Tuesday, 28 June 2011


For the world there’s this and that,
And something that fell between it,
They would reject such a fact.
For them it’s either right or wrong,
Hands maybe tied,
But what binds the mind?
You said passion is what makes him forget time,
When reality becomes oblivion,
Existence turns to mystery,
Future merges with history,
Then passion is what he seeks,
Reckless he shall be,
There’s nothing here for keeps.
You have the chords,
Play as you like,
This guitar’s all yours...

Saturday, 25 June 2011


Words don’t seem to end,
Topics are endless,
Like running in an open field,
Trying to touch every corner,
Mind’s at peace, also restless.
Little did he ask,
Much did he receive,
He was a noble man,
So no problem with thee.
He speaks what he feels,
And feels what he speaks,
Just when he’s about to say it all,
That silent fear creeps in.
This world binds you,
Chains your desires,
He can see,
He’s a patient man,
Shall wait for you to break free.
They ask him to name this game,
He can’t, u try,
There’s nothing he can win,
He has nothing to lose,
There’s certain pun to this fun,
In his mind it’s all said and done.
Discussions turn into dissections,
He’s the specimen, the murdered one,
Never short of words,
Too busy choosing the right ones...

Sunday, 19 June 2011

Confessions of a vulnerable mind...

Mind is a funny thing,
Strange thoughts locked in,
Sins or virtues, it cares the least,
And the key is just a drink.
You gave him words to ponder on,
Some thoughts to sin upon.
Those small hands, that fragrance, that smile,
Brings comfort and joy,
Or is it, that mind believes what it likes!
Desires gratified or subdued,
Bring frustration alike.
Night left him vulnerable,
He spoke his heart off,
The burden is off him,
But this morning has him wondering,
How you felt, what were your words, your thoughts?
Did he dump his burden on you?
But you seem just like him,
Thrill and passion is what you longed-for.
If mind could tell,
What was right or wrong,
Wouldn’t life be just perfect,
Way too boring, way too long.
It would then be a fable,
And not a story of a mortal soul.
Night is over,
But there is a void,
Words try to fill it, memories make it bitter,
Guess your presence alone does it better.
What remains within,
Is a turmoil , a fight.
This harsh morning light,
As always too bright,
Washes away the sins of the night...

Friday, 17 June 2011

With time love does grow old

They said he came to this world,
With his story already written.
A line for luck , heart, life, even wife.
All sketched on his palms,
But he had loved and left many with no qualms.
Destiny was his new girl,
Smitten by love, he had forgotten,
She was a woman,
Like any other, he should not trust.
So when she left his hands, he smiled n said-
“ I always knew I was on my own,
With time love does grow old,
And I  mock the fate of the man ,
Whose hands you now hold”...

man of many faces...

He could make the world laugh,
And not let them know,
His heart was beating but sore.
From all the joy in the world,
He loved his sorrow more.
Heaven or hell,
Actions never mattered,
The journey he knew was endless.
A man of many faces,
His own shadow was colourless...

Thursday, 16 June 2011

more than just a man growing old...

A wanderer, an artist, a lover,
who is he? He wouldn't know,
In the abyss of his mind,
his own soul is unknown.
Life is, to each his own,
he has a journey to unfold,
or his story remains untold.
The world would resent him,
for his actions were too bold,
lesser could he care,
he chose to be more than just a man growing old...

heart of gold...

They said he got a heart of gold,
would never rust , never grow old.
So he broke it into a million pieces,
and handed one to every pretty soul.
but when that angel returned to have her share,
he had nothing to offer, it was all sold...

journey of a child to a man

An angel of heaven as he was,
He sold his soul to the Devil,
Out of generosity, not peril,
When mankind was in dearth,
To live as one on this earth.
As he grew he learned the worldly ways,
To love ,lie, cheat, fight, even slay.
Forgot what it is to be humane,
He realised being good here is in vain.
They call him wiser than the wise,
But he knows his heart’s full of vice.
An angel no more,
Now he belongs to this world,
This is the journey of a child to a man,
All hazy ,all blurred...

one life , one game

“every woman in life teaches  something...
she taught me to wink, her  best friend made my first drink,
some taught  me to trust, some  lust,
one taught me to love,
to believe ,and  then quietly leave...
another said relations should be carried,
couple of years she got married,
maybe I don’t remember their name,
I know it’s a shame, and who they blame,
but I say play till you can,
after all you got one life , one game”...

Monday, 13 June 2011

oblivion has no colour,

Unsung are the chords,
he strummed long back,
he became everything ,they wished him to,
but sumwhere lost himself,
n so he drank and drank,
unaware of a simple fact,
oblivion has no colour,
not even black...