Reverb

In between the sheets... some breaths and beats.. in that sweating heat an unkissed treat... inhumane kills n human stills until the breaking fills some sleeping pills.. Hatred thrives an insomniac drives.. the pale blue throat as his smoke floats cool is the new way.. to devour the fools.. the hearts doorway.. is where cobweb spools out there in the open.. lies an umblical uncut.. hands closed unripened breakfree from the blanket breakfree from the prison.. this mind of treason.. slow poison in these seasons.. breakfree from all reasons.. breakfree of this hindrance like the spirit of children.. play down upon illusion.. stake low on delusion.. breakfree of urself.. this birth and this realm.. breakfree from urself.. the dead graves overwhelm.. And my love if breaking free is what u seek.. take my life and set for ur peak.. if the fall is what you crave i let you go and wait till my grave.. but breakfree of this noise.. the silence and t

A bright beaming flash like a shooting star magnified 10k times hit the surface and slowly merged into it. The lake of conciousness slowly embraced that mighty being into itself. From within emerged a being drenched changing the very constitution of the water body. Embodied with no qualms of the household and beyond. A silent revolution rolled down the milkyway into a small speck of dust changing the face of the humanity and its origins. Unwavered in his path he just sat in human form, mute. He seemed too dark and deadly for the civilisation to accept, but an unquenchable thirst to move beyond the bonds grew in every heart in around this speck called mother earth, as she herself bowed down and incepted this more than mighty being into her womb to liberate her children from deception of odds that dimmed in between the night lamps. He had a choice to make before he was born, and he chose death to be his adornment. He conquered all life on the planet with the very choice. He chose the op

A watsapp msg pop-up arrived in a family group about a sad demise of a relative related in many ways to many people, at night 11.13p.m. All condolences were recieved in the group and some of them might have called up also. Somewhere out there 2 siblings belonging to the 3rd generation were exchanging jokes and laughing well aware of this news, ignorant about the immensity of a life lost which might have meant something to the family. In a time where dividends of a single household live in their superbuilt-up area flat branching out of a single tree and cut in bits n pieces. These are the new age nuclear families sprouted up in India. The old age joint families were all about inclusion, eating from a single kitchen being around uncles, aunties, grandma, grandpa mentored and tailored with ancestral wisdom and prosperity, where a loss of a faraway cousin or an uncle is treated with due respect and there were no qualms about people having the time to do some last rites. Now some cut branc

When the seas roar in thunder.. and waves march towards the cliffs The lost echos that surrender beneath the blue that sniffs.. towards the shore across oceans in the darkness a light beams.. beyond the hopes and cries of seasons.. a belief still screams.. in search of the new i sail facing the storms and winds..  a breath to win or fail.. with or without a glimps i search for you for you are my lighthouse.. in the bleeding blues.. you are my lighthouse.. in those starsign clues.. you are my lighthouse.. ill look for you.. you are my lighthouse in the darkest hue..

Some moist eyes would stare into nothing.. Some dreams would still be pending.. The sun would be bright and the day would shine.. An emptiness in the crowd for sometime.. I wish I could say to you the things I never said.. I wish I could hold u & tel the tear's that I did shed.. Watching you for time n again.. Would be my smile in all the pain.. Life was an offer made... At a stake that it would fade.. A beautiful stroke to chase, alive I forget.. I took it granted still have no regret.. I wana cry out a loud silence.. In the midst of the illusioned.. Even a msg won't come from dead.. I wish I had time to spend With you with no defend... It seems so unbroken... It seems too unshaken... So fragile but still has fragrance.. This life can make a difference.. When tomorrow starts without me.. Do feel the bright sun and breathe.. Do make a difference... Give life the fragrance... And i'll wait for you at the end... Till you are here grace will deFe

He walked thru the night searching for a woman, holding an infant covered in the only coat he has. Its loud crying is lulled by the downpour, hes drenched completely, but still searching. He found a woman taking shed in a small corner in front of a closed shutter of a shop. He walked towards her, all the noise of the downpour dnt matter to him except for the cries of the child. He dnt plead the woman, he took shade and showed her the infant. His eyes gleamed drops water but his mouth was mute. She seemed to be stranded he thought, she took the child went to a step nearby and fed it. He dnt know at wat age she was, he dnt know he just looked away and up, to the heavens. She came back, the infant was fast asleep by now, he just folded his hands , with tears washed away in the rain. Till then a vehicle came crashing through the lane and stopped right beside them. He thought maybe she had called for help, or asked someone to pick her up. She handed the child to him and gave him a towel,

What is the best part of a story called life? Why is it so alluring? Is it the impermanence that makes it so.. or is it the experience of little stars twinkling just above.. where are these questions travelling to or is it that we travel thru these questions.. a point in time, a wayward two faced world, puts on a straight-face for the wedding.. cavemen stood up in great joy to see their creation in those little untouched legs of newborns..we civilised homo sapien sapiens are away from that joy.. a culture and ethos called india where seeking individual truth and integrity has been woven in the very fabric of the land.. has been misled, misvalued , misguided, or maybe it's just a pun.. that being proud to be indian still wana stay abroad for a living.Systems and societies , forgetting every other human is responsible for this rendition of a 15000year old land into some mediocratic notion. Whites, greys, blacks, browns, advanced science and mediCine is some kind a end to melanin ba

There was ripple distorting the reflection, expanding into the silent lake. It was caused by drops of perspiration on his face watching himself. The distorted image seemed to disappear in the water. He had a vague memory of the pyre he burned, a betrayal to his agony. The flame seemed to dissolve the hatred and pain. Since he never vowed to accept all the differences he saw in between the world's. On his path,betrayal was his friend. He had seen alot of it, it was der when he cried, it's there somehow. Unblinking in the reflection he clearly saw shallow depth waves of his image floating on water. A pyre burning again at a distance. This was his body today! And he watched it burn down to ashes to eliminate attachment. Those ashes he smeared it on the linga, he did raw abhishek of his ashes over his lord. The all accepting still waits for his call, or he waits for the Lord's call. When Waiting becomes a quality, it finds humility within. It sheds notions u have about life.