a literary expedition

The spot i stood                                             Now my head is hefty was the full stop i put last time                     Eyes shut to shun the blank page  it grew beneath my feet                                no spark, stimuli, or catalyst  like a puddle of dirty water                          Can everything be so dull ? Framing sentences in mind                          ...

If it goes like a train, you are with me If it like a flight, I am with you. 

when the same explanation is given again and again, it becomes an excuse.

gathers some from the shore and beneath my feet taking it back rolling then rumbling back to the shore  shattering pearls on sand  breaking that fine blue pipe  scaring the crows away with that roaring sound which diminishes to tangy salty spray awakening me  through  a heavenly pull,  call my soul to eternity of the deep blue cavity when again it gathers from  beneath my  feet  taking bits and scraps of me to the castle of sea horses leaving me feeling possessed by a phantom of a mermaid

Lacking a brick pile With no flag or file Not in memory of folks Are the perished ones. Droplets of their blood of the unsung heroes  blessed by the sun, blooms With a golden hue.   Among green and blue From the hell as cue.  Gulmohar The unsung hero’s tomb. Look at me, agitated Listen to me, aggravated. Shouting their stories  For what they died citing their might all their times fights  for our lives rights, even the city lights. How they broke The world of silence Wrote. Drew. Taught the world to fair fight. But in the honks and sobs Of buses and mob Deafened by music, are Blinded in speed of existence.  Saddened they dive Into bosom of earth Moksha . Others, Crushed by a tyre or Carried away by a sole But that's the thing With unsung heroes ghosts. From hell they bloom Their droplets of blood As Gulmohar The unsung heroes tomb For they have something to say. 

My rust eaten bars gave a her hope That one day clouds be her home. Don't birds leave feathers I wondered. When, without a look back she wandered. Once i asked for whom she sang   And she just gave me a smile blank. ‘You have caged me with bars and  i have caged you with my songs'          Her song made me feel week To melt down into a creek .   now I am left with the a melody which never leaves me, sadly. From the last song she sung. I knew.  I never felt so sad to a happy...

when i read those random lines jotted down behind my notebook i wonder what they meant. they seem so so familiar and close to me. i try to remember what i felt then and nothing comes to my mind. i feel those are times when my soul and everything else in this world merge into the illusion of oneness.  d uring those moments every word you write carries the aroma of your soul, it defines everything you feel then. sometime later going back to the same words, they look like words in a dictionary. so full of literary meaning. the aroma is gone, the hue is invisible and the essence of you is lost.  now i feel its all about the moment when you can reside in that bubble of oneness.  the words that escape from you are naive and pregnant. words gone through manipulation is like second hand truth. its the same with our daily life too.  a person can never be what his or her sub-conscious is. where they have their roots, where people know them, where they have reputat...