Commotion of Emotions

When did the clouds roll in And block the sun? I started loving the light - Only when it was gone. And now the rain Is corroding life away. And I've known too much Or too little - to help it stay. We'd chase down streams, Through forests and dreams; But now we're afloat In our own misery. Numbers represented us In schools and fields of grass; Now we represent numbers In banks, homes and jobs. We spoke not with grace But pure emotions on a straight face; And now our minds have learned To betray our hearts. We did not choose friends On the wind we met and made trends; And now we're afraid to meet ourselves Reflecting on the stream that flows still. Engrossed in the magic of tales We kept gliding through storms and fails; And now we give in - even in our thoughts And think what is worth living for? Wanting to change the world then We were young and happy, Failing to change even ourselves no

                  *Reader discretion advised*            The winds were strong outside. So strong that their presence was gallantly announced by creaking windows and shattering panes. Aspens sang songs to calm the winds down, but it was of no use. Man would have been scared to death two thousand years ago, but now he sat comfortably in a heated room, sondering and pondering on lives of others, more so than his own. But these were winds of change, bringing in the winter, and they were to be respected at all costs. Their identity was forged by nature billions of years ago; no mortal epoch could dare disgrace them.             Man had become the master of every corner from space to sea; from art to discovery. And yet a tiny glimpse outside through a pin-hole would reveal how puny his existence is and how much more there is to know, beyond daily scuffles over petty meticulousness. But blinded by greed and apathy this problem child achieves nothing but scattered blood and

One morning I woke up early, Wished to enjoy the day surely, So i walked down the street slowly, But all I saw was cruelty. A man beat his world, A woman sold her soul, A child sold for gold, And no one cared for the old. A man awakened 'for he'd dreamt, A woman soiled in ornament, A child rolling to darkness and A talent lost for compliments. None waited to bask in the sun's light, None dared to resolve petty fights, All magnificence lost in flight, 'till there was nothing but the night. So i cried at the top of my voice, Begged them to review their choice, To not be cold as ice, And there was no harm in being nice. And they tell me its alright, It'll all be gone by the night, There's no reason to worry, Oh but you must hurry, And join the rest in the race, You are not a special case, Just stop looking at your face, And never wake up in early morning's grace. 

Atop a hill, Beyond the meadows still, And the lowlands shrill, Stood tall, The Tall Tree. Merry under the sun, Over-laced with divine fun, On the hill adjoining Mt. Gilligan. It was immortal, And knew no mortal, To share its chortle, Oh the lovely Tall Tree. Dancing with the breeze, To the hill released – Aroma to love and peace. But it feared, As the night neared, Darkness’ silent ugly leer, Oh, the poor Tall Tree. For it was all alone, None heard it moan, No saviour, nothing had it outgrown. Night looked appalling, All times spent calling, The tree to sing, For that’s all it wanted. But its terrifying grimace, Frightened all the place, Its despair unheard – “It’s all but space!” So the night, Etched tiny dots bright, Into itself; shining light, To comfort poor Tall tree. He looked with awe, Smiled as he saw, But couldn’t stop his caw. So the night, At every cycle tried, To densify the l

You will be missed. For all that you've taught, For all that you did. And for all that you would've done, If death hadn't taken your souls grip. The escape from bedlam, The courage to fight it back, The hope shattered to crumbs, You restored at the time we needed most. Against fundamental atrocities helped us triumph. But now your own words have failed you, Sadness and depression taken their toll. And into the wind you flew, Knowing your job's done; Knowing there's only emptiness, Watching the same old with nothing new. But your words will echo through our souls, For eternity and evermore to pick us - Up when we fall down and remind us of our goals. Your words will never die till we live, You are the saviour that helped patch or holes. Yet all that irks is, None could reach to you where you reached to all. Every word deep enough to dive for hours at this, And beyond all pain and sorrow I - Can only

Lost in time and lost in space, Leaning forward, moving back two pace; Sipping around, watching the world crash down, Breathing by shameless grace. Lost in words and lost in thoughts, Between love and life caught; Staring up, holding a cup, Standing on a pile of fraud. Lost in cities and lost in towns, Sniffing pockets as hounds; For coin and bone, to escape this zone, To be worthy of holding ground. Lost in exchange and lost in trade, And what you wish is what you never get; The best in all eyes, what you get without tries, That pays the obvious and kills the rest . Lost in the open, lost in the closed, In a quest for tenacious toes; Oh I cannot decide; what is wrong and what is right? And stronger this inquisition grows. Lost in the clouds, lost in the winds, Nimble nimbus above waiting; To pour rain or fire, does it matter what I desire? To the centre, all gyrating. Lost in feelings that beg understanding, B

                    'Shit!' I murmured involuntarily as I started at the charcoal grey ceiling fan whirling above my head. I had been finding it difficult to quietly lady down on my cosy mattress and have a good night's sleep since the past few days. So tonight I decided to assay the conundrum and dawned onto an appalling revelation. It was evil; it was horrendous; it was love! I felt something alive - shivering; beating. Like something dropped accidentally had cleared to the antebellum. Oh, I was in love for sure. And worst of all was the girl I had fallen for. And that moment on I knew it were to be a tale of twisted fates, an exciting crime of uncanny powers governing the universe, saving time to roll dice and have a good laugh at my game. The wrong woman at the wrong time - my best friend's fiancée.                      Tooke and I have been friends for a long time. He was one of the many whom you call by their last name long enough to temporarily forget

                                 Kids are stupid. And more so, when infants. The onset of shrill cries and mid night cracks of deep sleep marks the beginning to a perpetual cycle of hysteria. Then there is time that you need to devote to their well-being. ‘Spending time’ doing essentially nothing productive with them. In the beginning it seems an interim strain, but like a weed they turn to toddlers and start with the one most forbidden task in the life of ‘normal’ humans – exploring.                 They are never satisfied with what they are provided, may it be the luxuries that most don’t dare dream of! They want to know how things work; who does that in the modern world? Would anyone bother question the working of winds and the sun, when they sit comfortably inside their air conditioned rooms, on their cosy sofa? Chintzy behaviours, raw calls or simply the motive to break society-formulated rules drive these little devils.                 And exasperating of the

In a forest by the river, Walked a boy not too clever, In a likewise world surrounding forever, Yet dullness took over never, The best of him. To strangers he'd always talk, Through the woods a consistent walk, Riverine silence he'd surely mock, But also the presence of a clock, Always produced him late. So often he was found, Carving sculptures on lorn ground, Into wood with fingers astound, Away from disturbing sounds, Of man occupied land. Tools moved at his command, Firm hands held their stance, And all the trees had their glance, On the beautiful countenance, Of their end produce. Remember, he held not tools for joy, He had given up the art of laughter coy, Yet every mortal took him for overjoyed, He was in fact just a lonely boy, Selling shapes in town. But strong was his heart, That put forth beautiful art, And let him depart, To the town with his cart, And earn a living. Now, once he walke

In a village by the river, Lived a girl far too clever, For the world surrounding her forever, Yet vanity took over never, The best of her. To people she'd barely talk, In the woods she loved to walk, And social norms she'd slyly mock, And not the absence of a clock, Ever produced her late. So often she was found, Painting water beside soft ground, With colours inside her astound, With magic of the river sounds, A story was written. Currents danced on her command, Fishes held their stance, Animals from miles drew for a glance, Of the beautiful countenance, Beside the river ground. Whenever she painted with joy, The forest burst with laughter coy, Yet no mortal ever heard her overjoyed, But a consistent passenger boy, Traveling through the forest. But alas her poor heart, No human were to ever see her art, For that'd let her powers depart, Away from her ethereal cart, Of beauty and tangibility.

Hush! Stop that heart beating, Hear you not the door creaking? The silence breaking; the window shaking, Oh! They're here silently listening. Sshh! Not a noise of breath, Why not fake a death? Carry a shield of hate; a pocket of meth, Oh! Drown into false words now. Argh! They laugh silently at you, They giggle, nothing new? Wish you knew; you're just not few, Oh! Paranoia is driving you insane . Alas! They're watching all the time, Have you not veiled the incomplete crime? Decadent fine; say 'never mine!' Oh! They will relapse. Ha! Look you've made a fool, Surely they believe you're their tool? Be cruel; Be a ghoul, Oh! Pay the cost of living your soul. Good god! You've crafted your world, Doing what the voice told? Reach your goal; hold and behold, Oh! Paranoia is at peace in exulansis

                                 No one ever sees the big picture; because the big picture is a puzzle that needs reason and patience. Everyone is looking at some part of the puzzle. Desperately trying to fit an unmatched piece into the colossal mosaic. So ostentatious are their beliefs, that they cut rebellious sides of the piece - until it fits perfectly into place. They fill a temporary vacancy, but give rise to a permanent hole, an indelible damage to the puzzle. Do not be like everyone else. Do not force things to fall into place. Remember, the puzzle is ambiguous, only until it is solved.                 That is what Aunt Petunia told me, when she found me struggling, forcing delicate pieces into a puzzle. ‘The piece with two straight edges always belongs to the corner. Be careful, one mistake, and you’ll never see the big picture’ she smiled and ambled away. ‘It’s your puzzle, not mine to solve.’                 The puzzle was a gift from her on my ten birt

I wish it were easy, To detect a lie - when told, Though innocent faces and smiles; But then I hide the truth - all the time. I wish it were easy, To be loved than love, Where everyone plucks a loved flower; But then I hate - all the time. I wish it were easy, To take a deep breath, Even in a world so polluted; But then I keep running - all the time. I wish it were easy, To tell wrong from right, And set absolute rules to a relative world; But then I break them - all the time. I wish it were easy, To find world peace, And smile at strangers; But then I look away in opia - all the time. I wish it were easy, To not alert the words of the heart, And let it bloom - light or dark; But then I stay quiet - all the time. I wish it were easy, To understand people, And so their creator; But then I don't even understand myself. I wish it were easy, To tell the truth, And let see the beauty in all; But then I