//Bedding or Bearing

Those sleepy red eyes
Looking at the void.
I don't know the why.
But the why is forced.

Her eyes are oozing out
Some salty beverage
For the dry hungry cheeks.
I sense her fragmentedness.

Her faded nailpaint
Upon her skinny fingers.
But what about those
Green-looking veins?

An aged head in her lap
Sprinkles on a hot pan.
Deep disgusts or desires?
Bedding or bearing soulessly.

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#Haiku

And I need a cat
To mew in my dark silence!
My echo is loud!

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// Santiniketan Seminated

Yes, I can paint the place of desire
With my silent and salient memories
Replete with: walking into its (p)alleys;
Collecting bucolic charms of chiasms;
Mellifluous bloomed blossoms and
That endless but all from a young poet.

Each visit to that place of enchantment
Each sitting under the tallest foliages
Embrace me with poetic zeal! Wait! It heals!
Calling me home, connecting me with myself!
Clamoring silence, celebrating peace!
Feeling the limina of gentle breezes!

Overwhelmed by its entelechy in spring,
Scattered palashes as though flecks of fire
Garlend all who are lost in its green vicinities.
Smeared into its colours of festivities
Haven't we become one tuned with the ragas
Of bauls, getting Santiniketan seminated in us?

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// The Quest for Panacea

And then you start finding
Similarities in broken glasses
That was dropped all at once!
But the dropping started long ago.

A specific art do I need to heal
Myself or any other coping mechanisms?
Maybe a compassionate companion
That can really cocoon me in arms.

An unnerving soul and declining mind!
No need to sabotage my sprouting abilities.
But I have to wriggle out myself
From the trivial trends making me diseased.

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Thank You So much
For Reading Me! 🥰

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// 10th July 2024

Left my hand and bled much!
Words become deep wounds
Deep wounds become toxic words.
Am I injecting expired experiences
Into my veins or in my thoughts?

There wouldn't be aubades,
Nor would be always dirges.
Still, I am afraid of the songs
Of absurdity-a kill-pill of life.
Wait! Am I waiting for a wait.

Scared I am! A forced face!
I can't prepare my face
To meet a daily million faces!
I can't crumple my moon
To colour your faded fashion.
Ah! I think I need a long break...

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// Antiophobia

Lie not to me you will forget me!
There are no you and me apart.
One-a tangled and woven one.
A sense of parting crawls to me.

Ah! How painstaking it would be!
Is it the final verdict of the Time
Or is there left any more hearing?
Yes, how mournful it would be!

We are vulnerably poor in love.
Nothing to talk about hide and seek!
A vehement emotional jerk boils
Coldly in the veins that can't dissolve.

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// A Metaphor

My silence is a metaphor.
It screams through me:
The most neglected me;
The most tortured me;
The most uncanny me.

A heart to connect mine
In need of that very heart!
A hand to pull me out
From dipping into loneliness
In need of that kind hand!

What is a metaphor?
If it conveys not anything
Deep, deeper and deepest.
Here is my silence, poor thing!
My cumulative force of disgust!

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// 21st May 2024

Today's world in under a great pretense
Deceitful intentions flow and grow here.
As if love's suffused the body with lust:
Melting saliva can't quench wetting pubes.

My crushed flowers plead for air afresh
What makes my thighs heavy to move?
Is it the devious burden of this century
Where premature activities reign much?

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// Her Pit Black Eyes

Nothing could be more black than
Her pit black eyes dipped in carbon,
Dazzling with delicate radiance.
Albeit heavy with pain, they float
In the salty ocean of tears.

Quiver with maroon melancholy her lips
Singing many silent songs with her eyes.
Yet, those two eyes or two dark tunnels
Lead to an unresolvable mystery
Where I want to lose my way back.

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