Schizophrenia

A part of me says to my human ears,
“I wonder how she grows prettier everyday!
Seems so implausible, I know but perhaps
a beholder’s perception can evolve to be
more sensitive to her human beauty!”

Then, waking up, the rest screams at my godly soul,
“I’d have been selfish tonight, if I had the means;
none the options I have in my hand seems
good enough for a timid man like me!”,
in the background the earlier voice drowns in the scream.

In the end, yet another existence
appears out of nowhere to steal the scene
forcing me to resign to fitful bouts of sleep.

I wake up at first light with no memories of the dream…

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* Lovely Conversations 22

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My Poems

🙂

Poems

My poems are like whispers of a Devil, sublime –
too many cynical words with no decent rhyme,
weaving treason against the emptiness within
your wretched life as hollow as an apparent dream.
Each one is like a fang of my virulent thoughts,
with urgings to see through yourself to find the Naught,
dripping poison of frustration into your blood –
my poems are metered for both your brain and the heart.

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Too Many Contradictions

an old poem revisited….

Poems

To what end the hells and heavens were made?
Religion draws one with licking flames, vicious
and deadly too while the other with sparkling grains
of jewels and delicacies, divine
and claims, they discourage vices
while luring the humble folks to be virtuous.

Yet whatever heroic the world has seen so far
were mostly done without any desire
for grand medals of honor in return
while often the promised rewards were sought
by those who had to personify eminence
to obtain caskets of material worth.

Should those indifferent to alcohol in life
ever grow indulgent after their death?

Too many contradictions hang
in the air, forged with our love and betrayal
between the collective and the individual,
enforced by our perceptions of right and
wrong, vice and virtue, of evil and the God.
Religion restrains itself to sin and reward
while history to faces and dates
and education, how to…

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Whims *

I keep waiting for her slightest of nods,
to see if she loves me or loves me not!

Suspended between disbelief and surrender,
I writhe in the throes of an agony that burns
my soul, my limbs and my whole existence!

Is it from her absence, the emptiness
or the burden of mankind’s original sin?
Perhaps it is nothing but my decadent whims!

I wonder why, even though all the dreams
I had for the last thousand days or so
are becoming true one by one, this agony
still persists, devouring me from inside!

Does it happen for mankind’s original sin
or simply because of my irrational whims?

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* Lovely Conversations 21

Another Year (2013)

for every year perhaps…

Poems

I wonder, if the coming year would be
different for me than the previous lot
and better perhaps, I hope, than the current one!

So you see, hope is not dead yet, it sings
in tune, with all the citizens across
the colonized continents of the ageing world.

Hope, that dreams, in silence, of a new start
and, promises to be more vigilant this time,

though I must admit that the pessimist
is alive too, caged around the contour
of my battered soul, bleeding from too many wounds.

From there it questions me, “The sun that shall
rise tomorrow, does it know that we have
marked it as the beginning of another year?”

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