Such a beautiful world this is
It is dustless, it is grass less.
It is pristine and modern
with its glistening forms of concrete and cement

But Why can I not smell the wet soil any more
The tiny sparrow doesn't ask for rice grains no more

What place is this?
It is where trees are uprooted , the soil dug up to be sold
The coal tar will tarnish that beautiful brown soil
The roots of the tree will be surrounded by perfectly symmetrical circles of cement
around it hugging the stem cutting its oxygen
Asphyxiating it to its slow death

Winter is blue

I wanted to write something about you but I couldn't quite figure it out.
So I heard this song

You're like a song
Sung by that beautiful petite girl who sings of Christmas
 A cold December morning where I see the gifts below the tree
The lights are still switched on
The rest of the family still sleeps
The fog looks so beautiful so ethereal
That is when you enter into the room
You peak through the snow-white window
You smile so flamboyantly
There is not a hint of stolidness
The serenity is never too severe. It is just right
I can even glimpse a lingering smile as you scold me for my foolishness.

I walk to the window the blue framed one that you capture so beautifully through your eyes
The mind in its sublime state
The calmness is not bland
It is at that state where it is brimming with the childlike fervour

Your mind is clear like your dog like friend who you share so lovingly with the ones around
Everything is in it's exactness organized and chiselled
The eyes are sincere, the violin plays a nonsensical song
reminding us to eat again and talk of nothing in particular
As we sit together
The auburn leaves fly above us
You look through your blue framed window
Smiling at us

Your loud voice

I am not depressed, I am angry
I am not angry, I am infuriated
I do not care how badly I grieve you with my sharp words
You are my root, you are my centre ;you are my parent
You must live up to my expectation

You're immature unreasonable rubbish makes my mind so angry
so restless..

I feel like I loose myself in this gory war of words each time I come home.
I wished for the quite
But you're loud clamour cages my calm soul
Was I not a quite child
My eyes I like to believe must have shone bright then
Was I not a work of serenity
What am I now
What have your demons turned me into
You flush your agonized flaws into my clear crimson blood
You look  not once at how my face cringes and contorts into a scary resemblance of your face
I reek of your foul breath
Your foolish anger
You're sense of pride reeks of your lowliness
I eschew your flaws
But you flaunt yours like a trophy
And then you put that trophy on a table in my room
How I pray that someday you shall accept your mistake
Even one will do
But instead you snub me
Your crass tongue sickens me so deep

You are immature like a spoilt anomaly of a child
The tantrums you throw heat my state of calm
I am an epitome of anger, vociferous
The filth from my mouth spreads through my blood
The veins sprout out a searing pain
A pain that sometimes lulls
But It shall reside in me for perpetuity

I wanted to be happy did I not
But every happy moment is marred by your loud irritating voice
I wish to leave you
Your everything that has at time disfigured my true nature
How I have despised myself at those instances

But,

Our love is so deep
I would weep if I ever had to leave you
I turned out okay didn't I
Better than the other some may say

Let it go, because I will let go of my many complaints
I shall rejoice in the happiness
I shall remember and cherish the abundant love
For now
I shall let it go and let it be

On a loop

I did not smile back
I led myself into my mind
Said to myself
I am never eager
I am higher than the others

Tentative smiles is all I can produce
Hardly visible on this thin sombreness
There is an anomaly in me
Frequently it craves
But never is it doused
So It shall remain parched
I yearn to walk back
It remains incomplete, the link half made
It swings to a loop again
Always yearning, never fulfilled

I wish for the cold rain

I wrote this piece under the influence of the song below.

I wish for it to rain.
The clouds in my mind shall turn into clear cold water.
It shall drip into my eyes.
Washing the past glory, submerging the anger that escapes into my clenched fists.
The rogue love still walks through the shadows of that cream coloured room
My mind looks through a frame.
Where I see just the shadows.
In the dark I see the moonlight reflected through your patterned glass window.
The opportunity lost, the love that never surrendered ,even in my thoughts.
Will they know who I am
Will I know who I am

The blue drops of paint so frigid at this moment.
The tips of my finger lust for the touch of the crimson petals of the rose.
The garden in my lucid dreams. The dreams I no more remember.
It is evil I say, the one who took you away.
The nature of the human who is so mundane and dull in all its shine,
It's fluorescent hues collapsing under the lack of a certain surge of emotions.
The surge I feel in plenty everyday.

The music takes over, the flames dim as the pitch falls to a murmur.
I know not much of your notes, but the chord slowly untangles from my neck.
Let me free.Oh dear song. Free me from my surreal darkness.
So that I can sleep in bliss like I never have.
The dong at the end suffices my day.
I wish to be nowhere.
I wish for the cold rain.

Circle

Dancing to a tune I do not recognize.
The sound is in my mind, ringing like the background score of a surreal foreign film I saw a while back.
It lulls for the moment.
She holds my hand and takes me in a circle.
The circle of wishes.
The crimson petal darkens the green on the ground.
 I can hear the beats, I can hear her soft footsteps.
She sings softly
Her muffled song
Her clear chiseled voice rings in my ear lobes
The sweet elixir of childlike happiness flows throw our palms
She holds my hand and takes me in a circle
Among these sylvan beauties we play a game of hide and seek
But our palms still touch
Our spirit shines in its ethereal halo
The day starts to go away
Slipping through the song that we knitted
We swing in our dreamy worlds
Delirious and oblivious
She holds my hand and takes me in a circle
A circle of wishes

Probing, prodding and pounding

http://www.thesixtyone.com/s/uhXhHEACLxb/

Excerpts from an incoherent poem I wrote when I travelled alone to college witha book in my hand. A book named ' 20 Fragments of a Ravenous youth' by Xiaolu Guo

The journey I took alone in the train to reach college.I heard the sounds I mostly ignore or simply don't mention .The faces that study me and the one I study back.
Walking alone I can hear my thoughts  swimming in my mind freely. I constantly chatter with my brain. Hear my steps, can see the look on the man's face who just passed me by.

Walking into the emptiness, the purple;pink flowers look just the same, never flustered never ecstatic.But just the same.

Just passing by

From a distance only I can tell, that you are an ugly one.
An ugly dog whose parents didn't look at each other's fur colour before mating.

He is thin like a lanky boy, he likes to sit in the corner of the road.
His eyes filled with a strange sort of fear, questioning and bright.
My face softens as I look at his face and had I been a little more tired I would have cried.

And as usual I regret not having some food to feed you with.
But will that nullify the sadness in your eyes.I feel sad for not doing anything
but just passing by.

THe charmed one

Once you were a mystery, in its charmed form.
Now as I see you often, you seem to walk towards a certain plainness.
Remain a mystery, oh quiet one or I shall lose this feeling

THe Orange one

You're the orange one, there's a line somewhere underneath.
You always write me such distant notes. words tentatively formed.
I wish for you to smile more.
The pity shall not reach you.
My eyes follow you when your eyes are down.
 I cannot let you know that I look for you in the room.
Can I touch your thin shoulder and say something.
But nothing much.
You aren't invisible.
You shall never be.

I don't know you but I want to...

The undone characteristics of the wallowing instance filled with a caress of desire
Moulded in a rainy lavender evening melted in an orange dusk
The crevices of the light cocoon that moment and throw out any trace of a second moment

The calender is turning and I haven't glimpsed you since then
There is no explicit pain because I know not what I have missed

Happiness doesn't grow on trees.
It is found among people.
Amongst laughter and humour.A song for every hour, every moment in a day.
The song that fills the room, a song that blows with the wind, runs with the tiny feet of innocence.
Music that flows freely in our minds , its beauty nourished by our smile ,by our tears.

The time of Death

The darkness of the day; it was ten in the morning. The black endless collection of dead bodies and dead souls filled the central park. The ashes had not yet settled on the ground. There lay an image of utter destruction. The ground reeked a diabolic stench. No trace was left of the dewy grass, each blade had died silently as its sap bled out and burnt at the hands of an unknown enemy.


My tears it could not absorb. My fathomless pain it could not comprehend. I stared at my hands for a very long time.The real world for the moment was eluding me. I bent on the ground, the blueness of the sky, its stark nakedness looked down on me. I wished the sky was a foggy miasma so that death would seem more real and closer. The silence of what was around me peered at me from a corner. The earth, the soil, the birds, the wind all had hid themselves in that corner in fear of my lamentation..
I was conscious of my unconsciousness. I knew they were gone, lost forever.
I placed both my hands on the sacrilegious ground, the ground of the dead. Wading through the burnt flesh searching for my four friends.

To lull the Despair

That feeling of utter despair .I don’t know when and why it comes, it doesn’t necessarily come unannounced; it always knocks .It’s in my head I can feel it ,most of the times I like to fall asleep or sleep on it and with sleep the despair dies too. And when I wake up I am reborn.


When this depression comes my brain almost stops to process any thoughts, all I am aware of is the constant gnawing at the pit of my mind telling me to end, end this lifeless existence.

Some people when they feel low or melancholy tend to think of all the bad things that have occurred in their lives, but in this case I remember or recall nothing sad or happy .I draw a blank and it is this void of feelings / nothingness that further plunges me into a certain eerie form of darkness that seems to have no inhibition of its own .It’s like being dead .Only that I know that I am not but at that moment death seems to be the only way to run away from this dull lull.


I just finished watching a movie a Japanese movie .I started watching it halfway .This girl recounts memories of a boy who had the same name as hers in school. It’s beautiful; I’m falling short of words as usual. I’ve come to realize that I use a variety of words while describing something i do not like, like a trashy movie. But in this case there’s only one word. The movie ended five minutes back and well I feel sad; the boy died .Death, closure, happiness how could they.. .Death, even the idea of death is so painful. To relate and link it to a lingering smile seems almost repulsive.

twenty third march

It suddenly occurs to her .What will happen to her grandma's childhood who she affectionately calls dimma.Her childhood memories of her village in Bangladesh.The lake where the boat swam, the snakes that crawled around the stems of the flower tree ,whose flowers she plucked with her Friend early in the day.
She had left the land she grew up in ,left it for education in a bigger city. A city that would with time become part of a different country.
Her grandma is 76 now ready to live again, another life in a different form.I haven't seen her in years.The smell of her house, my mothers house used to be so distinct.I would often smell it in the evening in my own house. I can not recall the scent any more and with that it has silently left my house too.
Now it is the moment when my childhood memories will loose a place to roam around in.Her house will be bulldozed to create a more modern building. Devoid of her smell.
I shall die in my selfishness and my mother in her sense of respect.
I can smell the wafts of the fragrance.The fragrance of the shiuli flower or jasmine as it clings to the house of my memories.The flowers I never plucked.

The rain

The light and the shadow
I can see
Flickering through the crevices of the tree around the darkness.


Can you smell the smell of the breeze?
The breeze of the rain
The scent of the expectant moisture ready to drip.

Love her

Her pale skin turns red. But this is the last time,she wants to do her best.


The dress is wet, she has sold her soul for the final time. Standing in the middle of the room, she feels like a melting candle.The candle in its stark nakedness glows , glows as it melts into gooey wax.
The tears have long dried, the barren soul is choking.There's no pleasure just a sadistic gain
.
'I could pour hot water on myself that would leave a scalding burn.They don't care about the flaws on my face.'


The ropes so tight,her hands are tied.She cannot break the cycle.
No one looks back at her, when it's over.


I will love you and pray for you, for a voice that will be lost, a voice that nobody wants to remember.
 ( written after listening to the song 'love her' by seether)

In this huge room

Telling you to stop will not cease
Asking for an unsaid apology
Your pen moves through the shadow and the sunlight
Fallen in their trap unaware of being used
My gaze is red.


They forgot to plunge into their conscience
It shakes insecurely
Palpitating at the thought of being seen


Cut me off ,chop my wings
Soon I will forget to grow them anymore


You nod deceptively,nothing pervades inside your shallow self
Eyes searching as you enter later
Fearing that you know less
You have always known less
Even if you knew all, it would make no difference


I feel less and mostly nothing


The hurt I give to you; to see you flutter your wings
If not that at least go perch on the young tree
Contempt drifts in and out of you
You accept it to be yours
Forever yours


The pink and the steel gives you no brightness
You fade a little more every time the red slides on your pout


Did you look up to the ceiling
Have you not appeased all
All who are in real ;some


Silence orchestrated to an inferno
Warmth breathes in me


Unevenness and shapeless
You will always be more whole
Never complete
But cluelessly beautiful; forever till you live


Live in the hollow that connects the points
The dot that is never repeated
The questions are lies
You want to hear all and know all
To think is useless
Comes with no benefits for your kind


You are big but  fingers clutch to the small
Hold them together, lower your eyes
Smiling as it fades
Tomorrow I will love you more
Then in you , you will always smile


Mouth open, confused
your helplessness mocks me
You want not to be here
legs crossed, moving to restlessness
The anger growing as I hear you
disagreeable words like a crow
But the crow too can be silent and sit still in its thoughts


Your lint less sleeve
The strange straightness of the brown hair
The boyish laughter is selfish
You are friendless
Foe less


Its all about the nine's and six's
The nails you bite
The words that do not leave your mouth


I look beyond where you write
Write to copy


When will I leave this room with your lack
Lack of words
Your gaze of being a fool


You are everywhere
Don't touch me or my mind
Your voice is sweet less and your twisted lips curl like a snake; pretending
Venomous but dead
The scream in you is you
Your dull stale ness will never touch us


Papers printed years ago by someone you do not know
Fill the beauty less
Depth less hours
In this huge room
The numbers mean more
Than the meaning itself

Deranged

I'm not sure why I chose these lyrics ,since the tune and the

 words were created simultaneously the lyrics just happens 

to be the way it is: Incoherent and abstract