She is a pallete of colors.
My eyes a tinge of her.
Month: September 2015
Dreams….
Beautiful was the word they said,
You were there all afraid,
I could see your eyes down with regret,
You had chased away a glorious dream,
Indulged in the thoughts damm so mean,
Jumped, drove and then a stumble,
Beautiful was the word they said,
You were there all afraid,
Your hands had a tremble far too seam,
You are my girl was the only synth,
You fought, you loved, had a scream,
But still it was them who won,
Wars and guns grow a crown,
Beautiful was the word they said,
You were there all afraid,
Ripped off your soul, standing all alone,
You skipped even a beat,
Justice should be served,
Bring the man who did it all,
Arms of justice were busy,
Carrying the man who was all hazy,
A wave of energy had struck,
Justice should be served,
The man was taken on a pedestal far too high,
Birds flew with a griny brigh,
The man had lifted her eyes,
A dream was about to die,
The crowd cheered, took a stone,
See there’s a bird who flew too high,
Justice should be served,
Was their only cry,
The Sun came above the sky,
The man was shinning like a golden cry,
A scene she couldn’t have seen,
She closed her eyes,
With hands that were his,
The pedestal was now empty,
The bird was now free,
Justice is served they said,
No birds should fly so high,
Wars and guns are forces of men,
The dreams that die a death of flight,
All the love that is lost in the democracies of might,
Preposterous it may seem,
The sky is so high,
The chains that bind every child,
The ideas that revolutionise,
Is there something wrong with being a wave,
A bird had flown far too high,
Shot down by a golden arrow,
Two dreams were buried that day,
Justice should be served,
They had all declared.
What is happening to me……
Everytime I move my lips,
it is she who sees.
Everytime I close my eyes,
it is she who breathes
Oasis…
I was a man in the desert.
Her sight was an oasis.
Intoxication….
Sipping you with every gulp,
I was ecstatic,
Intoxication seemed a close friend,
They still serve only alcohol here.
Amma
Being a Man…..
Be a man, be a man,
Shouted the crowd, be a man,
Carve out a ruthless shine,
Bring a sword with a deadly grine,
Swing it high,
kill a dream so brigh,
Be a man, be a man,
Shouted the crowd, be a man,
Strengthen yourself,
Harden yourself,
Do not let a drop come out,
Turn away from things that cry,
Wear a mask with a mark so coy,
Be a man, be a man,
Shouted the crowd, be a man,
Every woman is a jewel,
Every child is a gift,
Preserve them,
Protect them,
Be a sunlight,
You are a saviour,
Of meek and the lame,
But what about the man,
Had become a stone,
Is man not a human anymore,
He feels,
He cries,
He is sometimes meek,
But the only thing he hears,
Be a man, be a man,
He wants to break the mould,
Set for him the day he was told,
You are a man,
Rule with all your might,
Nobody hears what beats inside a man,
The man turns himself into oblivion,
And tells himself each day,
What has been said for eternities,
Be a man, be a man,
Shouted the crowd, be a man,
Street
The street guided me towards Chaos. And then I realised it was I who needed a release..
Constellation…
Our love will be a constellation. With Stars both bright and dark.
The dreams I see….
Dear Miss yet to come,
There this thing that is happening with me for some days. Everyday I sleep and in my dreams I see some many versions of you everyday. In those many versions of you, sometimes I find out what you hide from the world. Something mystique, something magical that only makes my affection for you grow by infinities. Have you ever observed a rose. It is beautiful to the entire world, but when we open up its layers, it spreads a fragrance that can only be comprehended by the few who dare open it. Every layer is a revelation, a truth told, blissful, enchanting. Everyday we become partners in something very beautiful. We join hands and make something that usually makes us jump with joy. There are days when we rest. You lie down and I just look at you. The most perfect creation, with me. I feel happy, I am excited. Every breath that you take becomes a musical note for me and together they become a Symphony. Sometimes I let my hands be lost in your hair. I find them a little strange. They always know their way out, but all they want is to be there. Your hair seems as veins running through them, giving them a purpose to exist, a goal to achieve. Yesterday I saw you making breakfast for us. You were standing at the counter, arranging things and I was filling myself with that sight. The rays of the sun were running straight through your hair, they had turned golden. Even sunlight couldn’t surpass you. All it wanted was to stay. You make it beautiful. Just like the stones in a river that make a music so mesmerizing and soothing, one can never forget.
My alarm clock is my new enemy these days because whenever I try to reach to you, that small little thing creates an explosion in my mind and I have to wake up.
But you know the best thing about dreams. I can watch them with my eyes open.
Waiting for you,
With lots of love
Kumar Harsh
Closed door….
Waiting to be opened again. A breath of fresh air is what it craves for….
Clock..
Winding my clock, you crossed my mind.
One has to be strong to wind the clock.
The coming hours seem heavy………
The small things…..
Sometimes the smallest of the things display something very unique. A picture of light coming from a mobile charger…
Routine…
Routine is deadly……
A scene at a packed market in Delhi.
Strange….
Is this not strange?
Me and you became you and me…..
My storm……
My mind is a sea of thoughts.
You are the storm that rumbles, crumbles and rattles my waves….
Leaves
The two leaves waiting to fall on the ground so that they may once again kiss the earth, meet their creator….
My table lamp….
My table lamp is lit with the light that you had set burning inside me when you left.
My pen is filled with the ink you had spilled on the canvas that had me and you in it……..
The second guy…
I don’t want to be the second Guy,
The ones those simmer the cry,
The ones those remain there,
The ones those never get there,
They do things that pleases a soul,
Turn down themselves, may bear a foul,
The ones that sing and laugh and frown,
Nurture them like a gaurdian grown,
The ones those hear them cry,
Want to hug but never try,
They stand at every line,
Carry them whenever nothing is fine,
But the second guy always loses the baton,
Lets the first, become a mason,
They hope someday they will win the battle,
The rules are clearly not mentioned,
The second guy always loses the battle,
They throw themselves in oblivion,
Think Of the past,
Remember their chatters,
Worry for them far too matters,
But the second guy remains the second guy,
A friend in need,
But a lover never indeed.
Another Night…
Another night on the streets, wandering to find myself, seeking what’s been lost in these streets, loud, shrieking yet calm, soothing and a scene so beautiful….