Averted to life.
Obviated from the falls and triumphs.
For so much has forsaken,
Much more is taken.
For nothing in return.
Only a void in caisson.
Holding empty hopes,
And naive optimism,
For she[life] has blazed
Through the fire
Only to be contained
In a coffer of ashes.
Only to remain
Averted.
Dismayed.
And taken aback
From what holds the now.
Because I couldn’t not,
I opened the gate
Of what used to be.
The pain of the hours,
The part of the beckoning past,
And the way to upfront.
Because the door of the after
Is buried on the altar of the before,
I couldn’t not
Yield in the shadow of the yester.
I couldn’t not
Bereave the tree of nostalgia
Of what would’ve been
What hasn’t been
Or what could never be.
Because I couldn’t not,
To bear the agony of solitude,
Because I couldn’t not,
Let myself die a lil more,
Because I couldn’t not,
Depart from naivete
I opened the gate of fates
To abandon the terrors of the nights,
The uncanny thoughts of life,
And the rues of a doom day.
Because I couldn’t not,
I opened the gate
To forfeiet
The more and the beyond
Of the horizon!
In wander,
We stroll and discover,
The ebbs and flow
Of a portal, called life.
Life led to wander,
But what is lost in wander
Is irretrievably dispersed
In the realm of despair.
Despair indulged
The roar and flares
Of remnant life.
Indulged and forfeited
Every bit of the traces
To ever find back
The existing tracks.
Of life, or Wander.
What is lost in wander,
And diffused in despair,
Is buried, but alive in wonder.
For, now, life is a series of figment
Of ideation and daydreams
Of what once had been,
Or never been,
Nor ever could be.
In wonder,
Life is a splendor.
It thrives and sprue.
Through words and art
Or rhythms and thoughts.
For no imagination
Is to be torn and worn
In this land of grandeur.
Under the pile of buried thoughts,
Beneath the layers of denied griefs,
There, I lie in the bottom.
To facade the sense of impending doom,
To pry and to endure,
The unkind fights,
The merciless battles,
The uncanny realities,
Of the days I have lived in,
The curse of the days I’ve died because of,
And the rest of unrecognised existences.
Do I dare,
To bereave the percolate of ideas in my head,
To fit everything beneath the thick layer of my skin,
And surrend the flare
Of a thing/idea, called life?
Or do I crack the layers
And peep through the piles
To cut off the vices,
To (wrongly) thrive
In traces and pieces?
Whatever. Whenever. However.
How I wish to alleviate my fight!
Whenever I’m asked to
Define life,
I impede myself
From a hastened,
Supposed denotation.
For I, (my life), am
Cornucopia of instants
Like a collection of sorts.
Whenever they ask
What I’m made of,
I reckon,
And say,
Kaleidoscope of Words,
For I am the words
Knotted into a piece
Bled into the void
Fledged into the realms
Of this and any other world
That ever existed.
Why don’t we rise to love
Instead of falling into it?
Is love a trap to clip
The wings of infinitude?
Or is it the ultimate state
Where all infinite feelings coalesce?
If, as supposed, love is great,
Why fall into the rubble
In a movement of down spiral,
Rather than ascend
To the atop beyond?
In a sought out seeking
Of the extraordinary,
We deprived ourselves
The luxury of the normal.
For the world of illusion,
We solicited passion.
For a mere figment of delusion,
We delved into an ordeal.
For a jaded reality,
We sold out sanity.
Only to retain,
Certified insanity.
Breathe!
Whenever you feel the laden
Of living/surviving/existing,
When the weight presses down
The air out of your lungs,
Breathe!
When the entrapment of life
Starts to incapacitate
The flails of the arms,
The verity of the heart,
And the array of thoughts,
Then breathe!
For the fickle of existence
Is a mere paradox,
Feign the contradiction
Not in vain,
But in one, long, deep Breathe!
I get the fight
Of trying to live
And losing the war.
But,
I stay for the win
Of a battle
Which couldn’t impede
The struggle.
Or change the course
Of the regular toil.
Yet,
I stay.
I linger in a war
I have already lost
To win a battle
Of a single day.
Why? You ask,
‘Cause I am a pathetic,
Unnerved soldier.
Who, yet, owns the grit
To incessantly fight
For the war, lost.
Lest a battle, fought.
Hope is strangled.
Dreams are killed.
Life has halted.
Optimism has faded.
Sleep has abandoned.
Love is suppressed.
Adulthood has reigned.
In a posthumous world
Of my head-
Tones, disembodied.
Voices, unrecognised.
Whispers, unreconciled.
Bombard and surround
For the hopes to remain
Throttled and strangled.
I look up.
Beyond my head.
Away from the surround.
Up from the ground.
Detached from the bound.
Only to find
The tiny bulb
Shining over my head.
O gentle night!
Shield me from the hostile light.
From the crowd and the rush.
Bless me with the quiet and the hush.
Conceal my brows and lids
From the blazing shines.
Brim the uncanny noise
With serene and repose.
O gentle night!
Hide away your scare.
Bury your frighten.
Instead,
Enclose me in your brace,
And fill me with your bliss.
If I could wish for one thing,
I would fly, float.
Off the ground,
Off the weight,
Off the the load,
Up into the air
Of the unknown border.
#Verse
Appalled. I’m way too appalled
And bewildered.
By the monotony of life,
The mundane strife,
And the constant agitation
Of the world inside my head.
My perpetual descent
Is incessantly progressing
To the days, unending.
Weeks, unrelenting.
And months, unyielding.
Yet.
I’m bewildered, yet unbothered.
Bewildered, only, inside my head,
Unbothered and unwavered
For I embraced
It all.
For I’m enveloped in the past,
Yet, surrounded by the present,
O! I dither and fret
Being a conformist
And becoming obsolete
In a world I never aged
And withered in.
For I live in the cemetery of my souvenirs,
Do not bother
To bring me flowers.
Or more souvenirs.
For I rest and float
On the layers of mementoes
Of so many yesterdays
And whilom moments.
For I’m confined by fading memories,
Lost days and uncertain presents,
Do not haze and fade
Only to be bound
Beneath the beyond.
Unabridged Manuscripts 