of cigarette and coal
a foul-smelling cloth graces his shoulders
that sweeps the dust from the tables,
coincidentally it comes from the very stars
to which he prays sometimes in night
independence day for him,
is about selling his freedom
and a dozen flags,
a free plate of jalebi,
from the nearby school,
is the only reminiscence of the place
he was once born in,
he lives inside creaking doors,
surrounded by walls
capable of collapsing
by tremors of continuous coughing,
paints his dreams
from the acrylic color box found in a dustbin,
with bare hands on newspapers,
and scrapped sheets
he has no regrets
he might never have,
for he has never seen
the sun of expectations
rise in the morning.
the moon of contentment,
is what he only cares for.
Kaleidoscope
as the dawn
proceeds to the dusk,
a thousand images
of this beautiful world,
rotate and change,
sublime visions,
evaporate,
my capillaries,
and adrenaline
burst straight up
like a heroin abuser
drowning in a pool of dreams.
for I have been summoned
to peek in this kaleidoscope,
we sometimes call life,
and I just stare.
the mirrors would shatter soon,
the music will slither in,
it would be dark and damp.
Just as I dreamt once.
that night.
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 are unknown and untouched,
we bloom and wither in this cataclysm of life
but I recollect all this,
from a beautiful dream with eyes open,
so was it a deja vu?
or my hands just slipped of this typewriter.
Write Something Beautiful
Caress the playful waves,
breathe the snowflakes of this breeze,
stroll the unseen paths carelessly,
in the dreams within your dream,
Kiss the dying horizon,
feel the sand below your feet,
embrace the horses that once rode
the beaches,
just like your old memories
Besmirch the nightmares slowly,
wake up alone in these hallowed nights,
comfort all what is left within yourself,
feel this earth again without the lights
When it all comes back to you,
and I know it will,
write something beautiful about it,
let those waiting pages finally fill.
Eclipse
Time lapse of
sublimation of melodies,
blurred caffeinated visions,
the smell of breeze,
with a tinge of petrichor,
cold wet grass,
the bare feet,
an impulse strikes the heart,
asynchronously,
capillaries dosed
with sugary love,
eyelids popping,
drooling,
turning like red sprinkles
of kesar,
in a cold icy lake,
this never-ending dream,
defeats an unpredictable life,
or maybe we are dreaming only,
unable to see the tombstone
of reality,
waiting to wake up,
away from the monotony,
from barren heartless lands,
to ourselves,
to create,
a life destined to
eclipse these dreams.
Writings to Heaven 