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My mind – It seems to be buzzing
These fuzzy thoughts do hurt
There’s way too much –
– for me as such;
The world seems rude and curt.

Listen to that voice in your head
Hear out that thought sublime
Like sudden tragedies –
– That above all else;
Demand a lot of your time.

But, time is a fickle little thing
Deemed to tell us our tale
Doomed to forever guide us
Over and over again

And yet time itself runs out
The world tells you to quit
Your mind goes rouge –
– and starts a vogue;
Makes you wonder and sit.

Such is the way of the world
Oh, how it gets on my nerve
I pretend to stop –
– To stop it all
And dwindle does my verve


The Tyrant

Step aside
Let it be
Stop the violence
Stop the siege
In essence they’re fighting
But truth is a soulless tyrant
This, because victory is a state of mind
Not a state of fact of affairs

Move away
Let it be
The oppression that you cause
Repressed by your might,
Are a thousand quiet souls
A fraction of them fight
Roaring their extrovert agony
Fighting the tyranny

Painful Remembrance

Awfully long
Those moments pass
Of things not worth remembering
Of things you’d rather forget
And yet they linger
Bringing back those moments of misery,
– Of trouble and pain
They never really left at all
For they had been etched
In the deepest trenches of the heart
Trenches of sorrow
And there they linger
Awfully long


Do you think you’re weird?
It’s not all that bad
No need to fret
And get all sad

Weird is strange
Strange is not normal
Normal is boring
And way too formal

So, why the fear?
Why the tension?
Thoughts so vague
Not worth a mention

Abnormal is unique
Unique sounds great
Unique is exceptional
As might be your fate


The crazy rain, it pours on us
It’s gone insane; it dwarfs us all.
The might of it, amazes me,
Hell breaks loose, and heavens fall.

Sparkling lighting
Cackling thunder
A fallen landscape
Ripped asunder

I stand amazed,
Blinded by a Flash of light
Wondering how the ground withstands
Pitying at it’s gruesome plight

The wind roars. It’s
No more a breeze
The leaves shiver to
The fate of the trees

Alone and terrified
I wonder why,
The mountains slide
And the clouds do cry.

The end is near.
I begin to think
In this incessant rain,
The world will sink.

As the downpour wanes
And the thunder stops,
The monstrous strokes
Turn to drops

And the rain has ended
No more a rush
I’m bluntly struck
With a daunting hush

In this wondrous tranquil
There’s a peace of mind
I sit to muse
I just can’t find –

– A reason why
There is an abyss
Between what I am
And what there is.

Dawns upon me a realization
That we are but insignificant individuals
Seeking to find an incentive to live
And yet, it seems so superficial

We are lost
In the mass of lives
Like a single bee
In a billion hives

I hope there is
More to life
Then blind faith
And gloomy strife

I hope we are
More than they say
Than the rain that came
And just went away


This mind of mine, awakes to glimpse the reality
That all things true and sure walked away with time
An illusion of false hopes is what I got instead
As I fade away into my metaphorical rhyme

And so, I begin to wonder –

Aren’t we simply the sum of our actions?
A glimpse of our deeds unique;
Distinct yet, vaguely lost
In the blurring of our mindless pique

Where do you put your faith?
How do you strive to hope?
In an unsympathetic world
Where each soul fights to cope

Realization dawns upon me
That we are truly alone
Each man his finest confidante
Each the king of his throne

And yet, we live in a blemished world.

How can you fight yourself?
You have me all confused
A side of you might win, sure, but
Isn’t the other bound to lose?

This treason against yourself
This unbeatable fight
Solemn, silent and grave
This unbearable sight

So what of this dilemma?
These crossroads, irksome and mangled
And all the routes to escape
Are choked up and strangled

This mind of mine, awakes to glimpse the reality
That all things true and sure walked away with time
An illusion of false hopes is what I got instead
As I fade away into my metaphorical rhyme

I have no answer to give
No solution to provide
Only hope gives me strength
To seal this divide

And, even hoping seems futile;
In these dismal bouts of fray
Procrastinating judgment –
I simply walk away

I leave behind
A stretch of green
The grass ahead
Is but a dream

What was and what is
It’s all a haze
The need to resolve
A momentous craze

So many wrongs to right
Shards to reconcile
Putting together myself
Might take a while

As the breeze stops blowing
And the storm begins
When the shade ends
It’s time to make amends


Shadow Masters – Fan

Because I can officially fan out a full deck of cards.


Stay wary of people
Whose actions are strange
Motives vague
And bashfully deranged

Those whose brilliance
Is brilliantly misplaced
Expressions so precise
Their emotion defaced

Be vigilant, my friend
Of friends, foes and men
Of stillborns and unicorns
A-hidden in a den

These people like shadows
Have neither fear nor spine
Words untrustworthy uttered
Are as rancid, pale as mine


Anxious she lay, on her bed
She knew not what to say
Numerous thoughts in her head
Of consequences stray

A sleepless night, yet
Not quite so dreamless
Disturbing these nightmares
Seem forever seamless

The fragility of her mind
Unstable like the seasons
These contemplations bleak
Are often without reason

Preoccupied is her mind
Not idle in the least
Vain she is of her beauty
Afraid of the beast

Soon; maybe later
Her thoughts come to a stop
Her mind; an apprentice
At the devil’s workshop

Voyage of a Bonfire

“Each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. ~ Edgar Allan Poe”

Stone against stone
Stone against stone
Lo and behold
A spark! A spark!

Arise now to the voice
A whisper of the silent mind
A glimmer of a leper’s hope
Fainter than the faintest kind


The cackling sound!
Of firewood.
So tall and proud
It once stood

Mumbling and grumbling
Away in shame
No more resembling
From whence it came


– Those wise years it burns away
The wood, it suffers a creaking
Like ghosts of wars and peaceful times
That died while they were shrieking

And the smoke?
Smoggy and dark
Blackened and stark
What of the smoke?

It seems to bid adieu:
“My friends, I must free
The imprisioned soul
Of a lifeless tree”

And as it departs
The air fills with tears
Of thousands tales
Of a thousand years


With moaning sound
The wood endures
Agonizing pain
The flame ensures

It wrinkled, writhed, aged and snapped.
Now ghastly grey, it gently naps.

From cold to hot
And back to cold
A spark! A spark!
Lo and behold.

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