Yes life hurls stones and pebbles fate bombards proxies, follies phonies but hold on…. I am a sucker for one more! I devour failure like a hungry homeless for I’ve nothing to eat so I gulp every failure down my parched throat till the-bitter liquid of failure syncs-with the juices in my emaciated stomach… Oh! …
In the darkest pits of soul lingers a little flame kept alive by the rays of purity. A perpetual fire, illuminating the grim core, burning the edges of stale misfortunes….. A lone flame standing its ground against cruel winds of fate….. Assuring that heaven is right there with-in us, surrounded by our own hells, and in …
While you were searching my whereabouts,I was standing next to an oak tree… when all the leaves came out of deep slumber and the wintery dusk descended, it was about time for me to lurk beneath those ancient roots and search in raven labyrinths, the meaning of icy darkness that possesses you and me and …
Am I nostalgic? For the sinful youthful gone by, the momentary bubbles of champagne burs-ted vanished into thin airs. Am I nostalgic? Of the elusive lovers lost in the abysses of spiral times. Am I nostalgic? Of the silent tears and melancholia heart of my youth! Am I nostalgic? Of my fleeting vanity and the …
No hurry if I match few steps with my
homeless prince to flip a coin in the Trevi
fountain in site to check on our fates once
Pain often reclines at the back of my parched throat on other occasions it runs smoothly uninterrupted in green veins, free-flowing, as it is always the case love is conditional, whereas pain fills up the thirsty eyes, morphing into tiny tender crystals cascading down the gaunt cheeks without a bang or a crackle so quietly, …
I grew up beyond the grey walls…. Walls that changed hues under varied spells, mama would strictly keep me inside. The thick silver parapets adorned tiny holes, black ashen specks from where I marveled at the cruel oddity of the world. A faded sepia of Papa hung at a crooked angle-tilted towards outside,shadowing other …
I don’t carry with me golden strings of pompous words, nor an embroidery of the embellished locutions for what I carry in me is a bleeding heart from where words gush out a greenish pus from decomposing wounds forever in loop for they never heal, as my brain keep playing the same slapstick movie again and …
I miss that girl who would run wild and was always ready to smile without breaks. She loved without care When the things got tougher simply cried her heart out. and life would get straight again, ideals were lofty , heels higher and memories ran sharper, food was always warm and drinks forever bubbling… Now many …
When I die, do not cremate me lets not erect massive tombs or embellish any symbols, Let nature take its course. No one will weep or mourn Just abandon my body on The Towers of Silence of ancient Zoroastrians followers of Ahura Muzda. Scavengers will nibble, maggots will feast, worms will build their abode …