This world was too much.
Sometimes he wanted
to go insane.
(He was talking to himself) .
He cared too much
of things and people around him,
but it splits
like a dry pod, the life,
in throes of running
to save a falling seed.
Yields his whole earned silence,
starts turning the pages
of a soiled book
lost in the attic of grief.
Dying daily in eternity
for it to be,
a tear drop held all the pain of life.
You were lost in words,
between the phrases
time was in, time was out.
The color, the theme was fading,
a seduced century
contriving the reasons to commit
the destruction of self-being.
I was struggling to empty my mind
To remain human in the loneliness
I want to walk straight.
A fear stalks me on the road.
Sun was very aloof and cold.
Cannot stop the decline,
give me prayers of your lips.
You talk of dark children dying
when I was losing consciousness.
Will not question the ink of death
or silence of night.
The random greed of man walks
in golden ruins without listening.
I am counting my years wasted
in pursuit of crazy dreams of climbing a watchtower.
Hunger had become a great teacher.
Pain becomes a face. Limbs and shadows
seek justice after rape and murder.
Something seeps in me. Wounds bleeding
on my hands, I dig the floor of the moon
where God was sleeping.
Ambling on beach in dark
when the lake laps the feet.
Sometimes I wish to walk away
on the water like a dragonfly.
Trying to figure out
Lake Huron went
a white ship was sailing.
thousands of boats.
I don’t believe you
for irretrievable sins in me.
My grandchild was asking
why did you have to go?
I had no answer.
My eyes were damp.
Okay, cannot hold you grandpa,
will you come again?
I was the end,
I was the beginning.
I kissed the burning tears of my small chit.
I said, let me go,
Set me free,
I will come, one day in you,
you are me.
There was no beginning
you will be, what you were not.
Words would disappear,
only meaning will be left.
The interval ceases to be
from ’wasness’ to open pathway.
When you are not ready
I will be there to lift the veil.
My total pain surges forward today.
Quietly death opens the door
to welcome the lost child,
whose burden was his taste.
Farewell to the visitors of night.
The morning star is rising.
Go, my sun go.
Collect all your golden leaves
and leave me with pink wounds.
Go, my son go.
Collect all your lies
and leave me with bare bones.
Lying in bed with saddened eyes
I count the mistakes, eternities
and chew the years.
It had been a long journey
from cloud to cloud,
time to dropp on dew again.
I return to silence
feed it my body.
Tie the knot with my mortgaged life –
I have started the self-descent.
Don’t leave me alone –
I have to unload some debts.
It was very disturbing. I have again forgotten
my alphabet and become illiterate.
Your consent is must
for starting a new journey.
I am neither afraid, nor worried
but fever is rising, like a flood
and ridge was collapsing.
The death was unknown to me –
it will come one day as a guest
and stay with me forever.
Times have rattled me enough
and sword hangs from the roof.
Why do I dream such?
The dichotomy between gold and lies
will start one day. I cannot go back
to my dilapidated house where I met the first words.
Blackened silence was holding the reflectivity,
reality was on the run.
Exile was complete.
Dark secrets, standing on head
remained buried in your chest
absorbing all colors of sun.
A night remembers the friends
who went over the hills one by one
to find the pugmarks of panther
that was killing your infant biographies.
The world stood bodyguard
not allowing any immortality.
Your speech was clear, but unheard
in terror of burnt-out principles.
New sleeping cells are coming up for a
metaphysical revolt. A heron was
stabbed by soaring kites
in the golden valley.
In a starry night
an adolescent thought starts
a rivalry. A baby moon squirms.
No hour was safe from terror in dark.
I climb the stairs breathlessly.
The great divide deepens in hearts.
Incisors bite the tongue,
grey cells bleed inside.
Thick ash has not stopped the cinders
smouldering under the veils of flushed peace.
Cupped tears wash the feet of death,
a caravan of words moves desolated,
cutting on the edges, before you say
goodbye to green vision.
Today I am pulling out the nails
from the walls. No hangings of departed centuries.
No portraits of exiled flames.
Only the face of truth, burning
at the interface of unthruths.