How do they describe
This strange emotion
I think they call it joy
Happiness or maybe satisfaction
The feelings that arise
By seeing fireflies in motion
The aftermath of a life
Spent caged in a prison
Or the overwhelming sight
Of a star-lit sky
And Autumn leaves in piles
How do they describe
This feeling that lies
Deep inside
The crevices of your life
Escaping at times
When you decide
To finally ignite
The long dead soul
You keep burried inside
Your hardened heart
Cold, now alive
With this strange emotion.
Such a pleasant diversion


Dust, flesh and bone
I began seeing the heavens
Trapped in human form
A nudge from reality
Would still not wake me
From the delusions I began to worship alone
I mistook man to be the reason why
Stars woke up to shine every night
While all along it was my Creator
Who held the reigns to the rays of light
I began imagining purpose
Where there was no purpose
I began seeing galaxies inside each heart
And I saw the devils inside each life
Always distracted by that heavenly smile
And they would lift up their eyes
And let slip their ugly sides
Dust, flesh and bone
Holding blades, sticks and stones
The Illusions would break
And the heavens would quake
And from these dreams I would wake
And a laugh would escape
From the lips that had smiled
That heavenly smile
Now mocking at my pride
Face the fate you had denied
Cradle your own whimpering mind
Bow down and cower and cry
You are but dust, flesh and bone
Standing before the Creator of these skies
He is the one who created you and I
And he created the heavens and the stars
How silly of you to think they all lie
In a mere human’s ignorant eyes


Hear them, when they say
You are nothing but a disgrace
The weight you carry
Grows everyday
Along with your bod
Rotting away
Such a disgrace
To the society
For you carry a child
From a man
Who’d had a little fun that day
Should’ve known better
Than to dress that way
And walk alone at night
Alone in a pumped man’s way
Now you carry the weight
Of the sin
Which you committed that day
By asking for it
With your provocative ways
Such a disgrace


Have you ever sat in silence
In the dark of your room
With the blood of your brain
On your hands, Running stale
Caking in the ends of your nails
Have you ever sat in silence
And started at the same spot
The splash of red on the wall
Pity dripping from the stain
Like a blood orange sun, spitting rain
Have you ever sat in silence
And stroked the stiffening carpet
What once was green like pretty grass
Now sits in a pool of bleeding walls
Have you ever sat in silence
To think of a newer way
Of making your body pay
For every time it had denied
The efforts you made to end your life


Look below
Your balcony window
And pretend you don’t see
The river of blood
Flowing beneath
A pleasant reminder
Of sins of people past
Of innocent wronged
And women burnt
Of children slaughtered
And animals enthroned
And don’t you see
The trees ablaze
With the devil’s fire
And the heads that hang
From the stars
Insted of gardens
In your yard
You have acid
Dripping form the skies
And it drips from your eyes
When you try
To bleed into the river
You created from your deeds


They said it is youth
That has brought them close
This phase better pass with age
Or God’s wrath would soon ensue

They said it was childishness
Gone out of control
When they caught them exchanging
Secret rendezvous

They said it was foolish
To think such love would last
Such lovers don’t get to live past
One playful night, maybe two

They said it was the demons
Allowing such trangression
When they found smiles transfixed
Upon bodies left entangled

Of two men in love
Gunshots on each head, guns in each hand


You see her one day all alone
In a coffee shop, her mouth is sewn
She is making rainbows in the air
While choking on lungs of stone

You see her next day, walking
Upon lonely paths, humming
To the songs of the clouds above
As they pour out all their suffering

You see her next week up close
Her face is drenched in remorse
She had split skies and made stars bleed
And emptied oceans of all their stores

You see her now beside you
Her smile is wide and no longer blue
Her thoughts cured from venturing
Into a land where no sanity grew


Slice open your chest
With a rusting blade
And rip out
Your blackened heart
Pull at every sinew
And shred it into a million pieces
Yank at all the arteries
And squeeze out all the blood
And the pain that should follow
Would still not equate
To what a picture of a five year old does
Sitting peacefully in a chair too big
An ambulance made for grown-up bodies
Filled with children too young to know of grief
Indifferent to their bleeding bodies
Too dazed to weep or to speak
Or what the scene of an infant does
Lying face down in the arms of the sea
Sleeping an eternal sleep
Dreaming of dreams
more promising
than reality
No pain you inflict
Upon your worthless body
Can measure up to the silence
That screams like blaring sirens
In your face, when you see
What we’ve done
To God’s beautiful country

Survival of the fittest?

The human mind: an intricately woven tapestry of logic, forever baffling the onlooker with such casual majesty. The more one tries to unravel its pathways, the deeper they find themselves trapped into this labyrinth. Just a few sparks running up and down invisible cells, in terms of physics. Just a few hormones holding together the fort of sanity, in terms of chemistry. Creation at its finest, in terms of religion.

Doesn’t it steal your sleep every night then, just thinking of what it is capable of? Everything we do–everything our brain commands our vulnerable bodies to do– is for the sole purpose of better survival. Struggle for existence is what we have evolved to master. Survival of the fittest is what nature has ensured, ever since the beginning of time.

Then how does a perfectly healthy person go into self-destruct mode? How do the same chemical messengers that keep you sane, turn their guns against the body they are supposed to be serving? How do the same electrical impulses convince the mind that the world would be a million times better without them in it? That the feeling of despair would leave once you start slitting your skin? That intoxication is the answer to all problems? That death cures all infliction?

The same brain producing the hand-jerk reflex, should your finger contact fire, is now telling you to jump over the cliff when you’re on a family trip to the mountains. The same brain that stops you from eating moulded food, should you get ill, is now reluctant to move from in front of a truck advancing towards you while you’re crossing the road. What snaps in the mind to think that the body it serves is not enough. Not fit to survive. What makes it refuse any struggle to exist?