From Her Parted Soul

She could have been beautiful,
Had they let her live.
Her flight of creamy flutter,
Her room of witching events
They wove, turning to deception.
They dressed from her parted soul.
She could have been glorious,
Had they been fair.
Her hinge made residence,
Her strength taken for play
Stressed, ripped and caged her.
They adorned from her parted soul.
She could have been graceful,
Had they loved her differently.
Her resplendent plumage,
Fed her, with much of greed.
Took away her children first.
They ate from her parted soul.
She could have been stunning,
Had they protected her.
Her magnificent weapons,
Seeked for her, but with desire,
Until her race disintegrated.
They survived with her parted soul.
She could have been exquisite,
Had they known her value.
Her presence being a boon,
Hauled her sisters to sheets
And reared her for many a gut.
They lettered from her parted soul.
She could have been imperial,
Had they respected her existence.
Her unmatched caliber,
A penalty to her assemblage,
Plundered her right to creation.
They ravished from her parted soul.

A spikelet


The point of ink soils.
The unflawed canvas it spoils.
Impure canvas elated.
Its lowliness abrupt uplifted.

The spikelet dwells on her.
For the much received pamper,
Protection, its responsibility.
Although limit to her beauty.

Ever together is a phantom
T’is ubiquitous at random.
Error to your concealing,
Always the fellow feeling.

Mole at the main stage.
Oh! But you aren’t a sage.
It shall be your theme.
Blemished yet moonbeam ?

Bowed manner at your brim.
My heartbeat its synonym.
Broken at thy dysphoric eye.
After much heat, T’is to purify.

T’is for you, who rose,
I shall become spikelet.
For t’is you who I chose,
To protect.




It’s amusing how life can be strange. She shows you how she plays, the way she connects things to another. Just like nerve cells in a brain. Sometimes you don’t know how two things can be connected until you suddenly realise it. 
Life shows you that people can be complete psychopaths. But can have a deep history behind them which made them the way they are. Some of those scars or wounds are hard to heal or just hard to accept sometimes. Yet all of it seems but a dream as time passes by. One might sit one evening and just laugh at it someday thinking what kind of person he/she was back then. Yet it all lies in the magic of realisation. 
It shows how people change with time. Of course, it being a form of dimension, it brings change. And maybe that very moment of change cannot be forgotten. Just like the little magic one experiences when doing things from the heart. It could be anything. But those are things which one never forgets. It’s connected to a part of you. A part of your soul. You know that when it happens, it touches your soul and just takes you out into the space. Space where many more arrive, but through different sources. A place where you find heaven within this cage of a life. It would seem like eternity before you return back to real life. But those moments are the ones which keep us going. Those are the ones which keep deep souls to remain on earth for one last time before they find their infinity within themselves. And until you find an infinity within you.



It is all but a piece of cake !

It is all pretty much just an exam. A test where you learn the lesson through it, where you correct your mistakes when you do so. The past ? It is all just a dream. A dream so intense that cannot be forgotten. A dream which shows evolution over time. One might have a million theories of it. One might just say it over a cup of tea.Yet none will matter, for it has no purpose. Every teeny situation had a purpose though. One’s soul needs to learn from it. If not, the situation shall return again someday. Everything happens for a reason. Once you find out the purpose, it is all just a piece of cake !


A Crack To The Inside…

I do not know what exactly cracked that night, that very moment. It almost seemed magical. The moment when those words sunk in, they went deep. And deeper and deeper… Until they halted at that dusty door. That door, well had been locked well enough. That door was red blood. It was hard and thick due to the layers over it. But to my surprise, they had all the required materials to dissolve those layers. Just like the acrosome at the wall. It changed the composition and opened the door… The insides of the door tried leaping out too. But it did not as it was tamed not to. Yet it sure did trigger. The egg certainly shook. To break it from the outside would be killing. But to break it from the inside would be a new beginning to life… It is all just an illusion. That which is normal to the spider is chaos for the fly. That which was normal for those words was sunlight to the insides of that door. The art of Beethoven might be normal to a musician, but to a person who has never heard it – it is pure amazement. There are such many sides to look at a picture. Yet one should tame to look at the positive side. Why mourn for the sun when the moon reflects it ? Why chide when you can praise ? A change is needed at every turn, else how can one differentiate the path from the previous ? A crack, if made, shouldn’t be from the outside. The life in that very egg would be put to death. That one crack from the inside that very night brought out a new life which was shiny and bright.


Coal black


Do you know that what you do

Is uncivilised and wretched?

You aren’t even worth a shoe

At your face, not a piece shed.

Do you know of my fears that

Take birth at your behavior?

To the world- maybe a mere rat.

And mother ? Does she know tear?

Do you know of greater things

In life, than wasting it on

Such filthy time ? You, being

A human, soil thy name of born.

Do you know of this purity

Called love and empathy?

Your existence is sheer futility,

Therefore shown apathy.

Do you know that your labour

Mixes your title to dust?

Just a trouble maker

Selfish to your lust.

Do you know of Karma?

She shall pay you back.

Then you will know of drama,

Your soul coal black.