Happy birthday rain

She can dance with us through the end,
She can talk about moon and our starry friends.
With a twinkle in her eyes she glides and she pleads
to show her love that takes her to places it leads.
Named as a rain that kills all our thirst,
she rises up over and smiles at us first.
The burst in her walk tells us of tales
how we lose all our sweat and still follow her ways.
We have found this girl in a paradise land
and we found that the paradise was not ready to lose her hand.
She is one of those friends you wish you always had
She is the one who can make you both happy and sad.
She makes us all special in her own ways
like the golden morning drizzle of window pane rays.
Let the day grow on her with so much to say
And let us all begin by wishing her a happy birthday.

Advertisements

Collective consciousness

Spinning towards the questions of consciousness,
our doubts grew older and bitter.
Where do we stand and where did it begin?
A null and blunt response was always in our hands.
If God was there and He did it all,
Why is He distant and why doesn’t He talk?
Lights have begun to show their dread.
There are now holes which can even pull them to death.
Wars and famine feeding us all,
with no more hearts to refill or call.
Flowers and candles to respect the past
made no sense to Him at all.
Tonnes of questions brewed in His minds,
for which answers are twisted and fairly untwained.
His gasp of wondrous doubts too grow,
and He is gripping His petite knowledge too.
Thus, these doubts that linger over our heads
and over His orb makes Him a part and all of Us.

Of men who can’t stand the loneliness

A sore leg let in his own pain.
He breathed the coldest yet comforting air.
View from the top was the hardest to kill.
Every other thing meant nothing in this hill.
His backpack weighed more than his doubts
he broke away from the hold of himself.
Voices kept him awake all night,
t’was nothing like insects, that depth of his fright.
Of all those that gored his head
numbers were the essence of his tread.
Time, age and the count of things
Crept into his head as he survived.
Peace was nowhere left to find.
His fritter alone was being unkind.
He sobbed his heart away to rest
and thought it was for all his best.
Benign mind was lost in the world
of a foreign language no one knew.
His wishes some few flashed all over again.
He thwarted them to give him the space.
His fears outgrew all that pain,
He looked up above and pleaded for grace.

When the god tags

Patient! Be patient till this story ends.
Songs again, let them go ahead.
Right in front, all the things I see,
is all the world will ever be.

To run is to hide and seek.
to sleep is to live the dreams.
I close my eyes to be the one
till my murk burn like the only sun.

Grown up in a world I own,
I do not know how the cuckoos sing
in towns I have never been.
Fearing death might strike me soon,
I give up on the strive to wield my boon.

Time holds my hand and rescue
the things I miss and let away.
Hand in hand I roast my seconds,
and I don’t cease at any bends.

I throw the papers of value that meant
to people and time who never spent.
Lost again in a box of drunken lust,
I thank God for letting me through this test.

I choose them over us to learn some more,
And they laugh at me like I have gone mad again.
“Who is who?” I question them to say,
but they chose themselves and part away.

If, all we know are the all the things that ever will be,
Why is the eternity so vast to indulge and see?
So, I tag you to be the almighty now.
Now show me how to be that love.

Dreams for sale

You count your days till weekend arrives
with numbers that mean nothing dead or alive.
Friday’s breath sulks with anonymous joy
till Monday, and then you plunge like a crooked toy.

Tantrums and papers that fill your days
complete your wallets in minimal ways.
You burn again in that cabin-cage
with nowhere to run and hide the rage.

You wish you could do something else
where your mind relaxes and your heart tells
“this is where you belong to now,
this is what you do and love”.

Supple and waving your thoughts have been
like winds of nature nowhere seen.
Your wings will not be pardoned then
if you quit to fly and stay in the den.

Your dreams are not for a conscious yard-sale
your dreams are not so blue and pale.
And you could conquer your world when you wake up now
still doing the things with a glow when you do with love.

Moon

Never again did he lose his mind
to vicarious emotions left behind.
Every pace he took, he wasn’t alone
She shone like a diamond when the dark was thrown.
Hiding piece by piece as the winds blew home,
her depraved lusting soul murdered herself by own.
He never got time to look at her then
when the sun forgot to shine at her den.
She began to grow out and show her crooked face,
as the women downtown took part in the race
to allure this poor boy’s mind and his heart,
they did all they could to tear his peace out and apart.
His gentleness caressed her every spot
as he looked at her and gasped out a lot.
She knew that he loved her so much at nights
and her gloomy glow did kill his mind off all other lights.
Yet deeply and sadly he looked up in awe,
like many more clowns who lusted and saw.
She stayed right with him forever till dawn,
but he missed her that night for a lazy cruel yawn.

Eyes that open for the first time

His subtle touch on the black metal gun,
caressing it’s body with a point black face.
Black like the land where gold’s reign begun,
he wants to kill the ruins of this empty phase.

Five killer bullets in the place of six,
one empty to romance the chance of his wits.
He put the killer on his head to leave this to God,
with a bluntest mind that went off it’s guard.

A fortnight ago his gentle heart loved
all the evil that sung his thoughts out loud.
Happiness was the warmest of his guns
and the smirk in his smile shone like hundred odd suns.

Flowers on the side of rusty old tracks
lifted his soul off all the perilous rites.
Then brown boring boxes tied up in stacks
crossed all the joy and put up a fight.

He said all he could, he loved all his friends.
But none did any good for all his amends.
Then he hissed goodbye to the laughter of life
as if it was a cowardice thrown at a divorcing wife.

Tried to put on all of his merry good love,
to the job he stuck onto that was blessed from above.
His self drudging mind was not at all pleased,
as his wanderlust being got tortured and teased.

Now no other last words echoed in his heart,
he left it to the odds that thrived million miles apart.
Pushed on the trigger with his last closed eyes,
the silence of his gun gave him a chance to live twice.

Yes. He killed and yet he thrives
with blood on his head gushing the hives.
Eyes that stayed close imagined the death
of a fool who regretted all that lived under his breath.
His wanderlust soul began to smile
again with a smirk that would light up a mile.
A subtle touch on that black metal gun,
gave him his life back again and took him as his son.