Unmoor

Through crimson streams, they course with ease,
while fractured sparks in silence freeze—
fragments drift, yet some ensnare,
half in shadow, half laid bare.

Lost in currents, bound yet free,
whispers trace what eyes can't see.
Fleeting moments, bright then dim,
echoed dreams on twilight's brim.

Softly severed, unchained grace,
weightless steps leave no trace.
No hands clutch, no voices call,
peace is found in letting fall.

Like autumn leaves on winds untamed,
no sorrow clings, no heart is claimed.
Drifting, dancing, light and pure,
beauty rests where none endure.

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Anxious Tides and Avoidant Shores

Anxious tides rise with restless plea,
Craving love like waves to sea.
Their hearts, a storm of endless need,
Afraid of silence, of hearts that bleed.

They call and crash, they reach and strain,
Longing to soothe their hidden pain.
But avoidant shores stand cold, apart,
Guarding the fortress of their heart.

Shorelines flee from every crest,
Distant, fearing love’s unrest.
They build their walls, they turn away,
Hiding from the break of day.

Yet tides keep coming, seeking more,
While shores retreat, they shut the door.
In this mismatched dance they dwell,
One in hope, the other in shell.

But when the tides ease back their storm,
And shores find trust in love’s warm form,
A bond is born, secure and bright,
Where anxious hearts no longer fight.

The tides, now calm, the shores, at peace,
In each other, they find release.
Together they form a gentle space,
Where love’s embrace finds lasting grace.

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A Cinematic Ploy

Redeemed by the protagonist's essay,
the violence prompts a visceral flinch.
The blood, gore, and casual approach
make one wonder...
if an assault is a living, bile-belching

The sun had just disappeared, leaving behind a fine kaleidoscope of color.
A fleeting moment of tranquility, soon shattered,
by the echoes of chaos, a harsh reminder
that the world isn't always what it seems,
and peace is but a fragile dream.

Through the haze of fiction and reality,
heroes and villains dance in the shadows,
each with a story, a past, a reason.
The lines blur, morality questioned,
in a world where right and wrong intertwine.

Yet, in the protagonist's essay lies hope,
a testament to resilience, to the human spirit.
Amidst the carnage and despair,
a spark of redemption, a glimmer of light,
guiding us through the darkest of nights.

For every tale of woe and strife,
there's a story of courage and life.
A cinematic ploy, perhaps, but within,
the essence of humanity, the will to begin
anew, to rise, to fight, to love again.

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Street smart, ghetto dreams, I speak art you better see

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"I never get tired of being alone. I get tired of being around people where I have to wear a fake smile."

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"After all this time..."

Through the corridors of time, where shadows intertwine,
A glance of disgust, a moment undefined.
No repentance echoes, no remorse to find,
In the labyrinth of fate, where destinies entwined.

Not all are graced with foresight's guiding light,
Yet cunning hearts dance in the cloak of night.
But Karma, like a sentinel, maintains its flight,
As Doppler's whispers echo, ever in sight.

A persona painted, for the hype's delight,
Pressure within eclipses the outside's slight.
Like a balloon soaring, in its eager flight,
Bursting at heights where internal might ignites.

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My 1st anthology 🫣...printing is in process ✨

https://lnkd.in/g6_i79qM

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बुझ जाता वो सुलगता टुकड़ा,
बरखा के एक स्पर्श से । (2)

बादल आएं, आंधी भी आई
मगर रहमत की वो बुंद न आई ।

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Midnight Articulation

At peace now, in silent repose,
Obligations outweigh desires I chose.
Yet, in the depths, a question's flight,
Was there ever a moment, bathed in light?

Stillness reigns, but a void resides,
An opening within where longing hides.
Each night, craving rushes, cold and stark,
A chill of emptiness in the dark.

Heavy burdens upon weary shoulders weigh,
"My heart" doesn't articulate , what can I say?
True, it's a truth I'll carry it to my grave,
A soul adrift, a mere living slave.

Emotionless, a living dead I've become,
No stirring within, no beat of the drum.
Reactions mere facades, a deceitful art,
"Don't bleed before a shark," I play my part.

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