In disbelief

She accepted his refusal
It squeezed out all the passion from her heart
Sucked in all the life from her soul,
Now she roams zombie-like, undead
And the cold words of people don’t instil shiver in her form
The heat of jealousy doesn’t burn her gut,
Phrases of praise have lost their meaning to her
And now, she is as good as The Thinker
Who sits sculpted, contemplating a single moment
Of ache, loss, and grief
Unaware, of people, admirers and haters
She sits accepting his refusal
Like a statue of stone, in disbelief.



Where is my heart?
Not sure it’s in me
I used to have a mind
But I lost it to insanity,

And now my soul
wanders in a desert of feelings
That stretches on
to nothing, to infinity.

What have I become?
Sure not someone’s dream
Feel like a blind
Lost in a storm inside the sea.

Nowhere to begin, no place to reach
And now my existence
Feels like its lost
to nothing, to infinity.

One of the those men

Where do those angels go?
Those unfaithful merchants of fate;
Those who dig their own immortal graves,
Those reckless winners; children of human race that nature so adored
Those who did not learn to live
And could never die,
Do you ever look for them?
Don’t you ever miss them?
Those men who could never be tamed
Men whom life betrayed,
Thise men who could sing without tunes
Who treated curses as boons,
Those men who understood the world but with themselves were confused,
Those men who lost the battle with life
But won over death,
Those men who were in number few,
Men who died for themselves,
But as long as they lived,
They did so for you.
Don’t you ever look for them?
Don’t you ever miss them?
Don’t you ever want to be one of those men?


My eyes hurt, and they hurt me
They say that they don’t want me to see
They don’t want me to read, or write

They say, shut me up, there is too much deceit, too much lie
My eyes, my eyes, they burn on the inside

They say there is too much pain in the world
My eyes hurt me
They say that they don’t want me to see

My eyes, my eyes, they burn on the inside
They say there is too much pain in the world

And they cannot see any more cries,
My eyes, they ask me to shut them up
They cannot face anymore disguise

My eyes, my eyes, my eyes

They hurt and cry
They urge me to shut them up

They tell me that the end is nigh.


Thoughts and robots
That’s all I’m left with
And it doesn’t feel like life,
Life is where there is a drunk and a whore,
It is where dust is kissing the streets,
And the skin of that little girl
Who sits and has been sitting in her tattered clothes
since when I have no idea about,
Life is where a man just slapped another
And where the daughter came home
at 2.00 am,
The room where the husband kicked his wife
It’s where a son just buried his father,
And amongst the men who roam with a knife.
Life is where the buses and trains
that are filled with people
and the blend of their scents of day’s sweat have blended,
And the hospitals where patients wait on drugs and their body heals
Amdist the smell of drugs and vomit, and the colour of blood and piss,
Life is where people are finding time to romance in between their 10 to 7 jobs,
It’s where one is working hard while the other dictates,
It’s where politicians and businessmen devise their scams
And the terrorists plan their threats,
Life is where a blacksmith just lost his fingers
And a boy won the bet,
Life is on the bridges from where men have lept,
And in the chambers of the hearts
where all secrets are kept,
Life is where a murder of crows sings
And a poem writes itself,
Life is not here, it is where you left,
Life is there where life wrestles with death.

The Man Who Knew Too Much

The dumb slept first
for he had nothing to speak,
The one who never saw
had no need to, for he was always asleep,
The man who could not hear
was haunted by nightmares filled with vicious screams,
The one who knew nothing
always relished sweet dreams,
While the man who knew too much
probably slept the least.

In life

The dumb possessed no worries
he never kneeled to pray,
The man with blind eyes
almost always had his way,
The man who was deaf
managed a desolate corner to stay,
The one who knew nothing
never bothered to succeed,
And the man who knew too much
lived a life diseased.

Before Death

The dumb died in silence
The blind did not mind,
The deaf was slightly troubled
The ignorant’s death was kind,
But the man who knew too much;
Well he was never alive.