Stages of desperations

Rebellion is cut off at birth
Gradually turned into the creeper entwined around
The tree for sustanance
Labelled parasitic
The lice sucking blood
Leech sticking to soul
Are some other accolades
Tellingly a thousand tales of desperations

Short of breath,on the verge of death
The fish cannot survive without
Water that in my veins
Burns My heart and in its capillaries
Red Tide of despondency inundated
Dark skies of my being
In preternatural silence
Ancillaries the Nomothetic wanton desperations and
Melange ofDisappointments insipid are Imbibed in Blood that is festering on melancholic taste, unsavory
Chocking, clinging onto demeanor
Floating on the malice inside
Multiplying every tiny moment
The reaction is exothermic
Heating the concoction
Agitating entity of spiritus mundi
At the Bethlehem

One that exists within

When despair fogs my brain,
When defeat slays my courage,
I turn into a pungent onion,
And always rise again and again.
When the outer layer is stripped off,
There is always one that exists within,
ready to tear your eyes
With an inveterate Amazonian spirit.

When the hope deserts me on the beach of life,
When the death plays hide and seek,
I turn into Matryoshka doll
And always sneak again and again,
When outer one is destroyed and deformed,
There is always one that exists within,
Ready to bedazzle your eyes
With the rainbow heus of the spirit.

When all my troubles simultaneously assail,
When they depress me to my core,
I turn into  Goddess Durga
And always face them again and again,
With sapt -matrika my own being.
When one is unable to defeat a demon,
There is always one that exists within,
Ready to fight till I win
With a stubborn and tenacious spirit.

When I find myself really stuck,
When the change is impossible to realise,
I turn myself into a Chinese box,
And redefine myself again and again,
When one is brutally destroyed by time,
There is one that exists within,
Similar, ready to ride the chaos
With a malleable yet unbreakable spirit.

No Need

Something is running away
Far off and to desolate
Seeking unattainable and elusive
Leaving the conscious bereft and astray

‘A bird flying’ is alone
River falling in a cave close
Disappearing from the eyes
Leaving disheveled to the wise
It’s just a foot away
It just out of plain sight
There is no need to sway
No need to be perturbed yet
No need to take a flight
No need to stop the crusade
Since it is still light
Since it is still day

Nobody knows

Nobody knows
How a perfectly sane human
Has thoughts of suicide
No reason
How a perfectly shining kitchen sink
Has tons of grease
A perfectly healthy fruit
Has worms eating away insides
The centre.
It’s almost baffling
To understand depression
The abstract and transcendental
Like the ever elusive God
And the inner peace we sought
Air cannot be touched
only felt
That is prove enough
That it exists
The breaths we take
Without realising
That we are in a competition
With society and our psyche
For the survival.

In isolating E- interactions
Some win and other loose
This constant, never ending fight
Ubiquitously baffle the survived
Of their own strength
Of their own incredible strength.


Words – the most powerful thing
Thrown carelessly
Mundane words
Thousands encountered Daily
Sweet nothings, firey, bloated and, sometimes, disguised
Some hurt, some delight, some anger us
A few hundred uttered
In reticent silence
And then we encounter in adrift life
a word that resonates
Echos in our being
Enfolded in the melted chocolate of life
Flavouring it
An inherent presence
Without which the concoction would loose it’s taste
It resonates with the sublime within
With the core that we call soul.

Faulty Clock

Ever and forever in every irrational
Carapaced clandestinely clamouring
like a beating heart,

Clamouring to outrun the claustrophobia
Bearing a hope, eternal like the fire of the blinding sun
In veins running to meet with, I think, the creator- the Almighty.

Oh Krishna! Let’s chant Om Om like a defective alarm device refusing to quit.
Let’s get faulty forever and ever, loosing the key of rationality to a clandestine place.


I want to feel the most passionate love
Love that consumes
And burns the self to smithereens
Love that is warm sunshine in the coldest of winter
Love that helps you fight the most lethal of the depression
Love that is armour to face the world
I want to feel that kind of love
That engulf your being
And still it seems not enough
Love that is hope companion and sunshine
That starts the day and ends the night
With whom I want to spent my seven reincarnations
Love that is restless and calm simultaneous
Love that crazy as well as sane
I want to experience that kind of love
At least once.

Embrace the female you are

Rose achings, contracted lust
Elusive orgasms, abused bust
Quit hiding under fake moans
Insecurities will never be gone
Untill you embrace the female you are

Exasperations and arguments with oneself
Fight for the right to rebel
Stop rebellion against yourself
Dictums of righteousness will never be gone
Until you embrace the female you are

Conspiring instincts telling you a tale
Learn to embrace counter questions in earnest
Stop them to die a slow death
For pain of their bones will never be gone
Until you embrace the female you are

Let me

Let me project myself for once
My pain in stark colours radiant
My veins and spleen cut open
Let my darkness find some expression

Let me dip inside my gut
And paint a picture of rainbow
I want ardently for a seed to be sowed
I want ardently for a plant to grow

Let me delve deeper into the chasm
Where my soul is struck stricken
Let me hark and shriek loudly
Let my alter ego heard my Psalms.

Let my body express itself
Myself put on backgear
Let it roam freely for once
For I seem to be my abductor myself.


A sweetness of unbloomed petal
A touch to the sky
A horizon within reach
A turtle’s carapace
A snail’s sluggish crawl
A flaming meteor’s fall
A plunge into the tea glass
A descent into the massive ocean
Transcendental opulent majestic
That’s how I met him
That’s how I want to continue
That’s how most of the times it cannot be
That what is wrong in between
That’s why I am not happy
That’s why I feel suffocated
And long for the freedom
And still don’t go for it
For still I don’t know whose fault it is
For still it hasn’t been too much to aquit.