Today

Something is different today

The music is louder. The train is gliding, instead of running. And, the people around you are more sleepy than usual. You get out of the train and you climb the stairs. It’s really dull outside. Something is different today. Today, it’s raining. But, there is something more.

The road is all muddy. And, there is a strange bokeh in the air, which can be felt and not seen. There are fewer cars than most days and you can almost imagine a train arrive in the middle of the road. Something is different today. Today, you’re in a dream. But, there’s something more.

Everything is falling apart: everything is melting. Everything is melting into darkness and whatever light there was is slowly fading into oblivion. And, someone is walking towards you, through the darkness and through the melting buildings and cars to save you. But, today there is something more. Today, you know that she is walking too slow. Today, you’ve embraced it, you’ve imagined yourself as the hero of a story and you know that heroes fall. Today, you’ve escaped.

By My Side

​If you are a wise old man
Who can tell right from wrong
Someone who knows about life
And, everything else beyond.
If you are someone who can cherish
The beauty of nature and its sounds
And, can love endlessly,
Without being love bound.
Then, know that I look for you
To come and give me hope
For, my friend, I am troubled
And am unable to cope.

But, if you are young, naive
Like me, as is fated
You are tired of life and death
And, all things related
You’ve left many things behind
And, some things have left you
You spent your life collecting memories
And, now that’s all that’s left of you.
Then, know that you’re not alone
And, we can still get through life
Be my friend, I am troubled
For even that will suffice.

What You Are Not

No
You are not
A passenger sitting
By the window
Of a chair car,
Writing a prose
On the beautiful
Mighty hills
Outside.

You are but
A passenger’s shadow
Forged out of the light
Escaping those hills.

You are but
A fleeting moment
Striving to survive
The distance that goes.

You are but
A single serving
That disappears
As the station arrives.

You are the prose.

When

It’s not when things go wrong
It’s not then,
Things go wrong all the time
And, so, it’s not then.

It’s when they are fine.
When they don’t go right.
But, they are supposed to
And thus are
Fine
It’s then
It’s when a shriek inside
Is silenced by denials
When a time of beliefs
Is turned by dials.
When heads are down
And hearts are tired
Of being buried.
Of being unheard.
Of being dead.

It’s then.
It’s then.
That we fail as beings.

One Two Three Four

Here is another poetry project. This one took me a lot of time. It actually represents three poems. How it works:
Poem A (One Two Three Four): Start from the beginning. Read every line of each stanza
Poem B (One Three): Start from the beginning. Read only first and third line of each stanza
Poem C (Two Four): Start from the beginning. Read only second and fourth line of each stanza

Each combination would be a different poem.

Two kids sitting in a park
Near the age-old oak tree
Their minds wandering to where
Flows a river of tranquility.

They could read each other’s minds,
The air of thought is felt
To say, they would not dare
The words wouldn’t be spelled.

They would want to stay silent.
For in silence, there was love,
People would call them mute.
In language, there was rut.

But, no one knew how it was
At that place of silence
It was an escape of their suit.
To where there is no violence.

They lived their life like that
Take me there, I beg, I say
In a hope to live without words
Take me to that heavenly play.

In a hope to maybe run away
I wish to live, I wish to escape
In a silent anonymous curse
I wish to die, I wish today.

Last Station

I take a train
Everyday to that last station
On my line
And, I know
I’ll meet you there.

But, do not
Do not meet me there.
Do not
Do not wait for me.
For I do not want you to
Regret
Waiting for your date.
I will come.
But, it might be too late.

Travel with me.
Instead
Sit with me
On the ground
As we go through a myriad stops
Twisting and turning
Towards the last station.
Stay with me
Till that last station.
And beyond.

Anarchy

The problem is that we believe.
That we search for reasons.
That we cannot accept chaos
That we cannot see souls randomly floating around
In anonymous expanse.

The problem is that we continue to believe.
That we continue to search.
That we continue to be disappointed.
That we continue to be tortured not seeing the scales
Balancing in themselves.

The problem is that our beliefs aren’t that strong
That our search is not that exhaustive
That chaos is not that accommodating
That by the time we wake up to reality
We would have lost our chance.

The problem is that we are still hoping
That we believe this poem is a lie,
That I am waiting for you to prove it to me
That I am waiting for you to come and tell me
That I am waiting.

Opportunity Cost

Dark clouds
Filled the ashen sky
Slowly, calmly, mildly
Increasing their horror
In light, circular movements,
And, a flock of birds was lost.

A bird
Emerged through the darkness
Rushingly, fleetingly, nervously,
Tearing the horror apart
In quickened straight nudges
But, at what cost?

He emerged alone.
Alone.
People called him resiliant.
And, he was.
But, at what cost.
A flock of birds was lost.

Economics Finals are on.