Crossover To The Adversary

Deserted myself; blew up into the smoke,
Drowned in liquor; walked out of all ties,
Tied to posts and hung from the cliff;
Gasped for drown; vomited dragon.

Made more alone; walked out of body,
Flew off the ground; hit the clouds,
Blasted through the mountains,
Burnt into ashes; destroyed in oblivion.

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The Birth of The Flow

The next best thing to death is sleep. The debutant said:
“Believe it is true, believe it blindfolded,
Do not ask for explanations.”
‘Coz the answer had been repentant since repeated eternities.

The colours perceived through the kaleidoscope of time
Manipulate the perception of soundings,
Scribbled to estimate the depth of the mantling lake.

Out there, shelterless, sits the placid lake,
Flowing for long,
Though, from above, it is as still as any other could be.

But no one knows, (rather no one wants to know,)
That below the serene surface there is a violent turbulence —
A violent whirlwind in the water,
That had been raging since the birth of light;
The times when the knights did not exist
Because the days were yet to find sight.

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The Day I Was Happy

From the bed in our old house, I could see the park and all those playing there. How lucky they were!

Ma said that rats would come one day, take my teeth and give back stronger and sharper ones. “Ma, when will the rats come? It pains!” Ma was not there to hear me. Nobody hears me. Even Majid Bhai would not listen to me when I say that I’m spitting blood. Anyway, when everyone would be celebrating, I would have to work.

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Looking Down At Myself

This was written years ago, on my eighteenth birthday. (I intended to respect myself and not make any modification to the original script.)

When I look up at the sky, I see not any stars;
Nor do I see any planet, moon, cloud, neither any comet.

What I see are faces.

Faces, looking down at me, speaking to me and calling me…
Every face forms a star; and every star — a face.

Weird faces!
Some laugh, some cry, some mock
And the rest haunt.
Some of the faces are known when some of them are strangers
I know those strangers. Don’t I?

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