Miracles and Musings

Disclaimer: The following lines have been written by a highly unprofessional man. The lines you see are the result of cold medicine and tomato ketchup with a dash of grape Juice. Please do not write these at home!

Searching for gospels through the looking glass,

I’m waiting for miracles as I see my life flash.

This city, my Vaudeville, lost among the hum of generators,

leaves me staring at, looking at, empty buildings and

getting lost in the meticulous fluid of my being.

The comic inside me, who finds humour only in butter chicken,

now shouts out for a bar setting for once!

The unabbreviated neon lights on damaged roads

hypnotise the keyboard banging chimp inside my soul.

My brain aches from all the espresso thoughts,

and my ceiling puts a poker face as I stare at it in boxer shorts.

My prayers to God are only for ungodly things

(none of which involve an angel with wings.)

As i get warped into the fourth dimension of traffic

social media posts seem disturbingly terrific.

Viral fevers and chicken cravings,

back pains and ice cream with chocolate shavings

mould my world and cook a tune

as a thousand cello strings permeate my soul.

Back-alley of Ugly Truths

(The truth needn’t always be good. Sometimes it’s bitter and ugly and, well, destructive)

Dark Alley

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here
for this is the place where fallen angels crawl.
Where your worst fears are a walking reality
and the only conundrum is your bubbling morality.

Where winter cold chills the marrow and soul
and breath is rationed to all condemned,
all castles in the clouds fall down brick by brick
and you stand in place nailed down by shock.

All sweet dreams feasted by demented beings
and fights break out for a pound of your flesh.
Where hearts sink to watery depths
and then painlessly burst into oblivion.

dark alley_big

Where the evil that rises out of the wolves
slowly poisons the veins of mankind,
rendering your conscience dangerously helpless
in the face of the dark threats that lurk around.

Where clarion flies over your head night and day
and maggots get a feasting when people rejoice,
all the meat you eat there is poisoned, even in your sleep,
That is where an Inferno simmers under the streets.

You hear pleas of help yet are unable to pull
people out of the pits of their own miseries
for you are powerless whilst you bear
the weight of the truths you find here.
No light shall fester, no deliverance upheld.
So, abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

Finding Each Other

And so she lies under the cover of darkness,
Warm with love, over his heart’s abode.
As he looks down to meet her eyes,
all the poetry he ever wrote comes to life.
As he holds his hand in hers and her lips in his,
all music breaks out and life feels complete again.

Finding Each Other

This unexpected story that started at midnight one day,
shall be his melody till kingdom come.
And she, the one who gave away her soul to him,
shall live in his essence in a myriad of forms.

So let foster this, their forbidden love,
Let them find each other under the cover of darkness.
For when finally the light shines on them there will be a uproar,
And they will face the world together as one.

Wanderer Of The Skies

It’s been a long time. It’s been a tough journey. But the sky was the limit and we have almost reached there.
Do share if you find it worth sharing.

There was a flash
and a spirit broke
the logic of minds went up in smoke.
But there were dreams
and there were roads
and a wish to speak louder than words.

And so we sailed
on judgment’s scales
worrying not where we might fail.
These roads we took
without the sun or a brook
tested our strengths till our knees bent and shook.

Then there were ties
of love and entwined lives
which we left behind to fight for our pride.
Sometimes it felt less
sometimes it felt excess
sometimes it felt like the dreams were a mess.

But we walked upon the stony paths,
never cursing other souls to any wrath.
And now we stand here among the stars,
a little battered and bruised but proud of the scars.

And now we sail across the vast skies.
And now we fly above the breaking ice.
The wind in our fold and the stars by our side,
a new world is ahead; let’s leave the old one behind.

Wanderer

Snippets

This is a poem of incomplete stories. A poem about a conversation. A poem which allows to hope for a better tomorrow.

“Tell me a story!”

A tattered body, a battered mind,
Dusty feet and arms covered with grime,
A broken heart and some bleeding wounds,
Yes, this is a story of poorer times.

“What about the good times?”, she asked.

Keep patience, for it is yet to be told,
Stay here if you want to see it unfold.
Because I’ve fallen a victim to the wheels of time,
And surely summer will follow these days of cold.

conversation

“Tell me about colours…”

I can see yellow, black, white and brown,
But I see no red or green around,
but I wonder, what if all was just a serene blue?
I could be colour blind without any bounds.

“Tell me about love…”

I looked for you in old lifeless pics,
A hint of love or the blush in your cheeks,
And selfishly i wanted you back near me,
Because my poetry is nothing but our crazy streaks.

“Tell me about yourself…”

On odd days, on bad days, on days real good,
Poetry flows out as I sit and brood,
And I keep hoping this time will be it,
This time I’ll say what my heart would if it could.

A Moment Of Imperfection

As always, there are doubts and thoughts,
and memories of certain unwanted sorts,
And I wish all that is bottled up flows out,
if only my soul could get lighter with a huge shout.

Imperfection

Pondering incessantly over all that I’ve done,
wishing there was someone to talk on the phone.
I think about all the ways I’ve been hurt,
all the times I’ve fallen face down in the dirt,
and yet haven’t said a word for so long,
never complained that I was being wronged.
Because life demands that I be a good person,
it demands actions without expectation.

So what if for once I turned humane,
years of silent suffering driving me insane,
For once am I allowed to be selfish in my mind?
Because everyone else is! How was I that blind?

And then you were there holding my hand,
kissing my forehead and trying to understand
the demons that always were inside of me,
but were invisible till you wanted to see,
And so I become who I was again,
because now you helped me through the pain,
And so in your lap, I keep my head and weep
while you caress my hair and I try to fall asleep.

Scribbled

Blinking cursor, erasing, moving back,
undo, redo, sentences and word files.
Scrambling for fresh paper now, fresh ink to start,
But all ends in scratch, scratch, scratch.

What do I write about, what do I choose,
and curse Hemmingway for saying it’s easier with booze!
A pebble I dropped in the pools of my mind,
shuffling, playing and putting memories on rewind.

Changed cities, distanced people and the twenties’ confusion,
a million fires from burning dreams laced with illusion,
do I write about love, do I write of inspiration,
do I write about who hurts me or do I jot down my frustrations?

Do I write happy stuff or do I make my words weep?
Do I write something epic or write something cheap!?
I don’t know what to write, I’m as clueless as a sheep.
So to hell with this, I’ll just go off to sleep.