I will go

I am going out tonight without any care.

I have given it to the lost sounds of the world,

Who go places with the wandering wind and shout,

To become known to people.
I will go to the desert.

Not because I am a loner or I like the sand in my mouth and eyes and everywhere.

I will go for the simple sun,

And how it gives life to everyone and everything.

I will go there for the night there does not have any secret.

They are long and cold and one part of them is nature, always.
Then I would go up in the sky.

It is foolish to think about flying.

But I like the feel of wind thrashing against my face,

And how it makes my eyes watery.

I will go up in the sky to see how blue they can be,

And what is the point where blue gives way to black.
The point of no return.

Everyone is going there, alone.

I am included too.

But not today or tomorrow,

But someday definitely.

I will go to many places.

I will even go in the future with this baggage of past.

Maybe I will see this longing as it comes to everyone.

And hope.

I will hope for everything good.

But I will not mind bad sometimes.

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Beautiful Things

Beautiful things kill you.
Sometimes they are swift
And sometimes they take their sweet time.
But since we know
What we will find in the end,
We should like them with caution.
Take the snow for example,
The whiteness in front of you will seem pure,
And fluffy.
But once you taste its likeness to the raw edge,
You will run away from it,
Back to your grounds where spring stays forever.

Beautiful things despise the average things of world.
They do not know
That the world itself is average.
A pale reflection of what it was supposed to be.
It isn’t what we thought.
And it’s good because we have time.
I suppose we can make it whole
Before we give it to the ones
Who are next in line.
Thoughts are not beautiful
That’s why I have them.
It is noble that we should save the Earth.
I do not. We will not.

The Earth looks beautiful from space.
It should have beautiful things with it.
They should stay.
We are average folks and
This is the world we inherit.
We are meant to go.
Forever doesn’t mean being stubborn.
It means the beauty of moments shouldn’t stay.
We should go.
Now.

I am wide awake

I am wide awake
And the streets wear silence.
I do nothing but stare
At random things
And thoughts.

How often it was
When I told you
We should run away.
The world has got a short memory.
Everyone would have forgotten us.
As even I do not remember our love.
Was it fiction or fact?
I rack my brains to find the answer.
There is none.
It must have been a book
I read somewhere long ago.
Its figments are coming back.
What’s your name?

Running Out of Things

 

I always run out of things to write about.

It always happens. 
Then i look back at my life and try to envision what it would be like if all of my dreams were real.

I close my eyes and I fail to imagine it.

I am not able to find words. 

Mouth runs dry save for a cold breath.

If only I could tell you how it feels.

This exact feeling when I am hopeless with everything. 

When future isn’t a bright promise but a nightmare.

These cribs about an unjust and unfair existence.

Say mind is free and soul is forever young.

But mine is reduced to a failed imagination.

There are things I tried when I was desperate.

Mind me If I say I’ve lived the 24 hours of a single day inviting hope when I laboured on.

Hope came when I was down,

It lifted me into the high skies where I saw the Sun and felt its warmth on my skin.

It was all, a moment.

Hope is gone now and the Sun burns my skin.

I have forgotten the emotions I used to feel while crying.

Dry eyes ache but they do not conceal anything.

I am done with disappointments.

I have forgotten what they meant and how they affected me.

For all the care in this world,

None is for me.

Life isn’t roses and sunshine and it isn’t fair.

All I can say is that the thorns are picky about people.

Call it cynicism, pessimism or whichever word you deem right.

Doubts flicker as I know things.

There is no fight with the world.

It knows me well to spare me.

Plight is just a thing said to cover the big picture.

And this life that people so often speak about, 

They attribute words to deepen its significance.

Nothing is significant and none is worth saving.

Religion and money should be synonyms for life.

For everything said and done in this brief life of mine I have understood nothing.

I could feel love in my flesh and bones.

Only if it had something to do with my hunger.

I am hungry and this feeling is the worst there is.

I want to break out of this cycle but it is not allowed.

I must confine myself to these breaths and hopes.

Running away is not an option. 

These broken bits do not tell any story

These broken bits do not tell any story.

Say they do not get well along with each other.

They murmur quietly to them as they go with the day.

Everything is uncertain and unanswered.
They and the Gods seem mutually done with each other.

This jail has got their cruel comfort, confined.

They don’t have the hero who can save them.

Save for the hope which slogs them day and night.
Their simple faces do not have the crux of a good life.

The essence is grief has not captured them.

But the regularity of their common notions fails them,

As to why they can’t tell from need and want. 

This damned verse

Here is the song the damned souls of the world say.
Oh God up there in the sky,

We are doomed.

Damn this life and its meaning,

& I don’t see any sun.

Life’s been hurting,

Ever since it began,

I’m done with it and its pain,

Hope now spells itself hell.

It seems like I’m crying,

For bitter and cruel is its taste,

Trust is gone with unanswered questions,

Too late it’s been for rain.

Was the world cold before,

Or it happened since I came.

I know the taste of losing sense,

What has happened, what begun.

We are losing souls by the day,

They don’t bear these cold nights.

For we cry out too loud,

And the dead silence does

Pry deep into our lives.

All said and nothing done,

A man was never known so.

You ask us to love you,

Where does yours go.

Questions pop up out of surface,

If you have got other plans.

Tell us if you always seek attention,

Or it just happens so.

You are the cruel thing,

We are your bitter fun.

Poked and pried by you for none,

You seek attention, maybe it gets you high,

The chiming bells and the help asking cries.

You like your pride and the begging prayers,

You hurt them because they aren’t near.

All this drama is painful and insane. 

For your angels and demons,

Damn your heaven and hell.

Burn them holy books,

Raze your homes to the ground.

We’ve killed each other always,

Instead of killing you.

This blind hatred which runs amok in our hearts,

Blessed the world would be if we didn’t have a heart.