A broken smile

The web of lines that adorn the aging fate

Sing of a story you’ll neither love nor hate

Smiles and shadows both share a void

Stories within playing in loop stand annoyed


Accolades of gold caging my gender

Compliments calling me frail and tender

A recollection of youth often knocks upon my deaf years

A broken smile and glorified tears.



My beloved brazen queen

As my soul awakes from that long night, you pick my dust onto your heart
As the twilight hour glows on your face, that beautiful smile tears my demons apart.
Drawing a silent love from my dreams, you bless me with your grace
Though you love this unhonourable dust, heavens still smile upon your face.

As I look upon the love in your eyes, it fills my heart with tears
Blurry eyes and vexed emotions, you free my sorrows and my fears .
Without much thought, you offer me your wild side, that I often fail to express
How haunted my nights shall be if you ever throw me out of your wilderness.

Where are you, I implore thee, my demons are again awake
Exorcise them with your smile, I beg you for humanity’s sake.
They feast upon my peace, silencing my desperate call
They rejoice upon that devilish  hour that I started that brawl.

Wake me again from this dark night, soothe this fire that burns within me
Believe in my lies, We’ll be the greatest thing this world has ever seen.
Run back into my arms and once again draw our love from my drunken dreams
I implore thee to accept me into your wilderness, my beloved brazen queen.

My Weeping Willow

​Each night I take a moment to adore my precious weeping willow. 

That teardrop on her right cheek, speak of the sacrifice her lover made.  

The scars on the left, are from a battle she fought with him. 

Her lips moving in constant murmur, speaking of the tragedy they couldn’t evade. 

Somedays, she’s too weak to face me so she hides behind her ravenous veil. 

The other days, she peeps through it a little,  curious to know if I too dread in such miserable days. 

But today’s she’s in her utmost ferocity, calling out to the heavens and their heinous ways. 

Raging at the injustice that she and her lover had to face. 

With his ancient wit, he though found a middle way.

Yet could not win over the solitude that dictates their melancholic days.

Though they see only her beauty and his ferocious blaze. 

I see the scarred goddess and injured warrior, trapped forever in their lonesome cage. 

How do you feel?

You are born to a mother, yet raised by her own

Surname after your father’s, but your were a princess to someone else’s throne

They ask you of the legacy,one you’ve never been told

If only they asked you which Panchatantra story do you love the most.

You are expected to learn of world’s great wonders

Yet you are chided as you teach yourself to sing to roaring thunders.

Someone scarred you for life, but for common good,you hide those heinous fouls

So in subliminal slumber your tortured soul howls.

They ask you, how’s school, but forget to inquire if you have any friends?

So you go on adapting yourself to new chapters, swaying on each bend

They give chance upon chance to have a fresh start but what about those unfinished ends?

Each is a victim of their own circumstances so you have none but yourself to blame

You forget who’s a bigger pawn in this vicious game.

You now have friends but know nothing of friendship

You then meet a lover and instantly have him worshiped.

Each day you cry out your story, only to vanish in a pitch dark vacuum

How can anyone sing your song when you yourself don’t remember the tune?

You are sure you had some happy days but you’re too stubborn to remember

For sorrow is your muse now, that has you surrendered.

But I implore you not to lose that ray of hope

For maybe you’ll find a better muse that helps you cope.

Keep writing these meaningless scribbles if you find comfort in them

Maybe they alone can someday turn you into a gem.


Nature and her

Waking up to the inconsiderate alarm clock

She longs for the birds and their affectionate wake up call.  

Cursing through the morning traffic 

She recalls the symphonies of the distant brook. 

Working through the world of machines 

She wonders how real humans work. 

Pressing the obedient elevator to her floor

She ponders over the joy of uncertainities and unguided chores. 

Switching on the air conditioning 

She craves for the glacial breath. 

Looking over the far streched skyscrapers

She envies the rural and their warm little huts.

Switching on a Beatles track on the recorder

She longs to creates her own solitary song. 

Guided by the dictates of neon lights and welfare calls

She falls on her evening heels, feeling welterous and lost. 


In silence 

In silence lies those untold prose that one must write. 

In silence lies the human hunger to exapand every knowledge we have concised. 

In silence lies the ochestral symphonies that each mysterious chirping incites. 

In silence lies the ancient widom that mountain cloaked villagers recite. 

In silence lies the purpose of labor that the woodpecker inscribes. 

In silence lies the origin of life that a villager’s productive routine imbibes. 

But above all lies the undersatanding of one’s wretched chaos that people call life.