Tag Archives: dark poetry

Leprosy

Leprosy

Everything slips through her fingers

Her hands a mesh work

Of frailties

She can’t hold onto a thing

Behind her trudges a dark cloud

Of failures magnified

Cynicism  amplified

And hate is eminently inscribed

Deep in her eyes

The orchestra of her heavy breathing

Is in complete harmony

With the crunchy sound

Of the fallen dried paint

That once laced her lungs

Stepped on by irate kin.

With her wagging tongue

She curved her path

Cleared every obstacle

To her destitution

Out of her volition

She got into this mission

To prove she could drive

Her own being to completion

She hated

She received

Amidst complains

She deserved better

And now

No one needs her close

The ungrateful monster

Abandoned

Bitter lesson learnt

Bridges to the past burnt

UNGRATEFULNESS is LEPROSY

*** Sometimes I just write things that I cant even classify. Most of the times I see pictures in my mind that I just put down as raw as I see them. Can this be a poem? I don’t know but it is the closest embodiment of what I saw when I closed my ears and listened to voices unheard, humming of strange sort . But still I feel I haven’t put I down in its entirety. Read it and tell me what you think it is. ***** LOve ya’ll

LOST is PRECIOUS

LOST is PRECIOUS

Grab the pillow
Warmth to borrow
It will be long till I come
Sing a song to fill your hollows
Hold the cat to wipe your sorrows
It will be long till I come
Strap the guitar
Break the strings
Release the tension
Calm your rage
For no woman,
Holds me but you
Drink a glass of water
Take a deep breathe
Close your eyes
See me in magical bliss
Smile
Open your eyes
To biting reality
To chilling cold
For today you’ll know
That LOST is PRECIOUS

Dreams Scare Me

Dreams Scare Me

As a child I knew my life was thought out
I knew come what may, I’ll make it out somehow
Then came obstacles that I trudged on
They soiled my hopes
And my dreams began to shrink
Choppers became cars,
Which eventually turned to bikes
Before I got contented with the means of mobility,
I was birthed with; my feet
I began having sleepless nights
Fantasies visited every night
It came with a number of friends
Insomnia, inability and anxiety
How odd fantasies and inability
Could hold hands?
An indomitable trio
Sifting through my mind
Scavenging for bits of possibilities
Like hurricane they swept all my dreams
And deposited them in the damp of my pillow
And they whisper
Pretending to be friends
Procrastination joined them
He’s a good friend I thought
“You’ll do it when you get back on your feet”,
He told me.
He always had the best words when I needed things done
There was always a better time to do it
Now wasn’t part of his vocabulary
He erased it from my dictionary
And so
All became in an hrs. time…
Tomorrow….
Tomorrow….
Now my son asks me
Hasn’t tomorrow arrived?
When is a better time?
Will you ever get back on your feet?

 

 

The Dreamer Died

In the blanket of darkness
When all I see is this crazy mess
When my feet wobble at my weight
And my spine can’t hold me straight
When the stench of this pigsty
Swamps my pillow with self-pity
I think of the dreamer I used to be
The one who thought the world wasn’t complete without me
The one who conversed with destiny and sealed his own fate
The one whose feet walked on hot coal,
But still had eyes fixed on gold
The one who shredded impossibilities
And used the shreds to weave possibilities
The one now dead

 

 

Strength

Teach me how to mount on steepest of mountains
With feeble, bleeding soles
Muscles worn
Breathe dilapidating
Don’t let this trail of blood lead to my deathbed
For I’ am no feast for ravens

Grips losing
Teeth gnashing
Lips trembling
Tendons breaking
Please, reinforce the cardiac chains
That they may hold these dreams longer enough
For these tough times to pass