Confessions Of A Corrupt Mind

graffities on the walls of my mind so corrupt

riotus echoes in the halls of my mind they erupt

in the ocean of guilt, my conscious drowned

with an empty soul dancing to tune of 21 guns

in the hands of a traitor- a nation lost and found

robbed from the feeble hands of common ones

black dalhias on the beds of my mind so corrupt

have poiseoned the threads of my mind somewhat

i have sucked the wind from its signal waves

and sucked it more till it completely dried

and smuggled it to where my allies stayed

my selfindulging selfishness surely satisfied

and I don’t really remember 26^th of November

when the city danced to the melancholic firecrackers

and I was woken up from my peaceful slumber

by the deafening gunshots of the puppet attackers

i made very sure that plotted slaughter ensued

to avenge the ashes of burning train of divide

and the bloody game of throne still continued

when thousands of men of both the Gods died

the crippled society alleges me of vice corruption

even the archangels can’t undo the sins I have done

come out my akin brothers- the fraudulent senators

we deserve nothing but to be hanged under the sun

Rishikesh

two of them exist, but one of them flows

scintillating water gears up to decompose

holy bricks don't speak of bottled sins

of sacred grass by pearl white skins

dance of the night to the pious tune

meditation of saints feeds the moon

rain of tinted spirituality shall fall tonight

you'd stay here forever consumed in light

Then There Was No Sky

the last spiteful war was fought and done

and our world had changed forever

it was first of its kind battle for the sun

originated as a covetous endeavour

like the withered maple leaves, they fell

when he unleashed the horses of war

guided by hell's lighthouse, bound in spell

the army of sailors rowed to its shore

the city of manequins witnessed a rebirth

the enchanted prisoners of the big tower eye

built a shell concrete round the earth

then the grounded wept-there is no sky'

so let the trees of unison rise from embers

and break every brick with potent strike

some are forgotten some he remembers

but we all are his blood children alike

The Revolution Circus

fools on parade with their fake plastic flags

gathered in clusters

half of 'em flustered,

dandy reporter with her fake plastic nose

news has gone down the wire

spreads like a wld fire

stand-up guy with his sarcastic speech

swathed in hypocrisy

disguised bureacracy

college kid with enthusiatic wit

talks of the revolution

amending the constitution

anti courrption crusader with monastic poise

instigated slow insurrection

is this collapse of corruption?

How To Kill A Child

Put him in a preparatory institution

Which resembles an old warehouse

Where he struggles with retribution

Like a trapped feeble mouse

I am sure this will kill the child

Convert him into sweet shinny droid

And Scrape out his thumping heart

Cut his soul and paste a void

With a process that’s state of art

I am sure this will kill the child

Lock his creative cellar in advance

Where he’s kept in constant remand

Make sure he doesn’t sing or dance

And Mock him if raise his hand

I am sure this will kill the child

Show him the ruptured road sign

and tell him it is the one more taken

and if he steps out of the trodden line

his future shall be ruined and forsaken

I am damn sure this will kill the child

The Reverse Love

fine steel grey evening it was and we met again under the bridge. For

the last time. Eyes exchanged the last ‘ how-did-I –ever-fell-for-you’

strange mélange of pain and regret and hate and loss , flushed the

cup of my mind so tired. Love-the extension of one’s self-shatters

like the other childhood myths and castles of adolescent dreams.

And an engulfing silence scares and delights the unmoving thoughts

Of never to see each other again. And we never saw each other again.

And as the days melted and flowed making the aching feelings emerge

From the stone of present, being engraved by who seems to be a

Perplexing friend –the time. Then we had our argument so fierce

The one which fractures the ground, and the heart yearns for

Emancipation. The deluded soul comes out of the box of enchantment

and you begin to wonder whether you even knew her at all , all

this while? The amusing clouds of mystery have retreated and

what is left behind is a blank sense of a dull dragged existence,

and the patterns of arguments swirl incessantly in the living

room with small coffee table and hung portraits of art which still

seem to be wet with the paints of your brush. Hurling blames at

each other like arrows ruining what used to be careless cozy Sundays

and it hurts to be possessed by solitude which comes closing in

like the faded plastered walls of the apartment which is flushed

by the light of the gloomy orange hue coming in from the arched

windows and causes decay of the space, the memories and me

the tarnished pages of a table calendar fell in order like the

red leaves of a sugar maple tree. And we had our first kiss

for the first time and the hovering lights of the coffee shop

blurred for that infinitesimal moment and it soon descended

into a reassuring realm where we unraveled each other’s

bodies like an expansive mystic book which never fails to

astound the senses. It was soon followed with indolent walks

along the river piers and the faint exhuberance of doing

absolutely nothing.

Within the vague confines of shallow obscurity

The ego boundaries of my psyche collapsed almost

Immediately when I saw the flouresecent face of hers

Under the rusted iron bridge.