Feelings that we hide!, August Nexus [mind reading books .TXT] 📗

whom I now despise
To the people whom I have failed
To all the thought trails which derailed
The warm hugs I have memories of
To the people I won’t let go
That darkness which is inside me
The thought spirals which keep on tightening
The albatross which is no more flying
And to the grasshopper I am
See if it makes any sense to you
Because my life was never good to be
But once I again I will fall
This I didn’t know
Oh memories! Can’t bid you adieu
My secrets lost but still safe they reside
I am happy there’s someone to hide
By your rules I do abide.  FAKE

 

Oh! So fake facades I see
walking and talking all over
these people are crumbling buildings.
Ruined inside but still
painted with the best on the outer walls.

Bottles, Empty. Useless. Thrown
here and there, some broken, some lost.
There was once wine inside
or Vodka which you drank that day
but now they are useless
like the people around us are.

Oh! so fake masks I see
which fall off in front of me
people then tear themselves apart to put a show
but later do run away
afraid of being vulnerable anymore.

I have lost people
like those two rupee coins
which often fall out of the
pockets of my jeans
and how hard I try
I can’t pick them up, them I can’t find.

I do write haphazard thoughts
which come and go every few seconds
and no the lines of my poetry don’t rhyme
but still all of you sing them
along with the rhythms of your heart beats
and that’s why I do write.

The colour Black

I stretched my hand out in air
sitting in my bed
on a long summer noon
and it got smeared with
black out of nothing.

Sitting under the shower
head on the knees, arms folded around legs
water running down my back
and towards the drain
a shade of blue-black.

I stepped out of my room
in the Golden day
but my body was pale
a shade of dirty yellow
spread all over my face.

I looked around
and saw myriads of colours
all different from each other.
but as I touched
the green leaves or the white flowers
my fingers got smeared with sunset red.

So I started to go out
in black outfits
with shades on my eyes
and the whole world looked
painted in the hues of my own existence.

Until I saw a colour so strong
which even my shades weren’t able to change
I went near the source
and she smiled at me
rescuing me of my blacks and greys.

Caged

 

On hot summer afternoons
the room gets filled with fluid gloom.
You, sit under the shower, neck hung, hands folded
It's not just your monday blues,
it's depression in your face.

Depression I tell them I suffer from.
I acclaim to be a burning angel
and use metaphors to describe my unpoetic life
and they say,
Oh!! the whims of this generation,
so made up, so lame.

So I keep my silences, mum whole day
going around, pushing myself and pulling life.
All this time, breathing the darkness in and out.
Slow, calm and deep breaths.

I feel like the caged birds do
when put out for a while
but flight is a luxury
my wings aren't clipped
but I still can't fly.
It takes courage to rise
it takes a little strength to fly.

and we the people with broken spines
limping souls and faded passions
a head full of ideas but prevalent darkness
are devoid of any strength whatsoever.

I wish

 

I wish i was born in Autumn
falling like the leaves off trees
detaching from old, touching the ground
sprawling with winds, running with clouds.

I wish i was born in spring
blossoming like the lovely flowers
smiling at everyone, happy in a shorter life
being an ornament to some, waiting for death to arrive.

I wish i was born when rains pour
pure and clean like water
naturally perfumed with Petrichor
falling on leaves, on mud, on flowers.

Alas! i was born in winters
frozen up, cold inside
white as snow, but black beneath
falling as stones, eating up all beauty.

Wish

 

I wish i was born in Autumn
but there's no use to it now
as i can't be born again
so i wish
i die in Autumn.

I plee to thee
do me a favour
don't burn me later
but instead do bury.

bury me midst the maple trees
in a deserted graveyard
where tombstones are as old as time itself
and the grounds are covered with leaves of fall.

and don't spend on flowers
let nature cover me with reddening leaves.
collect some fallen ones
to put on my grave
as falling is chaos
and i prefer it to peace.

I like tombstones
get one erected for me
white in colour.
He rests in Fall here
let these be these be the words on it.

And if you visit me sometime
after i am gone
do bring some white flowers
covered in drying leaves. ©Vaibhav

Breath those windows open.

 

We all are waiting,
for a window to break open
so that we too can be free.

To go away from this pain.

To get out of our heads.

I hear about people who were famous
but took their own lives
they had, I think, two parallel minds
two opposite approaches to the same life.
They lived a happy life in the light
but grieved of it in the corners too dark
and cried
and screamed
and begged for help.

He who screamed in the mics
or she, the one who wrote too loud
none of them was really heard
and truly had Joyce said,
Does No one Understand.

We all are kicking to get out,
we all are looking for an escape.
Life is no rose tinted picture
and we all, somehow, are Cobain.
Those who see life as just rosy
are illusive and in danger.

When you die they do mourn
but they don't mourn for you.

Some mourn for the sons and daughters they lost
some fans mourn for the people of fame.

The writers are mourned for their words
while no one mourns
for the real person that were you.

So die die die, get out faster
kick open a door or break a window
gather fame and then leave it all
to be remembered for time infinite.

Then they will say that
the better ones die young. ©Vaibhav

The moon fades away

Nights wear down and the Sun rises and sets.
we praise the beauty of it all,
we see the Sunrises with hope
and Sunsets invokd love
but what we don't see
is the moon setting.

Moon, the harbinger of joy in some
and pain in others.
The constant companion of solitary lovers
and the subject of songs and poetry
is neglected
as sleep takes over
and we forget to grieve for a few hours.

but Some whose eyes go dry
staring at the skies above
do see the Moon till it dies.

the Moon never sets
it just fades away
slowly and slowly
until completely out of sight
but
it is always there
recurring ever night like Pain.

Pain
which is always there
but is sometimes lapped over
by bouts of happiness.

Momentary, the happiness is
and the pain resurfaces again
every sleepless night
while you watch the moon fade away.

ever wondered
why do Hyenas howl
when the see the Moon? ©vaibhav