Maps (I am back!)
Still bogged down by you
A light emanting, your hue
Sunkissed face and fully true
A prophecy that needs a cue
And so I said, I love you
This seat is occupied, please leave
You need no tissues, don't grieve
Thoughts of life gone, no repreive
Turn away and I will not deceive
I should go to sleep, I'm naive
Who is this prodigy, this new gem?
A radiance leaving, who is "them"?
Your mind twisted, I now condemn
Problems growing, a very strong stem
Who's complaining? Not me, ahem
A puzzle unveiled, a jigsaw collapse
The person I am, in bits and scraps
I am not going to fall for these traps
Maybe one day this ordeal will lapse
If you can't find my heart, use maps
#poetry #words #me
THE CHASE
The sound of his sneakers gripping the slosh resonated as he darted through the alleyways, with a huge shadow hot on his heels. He seemed to know the area very well, as he slyly bolted through unknown roads, which were oblivious to the scary, relentless shadow behind him. He knew very well that he would not be caught, but just to be cautious, he made sure he used the proper alleyways not to get caught. It was early morning, and the sun had just started to rise.
“We’re here to live, not to live long,” were the words that echoes through the alleyways, but only in his mind. He had not had enough sleep, and his eyes were telling him to stop seeing the world for a while. But if he stopped, he would have to stop seeing the world forever. He was forced to run through his locality, chased by a mysterious shadow. He was used to being chased, and saw it as an opportunity to escape his mundane life. That was a gamble, as survival was not guaranteed. Nevertheless, he carried on, just like his father who died a few weeks ago.
He found a small opening between two buildings and was quick enough to push himself inside, to get away from the chasing business. He just wanted peace and non-violence, in spite of how cliché that sounded. The opening was dark, and nothing could be seen. He wanted to light a cigarette badly, but he already had trouble catching hold of his breath. He heard a thud, and did not want to go out. He was already done with the dark world and just wanted to cut off contact with people everywhere. His words were, “Live to see what is there, and not what you put there.” No one really understood what he implied by those words, including his mom. And he would never explain to anyone what it really meant. He sought truth, and truth was not in plenty. Lies, there was excess supply everywhere. He was always confused by those two words, demand and supply, when it came to life.
He had stopped sweating by now, and had put his turtleneck shirt into his rucksack and decided to get out. It was 12 in the noon. He got out, and no one was chasing him. He lent out a huge sigh and wiped his forehead by grapping his shirt by the wrist. What a tiring chase, but fun. He happily trotted home, with no worries about being chased. He reached home, splashed ice-cold water on his face, and took out his laptop before throwing the rucksack into his tiny room.
Before he even knew it, it was 5:30, and he eased into the recliner thinking of taking a walk, in spite of the risks involved. He courageously got up, slipped his blue coat on, and departed out the door. He put up a braver face than before, and ran down his stairs.
As soon as he was on the street, he noticed the same shadow behind him, and he was speechless. He could not go back to his house, as that would only make it easier for him to get into trouble. With all his energy bottled up by sitting on the recliner, he felt a sudden urge to make it alive. He decided to get to the main road instead of running through endless corridors. “Live to see what is there, and not what you put there.”
After running through the main corridors, where he reached a busy street. Complete silence and drowning colours.
His own shadow stopped chasing him because the shrooms had worn out.
FIERCE CONTROL
Hundreds in movement,
thousands are still,
what happens here
stays here, it will.
Some call it a mob,
some call it a revolution,
whatever it may be called,
perish, it will.
Blinkered horses,
uncontrollable dogs,
will have no effect,
nor will it stop.
A leash to start with,
A chain to break away,
weapons of destruction
are under construction.
One fires, then another,
trillions of them fire at will.
There is no wall,
there is no shield,
who will protect the walls
that were built?
Gnawing begins,
to break away from the leash,
to gain control.
But the leash is solid,
and the chains are of steel.
It is real, the struggle,
to break free from the bubble.
What happens inside the bubble,
stays inside the bubble.
Salvation waits, as the bubble
grows weaker and weaker.
Protection falls, as the bubble
grows weaker and weaker.
If one hath understanding,
the reckoning will come.
For the thing that is trying to
break free is the mind,
and the thing that binds it
are the thoughts, that fire,
at will.
The Seeds Of A Li(f)e
I’m walking on the sidewalk,
and I see a beautiful girl, very.
But haven’t I seen her somewhere?
No, that was just a lie,
I know the girl very well,
I’m in love with her in fact.
I’ve spent a lot of time with
her, and she is very graceful.
But,
will you remember?
Very well, this girl has given
me everything, well adjusted.
She has not failed to bring
joy to my world, and I have
not failed to capture.
But,
will you remember?
You have believed me so far,
you have believed the story,
but what do you think? Am
I trying to confuse you or am
I just fabricating a fable for you?
Let me not carry you away.
But,
will you remember?
The girl, yes. Her eyes,
her ice, everything wonderful.
She is a sorceress, she carries
magic in her kiss.
She carries love in plenty,
But there can be only one
empty glass here to be filled.
But,
will you remember?
I can see flowers now,
maybe because it is autumn.
Or maybe because someone died.
But I’m talking about the girl, right?
Yes, she is everything ideal.
But,
will you remember?
Should I speak about this girl more?
You might call me a liar now.
I’m just being an idiot now,
telling you this story, which
seems to be going somewhere else.
But,
will you remember?
Before the cursing starts, I will
tell you. Yes, we are two. Just me
and her. She is real, and she does
the magic here.
She makes me real.
yes,
now you will remember.
The Elixir
The dunes were still, the wind seemed to
be bored of the gloating displayed by the
man who had a hunger for malice and
gobbled on people's pride as
a pastime activity, his own city.
The merrymaking event started off as
a part of the man's absolute and dying
conscience and turned into a resolute
revolution in his dry life. Everything that
he molded now seemed to have definite
meaning, like that of the place where
dark and light never really differed.
One by one,
he went on conquering,
constructing castles,
installing new machinery,
and making dungeons.
This intense preparation was scary
and it made all the men around him go
haywire, brutally killing each other.
The city that the man built was material
for only a day, existed only to make him
realize his efforts had plunged deep,
into nothingness.
Grief-stricken, he decided to give up all
of this and become a hermit.
But his puny heart refused to do this,
and he continued to build, like always.
The city was dark now, as smoke was
rising up the ruins, for the second time now
after the new construction went down.
Everything in the aura started looking
new again as the man started off
building again, refusing to slow down.
Like the previous two adversities,
the city did not fail to go down.
The city did not fail to take lives.
The city did not fail to incinerate.
The city, was in complete adversity.
After two hundred and thirty-one
failed attempts, the man, now a hermit,
realized something very big. Back in his
ineffective spell of building, he had money
to spend, resources to build and men to
splash things all over.
But there was one,
he never won.
Enough dime,
but not enough time.
THE SPECIAL THREE
It was a bright orange world,
where lived three friends thick.
They couldn’t suffice life without
each other in a world so sick.
They lived on each other’s hard
work and spent very much less.
They broke bread under the same
roof, just them, and no mistress.
One thunderous day, a single file
of light graced down on them and
they woke up from their deep exile.
Everything around danced gracefully,
and their eyes cheated on them to
make them grimace around painfully.
One said, “Let’s get out of this horrid
place and save ourselves before some
god makes our pure and only roof torrid.”
One of the other two nodded the head
in belief and wonder, and started packing
to leave the roof where they broke bread.
The last one blatantly refused to even budge,
but the other two were over their heads
and decided to leave and left without grudge.
After several days of the mysterious light
incident, the two that left decided to return
to their once humble abode in the night.
They were surprised to see their abode
still intact, and they started searching for
their other friend, with senses blown and wide.
They couldn’t find the other friend very
easily, and sat there knowing what not
to do next. They looked like bad fairies.
From where they sat, they saw a bright light
and they decided to go towards it, and get
a glimpse of it, to make sure they were right.
When they reached there, they were stunned
to see their other friend with a halo around the
head. The other friend said, “Nice to see you
both here, I am now immortal because I refused
to budge from here that day and now you both
will die someday. I also realised our names.”
Their names were Melancholy, Joy and Pain.
Melancholy and Joy were the mortal ones.
DEAD ENDS
Dead ends are very interesting
though there’s nowhere to go or
any place to land up, unless you can
fly or dig by hands to get somewhere.
There’s only silence, which is calming,
but also threatening. The silence is only
a sign of doom is the real feeling. You can
turn back, but that would get you back to
where you started the goddamn journey.
But your mind starts crawling, because
you just can’t stay at one place, the mind
is a rock traveling in space, in vacuum.
The silence is now very annoying, and you
want to do something, get out of the damned
place before you become a lizard’s sawn off
tail, wiggling and jumping in silence.
But you realize, that you won’t become a
lizard’s tail, because you can’t grow back
what you’ve lost, so not remotely possible.
The paradise is found in empty places, if
you choose to find it. Can I search for things
in an empty trunk? Can I tell others to search
for something important in a trunk that has
nothing but silverfish from old books? Not
that the silverfish have any significance in my life.
I have to get going now, somewhere. But where do
I go? There’s nothing but walls around me, and
I cannot go back now. I want to progress, which
must be the real purpose of my life here on earth.
Such a heavenly planet, and why do they have
bloody dead-ends and cul-de-sacs? Why not
open roads everywhere? Oh, yes. You don’t
always get what you want, I forget. Such a funny
world. Such a mirthful place to be in.
Oh, come on! Wasn’t I talking about dead ends?
I’m still stuck, let me not stay there. But how in
the world do I progress? It’s not plausible that I
will fly. Nor do I have the equipment to dig to
the other side. Then, an analogy flashed. I’m a
Tuna fish inside a tin can, trapped and alive.
I cannot get out until someone tries to key the foil
and pry me out of my trapped world. Nor can I go
back to the water where everything was pure.
TRAFFIC
Honk, honk!, Give me my space,
I need to hurry even though I have
got no significant work in my boring
and dusty life of mine, said those
scooters with their muddy wheel guards.
Raging commuters, showing off their
half-colourful and boring helmets
plunge into gaps and hoping to somehow
reach the other side first, because…
I don’t know, they don’t really know too.
They just like the feeling of their machines
being on the other side, with the lead.
I don’t budge, refuse to plunge into gaps.
Honk, honk, honk! As their attitude is
displayed by the lifeless poor vehicle.
I still don’t move, and it turns into words.
“Go through there, there’s a lot of space.”
I say no, trying to tell my scooter to calm
down and that nothing was really wrong.
A tearing sound shows up behind, Oh, it’s
a “beast” as they call it, “Duke”, I see.
His show-off helmet saying, “Cut the bull
and get going through the damned gap”.
I am silent now, waiting for green to show
before they could rage out on the poor me
on a simple and grey commuting machine.
My nerves start jumping up, and I ask,
“Are you an ambulance?”. I can see now
that his face has reddened and he is now
ready to show his stupid, and unjustified
anger that made no real sense, no one did.
The Traffic Management saved me, by
throwing the green light on, so relieved.
I reach home, and the first thing that ever
took over my mind was the stupid incident.
Why are commuters so impatient? What have
they got to do after speeding through gaps,
skipping signals, and driving on the footpath?
I wonder if every angry commuter has an
emergency, if they really need that speed.
I wonder where the rules are going, when
“driving with safety” is only an eyewash.
Then it all became clear to me, as a thought
strayed its way into my mind, telling me,
“People, at gatherings, and whatnot, give
importance to their religion and see them
as their kind. They see clearly because of
names, behaviour and mass display. But
what is it with traffic? Can you really point to
a random person and tell where he belongs?
No. There is the answer. When people cannot
organise themselves where religion is no bar
and only a few simple rules are, then mankind
cannot see clear in all walks of life, and will
thus fail in making this world sustainable.”