Untamed Thoughts

This sphere of facts and verities A suffocation to the human elements; Conscience and rationality as known. What unearthly state of affairs! What stitches and marks to the mind! A queasy storm of samples and tests Floods every infirmary across places; A domain of solace yearned for. What sleepless nights on questions and doubts! What apprehension cultivated by young and old! A tremor of depression nips the economy Songs of hunger toll a funeral procession; Classes and castes a generational trend. What hope against hope! What story  down the history! Infants wail in affliction and perish as innocents While nations put one another in the dock; Discrimination and conspiracy daily slices of cake. What dogma of justice a constant reference! What dogma of retribution never forgotten! A cataclysm on nature on the other hand Every eye on  elites that hurry for charities; While some relax over media and amusement. What wildfire of ap...

We were writing a story together Until friday was a sudden twist That barged in like a twister from sea. The pages still remain immaculate From where we dropped the pen And they still smell fresh. I'm not sure if I could continue It's an intricate chapter to cover With letters of stained innocence. Each time I muster courage I spill ink Dribbling into a thin stream of whoop, All the more giving repeated nightmares. Even if I happen to finish one day I'm not sure again if I'd find any listeners They say diversion is a detestable plot. Perhaps I would just stop here And move on for better or for worse.

For me every perfect story told accommodates a murky spot. And I call that beauty. I repeat, every story sprinkles a dust of cloud somewhere around the narration. To cite the easiest instance, think of the overrated Cinderalla, or Beauty and the Beast. Isn't it more exciting to get into jarring and chaotic sections than to loiter in a monotonous story which is nothing but lifelessness? An exceptional storyteller might conceal with flairs from pillar to post but I would still smell the paint, especially in elements like metaphors and elaborations. I think it's absolutely fine to bare that beauty of gloom. It's on the rugged and twisted plots we subconsciously attain pleasure and mark the silver lining at the end of the day which is a meaningful quest I suppose. If I'm allowed to narrate in a volume's stretch, I would definitely put it straight that any avid participant could chew, swallow and digest. I hate concealers. I'm not sure how many would be in accor...

(In loving memory of Azü, Avo, Abazümba and Maong) It must be beautiful out there! Better than the late summer view Offered by Anse Source D'Argent, And her caressing surge in the quietude. It must be colourful out there! All seasons planted in one whole spread Where provisions overflow and no barns raised, And everyday a plentiful harvest. It must be quite at peace out there! More than the Lysefjord of Norway Where theorists and artists perform best, And strikes a hue of comfort and ecstasy. It must be a joyful site out there! Zestful celebrations marked every time, And lavish banquets in a parallel order That would mortify even the royalties. It surely must be harmonious out there! An infinite stream of sublime music That would belittle the ranked Montverdi Choir, And dismantle the acclaimed Julliard. It must be a luxury to walk on gold out there! The Havilah path that surpasses All treasures and wealth of MidEast; I cannot fathom this in my fullest ...

Lunaria is her denomination Surely, best for her honesty; Could you gaze close into her eyes You shall see a divine silvery moonlit night, Filtered and fine to make wishes upon. Her inescapable winding scarlet locks Deliver a fiery spirit to every passer by; Her dulcet laughter enchants strangers, Sometimes lulls them to sweet slumbers. Her linen fair tone would light up the darkest wynd And make the English rose insecure; She owns a sui generis temperament Born from the Cyprus before Aphrodite, And smells like the Persian princess . She has tongue of Hermes and wisdom of Solomon; Her faculty in speech and manoeuvre a magnum opus, To the universe and a million mortals And for a thousand more ages Lunaria is the archetype of utopian civilization.

To unwrap the time in my head one day I would surely first allow myself Inhale a strong sparkly fizz of solace Beneath her crystal beam by the river, Then unfold piece by piece with waterworks ; And if a conscientious sailor would spot me And ask me why I declare solitude, I might whisper your name in the breeze But I will definitely hum the flattery notes You once composed when everything was like a dawn; And when melody ceases in the waves, I shall begin to compose my own; I don't know if another sailor would pass by While I croon my organic verses one after the other, But one thing I'm sure of is the whistling zephyr That would tune in to my intoxicating chorus What perfect rustic melody would it give! What quintessential rhythm of the night!