Friday, June 19, 2015

Tell Me, O Reader!

Tell me O reader!
Do the old tales not haunt you?
Flooding you with tears, the screams that no one hears
Making you cling to where you not belong but your memories do
Or the memories of the old people who told you their tales, can you not feel them?
Does that not haunt you, clinging to this old, shattered place that no longer exist as it was
But you are afraid that if you move, you will forget whatever you have of it
Because you don’t know all those single moments of their lives, but what they had told you (and you remember) and what they had been like, after living them
Do the walls not speak to you?
Or the doors remind you when and how who and why opened them?
Or the windows that remind you of old storms that once flushed your happy lives with excitement, movement and hot teas.
The laughter, the forgiveness, the little old hurting moments
Do you not want them back?
Do you not want to warn those people back in your memories about your present and their future?
Do you not want to tell them that laugh as much as you can, for their each laughter will bring you back tons of unbearable pain?
Or cry not dear oldie, for you won't be able to touch and comfort them in your future when they’ll be no more
But you and just you, all standing and walking and reliving those moments alone
Clinging onto them for whatever of the past is left that only lives through your memories
Do you not want to tell those old tales to the people?
Tell them, "Once upon a time..."
Do you think people would understand it the way you had seen it
Do you think people would judge through your actions that you did without your control?
Do you think people might think that this broken yet arrogant man in front of them could have had this ability to change what has happened, and could have altered this new present?
Do you think they care for the tales? For the truth that does not really matter to them because it is not something which is theirs, their personal?
Do you think they care about you, or try to understand what phase you are going through?
Do you think they pity you? Or anyone of them had been in your place...a similar place like yours, do you think?
Can you think or are you still suffering from your nostalgia, unable to come into the present, crying your heart out to the old winds that might time travel for your sake,
Just to convey your message, do you think?
Do you think this is even possible, the miracles?
Do you think that when these miracles didn't happen then, they could ever happen now?
Do you now believe in miracles...any more?
Do you have any faith, or let's say, some hope- is there any hope left for it? For something better, for something miraculous?
Do you have any hope?
You mean you are hopeless? You must not be having any dreams, any desires, because all is hopeless?
So do you want to live without your dreams? Do you want to die or do you still want to cling onto your memories to make sure that you'll never let them go?
Are you still crying? Is that wailing yours?

And do you want to live? What do you think?

Monday, March 02, 2015

Creep

This night is creepy
The shadows from the past are haunting me
Sucking on my hollowness (that I have been carrying since ages), tear by tear
In the drops I see my fear dripping down
And the shivering comforting my reality, my present
This cold weather is my only solace
For my mind drifts back into the lands long forgotten
The lands that bring a feeling of hollowness and nostalgia as a token of its ruination
It is telling me that it should not have ended,
It should not have been burnt down by ignorance
Because it was a beauty, though now just the memories that haunt the dreams day by day
I am not responsible for it
I am only an onlooker
Who is looking cautiously deep down into the narrow lanes of infinte depths of someone else's subconscious.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Apocalypse

A pale moon
Without sky
Turning sick.
A dark boat
Erect sail
No sea.
A tree, shivering,
Disturbed
Dead wind.
A bird flying high
Wounded
Burnt wings.
Turning of heads in graves.
Tormenting howls from caves.
Smoke
Escaping from a well.
A burning house
On sale.
The entire desert
In the leaps of flames.
Mountains running
Diving in oceans.
Lions eating
Their own body portions.
Fishes breathing
The red water of lakes.
Fruits ripening
Digesting their own seeds.
Snakes yelling
"For God's sake!"
The statues, smiling
Revealing their decayed teeth
"Time is up."
The Oracle says,
"Death is coming through the days."