Frozen Blood

Abandoned like a nomad, he sat on the bench daily,
Each night, without fail, whispering to himself, desolated,
As his skin felt blue, eyes swollen, and blood frozen,
He mustered his aspirations, seeping warmth from the moon,
For the brumal winter shadowed, stars twinkled for strangers,
But he held the moon with his eyes, reverberating to its gander,
One laughing in its own sense, other just cascading some light,
One watched him change his beauty daily, other seeming like a firefly,
One slaking its solitude, other, a fettered wanderer,
As strangers just came and went by his bench,
He noticed some familiar faces, from past, and future,
For these changing faces were constant, just like his muse,
Each night, he fought with the stars,
And the moon stood by in solitary,
Unfathomable deeds were about to be tasked,
The show called, “Twilight and its façade”,
One little string to hold onto, a little beacon to cast,
One smiling face, a sweet warm “Hello”,
One could light up the night, another feeling rejoiced,
As this rhythm of façades is completed and dawn again.

Gambling Statue

Thundering roars of grey lightening, grey clouds,
He stood atop his own reflection, black waters,
For his empire of dirt was soaked with his own blood,
He stood there bruised, perplexed, face to face with death,
Thrown in front of broken statues,
His sanity was questioned,
All he could muster, was a giggle at his funeral,
The broken gambling statue stayed mum,
As they threw themselves in front of the mirrors,
They'd lapsed out of their own self,
For now the rain was over,
Gambling riots and bubbling colours weren't visible to naked eyes,
They talked about his free will,
Then clenched his own hands to write one,
They slept better with metal under their pillows,
And believed in unwritten rules,
He chuckled at the gambling statue,
The one who played favouritism to its last,
For what a mere objective idea could bring,
For how some fools abandon everything,
Letting some of his children enjoy the rain,
While others helplessly cursing it, in vain,
Some ideas were passed down,
Some memories were casted open,
As he breathed his last breath,
The bloody gambling statue was broken.

Back to Beginnings

Far beneath the black sparkling sand,
Tiny droplets wrinkled and overwhelmed,
Beyond the mustered bubbles,
The cascading light rose the curtains,
A soft serene melody engulfing the stage,
Night souvenirs ceasing the dream-catching.

Back to beginnings,
Encircling complete rhythm,
Memory brimming the ocean of uncertainty,
Ripples echoing underneath the veins,
Like a chandelier, ghosting anamnesis danced,
For the whispering paper plans now carved new paths.

Blooded Black and Broken White

Enslaved by their orders, the war raged,
Men roared and marched, earth shaken to its core,
General stood, strategizing, watching, reminiscing,
A hero of war, he was, bestowed with experience,
Cavaliers massacring the infantry,
The far-fetched dream was broken,
Long before the dusk hugged the mother earth,
The general was surrounded by cadavers,
For the battle was over, experience paid its diligence,
Many of his own knights were wounded, while many laid neglected,
As the dusk brewed darker,
The bystander ravens approached,
Scanning with their eyes,
Scavenging with their heists,
The general stood still, watching, reminiscing,
His life played like a piano before his eyes,
As how he once stood where the ravens lay,
As how these ravenous cockroaches strayed,
He looked one of them in the eye,
His voice cracked, his hands trembled,
The void came and went in waves,
Wrapping and then pushing him away,
Cockroaches pleaded for life, continuing to best their treasure,
General played his part the best, being a soldier to the end,
Like a piano, he played his piece,
Blooded black and broken white,
Swelling storm echoed in the void,
Failing freedom wrapped the General.

Untamable Red (East meets West)

Untamable red sprawled all around,
Seeping through the soil,
A little anchored atop the yellow flowers,
Emphatic restlessly falling,
Dawn and dusk separated the two realms,
One faced towards east, other ended with the west,
The bloodied flower resonated with the sun,
Embarked its journey from heritage to modern glutton.

As I stood transit, a memory hazed around me,
Resemblance of the red took me down the memory lane,
Different figures of stapled red,
Circle, or a line drawn on a familiar face,
Once bonded by that similar red, it felt like home,
Now, the fire burns orange, dissipating red and yellow far,
Leaves stood stationary, watching the flower rotate,
Watching the dusk approaching, and dawn to evaporate.

Diversity chasing after discrepancy, it seeped deeper,
Foolish authority whipping it out of cattle,
Some clinging to their long-gone heritage,
Some promising the face of new tomorrow,
Some marking their own territories,
Some like me, standing transit, only reasoning,
Be it cow, goat, sheep, pig or even chickens,
They all bled red, they all bled red.

Caveman

With those shaking legs, he stood,
Crawling from within the ashes, he perused,
Fettered to the ashes, inhibiting in that lonely cave,
Sun bore the crimson ruby right above his head,
His silhouettes crafted upon the wall,
His legs swathed in fire, his head cloaked in smoke,
For his dawn was the glistening ruby,
And his dusk were his muffled silhouettes.

Somehow, be it will, force, or just luck,
The flames hushed, the chains were undone,
He walked his first steps out of the cave,
Trying to catch the vision, and peacefully exhale,
Intense glaring ruby burned his new-born eyes,
With his head held down, he continued,
Abstaining himself from the colors, he looked for the greys,
His life was still stuck between ruby, and now, growing silhouettes.

Watching them turn and twist within themselves,
He endured this new endless cave,
Grasping the images, the memory bore a little action,
New possibilities, new hope was awakened,
For he mastered in learning from the shadows,
Grey showing colors, and beauty born from ashes,
No matter how radiant the ruby glistened over his head,
He walked with his head held low, perusing from the silhouettes.

Petrified symbols

Breathing white and black, I lay numb,
Petrified symbols start to revolve around my head,
Each one of them recites a story to tell,
Unfolding themselves for us to be overwhelmed,
I close my eyes for a moment, the moment’s gone,
Doorway to past, present or imagination, I succumb,
Far away from the reality, far away from the people,
A colorless world gives color to my universe,
Unheard of, unspoken, yet imagined,
This world brews on me, my inner demons,
However, such world lies within us all,
I’m no different, no different at all.

This world that I speak of, grows within time,
More is added to it, very few are sublime,
Much of it, obscure, lot of it, untraveled,
Such beautiful creations reside, each humbly intimate,
Breathing in white and black, I lay numb,
Petrified symbols start to revolve around my head,
Some are lost, while some forgotten,
Sublime becomes obscure, sunshine becomes darkened,
As this world affects my reality, my sanity, me,
It is a doorway, to make happen all what is desired,
Lost within its beauty, the possibilities, I succumb,
This colorless world gives color to both of my universe.

Moonless

Nothing compares to the desolation of a moonless night,
Standing above this grave, I hold back my memories,
Twenty years, could it be so, or may be thirty,
These wrinkly hands dig the tired soil, six feet deep,
Sleeping alone, you and I, you here rotten within insects,
And I, rotten with visions running in my eyes, rotten by reminiscence.

With each foot dug out, I unravel each degree of separation,
Dust basked chair, now awaits your empty eyes,
Faded smile, worn by scarf, you still look so beautiful,
These memories, a curse, this dark night, a solace,
Unfathomable, unpierced by memories, hope or light,
These words won’t even reach you anymore,
Albeit, your hand fits mine just like yesterday,
Your hand fits mine just like yesterday.

These sounds of silence, these visions of devoid,
Feels warmer with your hand on mine,
This moonless night, this dark sky,
Reminds me of your pretty smile,
Just like yesterday, I feel, albeit, many years may have passed,
In my arms, I wished you’d say something, but you took away the moon and the stars.

Stardust

Those words echoed, resonated repeatedly, “We all are nothing but Stardust”,
His mind captivated, running were his thoughts amidst the cities, and the rust,
From dusk to dawn, laying on the stretch of sand, his eyes pierced the sky,
He watched the colors changing, he watched them born and die,
An endless wonder strayed, roamed across the rivers and roads,
Nobody understood why, why hell was placed so close to heaven,
Like two sides of a coin, hell was just a flip away,
Lines drawn, marked territories, outcasted masquerades,
All were easily visible from where he stood,
The caged cities with the insatiable hunger,
The open dumps with no power, dejected,
Hopeless all stardust was blown into the air,
Weighted legs, enchained throats, cut-off wings, hollow ground,
The river of blood and past, separating two divisions,
All lost within the colors of sky,
The titian red to the black dye,
He stood there with his stray heart, wondering,
Seeking something, finding something,
He cheated at stargazing to look at the world, to look behind,
Where people drew the lines, where the foolish rules abide,
Scarred from the past, hollow promises of the future,
Where many lived like kings, and others seeking their stardust.

Icarus

Enchained, bruised, yet smiling, he stood on the podium of death,
Gazing into the vast horizons of dust, all eyes fixated on him,
He filled the atmosphere with his aura, the crowd, their cheers, their cries,
For he was at the mercy of the executioner, his masters, and their pretty lies,
His face wore his smile persistently, his head held high, eyes shining,
For he was looking beyond the dungeon dug down his feet,
Flock of gulls carrying the east winds across the horizon,
Amidst their journey, they flew, they grew, they looked one,
He was standing, the stage was set, the podium dug, the rope tightened,
Licking his lips with his tongue, he took a deep breath, the crowd now silent,
Worthless could be his deeds, but his words shook the dust,
“All for one and one for all”, he said, while the heads looked confused,
These crippling words resonated inside each head, inside the winds,
Flowing through his mind were the thoughts of his broken dreams,
He fell like a feather torn apart from the beautiful wings,
About to hang in the air, where he once flew, where once he lived,
His body soft like a feather was about to meet the softer hemp,
But his words, like Hermes, carried his burden, carried his Icarus,
Audience watching his deeds wrapped their hands in embrace,
The dreams were to shatter, the hopes were to be disgraced,
For a feather had fallen, yet the wings stood strong,
Carrying their beliefs, carrying their sudden burial of hopes,
They went across the horizons once more, flying, leaving the feather fallen,
Fallen, hung by the hemp, he was melted amidst his legend,
For dreams, hopes, emotions are shattered, are crippled, are broken,
But All for one and one for all, they need to fly for Icarus to be born.