Monday, 28 April 2014

Untitled

Out there, in some place, imaginary or real
Where all stars shine just right
None too dull, none too bright
Where, I come as I am, where you come as you are
And us, just two souls, shredding the societies bar.


Out there, in that place, imaginary or real
Where all flowers sway equally fragrant
None too fizzled, none too blatant
Where the breeze caresses your gentle hopes,
And I, relentless, stitch together your broken wings

Out there, in that place, imaginary or real
Let us be one, for once, forget these bonds
Let me see you, and the graven emotions you don
Where, all love is foolish, all care is selfish
And us, let us find an eternity in the teardrops we free


Out there, in that place, imaginary or real
Lets us lay below a naked sky
Feel the crying earth, and climb the hills so high
Let us talk about limitless boundaries,
And I, let me find my world in your gleamy eyes.


Out there, in that place, imaginary or real
Let me free you of all your bounds
As you stare into the stars, not wanting to watch our love drown
I'll tuck you in, with a blanket of memories
Away from us, away from me, our world slipping off our palms

Out there, in that place, real, too real
Where we loved with all our heart,
And no truth could do us apart,
Where, I came as I was, where you came as you were
And us, just two souls, lost in a love that saw no par.

Monday, 21 April 2014

These Terrible Inclinations.

Have you ever glanced at an ingenious piece of art, and fallen more in love with its creator than the creation itself? Have you wondered reading a poem, what a miss it has been, that your path hasn't yet crossed the poets? Or if it has, what a greater tragedy the oblivion is! Have you instantaneously fallen for a kind gesture by a stranger? Ever noticed in what beautiful harmony the words sway as a few gifted write?

Literature, language, art and soulfulness- oh, these terrible inclinations.

Of blurred lines and hazy silhouettes
Of what is and what should be.

Of blurred lines and hazy silhouettes
Of what was and what could have been.




At times I'm all I ever wanted to be, but mostly, I'm all I'm not.
I'm a river, I'm a storm, I'm the fire.
Calm, consumed, consuming- I'm so much and so little.
I'm everything I should be. But mostly, I'm everything I cannot be.
I'm the creator and the destroyer- the beginning and the end
For every ounce of me, I'm twice an ounce of what I should be.