Categories
Poetry

Walk the road without a baggage

Walk the road without baggage
Don’t look back at what you left
Happiness is a myth
Don’t fall for it
If you fall, it ain’t a ditch
It is an abyss of relentless hunger
Thirst never quenched
There is a road to find yourself
Walk the road without baggage.
Baggages are filled with promises of future
No future, just accept it
Walk, walk, and walk until you trudge
Trudge till you fall and accept the reality
Falling is the destination of lovers
The lovers fall in the ocean of love
Ocean, unmeasured, fathomed by none
Plunge with no intention to come back
Cause intentions reveal the deeds
Fears, forebodings, all are washed away
The ocean of love is the end of the road
Just
Walk the road without baggage.

Categories
Poetry

Bleak! Beautiful! Deceptive!

In the bleak evening of winter
In the shadow of my own soul
I stared out of the window
Into the infinite white of snow
A bird fluttered in the waving snowflakes
It was whizzing whistling the chinar
The home he had made for past times
In his nest the snow had balled
He stayed at the branch looking for shelter
In the home nearby there lay some youngs
He whistled and lay there in the thatch
Making the dwellers his family at once
But the summer came and it flew away
Breaking the family he called in cold
It went across the lush greens of summer
Forgetting everything in the search of life
Life, it never was lived
Just its shadow, it always followed
Bleak, beautiful and deceptive.

Categories
Poetry

A senile

He is smiling, loving his life
I wait for nights to end
But they never
He is no cruel
But cruel is his heart
It makes no sense
In the sphere of life
It makes him lier
In the face of life
It makes him think
About the sin he did
He weeps and cries
But can’t rule his heart
His heart is a master
No one could tame
He feels my pain
But could never be mine
He ain’t a saint
He is just a senile.

Categories
Poetry

A life for death

A decision on me
Has been taken
By the filthy Gods of fate
Their pens drowned in tears
They write my story
I see them with stare
I pleat my forehead
And stop my tears
They fill the pens again
I see them with stare
They smirk and write
The withering words
I pleat my forehead
And smile at them
They want me to trust
But I ain’t
I’m a warrior of fates
And I’ll die fighting
And when I die
With glory I’ll rise
I ask them no heaven
Just the pen
They smirk and write
Their judgement on me
I take the pen and break it
I pleat my forehead
And smile at them
This ain’t a life, again
This is a life for death.

Categories
Poetry

Lovers’ place

There is a place where lovers meet
In the midst of sharp sunny rays
That penetrate the skin of lovers
But, it is the only one
The lovers make love without thinking about rules
That place is what is called his courtyard
Where He oversees the sinners doing sin
He smiles, relentlessly when they sin
He is the lover of sinners
He fathoms their obligation to sin
But He knows they come back to him ultimately
They know, they have sinned
But He knows, they haven’t
They have just loved
And He knows, love is no sin
It is beautiful menace created by Him

Categories
Poetry

Just, don’t wail

The noose is too lose for my neck.
There are some waiting for my death
There is some hope still left in souls.
In the midst of mountains, I want my lips to dry
But through the crevice of my eye
I see those mountains
Glowing in the morning sun of valley
I don’t need them to cry for me
I just want a flower planted at my grave
I want people to smile at my grave
I want them to forget my story
I want them to live, cherish and laugh
I’m dying for them, they don’t need to die.
But I know the tyrant
His thirst of blood.
There will be more in line of this noose
There will be blood still in the streets
If you think, it is wrong, maybe you are wrong
There is a delight in devouring death
Not with spite but a smile
There is pleasure in dying for a cause
There is no mourning in heavens
There is no death more blissful than this.
But this god damn noose
This is too lose for my neck.
Just don’t wail.

Categories
Poetry

A casket of principles

A casket of principles is going with me
In that, my truths are nagging my lies
Lies which I have cherished my whole life
Those truths aren’t shiny like my pubes
They are filthy with grey old hair
These truths were whimpering
In the dungeon of secrets
They were crying to come out of mouth
But my lies were always fighters of evil
They guarded me from these pious snakes
But now, my breaths are gone, so my lies
They fill my casket to trample my life
But idiots are these as I have no life
A casket of principles is going with me
Principle to hold my lips tight
When there is an imminent threat of light
I ate the light with my dark inside.
I hold these principles dear to me
Thats why A casket of principles is going with me

Categories
Poetry

Withering heart

I love you with this withering heart
My heart filled with filth
Wants your pure love
So that
It again becomes pure
But I know, this ain’t easy
I know, it is tainted in the midst
I know, there is nothing to be called heart
But still
I love you with this withering heart
My intention wrapped with filthy honesty
There are no disappointments
There are secrets in graves of this heart
There is pain shoved in shrouds
There is blood in the tainted heart
No ordinary, nor extraordinary
Blood painted on torn down walls
Blood still managing to keep me alive
I’m, but not from inside
I breathe, I walk, I talk with no life
I love you with this withering heart

Categories
Poetry

I ain’t a Saint.

I give you hope, for what?
I make you smile, for what?
You don’t know my darker side
You don’t know how I turn
When I turn, I ain’t a saint
I ain’t a monster. I’m just a human
With needs, no ethics, no legality
Just a filthy animal who is social
When I turn, I ain’t a saint
Don’t think about me so much
You’ll destroy your purity
Just retain it and return, because
When I turn, I ain’t a saint
I love, I cry, I shout, I laugh, but
To make you believe, I’m among you
But I ain’t among you, I’m a sinner
I’m a sinner, who has sinned to love
When I turn, I ain’t a saint.

Categories
Poetry

The life of hope

For me, Destiny is a myth
I go, I cry, I suffer, I give pain
Am I a bad man?
Or am I good?
Well, it all depends on you
From where you see it all
For my heart, everything is right
I may stab you, yet I’m right
I may kill you, yet I’m right
There is a dark world inside
Where tears are stored
The well of hope, they call it
It gives tears to give hope
But that well when out of tears
Makes me dark from inside
Tears me apart, to be called an angel
The well of hope they call it
Is the treasure where secrets are kept
In dark, remorseful heaven of wrongs
The wrongs that make me evil
But still there is hope left in that well
That one day, I will clear the darkness
I will come out with a gleaming piousness
And I shall redeem myself that day
I have a hope that hope is still there