Bharath Nandibhatla ย  (Landlocked Sailor)
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A tipsy pen hungover on your gypsy soul, I shall write to you ๐Ÿ’ซ
Joined 9 October 2016

A tipsy pen hungover on your gypsy soul, I shall write to you ๐Ÿ’ซ
Joined 9 October 2016
24 JAN AT 0:37

Offer me not, a time machine
to skip through the rough,
to a time when my times tough,
are well behind me.

If I do take it, I know
I'd have the future I wished for,
but not the past that made me.

I'd be where I want to be,
but not who I need to be.


31 DEC 2020 AT 15:01

It's almost like
she sucks him
into her womb.
Is all of sunset
a birth, in reverse?

I've written enough
about the sea & sky,
as lovers, who
could never meet.
But this evening,
it's about their child.
She, a mother,
calm, from a distance,
turbulence within.
He, fiery and red,
a boy into his teens.

And when he's all red,
she pulls him in.
You'd think he's dead,
or some poets would say,
he's resting down under,
for the dawn next.

But she merely sucks him
into her turbulence under,
showing him what it takes,
to stay calm on the surface.
And he is born, come dawn...
a burning ball of fire within,
but calm and yellow to you.

// Mother Sea and her Sun


21 DEC 2020 AT 1:09

There she was,
standing guard,
to my solitude.

The purest form
of love.

To love each other,
and the space
in between.


6 DEC 2020 AT 1:23

Who knew those bruises
would be her Something Blue?
And those scars, her Something Old...
That smile, her Something Borrowed.
The veil, her Something New.
Or is it?
The veil's been there for a while now.


29 NOV 2020 AT 14:38

The light at the end
of the tunnel
isn't as bright
if you don't
the darkness,
while in it.

The tunnel,
in many ways,
a funnel.
Wide expanse of
dark at the start,
spiraling you down.
Past the middle,
squeezing you
to pulp, almost.
The best of you
at the end of it all.


20 NOV 2020 AT 2:18

Somewhere between
#MeToo and #NotAllMen,
two genders in a blender,
somehow fell apart.
The sexes, I care not.
The atrocities, I do.
The genitals, I care not.
The energies, I do.

One of these energies
and the other,

A harmony of the both,
and not merely balance,
is what, you and I, need today.

Men's day, and Women's day..
On both, I celebrate the energies
I so proudly possess, and so should you.

I would like to be a gentleman,
not always the chivalry you'd
associate one with...
the knight in shining armour.
Rather, just a person who's
gentle about his energies,
both masculine and feminine,
without going at war, with either.


15 NOV 2020 AT 0:40

What do you know of Loneliness?
Did you stare into his eyes, ever?
Did he stare back at you, coldly so?
What did you stare at, though?
Was it Loneliness? Or Solitude?

Too many questions?
I'm sorry, blame Loneliness.
He makes me want to question.

You might imagine Solitude
would offer me answers.
I'm sorry, but she doesn't.
She merely points out
which of these questions
really need to be answered.


10 NOV 2020 AT 23:44

It's been close to two weeks since I last wrote, Chico. Not that it matters to anyone, but I am not proud of it, one bit. The last time I wasn't writing regularly, it ended up eating my insides, almost beyond repair. No, my life doesn't depend on writing, nor does my living. But when you don't respect your art, it punishes you. I have intensively tried to not set standards for myself in terms of my art and how I approach it. I have tried to remove the many filters I used to have and to just express sans inhibition. I have stuck to what I like to read. Between the lines.
The last couple weeks have been overwhelming, to say the least. But I can't let that strip me of my one true love.
It's pretty much a Catch-22 at the moment, between my art and my life. And I prefer to not tinker around with a balance that has kept me sane for the most part.
I shall write more often to you, Chico. There have been enough lines left without much to read in between. It has to end today.

See you soon, here again.


25 OCT 2020 AT 0:27

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23 OCT 2020 AT 0:38

That time of the year
when you wear your fear,
and step out in the open...
flaunting it like it belongs!

Halloween, they say.
Isn't life an elaborate
Halloween, though?
You either wear your fear
or you seek a home in it.

The crows built a nest with
the straw from the scarecrow.
Batman wore his worst fear.
Do you conquer your fear?
Or do you concur with fear?

Are we all angels wearing our fears?
Is Halloween a Halo-been?


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