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.

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 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.

My Tattered Shoes

I was given a pair of shoes as a gift.
For me, they were a perfect fit.
A new found happiness for a child unrestrained,
Rejoicing and dancing, as if heavens just rained.

Adorned they were by a few holes in them,
From where the colors of sunshine peeped in.
Uncomely they were for the eyes outside.
But for me, they were nothing less than true pride.

I could walk anyway I wanted
Ebullient, I was the least daunted.
But those shoes, they defied society’s yardstick.
And so I discarded them for a “fancy” pick.

I walked the way I was taught.
Even when I was clearly fraught.
My countenance did betray the thoughts within.
But I was not the one to give in.

Following a toy soldier, I tried to stand undefeated.
Carrying the load I was clearly heat treated.
But never did I lose my sangfroid.
Even when I was awfully annoyed.

But now after all these civilized years,
And all these unperturbed tears,
I yearn for those tattered shoes,
Which aptly taught me the ones and twos.

So when you see my composure wail,
Or when my steps are frigid and frail,
Remind me of my tattered shoes,
And I’ll be dancing and singing the blues.
‘Cause I’m sure I can pay all my dues
When I’m truly in my own tattered shoes.

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”.

Innocence Defeated Again!

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I saw him walking the same road
Like creepers climbing the tall trees.
Feeling the sky getting closer,
Feeling the highly alluring breeze.

The same alluring breeze
Was playing the treacherous trick.
The scintillating aroma,
With layers so slick.

Along that superficial road
Were all the hypnotic eyes waiting.
Their sly vision never blurred,
As his android feet were moving.

His enervated body
Thirsty for a drop of the potion,
Just followed the wind.
Oh! That wonderful notion!

But little did he know
About this aspect of life.
Simulating a happy surprise,
Stabbing with a sharp knife.

Collecting all my might,
I screamed at him.
“Listen to me buddy!
Don’t submit to your whim”.

A voice from behind me,
Chuckled calmly in my ears.
“You know he can’t hear you.
Let him face his fears”.

I looked at my mouth zipped,
As the innocent died.
Once again we had won.
Once again a monster would rise!

The Pied Piper

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Raise your head up,
And repeat after me.
“All along we go
Fueling the piper’s spree”

Leave your reasons behind,
And bring your manners along.
Just nod your head,
And sing the piper’s song.

Calculated smiles,
And fake glows.
Clap your hands,
And enjoy the show.

Try to leave the herd,
And make your own way.
Before you know,
You’re in for another piper’s play.

In the end, they will say,
It was all a game.
We avoided failure
And got the “fame”.

But, what is failure?
And what is fame?
Absolute entities?
Or just pawns of the game?

Till then, just nod along.
Sing the piper’s song.
And repeat after me.
“I am proud to be free!”