Category: Art

Once nubile, pulchritudinous body, Now lies shrunken, pale. Fastidious creation now seems shoddy, Bare, without an ornate shell. You say, nothing left, it is dead. I ask, is it over indeed? Your answer, Yes! Don’t bang head. I look, sad, your eyes bleed. Banjara, they say, the Atman. (Banjara=Sojourner, Atman=Soul) It comes and goes, ever…

Oh my friend, The dearest of the lot, Do you remember the wind? The way it made us smile, With catastrophic intentions. The way it caressed our ways, And made us forget, The sweat and the blood stains.   Nature’s organic rebel at work, Whispering thoughts into people’s heads, Providing them with a very convincing…

a wall of books between us – a few dead authors turn summersault in their graves I would never know what earthly smell they had when they made first love, in which world what water they broke when they made ecstasy books don’t care about these forceps panting, prosthetic words emotions sanitized in a painting…

I think so much, I can’t write, It’s because this “I” isn’t right. Replacing “I” with “This self”, For the fact, this ego, cannot help. This Self is Great, people said. Those were it’s beauty and head. Its Body grew strong handsome, and Mind collected ransom from people stunned. One day, s/he smiled and refused…

I involves truth, The genuine bash of darkness, The undisputed inability to articulate, The desperate weakness of a haunted inside. It carries all the injuries of being, The existential dementia of Bats squeaking upside down. Spiders weaving their webs in the corner, Pigeon poop and the stench, Beetles crawling domestic in their eggs.   I…