Little problem (Poem)

Image by 鹈鹂 夏 from Pixabay

Marvellous madness
and a skater’s fastness
lifted me off with a gladness
after some progress.

I thought
I have overcome the sadness of
the baldness of the paper.

With few steps into the paper
I felt
I crossed thousand miles and tides.

The sounds of
the car washes
the temple masses
and the silent wishes
didn’t bother me.

the mesolithic and the
specific wisdom was just few Neurons away…
I was onto something…
…in this time frame without
any limits limiting me…
…like a Batman…

but then came an
uninvited knock to wake me up from the flow state…
….People don’t know that
sometimes thoughts do need a closure…

UdayLeave a comment

End (Poem)

Image by 愚木混株 Cdd20 from Pixabay

The finished page
has no awe.
the last smoke
too
has no life
to burn the lungs.

The Peak
ends the hike.
The wheel
ends the ride.
But then
we miss the life’s cruelty.

Truth closes off
the investigation.
the climax
reveals the baddie.
the act concludes
the thought.

the finale
is all we want
but the closure
is cold with
a decorated period.

UdayLeave a comment

Is that so? (Poem)

Image by Bianca Van Dijk from Pixabay

Someone said
your love is like unbought clothes.
tried, used, and left in the
hangers of the trial room by strangers.
But love is like a public bench in the park
tried and used
no doubt
but leaves memories, laughs and
few icy truths.
It won’t drop you off in
no-man’s-land
as told by bards
but completes your void voyage
in pitiless prisons
and motionless solitudes.

UdayLeave a comment

Monday night under a lamp (Poem)

I sat down
with a shaved pencil or
a pilot pen, I don’t remember much.
Tried Ancient music
medieval notes and
modern melodies
to spark my creativity.
yeah, I even scratched the
dried paint on the wall
like a mad scientist or
failed philosopher.
The celebrated weather
did not cooperate with me
neither the scrambled eggs.
words flowed like a
slow fingernail or a snail
between the magnetic north
of productivity
and the magnetic south
of procrastination.
I took some antibiotics
to cure the lazy infection
and some soybeans, with some,
coffee beans.
finally, I painted the A-6 book
but it was like that flavourless mint
and savoury dark chocolate.
faced with a temporary setback
I watched the starry night
and the cosmic juice stirring up
through a telescope.
and yeah, even the bald eagle is
preying on earthly worms across the street.
I crossed the calendar date
and took the rusted sharpener
to shave the pencil again
but the blanket crawled up
and put me into sleep
with its cotton-silky-woolly touch.
thus, the end came upon me
on that Monday.

UdayLeave a comment

Some Nights (Poem)

Forest silences
of the dimly lit skies
and the undeveloped silence
of the craters on the moon
define the fevered winds
of the icy night here.

The coldly metabolism
raise some orphaned moods and
half-real drowsiness.

The monotonous
starry nights and lights of Vincent Van Gogh
and the caffeine fjords along with
snow of silentium define
the muteness of glaciers.

Ancient nights and adolescent mornings
take a turn in a cruel rhythm
like a cold roulette wheel of the casino.

The nothingness of socialist nights
is really something to watch.

So much of stubbornness and
solitude.

— Drunken star.

UdayLeave a comment

One Day (Poem)

A humble dealer
of mortality
with a cool hat
and china flesh
begins the day.

With rioting moods
and tweeting feuds
he
sets the day in motion.

The high passion quotient
and neural feedbacks
asks a pulsating coffee.

Villainous fingers
skim through
the mass culture
in the Google News.

The Tie-man
takes the carbon spirited
engines
and
some brainy walks
with
some itchy talks
in the concrete lands
and
neatly settles before pixels.

Projector runs
for a while
depending on the fates
which are as messy as
the scribbling pad.

And the anaemic soul
finds a
new body
or
jumps out of the matrix.

whatever.

— Take the red pill
and the blue one.

— And sit tight in the duty.

UdayLeave a comment

All in one evening (Poem)

Difference-less streets
and
all-round walkers
crossed me on the road.

The Monsoon potholes,
family scooters,
stilled trees,
tangoed to the rain.

Fat breezes
woke up the tadpoles
and the souls
dulled by the dusty fates.

None
there
to give
a kind shade
to my Samsung
and my young lungs.

So many
flammable stirrings
all
yearning
a mystical dance
under the 4G clouds.

— Drunken drops.

UdayLeave a comment

Is there nobility in suffering?

Definitely not. Being a Dostoevskyian is sick and saddening. Why should any suffering have meaning at all? And we never search for meaning while we are happy. Is it to accept the helplessness and then seek some pride in it?

Friedrich Nietzsche says that what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. But suffering rarely made any men stronger. Either they get used to it or become egotistical to accept that they too are weak and can weep.

Even after the Nth time, pain cripples us but humanity and so-called self-advertised strong men find it hard to swallow it.

This has a negative consequence—No one is seeking out help and is crushing their lives simply in the name of being stoic. This is a disease and a plague for us all.

They are dumping the waste into the subconscious and growing their Jungian “shadows” and society is raising sociopaths in the name of strong Spartans.

Acknowledging this can heal the sore souls and spoiled spirits. It’s time to stop searching for meaning in martyrdom and affection in affliction.

UdayLeave a comment