Gypsy
life, satire

Performance

Appearances kept to disguise

the gaunt silhouette 

inside, mindless words

uttered to subdue

million cacophonies of shrunken

brains, smiles and more smiles to

contain the pools of burgundy

pain, plastic tulips 

silver cutleries and the glorious 

dead shrimp lying in bed of frozen

sprouts while giving away

the performances 

of life-time. 

 

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Inspiration, life

Cold Insight

Hello all,

I hope you all are doing fine, well the cold in my part is not going away. Due to frigid cold all my creative juices have seemed to be frozen , I am being knocked down by strong currents of  weather related gloom, well two things that are keeping my sane are Exercise and Cartoons. I have some divine callings as well, I am often thinking of higher entity as well. I feel I need to be less materialistic and do away with my cosmetics, carbs and insecurities ( my allowance and in-law😉s).

I can be possessive at times over my stuff and people but my new gained cold insight tells me that I need to let go of all the possessions.  Although I don’t take myself very seriously but I need to try to be more humble. Let everything go, and take a holy dip in frozen lake somewhere . Kids will eventually grow up and leave, (cosmetics have already frozen) husband has his life too, what good is holding on? Attachment is the cause of all the suffering as Buddha says and very aptly so! I wish I can take a refuge somewhere in Himalayas, I know I have a monk inside me somewhere. But there are few things I can’t leave, carbohydrates (Chips, Pasta and Pizza), Cosmetics (lipsticks mainly) and Books ( although I read less now a days).

Well Ill catch you all later, I’ve to go to spa for my routine massage and then may be over nice glass of red wine and glazed shrimp, ill introspect more over possessions and attachments!!

Take care !

 

 

cacophony
Inspiration, life

Move On !!

For few dimes less in our pockets  

don’t fret ,let’s just move on….

Around you are bigger mansions than 

the squalor you dwell in don’t think

let’s just move on… 

Watching your only child play with

herself again, simply smile and

let’s  just move on…

The neighbour got a sparkling new

car, one that you will never own let be

and let’s  just move on….

Once again the boss didn’t bother  to

shack your hand, let it be and 

just move on….

The famed little black dress deceived 

you once more, it never fit you right?

Don’t sink ,just move on…

You waited enough for that kiss whose 

taste you never had …

Move on for there are no penance or

redemption yet, not everything in the

world  has a reason nor everything

meant to make any sense! 

 

 

 

 

wound
life, Love, poetry, Uncategorized

Wounded

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 again, my miserable spirit

trapped with in the grotesqueness of 

familial events, angered and then

sobered again!

man
life, poetry, Self-Help

The Man

Conceived in the womb

of rustic Earth, in cradles

of cemented cobbled streets.

Sculpted body arched cuts

carved out pangs of hunger, 

an old man who was never there,

hollow eyes searching in rubble

and dust to foresee a clueless future,

bulging muscles fed on charades

of abuses, molded of violated

sexuality on menacing highways

Risen out of grim wreckage of a

wasted youth and cheap drugs.

Raw and visceral, he was to

be The Man…

life, Love, Nature

Prophecy

  • Cups of sooty coffee

criss-cross darkening  stains

on Chinese porcelain, 

echoing a prophecy 

of a Turkish soothsayer, 

a destiny embossed on 

those parched cracks 

between the folds of 

the mandarin  cup, a topaz

vision, may be a hallucination 

or myriad psychedelics at

work a Bedouin  on a caravan

gilding on golden  dunes, 

a nomadic predicament 

a home neither here

nor there!

wound
life, Love, Nature, poetry

Souls Die Young

A ruby heart which snapped and fell apart in 

two as it couldn’t hold the jolts of  young

lovers gone sour.

Those translucent  blue veins where once ran the

streams of ancient Nile and Ganges freely like

the fountains of voluptuous youth,

Those courses now run parched and wasted. 

On whose rocky banks civilizations of prosperity 

thrived like transient bubbles-of hope, forever in 

fears  to be drowned in the folds of the foamy 

azure shades.    

That Herculean soul now frigid trapped in gory

casket as if  a dilapidated mansion,  outgrown 

 by ferns echoing in faint voices, 

one more soul down!  

one more spirit broken!

That soul gave up on life much before the mortal

body is laid to rest in the pits of  ashen Earthen

grounds.

For Souls die young while body painfully longs 

to get old! Souls die young! 

Gypsy
life, Love, Nature

A Masquerade

Disguised behind a plastic 

carnival masque, life 

can’t be more than a 

masquerade, a mere

facade of jarring humour

labeled a tragedy for few

intellectuals who shed 

crude tears on the transient, 

Slapstic miracles  for those 

 godly beings, may be a

loaf of bread for the beggar

on the cobbled pavement

a dying sigh proclaims a lover, 

Life for me a hellish suffering I

try to endure while evoking 

sensless laughters , lament 

sob and much more through 

the hours of midnight, a vision 

of nude Venus drenched in downpour 

haunts me, may be life is no mystery

it is a carnival of emotions, a  

clownish masquerade celebrated 

in cheap Italian  movies.

Love, Nature, poetry

Life

Blunt  swords of

red-eyed karma 

spare no one,

A beginning

has an end 

 

Fate a meandering 

serpent cunningly

arrives hissing

licking with its

parched tongue

venoms of misdeeds

long done and 

forgotten ! 

 

By the way

What is in life to

lament about?  

A Sysiphian myth 

a vision carrying 

heavy rock up

a tall slope to 

see it rolling 

down  only to

be lifted again 

and again. 

 

I a speck of

gluttonous dust 

gloating in the 

mighty cosmos 

marring my time

by waiting for

a Godot.

 

A Godot who 

arrived and left 

like a first kiss,

first spring of

transient youth,

 it went a breeze

without any

adieu …

 

I gleaned  

a clownish smile

a house  jester

only to seal

septic pains

from oozing

out ofthe

wounded

cracks…  

 

Sipping blurred 

coffish concoction

to measure

countless hours

of our life 

through vicious 

circles of waits

and more

waits

 

Holy chants offer 

no redemption 

to my corrupted

heart 

 just shrill 

sounds infused 

with ugly hownks  

of motors, mere

cacophony..