// Offness

Ah! Then, comes the residual of offness
Woven into the patches of pretention
Or smeared with mud and cow-dung
On the veranda of my earthen house.

The birds of amorous songs stop
Being on the old broken windows
Since they are closed very often
Since they remind me of someone.

The last festoon hung on the wall
Seems to be that someone yet fails to
Answer my innumerable queries.
O that it could relieve my anguish.

The flower tucked in my hair
Smells the sweet yet bitter him
Is it time or his invisible rudeness
That makes it wither within few minutes?

-

// His Songs

You know
I can hum his songs
By reading the circular cigarette-burns
Upon his left wrist upto elbow.
I can sing songs
At the sight of his punk tattooes
Upon his right wrist- dark and defying.

A strange medley of memories
Erupt, interrupt and disrupt
When the tears well up in his eyes,
When he slaps himself insanely.

A sullen face has swollen lyrics
Inked on the grown curled beards
And linked to the roots of remorse.
He repeats those lyrics like anything.

-

// 10th September 2025

And then I start my journey
From the pause imposed on me
From the blow targeted to me
To the feeling of frolic fervors
To the desire of dancing duets.

Those sent thoughts of mine
Those dent promises of yours
Dreams rusting in eyes' numbness
Will be light, lighter and lightest
In the storehouse of time.

Hand me the bolts of care.
Let me tighten the loose parts of ours
With the screw of affection.
Hand me the brush of clarity.
Let me wipe off the dust of misconceptions.

-

// Wrapped or Trapped

No necesito muchas palabras
A veces, las emociónes son reacciones!

What's trapped is not for willingness
Maybe, wrapped in a fair manipulation!
Some felt are some delt or some felt
Behaviors are traditions in sprouting seeds,
For the fallen will grow in the swollen soil.
Undoused flames are phoenix wings
Die not in danger, never roar in anger
Care not about me, artists never die.
Emotions they become-Immortal!
Expressed words are trapped testimonies
Wrapped in innumerable arts.

-

// What If I Am a Lie

What if I am a lie,
In our daily meetings?
A made up face
Hiding thousands of truths
Buckled in silence
Or rather in taciturnity
Or rather in a popular personality:
An introvert!

What if my smile is fabricated
My eyes dazzle falsely
My words are dummy decorations?
Is your credibility valid
Under this falsifying game?

What if things you feel
And adore fail to charm me?
A facade full of fuzziness!
May be your acceptance
Is my superfluous eloquence.

What if I don't show you
My real I yet you keep believing in
My vocal and visual I?

-

// Memoryvores

I wish I could say
I suffer from monthly amnesia!
It costs a soul to wriggle out
The webs of every month.

Some slices of past attachments
Are still stuck to the floors
Of my routine that I can't mop off.
Bear! But how long? Share! But till when?

Whose songs I am keyed to sing?
Whose lyrics are turned into my rhythms?
Whose loads are put on my head?
Whose stories are read to me often?

Some flashbacks of old memories
Crack the shell of my presence
And enter into everything normal
Only to hack them and make malfunctional.

Those agonizing thoughts are memoryvores
That worsen the immune my spiritful memories!
Such thoughts survive in silent loneliness
And in the utmost nonchalance of mine.

-

For the unattained affection
Stretched and separated long
As the climber plants break off
After a piece of land slides away
In continuous burst of rains.

The stretched parts survive
With the remaining deep roots
The survivors of inner injuries
Are akin to Indian banyan trees
Stormed, stretched and separated
Yet resilient, robust and rooted!

The futility of realizing nothingness
Against the very fact of conviction
Is fallacy of this howling century.

-

// Time Passes

Times passes
Or rather gets stuck
In the pair of my eyes:
(Im)patient behind the bars
Yet staring with eagerness.

Loneliness is a voracious termite
That is eating up my soul.
Your framed photo on the table
Your calls, video calls and chats
Substitute not your liveliness.

Ah! I don't want to frame myself
Inisde these perturbed waiting eyes
Behind the bars and my inner scars
And mirror you in incessant drops
Bringing the feel of silly flashbacks.

Hours after hours I hallucinate you
On that sofa reading poems to me
Explaining how to measure the depth
Of emotions, the gravity of dialogues
The silence of void and etcs...

-

// What A Shape It Is!

Have you ever counted
Stars in the milky ocean
When the moon is crimson?
If not, do it with full heart!
I search those when alone.

Is my heart falling like a star
Broken and coming down
Into the loneliest place?
Soluble! Soluble! Soluble!
Desires, dreams, despairs!

Acute helplessness beats
Hard on the anvil of life!
Heated! Heated! Heated!
Hammer it! Hammer it!
What a shape it is! Or...

A golden cage I'm making
Putting myself inside it.
Believing myself a parakeet
Untamed and unassociated
Speechless and hapless creature.

-

// The Castle

Yes, I've seen castles in blood
Red walls, red doors, red windows...
Who doesn't float in the pool
Of emotions? Who is exception?
A butterfly flints in that castle
Wherever she flies and settles
Things turn green and lively.
As if the castle needs it!
Nothing ominous stays in it
But there conjure some intentions
With vengeance and envy
With few lurking questions:
Who owns the castle now?
Is it the blood or the butterfly?

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