one of them

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gushing wind and the cold night

no soul, no shadow by my side

it is deep and deadly dark inside

shuddering my self-pride,

spewing symptoms of inner blight

tears buffer in the eyes

pleading me guilty

crushing my assumed might

 

I think of the great good men

the hypocrites, all passing by

in their languid moves of pretense

betraying me with my knowledge

of who am I, but not one of them?

 

“Who are you?”

Do you ask yourself? I do.

 

Do I get my answers?

No. I choose not to.

 

in the dark, I see no one to blame onto

in its sheer silence, I hear no one to my rescue

distraction doesn’t come to me

I am hungry, I am starving, I am mortified

yet so reluctant to feed myself, I decry

having only my ego, my pride on the menu

by no means such hunger-pangs I shall abide

 

I sleep on it.

 

©Written Frames, 2019

The skill of escape is mastered by us all.

Awake

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a maiden morning ray

is all what it takes

hush a heart, writhing

woeful and ashamed

 

now that I am up, agonized

life treads, turns up gray

night snarls at me,

pardoned with eyes awake

 

blissfully proud and drifted away

in diurnal deeds of forte,

singing songs of merry

of facade, foibles disobeyed

 

©Written Frames, 2018

 

 

 

 

 

Tug O War

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contemplating mind

like clink of a spoon spinning in ceramic saucer

echoes of outer quietude

inside it stirs tumult

 

contemplating mind

like falling raindrops and soaring vapors

freeze in flavors of air, so love-torn

in tug of war between heaven and earth

 

contemplating mind

like avalanche of landslides

unclasping roots of patrimonial grants

surfacing new dimension of self-birth

 

contemplating mind

like wind blows on one fleeting summer night

chasing dried and yellow leaves

towards their rest in seeds of spring

 

agitating…

 

©Written Frames, 2018

 

The Night

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Thousands of reflections live the flicker and ripple of water, intrigued with the flirtatious graze of breeze on it. The buildings are half lit and the city dwellers are almost slept. The street lamps glow in its purposeful glory to shine through the darkest corners of this prolonged night. Anything that claims the empty streets is neither living nor dead, but shadows.

And here I stand, all by myself, with this world around me as my solitude. The cumulonimbus cloud of the cigarettes I puff shapes silent towers of ignorance around me. The view of gleaming water stirs a saddle of thought in the stagnancy of noise and debris this mind is filled with. There is a tacit silence in the air, the kind of consent that torments any living cell to scream aloud to itself. How beautifully every source of light seems to reflect just right on this dark-dark night! Perhaps it is in the dark itself, we enjoy the light of few and so the light within.

I am thoughtful tonight and so I am since many nights, finding the reason why I live.

Why do you live?

©Written Frames, 2018

 

Inner Conflict

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demons howl and sprint

bloodbath of pride, enthroned is the shame

sickened to stomach you ride the wolf

of the moon and its yearnings

 

swing the sword and charge

murder the distaste of headache

cradled between the palms is battled crown

eyes twitch and roll in anguish

 

be awake if you need to be

heart is clasped in claws of shame concealed

clutch hard your chest and spit the blood

spilling blood of prayers, you never chanted

 

lie still and stare at the roof

enclosed inside the four walls, the battlefield stiffened

heed your hands and sleep if unarmed

breathe and pretend the ignorance

 

or else arm yourselves

a hooked knife in left is targeted to chest

a sword in right is pointed to head

do or die as them have said

 

Decide

 

©Written Frames, 2018

Image Source: Pinterest

Where is my heart?

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Where is my heart?

You hear, swallowed in the layers of flesh

Mortal murmurs of yearning egress

Recoils from the flesh of uncertainty this skin is layered with

 

Uncertainty of shifting muse

You see, the balance beneath my chest displaced

Sideways, where shackled heart does lie chafed

Weighed and decrepit to lift a will

 

Torn equilibrium of the willing

You feel, the ache at the feat of desires

Crushed under the run of contrast decisions on fire

Wronged congeniality with societal norms gravitates

 

Pleasant pull of gravity

You know, protruding eye of skies downpour

Reflect into rivulets, they travel down the slope

Certitude of oceans absorb them in

 

Where is my heart?

You shalt witness the upfront roar of the afraid

Twirl about the pivot, rusted will to persuade

Cuffs of newborn shattered to smithereens

 

Where is my heart?

Here is my heart, O you carry if worthy

Placed on your palms it quivers at your mercy

And with a courtesy, “Where is your heart?”

 

You answer me

 

©Written Frames, 2018

Image Source

Lost and found

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inebriated

the bones shrouded by silence

head discoes to the drum roll

of inner swell that bangs

 

numbness, this numbness

eyes know not how to blink

shred and scrap from the red roof falls

a heart with a limp is dragged

 

destruction, destruction

thumps and thuds of caustic silence

the bod swings on a blue tide so high

unleash the eruption within, gush out

 

deafening disquietude

these cues of un-spelled languages

sear the tongue succumbed to smoky distaste

dry cough of doubt with finesse

 

welcome, o welcome

leak from a faucet so worn out drips

ticking clock and creak of closing doors

shift of focus relieves

 

submissive invasion

into nothingness, escape from oneself

everything to find where one would be self

the noise shushed by intruders

 

sleep now

 

Written Frames, 2018