A bridge of Horror.

I am lost again. Somebody, please find me.
The mirror streets, they all look the same.
On the sidewalk, people lay rocked with me,
it itches, like a needle in the heart to see,
Some push, some kick, some break and some kill.

Times it's wondering how we are lost on the road,
the fields look nakedly clear brown to the eye.
As i move on and try to understand my surroundings,

I have been gathering dry moss and paper rings.
Dry moss makes me feel how timid and sticky i am
under the open skies and across the horizon.

The paper rings hurt the most without a doubt,
they breach in and the poor honest is forced out.
Women screaming on the beds of nails in pain
while their men fighting for the false pride i see.

I have been there, seen it all. I need to tell somebody,
the feigned calm and beauty has chained me again.

                         I want to talk to somebody before i get lost again.

Crossroads

At the crossroads where reality meets fiction,
I stare both the sides hoping i am the wiser one.
Holding down the breath of fate i take a dive,
gasping for a bar of air i feel numb and alive.

Here i drop down deep through the passage just in time,
there are other crossroads to stare and to toss the dime.
There are many questions and many more queued in a line,
where do i begin when i myself stand somewhere in the line.

The dot.

     

                        It shall pass too

       Just like the others.

          Keeping fingers crossed, 

              Until our paths cross. 

                  Hope you smile. 

                      In this crowd, 

                           I shall be left, 

                               A dot in your head, 

                                     I will always remain. 

the last note.

i am so much in pain that i laugh
i laugh at my misery, i chuckle.
i stare at the stars, they laugh too.
i join their orchestra. and we rhyme.

She is free.

the birds, they talk to me, they say she is free.
I swallow my heart, smile and let her be.
she was a free spirit, stole a lions heart once
now the lion stays put and watches her dance.

Peace has a price today

There are some thoughts.
Some good ones. Some wise ones.
Some that might never make sense.
But they still keep floating over
the clock that keeps ticking.
When they hit you, they hit you hard.
Every face is strange.
yet every face is beautiful,
in its own ways.
Hope in life seems so distant sometimes.
It all boils down to will.
The utmost power we as humans possess.
Its a gift.
Is it?
That is what i ask looking at my own self.
If it is, then all of us are gifted.
Is it how we exercise it? Or
is it the way we break it in ourselves.
All along the sheds of glory and fame people stare at you.
The price to walk the queue of this fame is chaotically absurd.

I am the Mirror, I am the Wall.

As i move forward i find my feet swaying on the rocks of time. The porch i stand on watches my shadow dancing to the tunes of the sunset. Like the sun that keeps the promise of the rising sun, i keep one too. Lying somewhere in some corner of my mind. The dark keeps itself busy with the breeze and the light awaits carrying the hopes of many.

The apprehensions of time are misunderstood often and this revered pal moves at its own pace. What makes a man wise? I ask this to myself everyday. There are some boundaries i seek out for in vain and standing on the other side of the fence makes me realise that i would still feel the same if i stand either side of it. Why do we always want to be on the other side? When will we learn to stay on the side we belong to and be happy for just awhile. I always have walked the line of time with nothing in my hand but a vague memory.

Trying to run as hard as i can, I run along the faith of time but i run out of breath and i find myself standing where i started. Holding my empty boxes of will I carry on and hope to find something different within someday until then I want to keep moving, keep running. As I run faster I understand that the darkness just surrounds you whereas the light envelopes you. The ripples in still mind are created by the stone of reason thrown into it. As the ripples move outward slowly the mind dies down and a more strong emotion lets it slip away.

Here I lie in my own backyard mending the walls of sanity and trying to understand my mind. Lost in the ashes of sensibility I look for the passionate sorrow. They speak to me sometimes when I am alone in my heart. The questions that spring up have the sweet smell of innocence. Answers I try to find for these questions make me look on the wall on which I write my words very carefully. Sometimes, I, feel i am standing in front of a mirror and not the wall. And I can see what exactly I am made of. Gazing it like i never stood there, I still look for a way and I remind myself that I am the wall and I am the mirror.

A Dark House Within..

"MY SON YOU HAVE BOTH
OF YOUR HANDS FILLED BUT
I GUESS YOU HAVE ALREADY
GONE BEYOND THE TRUTH."
Even the day paves
the way for the night.
The sounds of silence echo
in my ears.
Stepped into a wrong lane
With a tree without a bird,
A house without a gate,
A dark room with no candle.
An example of brutal truth.
A part you will always try
to forget but will haunt you.
YES this is me!
Stale 17 years still
Step out or you become
a part of it that is untrue to true.

A Bleeding Heart...

Eighteen steps I walk for you
offering prayers even in the dark
leaving those little smiles apart
I see you through my heart.

Every pain with a smile I forget,
losing you tonight makes me weak.
For things I speak hold something,
when I weep walking in dark streets.

If a pearl brings a smile on your face,
so does your love for me on mine.
Sanding outside heavens door I see,
petrified, bleeding hearts like mine.

I kill myself everyday for you,
hoping you will come someday.
Bt when I see no signs either way,
I offer flowers on my own grave.

Greys to Blues...

When will the man learn to realise that its not the answer to his questions he seeks out crying out loud but asking for another question in return. its not this question he seeks out for but a reliver to reassure his insecurities. why is it that going down the memory lane seems so fun but when we look at those dark shadows of times that surrounded when we were helpless and never learned from them and just smile it off.. BAD TIMES.

It all wraps up in this little heart and remains safe and warm within... I hoped and i still hope.. I thought no words, i got no words, i say no words... All i got is a little hope and in the twisted strands of this rope of life i see you as the loose end to untie this knot of insecurity and give me one moment of that exuberant fragrance where i can breathe my true life. Keeping the bowls of these crystals of unsavour ego at the bay i wait at the shore to see the waves take them away...

A Beautiful Dream...

A tear rolled down and I wonder how I lost in it,
One moment I hoped the other I drowned in it.
Down the road, I see a woman with bleeding eyes,
Call her a mother or a lover I can’t decide.
Lost herself she looks at me like her son,
I see there are no battles for her left to be won.
Her silence said it all, all the realities of pain,
Staring at the sky she waits for the sun to rise again.
A sweet pain just gushed through my heart,
In a moment my whole life was torn apart.
As I looked deeper, I began unfolding her pain,
Her eyes lost in me looking for a way in vain.
Breathing heavily I whispered to my lord "Not Fair",
Did he actually hear wondering I stood there.
The breeze blew with a soft tune in her ears,
She smiled as if she had overcome all her fears.
Still looking at me, a tear rolled down her face,
I wanted to move but we were on different ways.
Did I feel the pain, even for a moment, her way?
I looked towards my lord, "What a beautiful Day".

End it to Begin....

And it all begins when we want it but never ends in the way we want it to. Suddenly it hits us hard and we still struggle to take that slap of time. What holds within the boundaries of our understanding can never be put with a full stop. We all have this urge to push the line as far as we can and not realizing by pushing it too far we tend to lose the very boundary that defines us. Why is it so hard to realize our own fears and try to build the gates accordingly? We live in a world of people with hearts only meant to pump the blood through the system. We just can’t walk a simple straight road without asking a thousand questions to ourselves, why is it so hard to leap the gates of our own insecurities and cross the road of realism? The complexities of our behavior are driven by the basic emotions we exhibit in a situation at any given point of time. We expect much more than what we are entitled to. Expectations are like the castles build in the air whose foundations are yet to be laid down. The very foundations are driven by the complex mindsets working on them. Laying down the guidelines and rules for them is as hard as breaking the thin ice of false pride. Expectation is just another basic emotion which adds the icing in the complexity of the behavior. Another big trait we have been gifted is the big ego which plays the major role in our behavior. Ego is a stack of assumptions we lay down for ourselves without realizing the meaning of them in our life. We tend to prioritize these assumptions according to our own convenience and need. These are so complexly related to each other that if any one of them is tried to put under light, the very basic model collapses. And over the time we keep stacking it until it builds like a wall such big that a mere try of mending it breaks the mind. And the ego which poses and causes most of the threat is the social ego. The assumptions we lay down about people around us. What makes them is another set of assumptions of basic walls of understanding and the exaggerated walls of expectations. It’s like swimming against the high tide and realizing when the damage is done. It’s these assumptions when they reach a point where there is no way of return they cause another defect which most people go through, this is better known as Identity crisis. It’s then we tend to do things which trigger the unexpected opinions which in turn start reflecting in our behavior. This helps the little bugs of irritation creep in and start contaminating us from within. This reflects our erratic behavior and suddenly we are off the charts of being our true self. The day we learn to manage our basic set of emotions, start commanding them, we can be a better person and make people around us comfortable too.

Simple is complex...

A simple stroke of brush gives the empty canvas a meaning. This stroke symbolizes its existence. The mind that gives it the stroke has a vision and it’s not easy to give it a meaning unless one is really capable of transmogrifying the eyes into the mind of the one who gives it. The little stroke gives it a new dimension. A dimension in which, we all in some way or the other try and realize the very meaning of its existence. The simple stroke is capable of getting different minds working all corners of the head. Its hard to form a single opinion as to what does it convey. It is something very similar to people around us. Every single person is a different canvas and we hardly come across two canvases with same strokes in it. It’s easier to move on with almost the same opinion for all of them, something very similar to a person who is novice to the world of canvas. Why we tend to form opinions is a question we all ask ourselves everyday but not for a single moment we try to look for the reason of its existence. It hits hard, real hard when we are bitten by the chains of opinions. The scars of these stand tall in the compartment of our memories and somehow it’s this space which is revisited very often. We all build walls around us; the opinion about a specific gives us the measure of the height of these walls. Somehow we tend to build them for everybody and eventually we realize that we ourselves can’t cross them when we really want them to. Mending is no option for these walls are not of bricks and concrete but walls of incomplete inferences. A canvas portraying the roads of emotions tends to draw more opinions. This is so because we all have been walking on that road ever since we learned to blink our eyes. The canvas has limited walls when it is created however it is us who create the unnecessary ones. The reason for these walls is no simple answer; if it was simple then I say simple is complex. These walls in the canvas are the walls of passion and the walls we built of opinions are made standing on these walls of the passion. The reflection of these walls made for the canvas leaves it’s shine somewhere within us and we tend to live with it. At some point or the other in our life we relate these walls with the ones we have built for ourselves and are webbed, we strangle ourselves in the sophistication of them and later fall from them to realize that they were never meant to be made at the first place. The time we realize we have either spent half of our life making them or trying to break them. The little canvas with a few strokes and limited walls influences us so to go on and build millions of other ones which have no meaning in the canvas of our life. Should we be wise enough to know the difference between the canvas of few strokes and the canvas of million strokes called Life.

Within....

And it starts all over again with a little pain and tonnes and tonnes of thoughts crossing the bridge of insecurity. Thoughts that change more rapidly than the bird in the sky flapping its wings in a second to scale the heights that seem to deceive the naked eye. Empty shells of life await the seed of love and respect. A cold nerve hits the head so strong, everything suddenly starts moving around in the shades of grey. The dust of time scratched with a finger unfolds the stories that lie beneath the deepest of the trunks of existence within. A miracle comes along once in a lifetime and should we be wise enough to realize what exactly it means. A will so strong to defy the rules, bend them and break them to bring in life a step closer and appreciate its exuberance and walk that one step farther to watch the horizon extending another mile. That is a miracle. We all extend ourselves to people around us with a sense of boundary which draws the line clear enough for everybody to watch their feet and not step across it, nor do we expect someone trying to walk along it endlessly. However we all tend to cross it for that natural urge within for more and more and more. A knot just unfolded or was it the wall within that just fell. Mend it before little bugs of the other world creep in and take over. The little bugs of insecurity eat up the will and start taking over. A weak rules over the others and a strong rules on himself. The differences are mere enough to be brought up. What holds within the light of knowledge may not always be true and sometimes the dark side which has never been revisited holds the answers to the questions which seem to have no answers. It’s all about extending the horizons and bending the mind beyond the facts and sometimes leading the way with assumptions. What we give out is the reflection of what we breathe in. It is the viscous circle of life and it keeps looking for an end in vain. Patience is a gift we have developed and from within we try to set a benchmark and keep varying it according to the situations we land in. It’s a natural instinct we try to keep a measure of it from time to time and keep working on it. The level of acceptance on the contrary declines and we don’t tend to keep a measure of it as acceptance comes from within. Measuring the level is something we have not yet developed and so tend to sideline it and work only on the surface and revisit it every once in a while for either shunting or revising it. The level is according to the comfort, the ease with which we can sustain our social structures. This structure has to be organized every now and then to mend the boundaries according to the level of acceptance. Every line drawn and varied marks the shunting and revision of the priorities. It’s hard to draw an inference from all the little things in life. A gift lies within all of us and should we be wise enough to realize it to make this world a better place to live in.