Shameless

You have been nothing but irrelevant,

A dime in a desert,

The king of the hills,

With no accompanies to shudder,

A ruler of your own force,

A marching band of your kingdom,

This self-made world of yours,

Is nothing but an incarnation,

Of your multiple failures,

You have been the voice of none,

Nor the nurturer of your son,

An imbecilic human being,

With no heart to nudge at,

No rekindling of someone’s strings,

No vital organ in a wet dream,

You need to be straightened,

Beyond recognition,

A perplexed piece,

In a self-woven puzzle,

You are a broken man, my friend,

When will you learn?

This world is moving at a breakneck pace,

A disgrace to your ever lonely face,

No enveloping shoulder to a wife,

No helping hand to your mother,

Yet you walk like you own this place,

Your pants are down my friend,

Your belt buckle sewed to your lace,

And in this ever enriching life of yours,

You are nothing but the reminisces,

Of the extinction of human beings,

A disgrace to the world,

Roll over and die my friend,

For death has no compatriot as low,

As your bent down stature.

Shame

I’m the uninhibited, unabashed,

Table spoonful of Shamefulness,

There’s no conspiracy, lies,

No untimely death of characters demise,

I have been shameful, shameless,

All my life,

A moment of truth,

Has been lasting all this time,

No words have been twisted and turned,

Wrapped in a sheet of sweetness,

For others to yearn,

A knight in a shining armor,

A weapon so indestructible,

No one even dares to pry,

I’m as naked as when I’m clothed,

No alter ego accompanied,

By my side,

I’m the pure, untouched, unforced,

Error of this human life,

Neither do I lie for someone’s smile,

Nor walloping as a testament,

To someone’s feelings,

I’m the uninhibited, unabashed,

Table spoon of shame,

And in this world of lies,

I’m the only galloping being,

With myself to blame.

 

Timid Being

Timid being seems to squirm inside,

Wide eyed,

Love and despair at the same time,

Heart has traveled from buses to trains,

To thousands of miles of unabashed love,

To plunging planes and tidal waves,

A storm seems to disrupt inside,

In colors of gold and grey,

For the first time 6 o’clock feels late,

Night never seems to fade from the eyes,

Heart has been up all night,

Of ever stuttering windows, Rain clouds,

Despair seems to be the chair,

That rocks back on its own accord,

The pendulum seems afraid to venture,

It’s certain, never ending, never changing path,

And the days have been enlightening,

Frightening have been the cold nights,

Loneliness has exchanged numbers,

But never seems to communicate,

Heart has travelled from the shadow to the eyes,

Long winding tresses of Golden Grace,

Her face seems to fade away,

Each time the mind ventures,

The face seems to fade a little more,

Maybe the memories were made to last,

Till the reality dawns it’s awkward embrace,

For the endless time 6 o’clock feels late,

Night never seems to fade,

Heart ponders on its never ending path,

It’s certain, never ending, never changing path,

Love and Despair at the same time.

Gibberish

Time has never been kind,

Always blinded by naked lights,

Lights synchronize in glitter and gold,

You are no more, strong, neither bold,

Neither the apple of someone’s eye,

For what seems to rhyme a lie,

Is actually a forgotten dream,

You are the river, flowing stream,

In pure sense an upheaval of senses,

Drenched in the love of endless creaks,

And no matter how hard you try,

To make sense of the words above,

Tides are not measured by the guy,

Standing near the beginning of the beach,

For dip your soul, your posterior, interior,

Into a seamless breeze, not afraid to drown,

Wear that frown like a crown underneath,

You have been the queen of someone’s desires,

Tired is your soul, down on your knees,

And in this sensible world of yours,

You are the only one senseless enough,

To make the mistakes of a child,

To be the responsible adult,

And to die like every other person,

Ought to be,

For nothing needs to be reasoned,

Not every word needs a reasoning,

For in true sense gibberish is the only word,

That makes sense to me.

Being Immortal

For you are glorious, it means,

As the possibility of love,

Has never been of one long kiss,

Of starry nights, long goodbyes,

Of that strand of hair on my sleeve,

For the door has always been left open,

And the wind has never been so colder,

For the possibility of love has been minimal,

And in untimed circumstances, blossomed,

On some days, the sun has been kinder,

Immortality has been a passing thought,

For love has never been by my side,

For it has taken ages to find true love,

And the possibility of love,

To make ends meet, opposites attract,

And all the rubbish people come up with,

It has been a never ending journey,

For you are glorious, it means,

And the idea of immortality,

To blossom love in untimed circumstances,

Need not abide by the time, granted by God,

For even time will have to bow down beneath,

As the possibility of love,

Has never been of one long kiss,

Of starry nights, long goodbyes,

For that ever so lonely heart,

Pounds in between the two spaces,

For you are glorious, it means,

And the idea of immortality,

Has never been a passing phase for me,

For the realization has been there,

Death has never been a friend in need,

And in all your glory, unprecedented,

Unabashed, unashamed, blatant,

The journey was never written,

With an ending or a beginning,

And the idea of immortality,

Has never been of passing phase to me.

BasketBall

In the land of Dwarves and Normal beings,

Stood a man high above the skies,

Where the sun touched the rim,

Of his ever bowed down collar,

And as he stood above the rest,

In search of something,

He could call as his own,

Made for the similar beings,

10 ft above the land,

Embark where none could reach,

Something that could change everything,

And so he called the rest of the beings,

Who ever closer, but not as high as him,

He was proclaimed as the King,

Of the tallest human beings,

Together they removed the dirt,

Blood and bones deep beneath,

Drew parallel lines in between,

The king wanted a rim that could be touched,

Only by the chosen ones themselves,

And so the rim was perched high above the trees,

Far from the reach of fellow human beings,

A golden carved ball, gleaming with prosperity,

Two teams of equal metal, a line in between,

And a heart with hopes and dreams,

And so the dwarves and normal beings,

Stood on the sidelines, rejoicing,

For the ones who had lost their place,

For beings different, for not being normal,

And so the King took the final leap,

To touch the rim with trembling hands,

An Era of sporting rivalry had begun.

Incurable

Inquisitiveness kills the mockingbird,

As the mother sings a lullaby,

Hush says the gatekeeper,

A devil resides in all of us,

Of undertones and overpowering,

Richness of a crippled blood,

Of the downtrodden, merciless,

Ruffling of the trees by the unseen,

A silent cold whispers the beloved words,

You are the God himself and the devil,

And the Satan’s only son,

You are the muffled tones that erupts,

In cramped corners, broken shades,

In disguises as shadows,

You are the friend of a dying one,

The darkness that peaks through,

Two mountains and a kissing sun,

Neither dead nor alive,

You have been shunned,

From closed doors, open hearts,

You are the disease that resides,

Yet breathes and lives in all of us,

A soul left to wander a long journey,

Never ending road of judgements,

Prejudices, presumptions,

A road constructed by the divine,

In the name of God,

You are the sole proprietors,

Of your actions, truth lies,

You are the untold lies of each and everyone,

An eclipse hovering over the horizon,

A line that divides, encircles,

You do not belong to the pure blood,

A devil resides in your blood,

You have been corrupted, rotten,

Disease runs in your veins, heart, soul,

As your mother sings a lullaby,

For the one who has been by your side,

Unperturbed by the unruly society,

You whisper your final words,

In cramped corners, broken windows,

The darkness that peaks through,

Two mountains and a kissing sun.

Purple Haze

The final verses of my vivid life,

In colours of purple haze,

Morning skies seem alive,

With the Thunderbirds passing by,

She was never the love of my life,

Never the soul of my dreams,

Unless the dreams were seen in daylight,

Daylight is nothing but a symphony,

Of clear blues, mesmerizing eyes,

Sky reflects beneath her silver moon,

Streaming past her glaring smile,

She could kill a thousand lives,

Make a few traffic jams,

Blur a few, between the lines,

Freeze the time for a second,

Yet the world seems to wander,

In colours of purple haze,

Seems to climb away,

From all the hustle and bustle,

But the window is 6 inches wide,

As she stands staring at the other side,

Morning skies seem alive,

Sensing something in colours of grey,

Of thunderous rains, pouring eyes,

Never the soul of my dreams,

The screams of a beautiful child,

Realized yet unfulfilled all my life,

She could envelope a thousand skies,

Sky reflects beneath her silver moon,

As every inch tries to squeeze in,

Fragile body, clinging to the final ties,

Morning skies seem alive,

Two bodies in dismay yet visualize,

Sky gasping beneath her silver moon,

In slow breathes it comes alive,

In colours of purple haze,

Screams echoing of a beautiful child,

As the fragile body wobbles beneath,

In tender whispers, whimpers,

Fragrances from every pour of the skin,

Delusional are the senses for some time,

Epitome of pain and belonging,

Of forgetting and forgiving,

Of two souls like synchronized swimmers,

Sky reflects beneath her silver moon,

Of slow hushes, screams whisper,

In colours of purple haze,

World seems to come alive.

Rotten Seeds

Tragedy under the mistletoe,

Bids a final kiss of goodbye,

You are no more a living being,

A mere shadow of a wife,

A woman with hollow needs and desires,

You are a piece of wooden sculpture,

Rotten from the inside,

You have been a faithful daughter,

A loving mother, a caring wife,

Ten drops of blood seeping beneath,

Ripe are your wounds of agony,

Agony has no meaning unless filtered,

Revenge, jealousy, treachery,

You have been a caring wife,

You leaned near the creaking doorstep,

For distant, long hours, awaiting,

Waiting, seconds, minutes, hours,

Days have even lost your sight,

Sun has never been faithful to you,

Neither the growing moon,

Your two sown seeds of long days,

And short nights, have become mere shadows,

Flailing, reverberating the same old pain,

Nothingness seeps inside.

Revenge, jealousy, treachery,

You have been a caring mother,

A heartfelt sister, a loving wife,

A bell screams in agony inside,

Your two sown seeds,

An enveloping son,

An overshadowing daughter,

Of long days and short nights,

You have been a loving wife.

You have been a loving mother,

A heartfelt sister, a caring wife,

Ten drops of blood seep beneath,

Wooden floor creaks inside,

Piled up are the deeds of,

Rotten seeds once planted inside,

Revenge from the one,

Who planted the seed,

Jealous of the beautiful daughter,

A treacherous son,

You have been a loving wife,

Ten drops of blood seep beneath,

Wooden floor creaks inside,

Piled up are the deeds of,

Revenge, jealousy, treachery,

Nothingness seeps inside,

You have been a caring mother,

A heartfelt sister, a loving wife.

"She has always been a caring mother, a loving wife, but the long hours of loneliness and wait have driven her to insanity. I have used sun and moon as a symbol of her son and daughter and thus termed as long days and short nights, long hours of waiting for her son and daughter. Revenge, Jealousy and treachery are the three symbols of her husband, daughter and son which have been described in the last few lines. Even after killing her husband, son and daughter she is close to loneliness and nothingness as she thought ending the reasons of misery would end the pain forever"

Fickle minded genius

Fickle minded genius,

Burns the last of the pieces,

Of his ever dismal life,

Counting by the minutes,

The ashes into smoldering heat,

Reflect the pain and the scars,

Face reflects a long lived journey,

Empty soul, without love,

Fickle minded genius,

Differentiates himself,

From the rest of the rotten crowd,

With brains placed on a mantel piece,

Intelligence lost within the crowd,

Loud are the verses,

Of the pope and the mistress,

Truth clad within the white satin,

Blood trickles down the thigh,

And the fickle minded genius,

Creates weapons of mass destruction,

Hatred of never finding love forever,

Burns the last of the pieces,

A child within suffocates and dies,

And the fickle minded genius,

Pulls the trigger,

Thousand lives undistinguished,

No religion, no caste, no creed,

No borders enveloping, no prejudices,

No hatred for each other, neither love,

All lay above the ground,

With arms and feet dangling,

Reflecting the same pain,

Colour of the blood remains consistent,

No Hindu, no Muslim,

And the fickle minded genius,

Fulfills the revenge,

The days he has been through,

The path he was forced to,

The learning’s embedded inside, carved,

Work of the fickle minded genius,

No religion, no caste, no creed,

Death is a procedure,

Proceedings need to be undertaken,

Lights a match stick,

Reflecting pain on his scarred face,

And the fickle minded genius,

Burns the last of the pieces,

Of his ever dismal life.

She was never meant

Part 1: She is mine

In times of solitude and distress,

When the pain of longing,

Of holding someone’s face,

In yours hands,

Your hands are dirty my friend,

Soaked in blood of others,

Who held the same infatuation,

Some may call it love, others lust,

But the feelings remained the same,

Of continuation, of two parallel lines meeting,

And the love of others towards her,

Caused distress and pain,

Of that same lonely heart,

Which pounded in its mid region,

Needs a black silken cloth,

To obliterate the love of others,

But the rays of others penetrate,

She was not meant to be for him,

She is the God of beauty,

The love of every man’s eyes, of lust,

She is love in different colours,

In different religions, symbols, signs.

Part 2: The hunger for her

She was meant for everyone,

Of that divine intervention,

She is every child’s unfulfilled hunger,

Every poor man’s broken shelter,

Of signs of ups and downs in life,

She was meant for everyone,

She is the hope of good times,

Of that cringing thirst of bad times,

When a man holds the hand of failure,

She is the cause of happiness, of sadness,

Of every man’s provoked emotions,

Evoked emotions, she evokes emptiness,

Struggle, of every man’s never ending desires,

She was meant for everyone.

Part 3: Green soaked in blood

And so blood was poured,

Families, friends, lovers, enemies,

All stood in the same line,

Devotees stood in disguise,

Some for the upheaval of man,

Promised for peace and prosperity,

In hope of quenching her,

But the thirst never seized,

The size of the pockets bloated,

With the bloated minds of blinded people,

Some clad in white and orange,

While others in pure colours,

Stood on a mantle above others,

She was never meant for everyone,

She always belonged to the people,

Who possessed the three symbols,

Of,

Power,

Prestige,

Prosperity,

Stood over others,

Crippled the poor beneath,

She was in there arms, in their pockets,

And every other confined space,

After all she took birth,

From power and lust,

Superiority over others,

Money,

She was never meant for everyone.

Ego seeped within

Volume of my head increased,

When ego seeped within,

Vision blurred, disoriented,

No more a human being,

Above all, below no one,

Head high above shoulders,

Trampling, scrambling beneath,

Eyes far from reality,

Vision of my eyes blurred,

When greed seeped within,

Fame and fortune lay close to me,

Friends and foes even closer,

Achievements mounted above mantels,

With shadows of struggle disengaged,

Treachery and lying held my hand,

No more a human being,

Hands soaked in blood,

When jealousy seeped within,

Killing in the name of anything,

Fame and fortune stood in silence,

Friends and foes in dismay,

No more a human being,

Path of life, blurred, dismantled,

When alcohol seeped within,

Misery and disparity lay close to me,

Friends and foes mere shadows,

Loneliness held my hand,

Vision blurred, darkness, eternity,

When death seeped within,

Blood, bones, ego, anger, jealousy,

One gallon of kerosene and a matchstick,

Emptiness seeped within,

When fifty years of ashes,

Were burnt down into nothingness,

Volume of my life decreased,

No more a human being.

Maybe she's just a dream

A syringe deep within,

She rests upon the shoulder,

Maybe just a dream,

She is a living being, I believe,

People say she’s just a stream,

A dream waking near a meadow,

She has been nothing to me,

I have nothing more to see,

She’s just a dream,

Like a syringe deep within,

People say she doesn’t exist,

Just a figment of my insecure mind,

Mere definition of my existence,

Maybe she never existed for me,

Maybe she has been a fume of air,

Which whispers in the air,

She has been an underlining stream,

In my ever flowing life,

She has been the calm tides of the sea,

Like a syringe deep within,

People say she’s just a feeling,

Only felt, can’t be touched,

By an unworthy human being, like me,

I’m not a worthy soul mate for her,

My soul fades in front of thee,

She is the day and the night,

And the light in every blind man’s dream,

My life has been colorless all this time,

She has been the source of serenity,

Of that mild extinguished breeze,

That once existed, felt, sensed,

By each and every human being,

She is the girl of my dreams,

A syringe penetrates deep within,

Rehabilitation for the mere existence,

Of her,

Maybe she is, maybe she is not,

A syringe left deep within,

People say she’s just a dream,

Maybe I’m a dreamer,

Maybe she existed just for me,

I’m just a believer, of love,

Of she being there for me.

Smoke a life in the air

"For all the joints burnt in thin air, out of love, out of care"

From the bygones to the sidelines,
I see you travelling by in an arm seat,
With eyes flaming red,
You smoke till the joint breaks away,
Ashes slithering in cool air,
Gulp the air of freedom baby,
And put the throttle to the limit,
As my old mama said one time,
“You aren’t a boy till you,
Hear the screeching sound”
And the car hits the diversion,
Work in progress baby,
Hit the brakes, make a sound,
From the passersby to the sidelines,
Arms flailing like a shadow in disguise,
I see an angel giving me the eye,
Why should I lie to you baby?
I don’t have a lifetime, to throttle around,
Gas prices are taking a hike,
So pull the back seat, and live the life,
Smoke a joint in the cool sunny air,
With eyes flaming red,
I see stars colliding in mid air baby,
The whole constellation is falling by,
Ashes slithering in cool air,
Friction of the cool bodies,
Warm touches,
Baby extinguish the flames inside,
My heart is burning for thee,
So light a joint, till the ashes hits the sidewalk,
Smoke a life in the air,
Burn a few lives, break a few bones,
No one is going moan on your life,
You have not been a celeb in disguise,
So smoke a joint, spray the smoke in the air,
Eyes flaming, burning red,
Burn some lives in the air,
Baby, I ain’t got a lifetime.

If Only: A mirror could reflect the true being

A mirror reflects the true being,

Time has shown its colours,

With eyes awakening to new hopes,

New hopes, news dreams,

Wrinkles spreading beneath the skin,

A sea is bruised and broken within,

Waiting for the shore to come close,

A pure kid once lived within,

Pure, untouched, not yet tarnished,

If only a mirror could reflect the true being,

Eyes see what they want to see,

You are not even close to,

What you wanted to be,

A mirror reflects the lies etched,

Into the memories of each and every being,

Lies, shadows and all the greed,

A river flows within of dirty deeds,

Waiting for the shore to come close,

Need a helping hand to save you,

Save me, save the humanity,

If only a mirror for once,

Could reflect the true me,

Time has shown its colours,

Eyes have withered with time,

A sea is bruised and broken,

A pure kid once lived within,

Echoing the pains and screams,

Words a man couldn’t possibly speak,

If only a mirror could reflect the true sense,

And the awakening of the senses,

To new hopes, new dreams,

A new day has arrived for you and me.

Sexual Fantasies

Your hair fall back,
Near the white dreamy curvature,
Where my hand seeps through,
Perspires, shakes beneath,
And you melt into me,
Light passes by, doors creak,
Bed shudders,
Under the weight beneath,
Heart throbs in motion,
I lose my sight for a while,
In your eyes,
Towards the scene,
Where your heart,
Feels the sensation,
Of my clamp, cold hands,
Fingers rest in peace,
Where the curvature,
Of the never ending seams,
Perspire in anguish,
Dreams run wild,
World revolves around,
Bounded by two souls,
One leaves an impression,
Over the other for life,
I am on you,
You are on me,
I am in you,
You are in me,
And my hand,
Rests in peace,
Where the curvature,
Of your heart,
Heaves a sigh of relief,
Chest heaving up and down,
Near the crease,
Your hair fall back,
Near the white seamless curvature,
And my hands seeps through,
Pierces in between,
Bed shudders,
Under the weight beneath.

Dreams are no one's legacy

I have seen days,
When the old church bell rings,
Signifying life and its seams,
Dreams are no one’s legacy,
Irrespective of all the castes and creed,
And the beggar taking a stand,
On the final stairs of faith,
Never believes in the almighty,
Drowned in the sorrows of his dreams,
He seeks last of the shredded pieces,
To hide the shame left beneath,
He still believes, hopes,
That life has never been fair to him,
That he has tried all the possibilities,
That ecstasy is the final nail,
Before the coffin suffices to creak.

Between heaven and hell:

Let me drown myself in misery,
Maybe the doors of hell wait for me,
Maybe life has given me everything,
Maybe fame and fortune was just a dream,
Maybe I have been an arrogant fool,
A devil of hunger resounds within,
I have seen world with open eyes,
Yet blinded by reality,
I have been the one,
Who sowed the seeds of tragedy,
As you sow so shall you reap,
And the tree of hope has grown old,
Branches of dreams shriek,
The stairs of hell,
Is a two way journey,
Where the path is just a gimmick,
I’m aware of the reality,
I have seen enough days,
I have dreamt enough dreams,
It’s time to slide the sheets,
And the church bell starts to ring,
Sting in my ears,
Blood begins to pour,
Dreams are no one’s legacy,
I will pass none to thee.

Child of a mother

White lily bestows upon the glory,
Of it being surreal and pure,
Like the surface of the sun,
Untouched by no one,
Other than the morning rays,
That penetrates and evolves,
From its skin of white and gold,
A story needs to be told,
By each and every one,
As life is a series of unfulfilled dreams,
And a few memories,
That needs to be undone,
Remembering all your loved ones,
As the morning embarks upon the glory,
Of white lily that feels divine,
When the morning dew,
Slides over the surface, with grace,
Chasing all the butterflies,
Drenching their wings awake,
And the shuddering eyes,
Of a new born baby,
Watches in awe,
As the glory of the day,
Unfolds, like a scenery,
That exudes its colours,
Like the smell of love,
Mystifying each and every one,
And the new born baby,
Glares in hope of catching the bubble,
As the sun shows the seven colours,
Shining, divine I see god in their eyes,
As they are still pure,
Untouched by no one,
But the sweet smell of their mother,
And the father watches,
As his lily blooms into a sun,
And the fragrance evaporates,
Yet stays somewhere close to his heart,
He may never see this day again,
But embarks upon the glory,
Of his lily giving him a tight hug,
And the world seems a little better,
From all the hustle and bustle,
In the arms of your loved one,
And all the chaos and calamities,
Just evaporate into the sun,
As every day needs a change,
And the father of a new born baby,
Feels so small in front of the world,
When the lily blooms awake,
And the smile of the mothers face,
Is worth a thousand suns,
Drowning into the seas of the west,
In hope of rising from the front,
The world needs a little love,
To show its true colours,
And all you need is love,
To bloom that lily awake,
Life needs a change,
And all I need is a new day,
All I need is a new life,
In a better way,
I need the touch of a mother,
To shine awake.

I shall be the death of humanity

My words wrapped up in clover,
Leave a scent of ingenuity,
Hands move towards the closet,
Opens up the wardrobe of ideas,
Senseless migraine drenches me,
In a silver spoon of dreams,
And the sun shines in full glory,
People name it as insanity,
Shining of a brain into a dream,
Leaves the marks of sanity,
Far from the reaches of people,
Whose thought process suffocates mine,
And I need a space of my own,
To ponder upon the possibilities,
How destructive my ideas could be,
And the sun shines to its full glory,
Encompassing all the certainties,
And still how uncertain life is,
Ideas need a space of their own,
Thoughts need to be diverted,
Into a downward stream,
Where the flow reaches towards my skin,
Embedded, flowing into my veins,
Like pulses waiting to perceive,
What I want me to be?
Son of a whore,
Who died due to insanity?
Or bottled up into a cramped corner,
Waiting for his time to seize,
Out of all the possibilities,
I choose insanity,
Sane never leaves your names,
Scratched on the walls,
Of this unruly society,
Idea of a genius needs to break free,
And my ideas are wrapped up in clover,
Scent begins to stream down the aisle,
An idea needs a possibility,
And I want to stand alone,
Near the peak of insanity,
Shove myself from the edge of dreams,
Dive into the river of reality,
Realize all my dreams,
Is nothing but a cause of all the pains,
So significant that hard to believe,
And idea needs a man,
And I shall be that man,
I shall not succumb to circumstances,
I shall not be deceived,
Senseless migraine drenches me,
Thirst for the blood quenches me,
I need an idea,
That shall change the face,
Of humanity,
I will make,
Atomic, nuclear,
And all the combined energies,
A pile of dirt left in belonging,
I shall be the sole idea,
I shall be the sole humanity,
I shall be the god of evil,
The god of longevity,
I shall be,
The only one to speak,
I shall be,
The almighty.

Gold and Glitter

And her body smoulders,
Like burning lava,
She extinguishes all the heat,
And my heart perspires,
In hope of burning,
Too close to thee,
Her tresses down her feet,
She glorifies the glory,
Like a soldier losing battle,
Sun shines near the metal,
Your face works like a magnifier,
Heart persists,
And I let my hands burn,
As the sun touches her feet,
She may be the last hope of humanity,
As beauty defines her,
And she defines the god of beauty,
Born from the ashes of the phoenix,
She rose to raise havoc,
In hell and the seven heavens,
All humanity breaks lose,
As she steps on the stone,
And the earth creaks beneath,
She is the symbol of prosperity,
The reason of calamity,
Nature blooms wide awake,
In hope of seeing thee,
In full glory and solitude seeps within,
And the humans line up in thousands,
To get a glimpse of reality,
And the moon and sun come in unison,
With gaping holes,
As she maybe the last hope of humanity,
She strikes a chord of every gentle,
Flutter of the innocent heart,
She is no damsel in distress,
She defines glory,
Like a lightning bolt,
She takes her time to reach,
Solitude and peace set within,
And the stars lose their shining,
To emerge as her lining,
Her eyes glitter with prosperity,
And all humanity breaks lose,
As rage invokes within everybody,
Each wants its peace of glory,
Each wants solitude and prosperity,
And her body smoulders,
Like molten lava,
As beauty defines her,
And she defines the god of beauty,
And all humanity breaks lose,
When the sweet sound,
Of gold and glitter,
Seeps within,
And all hearts turn into stone,
As the hunger for blood,
Flows through your veins,
Embedded in your skin,
Like a tattoo,
Waiting for a possibility,
To outshine the scars within,
And all humanity breaks lose,
When gold and silver,
Becomes a part of thee.

There lies a city

There lies a city,
In my heart,
Waiting to believe,
That dreams and tragedies,
Are the outcomes of prosperity,
What goes up must come down,
Gravity finds a way,
To bring you down,
On your knees,
You are no less than a human,
Lying awake on your death bed,
Waiting for your time to breach,
Reach to you,
Hold your hands,
Divine intervention seeps within,
God has been by your side,
All your life,
You have been a good man,
All your life,
And people will remember you eventually,
Not for your dirty deeds,
But the final hour,
Before the pendulum of time,
Struck a chord of senses,
And all the murders seem to fake,
As you lie awake,
It’s a dream theatre effect,
And there lies a possibility,
That you might reach the doors,
Of heaven and they won’t pry awake,
As the weight of your deeds,
Weakens in front of the almighty,
Who you believe, has been by your side,
He has been by everyone’s side,
Then why do the interiors of hell,
Are still empty beneath,
As all the deeds and evils,
Are practiced on this holy earth,
Shall perish where your belongings is,
And there lies a city,
In my heart,
With flashes of dreams and tragedies,
Erupting from each and every stream,
Waiting for the virgin,
To die awake in the corridors of evil,
Where darkens prevails,
But hails within the almighty,
Two faces of the same coin,
Never glitter in shame,
As the ray of the sun,
Strikes in between exaggerates,
And the evil within penetrates,
There lies a city,
In my heart,
And it’s dying from within.