Our Judgements

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Those trendy jeans with adorned holes?
Or torn rags that embellish the kitchen chores?

That arrogant corn which reluctantly pops?
Or the heroic efforts that shot him to the top?

Those orotund adjectives which nobody reads?
Or the bland creation without those beads?

That ugly stare from the adjacent creep?
Or an unspoken desire of a weird sheep?

Those revengeful eyes that refuse to close?
Or the pangs of grief that withered up the rose?

That lady who lost her honor in yet another heinous act?
Or another gimmick with a calculated tact?

Judgement, eh?
Judgement is the need!
No one’s certain
Which way it should be.

‘Cause the light
It mostly accentuates one way.
While the other one
Like a mean shadow,
Thinks of itself as a
Self righteous day.

The Night & The Moon

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When the night wakes up
From its deep slumber,
It’s elated about
The inevitable thunder.

Ready for the silent reckoning
Of the voyeurs of death,
The evil fangs shine
As if lovers just met.

But the grim reaper
To his utter dismay
Silences the army.
As the thrill is gone tonight!
‘Cause the moon is on tonight!!

Unhinged Dreams

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I was absent!

‘Cause the realist
Was explicable.
‘Cause the patterns
Were predictable.
And the end
Was inevitable.

Meanwhile, I was dreaming!

For the bizarre
Were absurdly humorous,
For the labyrinths
Were beautifully paradoxical,
And the end
Was just another tiny comma,

The Harbingers of Joy

Across the streams of livelihood
With silent wings by the side,
Slides the simple creature
Into the passage of time.

An accidental glance at the beholder’s plight,
Ends a spell of perennial drought.
And showers incessant droplets,
Completing the loop with another naught.

As the nature prides itself
With riches out of one’s way,
Oblivious is the harbinger,
Who is just drifting through another day.

The Lethal Game

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Casually strolling,
Wondering about the ifs & the elses.
A deep hissing sound
Knocks out his senses.

A powerful kiss
Reveals the true intensity.
The hunters strike,
In utmost propinquity.

The potion strong,
The notion unclear.
The stroll crooked,
And the prey in fear.

Hallucinations smile
As windows open.
Blinding occurs
As he receives the token.

Kaleidoscopes shatter
As colors disintegrate.
Faces glitter
Like crazy diamonds on a date.

Metamorphosis dawns
As the pupils dilate.
Fangs appear
As the potion dictates.

He finds himself stealthily strolling,
Trying to sniff the fear around.
Brings back treat for the team,
His very own deep hissing sound.


“Hallucinations seem real
As lines blur.
Look out for the snakes.
“Cause snakes never purr!!”

Dancing Till Eternity

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Amidst the snowflakes we could really feel,
Around the little hearts we could clearly see,
Among the chirps we could easily hear,
We would be dancing without any fear.

Oblivious to those blindfolded eyes,
Unbeknownst to the balance she holds,
Far from the streets of right and wrong,
We would be dancing without a song.

Above the labyrinths engraved in sand,
Above the fences hiding in the air,
Beyond the revered land of columns and rows,
We would be dancing amongst highs and lows.

Far from the rhythms of yes’s and no’s,
Far from the whispers of laws silly,
Far from the world of “them” and “us”,
We would finally be dancing
As you and me.

The Tragedy Of Thoughts

Thoughts!
Falling on the head
Like fierce raindrops.
Totally unafraid
Like a slinky on the top.

Thoughts!
Travelling to and fro
From molecules to the space.
Taking intricate snapshots
From place to place.

Thoughts!
Waiting to reveal
The stories unearthed.
Like an innocent child
With an unending thirst.

But the master!
He closes all the windows
To shield the child?
And then makes silly innuendos
Keeping those stories mild.
The innocent screams
Become mannered talks.
And the child tamed as a captive.
Well! That’s the way people flock.

Where Is My Pen?

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A 7 year old raped brutally.
The students beaten mercilessly.
Crores laundered in the scam.
And democracy is now a sham!

Religion, a reverent affair.
Is now a sacred weapon.
Regularly fired in the air,
Its bullets, claiming tons.

And naivety is not more than a facade.
With everyone playing equal parts.
‘Cause the decent naives,
Are meditating in their graves.

The leaves are withering.
And the birds have flown.
But things are burgeoning.
As our society has “positively grown”.

I’ll write an honest account,
Of things that always haunt.
But where is my pen?
Oh! I forgot!
It belongs to “them”.