Stones

I see you walking by the stars,
Holding your breath for the Sun to see,
For one life they say is enough for mortals like us,
Blood and bones walk the scorching earth,
Bleeding to find a space among the legendary,
Sometimes despair, the other hopes for light,
I see your face in these people sometimes,
Lost, waiting to be found,
Searching for their home,
That would eventually bring them peace,
Peace that would cure their internal storms,
And you could sleep easily,
For hours that you may desire,
No thought of what to do next,
What to become,
What further to sacrifice,
Just sleep with eyes closed,
Even on a floor made of stones……

Bed…

It slowly takes over me,
The melodious cacophony of the night,
Dorned with scents velvety,
It pierces my heart,
Into many pieces,
The few I bleed everyday when I wake up,
Onto the side of the bed,
You are not here,
I plunge myself into oblivion,
The brothels sometimes hear my stories,
For my mind knows those bodies aren’t you,
This wretched vessel still needs a beating heart,
A touch not even remotely close to as yours,
My eyes deceive me often,
And I see myself falling into abyss,
Every time a figure resembling you,
Touches me, comes even close,
For a sweet serenade the night sings,
I hold onto strangers,
They kill me softly,
And I close my eyes,
As breath becomes my only enemy,
The other side of my bed,
The only side of my bed……..

Woman enjoying foggy mountain morning from the hotel of Sa Pa, Vietnam

Lonely Nights

I fear lonely nights,
The grey moon that sometimes mocks me,
He has his Earth,
The land to his eclipses,
The haunting wind that disturbs the peace of sleeping villages,
Crawls under my skin,
It seems as if it is an object of habit,
The rigid discipline it pertains itself to,
Up and down below my chest,
It dances even on nights when the moon hides away,
And on days perturbed by jetstreams cold,
I walk through graveyard of my kind self,
The one trampled upon by anyone who made an appearance,
My pigmented, rustic slate,
Once pristine, welcoming to all,
I fear lonely lights,
And the days that come after it,
For night passes with a gleaming monotony,
An affair of eclectic proportions,
And births the day my heart is no stranger to,
The screeching, growl I am used to,
A humming in my ears,
An ecstasy of similar kind,
The one weightlessness might bring,
You know you won’t fall,
But want to,
I fear lonely nights,
The only constant…..

Grey

I cares the morning with my bare chest,
And lay it open for the birds to rest,
Their wings frozen from the jetstreams cold,
Stomachs growling for food,
For their mouths have remained dry,
Water became frost and fell as hail,

I dance in the sunlight and follow the dust,
The grains of sand that settle on my night stand,
Every morning though I shrug them off,
Some crystals enter my mouth,
My dreams sometimes keep it wide open,

I see the rainbows when it doesn’t rain,
For the water in my eyes clobber my vision,
And leak through crevices set sometimes in cement,
My faith was strong,
My love knew no bound,

The mystery this world is amazes me most of the times,
Sometimes possesses me with fears unknown,
Ugly, deranged and full of scars,
The truth is inevitable I tell myself,
For choice I rarely have,

I sing sometimes to the ghosts of my past,
The lovers those betrayed,
And the lovers that I did wrong,
They taught me many things,
Letting go off the sail once a while,
Sometimes guiding it through the atolls,

But I sometimes close my eyes,
And think of days when I would cry,
Hugging the pillow close to my mouth,
Barely breathing,
For a man must sometimes poke their subconscious,
It carries secrets deep within,
Only to see how far they have come,
The chipped skin on their feet,
The hair that had turned grey…..

More of you…

Take my hand,
And give me your all,
Close your eyes,
And see through mine,
The colors of the sky,
The warmth of the Sun,
The buzzing of the bees,
Working hard to gather nectar sweet,
For them, the others and us,
A little of the dirt,
That had escaped my hands,
Sands on the beach,
The shells that are no more,
Take my hand,
And take it all,
Whatever I have left,
The little of my being,
And the more of you,
The little of me,
And the more of you…..

Seasons…

I know it can be difficult,
The Mornings don’t please you much,
The nights are darker than before,
It takes too much effort to move,
And your hands tremble on lifting your bags,
The winds whoosh past you,
The trees do not move,
You close your eyes and see those,
The ones lost to time and circumstances strange,
Hold on to the memories sweet,
The nectar of years that amalgamate with your skin,
And create a scent that will last for eternities,
As you remember them,
Their voice and the way they moved,
It will be easy someday,
I have heard time heals most of the scars,
Cry for long as long as it clears your heart,
Crystal, glass and transparent as before,
And you let someone again inside your heart,
For love will find you and heal you,
It will be all worth someday,
It will be easy someday,
I promise as I hold your hands,
And we walk through the gardens wilted due to cold,
The Season shall change soon….

Symphonies of a curious mind

With excitement that knows no bounds, I present to you my first book.
The beautiful cover has been designed by my younger brother @kumar.shrey95 who has adorned this hard work of mine with his art.
This book is the result of endless sleepless nights and my thoughts that have come to me over the years.
Symphonies of a Curious Mind will be my first book and I need all of your support and blessings for the same.
Coming this 2020.
Thank you.

Memory…..

I collect ages in my eyes,
The slow songs Autumn plays,
Whenever this wretched heart of mine,
Weeps for you,
I surreptitiously etch the days of my glory on the veins my father cast in gold,
On himself, the house, the kisses he gave me each night,
For him I am his biggest reward,
He tells me each day,
This mind becomes a grinder of sorts,
Memories that bring me smiles,
Of places, the faces lost and that stayed,
Behemoth it becomes and takes over my body,
Sometimes when I lay in the sand,
The cold water of the ocean washes my feet,
Heals the wounds that kilometres brought me,
The messages that never reached me, 
The things I could never say,
Nature sings a lullaby to me,
I am her son lost to the routine,
I seldom close my eyes,
For I want to become redundant,
Impractical, impatient, ignorant,
As I become weak,
For someone to carry me,
But I beam of sunlights when darkness dissolves my being,
My mother she brought me food that she couldn’t eat,
Bruised and still working till her breath,
I collect everything in my eyes,
My memory rarely eludes me,
The firsts, the birthdays and the lasts,
It’s satanic and angelic,
The two sides of a coin,
And as I creep towards the things still not in shape,
I talk and pull myself together,
My memory becomes my biggest weapon,
And the partner that helps me craft poetries sublime,
Makes me smile again,
Live that moment once again,
And I etch it on paper,
The ink it bleeds for me,
The hues of skies,
That day,
And I become one with myself,
The memories rarely eludes me……

Seasons….

I close my eyes as I lay down in her lap,
The fragrance of her sweet perfume quells my nightmares,
She slowly sings me songs her Mother taught her,
And her mother before her,
Songs that leads me to places calm,
Beaches where water clear as the sky caresses,
Mountains too, the morning where wakes up with the fog,
Sometimes she would move her hands through my hair,
Just like the wind through a grassland dry,
Cold, moist, soft,
As I descend into sleep, she sometimes would bend down over my head,
Plant a kiss on my lips,
Little did she know, they brought me showers,
Of something that my words fail to convert,
I would sometimes kiss her back,
But mostly not,
For that kiss pure as the first rainfall,
Hugged me like the first of November,
As summer slowly transforms to winter,
And apples fall from the orchards,
I sometimes listen to her heartbeats,
And wonder if she could hear mine,
Just like a songbox they play jazz to me,
I close my eyes everytime,
Her skin warms up my fists,
And I hold on to her,
As she pulls me close,
My seasons begin and end,
With her and always her….

I walk…

Dissolved in the fabric of time,
If you cannot find me,
Or hear my voice,
As I try to build myself from scratch,
Every time a storm ravages my shores,
And renders them inhabitable,
Pieces of my past on display,
For the entire world to see,
Scandalous, blasphemous, indigestible,
Currently rotting, desperate for attention,
Forget me for this is not me,
For I dissolve to create sands,
That travel and perpetuate synthetically,
I lose myself sometimes, most of the times, all the times,
In search for stories a treasure to me,
For I see castles in sand and mountains in air,
My body is my prison,
As it loses to chains that are these expectations,
And cohorts with the malice this mind sometimes breeds in my heart,
Born out of incest, taboo, and what brings me down most of the times,
But I bleed sweat of the color red,
That stains my wounds and covers my bruises,
And fuels the machinery of my legs,
Sometimes sores in my foot,
The scorching earth wasn’t kind,
But I walk and walk and run sometimes,
And I see the sun shining behind the clouds,
That sings of songs in my glory,
My footprints in the mud,
And sand in my eyes,
I walk and walk and run sometimes,
For nobody can stop me except the poison of my thought…..

Accelerate…

I put my car in sixth gear,
Engine screaming at its peak,
The wind desperate to get inside the cabin,
Hissing past every speed-alert,
I know it’s unsafe,
Driving recklessly,
On a highway that doesn’t go anywhere,
Had some exits many kilometres back,
My muscles, they stay locked in position,
For they think they have control,
My body rolls with every turn,
Every speed breaker, pothole that comes my way,
And as my car blinks for the fuel that isn’t enough,
I release my foot off the accelerator,
Slowing down, looking at the grasslands,
Admiring the beauty that didn’t ever stumble upon me,
A small bump comes up on the highway,
My senses come back to me,
And I accelerate,
For one last time…..

Reality….

The birds chirp and announce the start of the day,
As you slowly open the drapes,
And rays of Sun turn you golden,
Magical, splendid, like a work of art,
Exquisite only for me,
The wind plays with your hair,
Gently, not to disturb the sheer randomness that they are in,
My eyes absorbing this very moment,
Standing by the window sill, you look to infinity,
Maybe a thought that crossed your mind,
And you bite your lips,
A nerve here turned numb,
My eyes focus on you,
Those lips that speaks volumes,
Soft, like a feather,
That sometimes caresses my hardwood floors,
Brings them floods and warmth,
Of something celestial, godly, natural,
I hold on to this moment, this sensation,
My words a travesty to what you create,
Everyday as you kiss me morning,
And call my name,
I smile as reality seems mesmerising,
As reality is you…..

Hold on…..

As I lay down in my bed,
My head spinning faster than the clock,
The ceiling mocks me, Jibes at me,
Dust falling on my forehead,
The posters hung on my wall,
And pictures of places I’ve been to,
People that stayed,
And those moved on,
Sigh for they know what helplessness does to you,
How attachment breeds forests that catch fire,
On the slightest getaway,
It too flutters some words through cracks on itself,
Stories that remind me of earthquakes brutal,
When rain came inside my room,
And the bed turned to a trench,
Like a sinking pothole without a bottom,
Layers of humus covering my head,
Mushrooms on my skin,
The walls sometimes cave down on me,
As anxiety kicks in,
Or maybe something stranger to me,
The person in the mirror a stranger to me,
I detest this stranger,
Sometimes want to embrace him,
Let him cry on my shoulder,
As I listen, nod sometimes, maybe give a cup of tea,
For something to hold on to,
As night engulfs the room,
And dogs howl at night,
The mind numbs, wants to sleep,
I try to close my eyes,
The spinning stops somedays,
And the throat of the ceiling dries away,
My bed becomes hard like the forest floor,
The skin grows roots,
And I hold on,
For the Sun is few hours away…..

Neon Signs….

Neon signs and shady lanes,
Money exchanging hands,
Through bodies of remorse,
Empty stomachs, pale eyes,
The Mistress of inebriety,
Dancing to the tunes of helplessness,
Addiction, hopes or desire of clear skies,
Its the streets like these that breeds the sewage,
The opulent sometimes like to think so,
As the rotting sight of flesh and skin disgusts them,
For they have hearts of glass,
That break on sights of the Sun rising over Mars,
And their veins burst with blood green,
The days are merciful to these streets,
As light brings them hope,
Shuns away despair and the gobbling eyes,
For no one wants to be recognised in places such as these,
Love springs as the neon signs turn off,
And the routine, the one accepted starts,
Driver, receptionist or a student struggling to study,
Their sky is often red,
Chewed, mulched and spewn on streets like these,
They breathe the same air,
Sometimes eat the food as ours,
Blue collar or a collar white,
Their money is often tainted,
Or it appears so,
The night as it comes again to these streets,
Dressed in make-up bad,
Clothes cheap,
They venture to the streets,
As the neon signs light their way,
And sobriety shies away…..

Smoke….(explicit)

She burned through the night,
As he slowly disobeyed her every rule,
Drinking the nectar of passion,
Soaked in sweat sweet,
He let her fall,
And turned her on again,
Losing breaths here and after,
They stopped for a sip of water,
And a puff of cigarette,
The air intoxicated as well,
The flicker of the bulb too,
Annihilation seemed inevitable now,
But she, she wanted more……

I ask for your consent…..

Let me for a day,
Fill your valleys with roses pink,
The land dried without warmth,
A drought of million years,
And sow the seeds of love,
For the soil can still bear fruits,
I like to believe so,

Let me take you to the other side,
The Sun never sets,
Moon in its admiration each day,
And rub some celestial dust,
Your wings clipped before you could sail,
Powerful enough to carry mountains,
I can see them unfurl,

Let me kiss you slowly,
For deserts sometimes sigh in relief,
As rain seldom touches their facade,
Filled with sand, their hearts beat irregularly,
Earthquakes in their belly,
They can create oceans or mountains,
I plant mangoes in rows,

Let me close your eyes,
And bring you the news far of the north,
The things that escape your eyes,
Your vision I become,
The curves on your body,
And those behind your veils,
I etch my dreams on your skin,

Talk to me as I try to hold your hands,
Corrosion was not merciful,
And the storms didn’t settle,
For I’ll be your escape into imaginary,
Turning them to reality my only goal,
Let me bring you flowers,
I ask only for your consent….

Trying my hands at digital drawing…

Memory….

Drifting aimlessly through furrows of my past,
If someday I get lost,
Call my name with all the love you got,
For anything less wouldn’t reach my heart,
Breathe the winds slowly and moist,
The warmth will drive the frost away,
And sing me lullabies as I become deaf,
Melodies mixed with a tumbler of blood,
The dry veins and the sunken lungs,
I will if not today reach you someday,
Feet burning, stubble in a disarray,
The rivers, they carry my body,
Tries to sink but stays afloat,
I will if not today see you someday,
Meet you over plantations of coffee,
To bury the scents of my crimes,
Take my hand, do not refuse,
And guide me to the lights supreme,
For I am lost or will be soon,
Is it today or tomorrow or a year ago,
I will find you someday,
Lest my memory doesn’t betray…..