Being forgotten…


An old wounded monk,

Crushing his nails,

And chanting a betrayal.

Forgotten …. Be forgotten ahead.
It’s a deep dark night,

I fought myself to bring bright…

He roared like a demon,

Hurried to chant Suneman…
I feared of being crushed,

Rushed into bed to crunch…

My teeth into the teeth…

Alas! What I had done to me?

I questioned several times to me.

Exclimed inner proofing myself a second…

Shadow spread among the street,

Chants calm to the death…

I surrendered to my faith,

‘I have been crushed.’

Nights froze for me, door unopened for weeks.

I thought dozen of times, to under

To unbreak inside cheer.

I have been blocked in surplus,

Muted myself into nowhere.

Months to go I haven’t been out,

Life stuck being alive….
One windy night brought the same,

Loud chants…. Subbings… Nailing the same tree….

It was same wounded face I recalled,

Little week but same analog….
Dare punished me to walk near,

Hiding myself in courtier…

This time he set down,

And fell aside the tree…

I don’t remember the time,

But when I realised it was light..

Reddishness pushed dust into the sky,

And reach to me for unhid..

He may mentally changed.. 

I whispered into my ears..

And turned off to hear….
Stepping up to Home, 

I heard a tone… Of unexplained grief..
U forgotten.. be forgotten ahead…

Today it’s me.

Some day you will be….

Developed or less-developed

One lonely night,

By my own,

 I answered and murdered by my own.

I cheated myself on the myths of,

Being developed,

From ancients to formers.

Being wild to deputed,

I travelled so far, that

When I look after forgottens,

I laugh and admire my success..

But, is that much true…. What I thought?

I proudly said yes!I am.

A small finger point at me,

Trough the bottom of my heart and,

I dismissed it’s hearing.

That is what I am doing from a long time.

I know that, somewhere somewhat I am cheating on me….

I modified the definition of being developed,

I replaced the word as I convenient.

To hide the truths behind the myths.

I pretended several times with a smile on my face…

Admitting that what I am doing is the only trend.

I refused to mess with presence,

I stop even to understand the differences,

Between being developed and undeveloped,

Because,

I changed the meanings of both words.

Development measures the physical state of our life style not that was related to intellectual.

Undeveloped means only being not earning much to satisfy desired life style.

Is it not so?

I admitted yes!

Money is first and last thing to do with all others.

Perhaps! I am right but my heart rebel brain.

It still points a finger….

That I lacking the development of 

State of my mind,

I still behind to except the changes,

Related to socialism, religion and morality.

And it’s true… when I talks about these I fell stuck….

And my heart runs away from my brain… Being developed to less developed…

Ink Abuse

Long ago in history,

Paper read to cover mistry.

To recollect the intellectuals of minds,

Which worked towards the innovation.

Of mankind,

Of humanity,

Of livingness,

Of scientific approaches,

Of bitterness which they faced and

They declared them paths,

Of  loneliness to completeness,

To illiterate to educated.

That was a glory of ink,

Which severed the innovations and mankind….

Aah! Today ink abuses,

In the era of vast knowledge,

And expertise.

From deeper to Galaxy.

The ink abuses…. To the mankind

To humanity, to morals to ethics.

All lost into the drains,

Of educated illiterates.

It lost its ways of eagerness,

It terms a circumference of no ways.

Moulding the same ways of positiveness, 

Into the wrong ways which they dropped,  after experience.

The ink abuses….. Where we are walking,

To whom we are talking,

Blaming other of own failure,

Dragging other for success.

Is that what our old ink taught us??

Is that what our history led us??

Now ink abuses….

Writers write to be popular,

Anything wright or wrong, people blindly troll them..

For business or fooling themselves…

…… Now ink abuses…..

Hiding facts and spreed myths,

It became the reality beneath..

And it’s obvious to she because 

Every one wants to enjoy,

Others guild, other myths..

Bitter taste unhealthy for heart,

And wrong medicines lead you apart…

Facts are known but we still unknown.

Because ink abuses….

Ink abuses…..

The Death Ends Here…

Soon after sun shine,

my heart blames the Night.

For not being so sticky,

That day couldn’t broom.

Laziness abandoned my Iris,

To be flourish through eyelids.

Oh! My God…  Not again,

Same Day…. Same work… Same tiredness.

I am so fed up with it.

Wanna ring some change,

Aah! But what?

What makes my days better?

What actually not being bad?

Oh!………..

Day dried up, time to go office,

Let me think….. Will there be change?

No….At all.

Let me try again…

This is what ‘Not Again’.

 

 

 

 

 

Fifteen Days to live

I have been left with,
Fifteen more days.

image

The moment I start,
Counting it last.
I came with numbers,
Fifteen days to be humble.

This nature, those beauty,
Picks my hand and,
Create it fruity.

But I know where to end,
Will it stop me?
Oldish and useless trend.

My hands, my dreams,
Only fifteen days to live.

Can I fly or Jump other side,
Which will show,
New hide.

Or I live which amazes,
To my future and,
Buried old tradition.

Do my story end here?
Or, Will I create a new?

Do I count future as pain?
Or, Ends here to be remained.

Oh! Forgot to live,
My last fiteen day with whom,

I care, I love, I feel as me,
My dear, without fear,
My irony soul’s last tear.

I forgot to count,
That melody which never dies,
In his voice, and smile.

I walk below the path,
Let me walk,
Fifteen days to live.

Let double the days,
And multiply the nights,
Will spend together.

Let catch the moments,
Filled with joy,
Being together.

It’s hard to accept,
But not to avoid,
That I have fifteen day of my own.

Let me,
Fly over mountain,
Let me swim in sea,
Let me die being living.
It’s fifteen days to live.

Sorrow came in my tears,
Flow like old big rivers,
Would I done somthing wrong,
So, I left with only fifteen days of my own.

I tried to live beautifully,
I loved as I never did it,
I travelled in places untouched,
I slept night without being disturbed,
My body had different skin,
My breaths blew as twin,
Mine heart beat became faster,

Stop!Stop!
May be I credit his name.
But it won’t be any wrong.
I felt free in his arms,
I felt increasing my charm,
He accounts for these days.

But I want to be remained.
But I want to be remained.

I am Book

I born to be a Book,
Pre titled..
image

The moment I jumped out,
I faced to be a observer…
When I was growing,
I feed to be kind and helpfull…
Till twelf My pages was written with same ink…
The day I appeared to be grown,
They left me to become older…

I passed trough times in last few years,
Experimenting and analysizing,
The world, the people…

Now I grown to be twenty five…
I am fully written by society and mankind…..
I analysed and exprimented every single thing, I came across..

I am a book of my own Rules now,
I saw badness which seemed to be good..
I felt sorrow where there was no cry…
I flew without wings on my own way…
And I pulled back by my own soulmates….

From the childhood to a man, I used to drain from
Small to long rivers…
Little to huge mountains….
Narrow to wast oceans….

My pages were erased several times,
I crushed, smashed, slaughter and drained mythological truths,and I over written number of blinds…

Now, I am book of my own thoughts, my own blinds, my own truths, my own wishes and my own Rules….