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.