A childhood with father

Please catch me if I fall
I may not be strong enough to handle the pain
The wings of your careful arms are all I want
In times when my purpose is rendered meaningless.
I am a soulless bird flying nowhere
And I look up to you father
For safety and love and spirit
The man you are now is who I want to be.
In time we shall meet again
Only when I could prove my existence
And the lead the shoulder than guided me
To a whole new multitude of satisfaction.
I have been thinking a lot lately father
And I know it’s time I should be man enough
But those hands of yours that took me with love
Dear father, I will always feel nostalgic of my childhood days.

The usual response

On a lonesome street on a monday morning
An appartment room of a single accommodation
Found a young man of about thirty
Dead, wrapped in sheets of sheer agony.
For the ambiance of the place was such
The shattered crockery at a nearby distance
Walls painted with unambitious designs
Screaming the state of mind of a ‘sane’ meadow.
In no time mourners shall arrive
The mechnical hands of some anonymous dream
Working aimlessly and sexually insane
A mere irony to the young man’s game.
His cause of death is uncertain
But as one might be so logical enough to realise
Overpowering stress and underwhelming satisfaction
Has made many lives accustomed to death.
Do you have a purpose in life?
Yoing boys like you should go all the way out
Running, shinning, dreaming the big picture
But what if the canvas holds shy of my unusual nature.
I am a mere character in His mysteries
A mere unit of the production gone wrong
The world that is the assembly line
Would only but replace the sad life.

The year that ended

Mine has been a complex year,
With sentiments ranging from happiness to tear,
Collect the best of you with hope,
That next year comes with just as good scope.
For the year that has ended is gone,
And the flashbacks will make me weep along,
I hope it doesn’t stay still,
The next I shall climb the bravest hill.
Stand beside me, my love,
And like a princess I shall keep you dove,
I wish like last year you won’t go,
Or only this time I won’t say hello

Over a latte

What if the faulty name on my Sunday coffee,
Was no mistake but a planned coincidence,
Perhaps heaven above wants Thomas,
To meet her destiny- Tracy.
Tracy, that’s what they wrote,
But did that happen mistakenly?
What if someone wants me to meet her,
What if, what if she comes here.
Perhaps she must be thinking the same,
Or perhaps she took it as light laughter,
And with her friends, sitting at the coffee house,
Drank it off with Thomas written on.
Do I overdo stuff, I think sometimes,
Or is it an exgerrated part of reality,
What if ten years down the line,
Tracy will be waking up next to me?
They say a lot can happen over coffee,
And it is perhaps partly true,
What they do by mistake,
Could make two souls meet.

Parting sentence

All I want is one perfect day,
Where the thoughts of you don’t linger around making me restless,
And the life that I am living, as it has been,
Be a little more still than heartbeats.
That love no more be a cause of searching and lights,
And on those streets when I see lover’s laugh their past cry, I must not die.
All I ask is just so little,
That you never stand next to me,
And when the lights are turned off,
In then dark muddy times,
That I must not see you.
For I love you!
And I don’t know when,
Will it ever run out or die,
I shall stand here surrounded by bleak sky.
My tears blot my poetry,
And you bring those watery emotions,
What did I ever did wrong,
That today, we have to be severed this long?

You

I have done nothing to you,
Then why put me in a blasphemy,
Where thoughts of you struggle along,
Putting halt to my spiritual journey.
Could you not see princess this life,
Is a bitter part of a toxic disease?
Though I manage my steps out,
It’s only a long way to glory.
My eyes shut on you,
You are the last thing they want,
I soak myself in thoughts of dreams and beyond,
Love! Would it ever begin.
It’s not as if I am running away,
No man in peace without his muse,
All my life I have been searching for you,
And you here, next to me, makes me struggle with words I had hold on to.

Common

It all started back in days of normality,
As it always does,
Something extraordinary or something,
Life changing happens to someone,
And people talk about it all day long.
But how would you treat an endless mind
Of thoughts and dreams created and yet again,
Shattered in frames of welcoming condolences in form of,
Another shot.
I believe each mind is capable and thus,
Each mind is noble,
We don’t have to be vigilantes against ourselves,
Maybe we could in the least try to adapt.
Human mind is a constant source of idea but,
How do we set it apart seemingly,
Sure we are engineers of future,
But are we any good enough with love of fellow humans?
It all started back in those normal days,
When I was walking along, minding my own business,
When a thought came to me,
And I put if off,
Again.
For years I have been struggling with a tag,
‘Common’ has been the word of my life,
And though each day I dream too big,
Each night I sleep alone,
Sharp at half past eight.

Commotion

Lately I have been losing
The battle of who and why
For not matter how,
I will always end up in remains
Because the drug you gave
Was neither perfect nor immortal
And unfortunately lying restless,
I have to bear such consequence
Because if you see closely
It all makes sense; why and how.
We create and destroy a series
of being -attach and
Detach as if us are
Some worldly Gods. But why
Should they suffer at all
Did they do something wrong;
Yes, yes, you send for them
And now in an instance,
Replace and repeat?
The things that bother me
Will always continue to do so
Because I, being judge
Of my private kingdom,
Am bound to spank
The absurdist twice
For he shall only learn
Truth every once in a while
But lately it’s been too long
To wait
And lately I have been losing it all Again.

Tender (love)

What I feel each time I see her,
I cannot call it love, for it will only
Abuse or praise my tender heart
Who is yet to know either and judge.
And how she looks back at me
Dancing her eyes, rolling them all over me is something else.
My friends, older than me, tell me she is big enough, out of my reach,
Yet in my heart I know that I love her and the sense of her being.
I love the way I wait hours to look at her when I go down to play,
And when she comes in early morning, as fresh as she bathed.
Isn’t it all love? I asked them who mock me.
And in return they say,
She’s only to give you a chocolate or two,Not the things you don’t even know of.
I turn around and walk towards home,
I didn’t understand what they said.
Yet another morning in the scorching heat,
Outside her house in the society park,
Holding my bat, I’m waiting in sweat for her to step out and smile back.

Heart Of Gold

I’d like to think my heart as a game,
An endless game of faith and misery
And the fight shall continue for ages I suppose,
Long years that I shall live, this heart will be born each time again.
I come with most delicacy and sentiments,
And when I say such phrases, understand!
This heart is one bloody shape of disguise,
He who loves the heart knows it a thousand times better.
I keep this little man close to myself,
Yet often it lingers on freely,
I say of dreams and casual instances,
But, my heart, I shall say is an art of mockery.
Say your words aloud, loud enough to hear
This heart, this is a ruthless spirit,
Hoping on people randomly as it does,
Love is an action to the doer,
Multiple actions performs such fickle heart.