art · blogs · chastity · depression · dreams · night · Painting · poem · Poetry · sky · stars

Light – II

For a while now
Clouds have taken over
They don’t rain
Just stay
Between me and my sky
I want my stars back
my lights, scattered
over a dark dreamy night.

agony · art · blogs · chastity · Painting · poem · Poetry · Uncategorized


I paint monsters for living
Sea monsters and the flying ones.
Their beards grow by day
Their hands everywhere
Touching and feeling me
Sometimes my mind hurts
When they pierce it with their claws
Trying to find their birthplace.

I sit for days,
at the brink of my chair
Computing the cost of what I have created
Not the paint and the brush
But the imagination which I have let out
So vividly that now I see these monsters
On every wall I face,
Same canines, same claws,
Conniving against me,
A conspiracy, a killing
An assassination
Not of me
But my mind.
But then,
What’s a body without its mind?
What would be left of me if they succeed?

agony · chastity · happiness · loneliness · night · past · poem · Poetry


Days are easy, full of sun and men and so,

I wave at them often and they revert with a smile

Nights are different, sans light sans shadows, not even mine

Stars too far from my casement.

Every night, I stare a blank sky,

dark, desolate, carrying an old moon with rashes

My heart no different.

In my balcony I stand, facing the winds who talk

Trying to hear them whisper

For they often talk about me

They bring the memories from my glorious past

One of these nights, I will bribe them to take me back

The winds pass too soon, in a moment or two

Leaving me with my barren present soaked in my own salt

Stars still don’t show up, they don’t come my way too often.

Words have taken a sabbatical lately,

My pen pining for them

I often try to read off the old scribbles

Scratches on my glasses don’t help though

The creases in the bed, I leave them untouched

They remind me of wrinkles on my face

I live in a mess, things hurled haphazardly inside

But I keep my balcony decorated

Passersby seldom care for what is inside

They judge what they can see, the balcony.

I stand there, hiding my present behind a hideous beard n broken glass,

Showing them a smile, borrowed from my past

They can never tell!

art · chastity · confusion · gallery · humiliation · life · misery · pain · people · Poetry · walk


Every day I pass by

I see a gallery passing all along the roads I walk

No matter where I go and where I reach

It is there all through my custom

Countless doors sans glass sans wood

I see people always walking out of its portal and people going in

Today when I passed beside that gallery

A decision was made in instant mood to pay homage to the artifacts held up by the place

I searched for a gatekeeper or a ticket checker at least

But instead I found someone whose mere presence shocked me

I found myself framed in there as if a mirror was placed opposite to my being

My face was a moon of winters and my eyes ashen like just to say the least

The people saw that work of art and I was one of them

I was there as if I never existed

Unnoticed unheard unseen they saw what I say was a mirror again with glass nowhere nearby

There were people all around caged in their own mirrors or as I say

Drowning in the sea of sorrow screaming for more pain

Standing there we were all admiring what we saw

We all seemed confused and we all felt embarrassed at our own state

Eyes glued to our humiliation and smile glued to our lips

As if trapped in unseen cobwebs we screamed chastised by the pain

We tried to run only to find cliffs ahead

We drowned in our own salt

The wounds we had were treated with the salt we produced

Still that smile was there

It seemed unreal, unfamiliar with the way to escape this unknown adversary

I wanted to escape, my teeth bathing in the salt flowing from the ever flowing waterfalls.

The taste was bad now also grinding the recipe with my crimson blood

Seeing no other path to tread I closed my eyes with all I had

Last I remember was when I was back to my customary walk

Sans the crimson marks sans the salt dried down my cheeks sans that smile…