Time & space

Time shrinks and expands.
So does space.
All one needs is a force strong enough.
Maybe something like a blackhole.
Or just maybe.
Someone like you.

-

कलम उठाके कुछ अलफ़ाज़ लिख दूँ,
कलम उठाके कुछ अलफ़ाज़ लिख दूँ|
मेरी कहानी का तो समाज गवाह है,
तू कहे तो तेरी भी दास्तान मशहूर बना दूँ|

अक्षदा

-

Snowstorms

You are not the right shoulder,
to place my head onto lower.
Yet I get tired of the whole world,
and I end up dialling your number.
Wonder if you get the hints sombre?

I am engaged in an useless procedure,
of protecting myself; if I were a singer,
my songs would have no decibel.
A person of 100words, can you
be fluent in silence a bit longer?

Let's hibernate in cold together.
Will you be okay to stay when,
the storms of my blues gets stronger?

-Akshada

-

Long drive?

It is like driving a car,
at 100 km per hour.
Cruising on the highway,
a detour taken too far.

I remembered to,
put on my seatbelts.
At such high speed,
it doesn't matter anyway.

I think of pressing foot,
on the break all the time.
Just to never really,
have the courage.

Once you reach such a speed,
would you wanna stop?
Hit break? I rather accelerate.
Shift gears? I put it on fourth.

Lover of long drive,
I adjust the rear mirror.
What happens I wonder,
when the highway ends?

-

Sterile

I saw the days slip by,
like the hours usually do.
Slowly trickling down like water drops,
in an overly air-conditioned glass room.

-

Tricks of the trades

A writer keeps on writing,
a painter keeps on painting.
A singer keeps on singing,
and a thinker keeps on thinking.
All making attempts at imperfection,
while grasping for something surreal.
Fleeting eternity flirts with everyone,
just to leave them perishing in oblivion.

-

बहाना

तुम्हारी राहों में यूँ गुमशुदा हुए,
के पता हमारा अब हम कोई अस्पताल बताते है |
कई दिल के डॉक्टरों से कर ली मुलाक़ात,
कहते इलाज उसी का होता जिसे वह देख सकते है |
तो ढूंढ लो अपनी कमीज के जेब में मेरी खोयी चीज़,
इसी बहाने हम अगली मुलाक़ात का इंतज़ार करते है |

अक्षदा

-

Mercy

I often think about thermodynamics.
I think about reversible processes.
And oh how hypothetical they are.

I wonder why do they not exist,
somewhere sometimes in our lives?

Situations change and we do too,
the life as we know, changes through.

At night 3 a.m., staring at the ceiling
you think if only reversible processes
existed, and if only you could go back
before all the changes, to the origin.
And nothing changes in the universe.

But these processes don't exist.

So you are at the mercy of entropy.
Left there in an increasing disorder;
increasing chaos, only to fade slowly.

-

Sleep and white lies

Tell me some lies white.
If you utter them,
I would believe your words.
So take the fall of lying to me,
and tell me everything is better,
with your eyes that you blink,
a second longer,
when I can't see you smile.
Stop me wherever you see me,
and sit me down.
Don't let the black demons,
of reality haunt and maim me.
Keep your door unlocked,
for me to hide; although
don't lie about the door,
I can't bear to be locked out.
So when I come at dark night,
tell me white lies in your voice
and your pauses. A lullaby.
As I slip into the oblivion.

-

Like me

I love,
how you have a dimpled-chin,
it is just like mine.
Lips like cupid's bow,
ever so slightly like mine.
Your face is round,
just like mine is.
Your eyes big,
just like mine.
Your lashes long,
just like mine are.
Then why do I love you,
while I hate myself all the time?

-