Music and Mania

There are verses on the floor,

Born out of hunger,

There are rhythms to ignore,

If only the mind was younger.
There are books on the table,

To be hung over in the head,

There are mortal affinities,

To be pierced into the heart strings like a threat.
Out of all distractions of life and death,

Music have trapped me in the corner of my bed.

I can’t cry or weave some wings to lie,

I can’t decide the purpose of the play, tonight.
A violin now heads over to the shore,

Vibrations killing the skin and healing the soul,

I shall be frozen by the time it stops,

I shall be immortal without a thought.

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What is my Name?

“What is it, Sagar?”

“I don’t know really know, one of those waves of thoughts that are not meant to be expressed.”

“Confess, in verse or vibrations that shall end up in the space once exhibited from the mouth.”

“Alright, I will speak it out then.”

“One day near the lake,
I thought to myself about my name,
About who am I?
Where I am going?
And where am I from?
It seems as if I am lost.
I looked around and the thoughts would resonate,
Each time, each eye would ask the same,

What is my name?

So are we all lost?
In the space just like this verse,
Enumerating through words,
Vibrating through walls of the heart,
Escaping through the origin of those stars.

In fact, all of them are like these words,
Exhibiting different answers to the questions,
To the same tree, resting over impositions.
What about the people, I have been with?
I have kissed beautiful woman,
Watched them sleep,
Greeted the dawn with my need.
Where are they? Their memories?
With the poems I gave them,
It seems that they too are long gone.

Just like my words,
Huh, traveling into the lost space,
Regardless of time, they stay,
And one fine day,
You will read this form of my claims,
When I rest by the eternal lake,
You will say,
Oh, that’s his name,
And what wonders he says!

Afterall, even if lost,
How senseless will be living alone,
Each word you read transmute my being,
I am a poet driven by insane needs,
To exist in you with your space,
To deceive you with your time,
My immaterial lazy mind,
Repeating the same line,
What is my name?

Into the Sea of Trees (Part-2)

Laying on the bed,
Blood Rushing into the head,
Hitting corners to fall asleep,
Waking up from dreams in certainties.

Slowly, the wooden finish of the wall is dying,
It will come alive with branches catching hold of my lies,
For me, this place is home, when its rooted in my mind,
Darkroom, dwelling green leaves,
Destiny, pilling up dreams and fantasies.

I hold the bed, the bark of a lonely breeze,
A forest flying upon my needs,
Oh beautiful birds, they call me,
Symphonies dancing in silence,
The heart so numb as timeless.

I am alone here, with thoughts as lucid as space,
In my room, with bricks interstellar for the rain,
And soon the stars shall fall tonight,
So close to my numb heart,
Beating along its cardiac bundles of arrest,
Oh dear, a lucid space and rain,
As tempting, I grabed the bed sheet and returned again.

I opened my eyes to the bricks suffocating me and blocking my subconscious. I just had to sleep again, it will be stronger this time, the forest of my thoughts. It will be the second time I lose myself. I slammed the patch on my right hand, pushing it hard on my skin. Laid and waited for the angel of oblivion to decorate my metaphysics of presence.

Together, Tonight.

We shall stay together, tonight. With living lies, fooling the time,

We shall breathe together, tonight. With weary eyes and lines that never shall rhyme.

I am the ocean, and she lives, through the skies, I am calm, She is always on her highs.

If one of us leave our town, If we ever collide,

The mind that deceives us, the root of every lie shall die.

Our kiss, suffocate them,

Our inmate jest can burn the land of the rest,

Lovers be the serene dream,

Tonight, we shall be lost as the breeze.

We shall stay together, tonight.

With weary lines that never should lie,

Nor Rhyme.

Sketch by Vaibhav Gupta

Colours Concealed

 

Colourless green ideas sleep furiously; Colourful dark emotions are wide awake,

Innate to the rest of time;
Inanimate to the vision of the mind.
Colourless green ideas sleep furiously; Colourfully concealed is thy name,
Spread across a canvas in the dark,
Sacred as the lies, held to the core of your heart.
Colourless green ideas furiously; Colourful void that holds this game,
In the mist, beyond the bones,
Is kept, the serene bundle of death and known.
Colourless green ideas are awake,
But no words shall exist, to take the blame.

God, Temples & Interstellar

On the cliff of my conscience,

Cold in the bones, searching for a home;

The blood is turning yellow,

The skin is held under the mellow.

 

Red bricked and carved with magic,

Painted pale,

With the bell over the thrown of the maze,

A temple in front of me, and void within.

A temple I am, and interstellar canopies seeking stars and sins.

 

And then I fall off time,

Listening to squirrels hovering their vibrations onto mine,

Holding words as weight over my wings,

Falling inside out, through space, grass and singularities of the absurd wind.

 

The God in the bricks,

Is old, dead and kept.

The dimensions I bleed, hold a fresh narrow sea,

Enclosed within words, felt under the obliviated stream.

 

The Night And The Dawn

My world hides away in the stars,

When she arrives chasing my scars,

She is the night, dressed in the dark.

 

My world has always been this way,

Unknown to the glory of the day,

I am the dawn, the vision with no name.

 

I have not seen her yet, But I dream,

Her dark eyes, and  bright expression across the sea,

Her eyes so tempting for my fall,

Alas, If only I was the day and not the dawn.

 

But I decided not to give up on my lines,

For I am, when they sleep,

And the night; she has felt my warm breeze.

 

And it is a secret, that justifies her sound sleep,

That I am born within her, embracing the day,

Remembering how she had kissed my name.

Every sense would come to live,

To find the spot where she would lie.

 

But for the night to kiss the dawn,

It is the cosmos that shall sing the song,

You will be fast asleep on the bed,

When I hold her to revive my mess,

You will be fast asleep on the bed,

For, Rumi rightly said,  That the dawn has secrets to tell.

That the dawn has some secrets to tell.