Sunless Days
tell me how
i burned to ashes
now in dust covered
this pale ivory frame
of mine
tell me will you
tales of sunless days
since now the flame is gone
you the exhausted globe
becomes mine
do you feel it
flames turned to dust
feet rested on rust
this end
is ours
oh sunless earth
i pity your horizons
now left to dark and gloom
this ending
is yours and mine
Innocence Wanted
lost innocence imprisoned cries for times of past
where believing everything is true forever did last
frosted face pressed by this window this pane of cold glass
lay thinking of gold and silver in this land of pale graying brass
gold and silver shining like pure and heavenly auburn
dreamed about sunsets on an emerald grassy meadow
wished to be pure and untainted a child freshly born
to smile and laugh that tinkling laugh when time did allow
run around to steal soft kisses from dew clad grass
then an innocent heart counted time for a day to pass
but not for an end but just for sparkling stars to shine high
to hear silent lullabies light years ago etched in this sky
now here lays this frozen face pressed on cold glass
thinking of broken love lost friends and a betrayed past
counting coins to meet ends of life in pain ever last
dreaming of innocence lost drop by drop as time did pass
Versatile Blogger Award
My fellow blogger in this twisty and turning but endless blogosphere, abichica from chicpress has nominated me for the Versatile Blogger Award. WOW Thanks a lot dear 
She got such an awesome blog, which you would not regret visiting. A talented poet and writer, keeps me hooked with her short story in installments, which I clamor to read till the end. This award thing, at first got me a bit confused but after researching a bit, I was able to digest what this award means. Being nominated is kind of considered as winning. I feel so honored. And there are several official rules involved in order to accept the award:
- Thank the person who gave you this award and link back to his/her blog.
- Next nominate 15 bloggers for this award and notify them about the nomination.
- Finally, tell readers seven things about yourself.
I’m really delighted to be nominated for this award but as per official rules, but I would not be able to fulfill the second rule:
You must create a list of 15 blogs that you enjoy most and link to those as well. Then you must go and tell them you have nominated them. That means if you do not have 15, you cannot do this step. If you do not complete this step, then you cannot claim this award.
I don’t have 15 on my blogroll (I was oblivious to its charms and was lazy to grow the list) and neither do I closely interact with other bloggers, due to many reasons including lack of time to dedicated blog surfing and commenting. (and I’m slow in making friends) I’m deeply saddened, that I’m not eligible to accept the award. But I consider this a moment to introduce some blogs which I feel deserve more attention and encouragement. And also some established ones which I consider inspiring and deserving to be read.
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To Fly Without Wings
i woke one autumn morning
a crispy golden feeling
in the air a new dawn flows
and by my window wind blows
trees sway bare with leaves falling
on crystal water sending ripples
sparkling drops splatter around
distorting a mirror of sky above
i look up at the autumn sky
tiny speckles are moving away
in a file of dots further away
i do realize what i do see
swans are finally flying high
i was bound to fly i do agree
if only i had grown wings
that favor was not gifted to me
but i am not sad even a tad
a gift born out of the kernel
is snuggled safe and warm
by me is my love so eternal
springs are for love newborn
nourished in summer days
in autumns when the leaves fall
love grows strong cozy and warm
i look at this spreading field
coated in endless auburn leaves
rustling playfully to wind they yield
i guess the earth feels warm tonight
in its coat of auburn leaves
beside me is my gift my love
my beauty my wings of freedom
the only crowned one in my kingdom
in this new dawn of autumn
i relish every feeling golden
when wind echoes in playful blows
and come up knocking at my door
for wings i don’t crave anymore
because my love makes me believe
i can trace the path a leaf weave
i can fly higher without wings
Captured Motionless
.:in sleepless nights:.
.:i give up:.
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Confidence
Confidence . . . It’s word that doesn’t come up much to my conscious world these days, maybe it’s buried deep within my subconscious clashing around with those horrid, weird dynamics Freud seemed to explain with such clarity that even a dog would understand, well not me. My confidence is buried, maybe even deeper into my unconscious that I don’t even feel for it’s existence. How pitiful when you find yourself unable to look at a person in the eyes, when you lose your general swagger which accompanies your speech, in fact your speech is now staggering blabbering muttering incomprehensible and repetitive. You had lost all your sense of achievement and no longer feel the urge to survive competition. There is a sense of failure. You had given up.
Departure On Roads To Insanity (A Poem In 3 Parts)
–[DEPARTURE]is it time for our departure on these roads?–
all this sane brain
washed in cold rain
leaves only disdain
and dreadful pain
where is the miracle drug
which can kill this bug
of memories hard to avert
and cure this swollen hurt
when it rain it does rain so hard
all left in hand is this final card
and nothing but a throbbing heart
and an intense desire to depart
–[ROADS]are these the roads we tread searching for sanity?–
memories all condemned fake
with no leftover desires to make
salvation becomes the last word in mind
so are there anymore roads left to find
roads where pure joy fills a pained soul
to drown in desire of a new found goal
to wake pure everyday as a newborn foal
and immerse in a drama with a new role
roads to salvage wounded pride
where a cure to all ailments reside
where love is boundless and wide
and can clean this despair from inside
–[INSANITY]did those roads lead us to our lost sanity?–
when this path of reason disintegrate
this train of thought finally will derail
down the drain flows sanity
with all of yesterday’s vanity
sense of logic is now failing
in this vortex it’s sailing
memories now fail to arrive
through this waves they dive
flashes of different lives
colors of all radiant hues
leaving behind only this insanity
an illusion of alternative reality
in a different dimension
beyond comprehension
this path of reason had disintegrated
this train of thought finally derailed
They Didn’t Plead for Mercy
unsung words
fly high with birds
in the rising smoke
dies the words they never spoke
crumbling bricks
red dust of deeper hues
burning sticks
blood lust of cruel nature
teeth tore flesh asunder
called for plunder
spears bore wounds
and muffled cries
in name of mercy
truce they never plead
those words they never spoke
in pride they ever had
COPD (Last Breath)
his eyes spoke volumes
between labored breaths
when our eyes met, i tried to smile
and he saw deeper into me
the words i didn’t express
he knows his past
the ominous signs
his failings he now regrets
his redemption is past tense
to my trained sense
and when everyone around
speaks of bygone days
he knows his breaths are numbered
a cylinder holds within
and slowly measure and deliver
the last air he will breath
he saw beyond my false assurances
and it puts me to shame
he knows i’m fake
that i’m not his savior
Nocturnal Illusions
make me show it all
the pain i burn deep inside
answer him for my final call
where i stand i cannot decide
let his glory be my salvation
let it be my soothing ointment
pain shall be my imagination
fade away my disappointment
make me show it all
the brightness of my desire
help me before my fall
call him to light my fire
make me show it all
the craving i had for him
on the floor when i sprawl
blankness is all at whim
nocturnal delusions
is it all the illusions
burning me from the inside
help me just decide
The Ecology Project
Pete: Just come with me, Jenna please come. Hey it’s nothing to be afraid.
Jenna: Oh boy I’m scared, this place . . .this place.
Pete: All your hallucinations . . .it started after you started reading that damn blog. I’m more scared of that blog than this place.
To behind the tall grass of my coven high
Come softly like the tingling breeze
Over the deep, you see the hollow heads
Swallow the breezy air of windy willow beds
Jenna: No Pete please let’s leave, it is all true, all what he wrote . . .the blog is true every word of it.
Pete: Heck, Jenna . . And how the hell you know who wrote that crappy blog . . It’s just another plain crazy brain anonymous wannabe, who knows it’s a guy or gal . . Might be your cat wrote it.
Jenna: Don’t blame crooked Sam, I love him dearly.
Pete: You can marry your crooked black cat . . .and believe me if you want more superstitions. . .black cats are evil.
Watching The Game
the crowd continues
whistling and cheering
heroes of the ball game
got all their undying attention
i do not have the courage
just to tell them to stop a bit
just to get a minute’s attention
because i got something to say
i fear they might ridicule
blame me for the opponent’s goal
their life is passed like a ball
by the heroes of the ball game
i got only one in my mind
i want to tell it all aloud
but i don’t believe i got it in me
a little bit of dare
just to disrupt the game
the crowd continues cheering
their eyes focused on the screen
mine are set just on one edge
where she cheers her heroes
do not believe i have the courage
just to tell her that i love her
Some Times We Feel For. . .
Sometimes we feel for the past. Because it is something we have experienced in our lives, something we like to reflect even it’s sad or happy. “Nostalgia is purely nauseous” That is a quote from one of my friends, he felt like that just because he is unable to pronounce or spell that word. Well if anything is to be pronounced and it includes the use of any other organ than mouth, I also tend to agree with him. Now forgetting my sweet friend of the past for a moment (thinking of him is quite a nostalgia) let me get in to the purpose of me writing this piece of crap.
True that I got some time to kill and I’m now using that time to write another piece of brain poison to make you readers go crazy slowly and achieve the maximum pleasure of dementia induce coma. Now to tell you a secret, “Poems are like Prions” That quote is not from my above mentioned friend but yours truly. Now if you are wondering what the hell is a prion, you can do some research online, some brilliant minds invented the internet before they went crazy, might be due to a prion induced disease. I’ve got no time to explain how a prion works and for matter can’t explain what it is in first case. Use the internet. And now if you are wondering what the hell is a poem, I assure you don’t need to continue reading because my goal of poisoning your brain had been achieved by someone else. So prepare your bed for coma.
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Memo
a blank mind?
write a memo
on a yellow paper
on my hand lies my heart
yes i plucked it out
just for you to see if it beats
to see if it seeps
blood of crimson red
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Winters Are To Come
on silent moments while you are breathing
daydream of high castles on cloudy skies
sweet moments of misty daylight sleep
crisp golden plains in the summer sight
sleep light and soft don’t dream too deep
or else you will miss your inner delight
enjoy now all the summer has to offer
for all is not eternal, winters are to come
on silent moments while you are smiling
think of old jokes they used to crack
sweet moments of cherished memories
while you dreamed in the golden barn light
smile light and soft don’t laugh too deep
or else you will miss your inner delight
relish all the mischief while you can
for all is not eternal, winters are to come
on silent moments while you are walking
feel the wet moss draping your bare feet
absorb all sights where the beaten path leads
beside the lake waters shining in summer light
walk slow and soft don’t run as you can
or else you will miss all the sights
enjoy sights on the mirror of the lake plane
for all is not eternal, winters are to come
take it all slow and light while you can
enjoy your life now as all is allowed
for nothing is eternal when time comes
winters of icy cold and dark will strike
No. 45 (part 2)
cry bloodshot eyes for the feel of wet soil
a darker shade of red
my head is now spinning on the coil
the purple acid from my eyes i shed
gunshots i heard in the floor beneath
while you laid your head and sighed
maybe the poor souls dragged underneath
had nothing to do because they were snared
in your heat i tried to hide my shame
on our wet sheet faded all your country soul
smoking guns breathing sulfur, up the staircase they came
your naked soul was offered bare in your new role
purple light danced among the fairies of the night
my body burned sulfur and spewed smoke
no. 45 knew all it’s windows, so did i by sight
while u laid bare, no tears to choke
was raining acid all the night, where the pipes climbed
behind the dark alley it stood looming high
my broken soul crashed through a window while midnight bells chimed
from behind i heard your muffled sigh
feel no more because it’s the end
a darker shade of black
this purple world is spinning because of my blend
no. 45 still looms high behind the station shack
No. 45
dream of a world where skies are purple
a darker shade of gray
a circle, it’s coming back to me
all the clouds, all the rain gone astray
we met a long time ago
in a dark misty railway station
big engines drowned in their rolling ego
on a beaten track flowed their elation
fresh from the country plains
you asked the way to no. 45
it was all wet as the coffee stains
when we let our shame take a dive
what went next was a shade of darker hue
as you rested your head and sighed
no. 45 knew all the footsteps in and due
never a step out seen since the days it lighted
sigh for the breath of ice
a darker shade of blue
all my heavens come crashing back to me
it’s raining acid, a purple hue
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